AUTHOR INFORMATION:

BIO:

Molly O’Keefe has always known she wanted to be a writer (except when she wanted to be a florist or a chef and the brief period of time when she considered being a cowgirl). And once she got her hands on some romances, she knew exactly what she wanted to write.

She published her first Harlequin romance at age 25 and hasn’t looked back. She loves exploring every character’s road towards happily ever after.

Originally from a small town outside of Chicago, she went to university in St. Louis where she met and fell in love with the editor of her school newspaper. They followed each other around the world for several years and finally got married and settled down in Toronto, Ontario. They welcomed their son into their family in 2006, and their daughter in 2008. When she’s not at the park or cleaning up the toy room, Molly is working hard on her next novel, trying to exercise, stalking Tina Fey on the internet and dreaming of the day she can finish a cup of coffee without interruption.

AUTHOR LINKS:

Site – http://www.molly-okeefe.com/
Twitter – https://twitter.com/MollyOKwrites
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/MollyOKeefeBooks
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/223845.Molly_O_Keefe

GIVEAWAY:

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New Series from Meghan March
The Dirty Billionaire Trilogy
Preorder Contest

Dirty Billionaire:  Releasing on 12/8

I’ve got a big dick and an even bigger bank account. That’s pretty much where my bio ends.

Honestly, I don’t need to say anything else. I’ve just sold 99% of women on going home with me.

Do I sound like an asshole to you?

That’s because I am.
And guess what? It works for me just fine.
Or at least it did.
Until I met her.
Books talk about sparks flying. Fuck that shit. With her, it was like emergency flares mixed with jet fuel. Or maybe just straight up napalm.
Only one problem.
She wouldn’t tell me her name or her number when she disappeared from the hotel room after the hottest fucking night of my life.

Now I’ve had a taste of unicorn pussy—the sweetest, rarest of all pussy—and I need it again.
So what’s an asshole to do?
I took this problem to the street. A missed connection gone viral.
And when I find her? I’m keeping her.

Preorder your copy today:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1Kbz4AO

iBooks: https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/dirty-billionaire/id1049354507?mt=11

Dirty Pleasures: Releasing on 12/29

I did it. I married a billionaire.

My reasons are my own, but the last thing I expected was to feel owned.

I may have taken vows, but I’m still determined to be me.

Now his rules are taking over my world, but I’m not the kind of girl to just obey.

There’s only one problem: I might actually be falling for him…

I have no idea how this marriage is going to go, but holding onto a piece of myself while succumbing to his dirty pleasures is shaping up to be the ride of a lifetime.

Preorder:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1X6HdQ0

iBooks: https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/dirty-pleasures/id1049426481?mt=11

Dirty Together: Releasing on 1/12

My wife.

I love saying those words.

She’s mine, and if she thinks I’m going to let her run without tracking her down and bringing her back to where she belongs—with me—then she’s about to be introduced to a new reality.

Because I’ll fight dirty to give her the happily ever after she deserves.

Preorder:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1G7JZRc

iBooks: https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/dirty-together/id1049426563?mt=11

About Meghan March:

Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had. She loves hearing from her readers at meghanmarchbooks@gmail.com.

Website: http://www.meghanmarch.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MeghanMarchAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Meghan_March
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8184875.Meghan_March

Contest Alert:

From now until 12/7, Meghan is hosting a HUGE contest full of fantastic prizes!

Prizes include:
$50, $100 and $250 gift cards to Amazon (or online retailer of your choice)
The Beneath Series – Signed copies

Early Review Copies of The Dirty Billionaire Trilogy
Signed copies of The Dirty Billionaire Trilogy (when available)

And more surprises…

To enter – simply preorder your copy of the Trilogy and then fill out this form:

http://goo.gl/forms/l7yYvA45aX

NO PURCHASE NECESSARY TO PARTICIPATE OR RECEIVE PRIZES. PURCHASE OR ACCEPTANCE OF A PRODUCT OFFER DOES NOT IMPROVE YOUR CHANCES OF WINNING. SWEEPSTAKES SPONSORED BY MEGHAN MARCH.

AMAZON * AMAZON UK

EXCERPT

“So, how does all this work? Do you mind if I pry a little?” Her cheeks heated slightly, knowing all the questions spinning in her mind. It was one thing to hear about it over drinks the other night, it was quite another to see it with her own eyes.

“Pry away,” he chuckled softly, his hand slowly stroking up and down against her spine.

Awareness zinged through her. It had been a long time since she’d felt a man’s touch. Six months to be exact.

“How did she end up living here with you?”

“I knew her through a mutual acquaintance, and after breaking up with her ex, she needed somewhere to live. I offered my guest room up. Rent free. No strings. And she said yes.”

“That was awfully nice of you.” She blinked at him in wide-eyed astonishment. It wasn’t something many people would do.

“Trust me, I’m very far from being a white knight.” His voice dropped lower, and his hand came to rest at her lower back again. “Our relationship sort of evolved from there.”

He didn’t continue, leaving Lacey to guess if it was some type of BDSM interest that they shared.

“What else is going on inside that pretty head of yours?” he asked.

“H-how did you come to be this way?” She cringed when she realized how it sounded. As though he was damaged goods. Then again, maybe he was. Nolan didn’t even raise an eyebrow to her question.

“After a demanding career as a SEAL …” He let out a deep sigh, gazing down at the courtyard. “My goals are much simpler now – to enjoy life one day at a time and take pleasure where I find it.”

She simply nodded. He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to. Growing up in a family of men who served, she knew he had seen too much, done too much, probably experienced losing teammates he fought beside. She knew it could mess a man up. At the very least, it changed them. And in Nolan’s case, it made him harder and closed him off to the hearts and flowers kind of love she hoped to find someday. He was surviving, in his own way.

“I need to know what you taste like,” Nolan murmured.

She blinked up at him, her eyes still searching his. There was so much she was unsure about, but the electricity buzzing between them wasn’t one of them.

He leaned forward, moving slowly, and brought his lips to hers. Hesitating for just a moment, as if to give her a chance to decide, Nolan’s warm breath ghosted over her mouth. Lifting up onto her tip toes, Lacey touched her lips to his. With one hand stroking her jaw, his other came to settle against her hip, his thumb running along the bare skin at the waistband of her jeans. Nolan pulled her body close, until she felt the hard ridge of him against her belly. He felt massive. Her lips parted in a silent gasp and he stroked his tongue against hers.

His mouth seemed made to fit over hers. And the skillful way he moved his tongue provoked thoughts of what other ways he could use that tongue. While her panties grew wet, and her breathing turned ragged, they kissed deeply for several minutes.

Her hands wandered, running over his firm biceps, and down the front of his shirt where rounded pecs waited invitingly under his shirt.

Sex rolled off of him in waves. No, not just sex. Fucking. Lacey was sure that being intimate with Nolan would be unlike any other experience she’d had. And that excited the hell out of her.

“God damn, woman,” he murmured breaking away from her lips.

Lacey couldn’t disagree. Everything about that kiss felt right. Backgrounds ceased to matter. Messy entanglements forgotten. When she was kissing Nolan, nothing mattered except getting even closer. More, her body begged.

“Just keep an open mind,” he said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Southern Comforts Anthology

Josette Lewis has been living a lie and needs to get out of Kentucky as soon as possible. To her devastation, the ultimatum she gives her long time boyfriend, Derek, has backfired. Before she can tuck tail and move home to California she must put her house on the market and upgrade her security system to keep Derek out of her life for good. When, Aidan Ross, a hunky security consultant shows at her front door Josette is instantly charmed by his sexy grin and easy-going ways. Can she let go of her familiar pretenses and allow Aidan convince her to take another chance at love.

I loved his dominance in bed and that he took from me what he wanted. I loved his dirty mouth as he described everything he wanted to do to me and followed through on every word. He had total power over my pleasure, and I was all too happy to give him the control.

Tequila Sunrises over Georgia by Yara Greathouse:

Gia chooses to fill her life with work instead of love. As the top home designer in her firm, she is prepared to handle anything… until she meets Carter. He owns the company that was hired for renovations and he takes a very hands-on approach to everything. Suddenly Gia finds herself daydreaming about Carter demonstrating his hands-on abilities with her… One night, after a few drinks, their imminent attraction takes over and an agreement is made: They will be each other’s sexual comfort and nothing more for the length of this project. Will they be able to keep their arrangement without complications? Or will it be too hard to say goodbye?

I taste her, lick her. I inhale her. I don’t want the moment to end.

She tastes like mint, cherries and obsession. 

I press behind her back, pulling her closer. 

We lost ourselves in that kiss. 

We found each other in that kiss. 

Our bodies melded while we kissed. 

It was a perfect unexpected seal.

I was out of breath and willing to let her take all my oxygen.

It was a kiss to be remembered. 

A kiss where our lips worshiped each other and marred us for other people.

When we finally came up for air, it was done slowly.

I don’t think I will experience another first kiss like this with anyone else, because I want all my future kisses to come from her. 

Only her.

Alabama Sweet Tea by S.C. Hutchinson:

Everyone finds comfort in something different, for Dustin, it’s decorating his flesh and brewing moonshine. Businessman by day, he hides his passion for ink beneath a suit, but when he meets a beautiful stranger at a local tattoo shop who then shows up at his place of business, there’s no hiding his attraction for her. Sparks fly when they give into their desires, but it’s only when they learn to let the past go that they find comfort in one another.

“Find anything interesting?” he chimed in, startling her.

She promptly jumped up. “You’ve been quite thorough. From what I can tell, anyway. I’m no expert on these things. I was worried that…” her neatly plucked eyebrows slammed together.

“That I wouldn’t remain professional after our little encounter?” Defensiveness tinged his words as he stepped into the office and strode toward his desk.

“Little encounter?” Uncertainty laced her words.

“What would you call it?” he glared at her.

“I wouldn’t call it anything.” When she saw him wince, she whispered, “God, that sounded bad. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.” She sighed and sank into the chair across from his desk. “I’m so bad at this.”

He seated himself and crossed his arms over his chest. “This?”

“Dating.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked when her eyes flicked upward and met his. “Dating seems like a big leap. I thought we were just getting to know each other.”

“I suppose,” her voice lowered to a whisper.

Now it was his turn to apologize. “Damn, we’re both bad at this. I’m sorry, I just thought we had a genuine connection the other night and after talking to you all week… I thought… Oh, hell…” he broke off. 

“There is a connection. You’re not wrong about that,” she leaned forward on her chair to reach her hands across his desk. “I enjoy your company,” she skimmed her fingers over the tops of his hands. “And I love talking to you. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this thing we’re doing. And you have no idea how grateful I am that you’re still willing to work on my finances despite my being so…,” she moistened her lips in a nervous gesture and fidgeted with the nameplate on his desk, “distant. But I have my reasons. I just can’t go into them,” the loud gulp of her swallow could be heard. “Not yet, anyway.”

“I get it,” he swiftly cut her off and reached for his coffee. 

“Good,” she exhaled a loud sigh of relief. “So can we go back to your place again or what? I’ve been dying for another taste of that moonshine and to get you in the sack again.”

In high school, Gabby yearned for Logan Westfall from afar, unaware that he wanted her just as badly. But Logan had a plan- to leave his hometown as soon as he graduated, so he never made his move.

Fourteen years later, Logan returns and his sights are set on Gabby St. John. He walked away from her once, and it’s a mistake he won’t repeat. She’s the one that got away, but not for long.

“Just promise me you’ll give me and us a chance, Gabby.”

“One day at a time,” she whispered.

“One day at a time.”

“Okay.”

Instead of answering, Logan kissed her, his lips soft and sweet. Gabby felt her heart turn over at the gentleness of his touch. He was offering her everything she ever wanted. She only needed the guts to take it. 

She climbed off his lap, holding out a hand. He took it and let her help him to his feet. Without a word, she led him into her bedroom. 

If they were going to take this one day a a time, then she wanted to make the most of this day. And every day that she could. 

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EXCERPT

Chapter One

Levee

It was raining. Isn’t that the way all great love stories start? And also usually end? The midnight air was cool against my skin as I stared off that bridge. My blond wig was secured in place by a headband, and chunky sunglasses covered my whiskey-colored eyes. I didn’t look like myself any more than I felt it. Bruises from the night before painted my legs while fresh scabs covered my knees, but it was the hollowness in my chest that hurt the most.

Yep. Still me.

Which was exactly why I was standing on that bridge, wishing for the mental fortitude to hurl myself off.

A man’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “You finally gonna do it tonight?”

I instinctually smoothed my fake hair down and pressed the bridge of my glasses closer to my face, sealing out any possible glance he could catch. I stared ahead as I snapped, “Excuse me?”

“I’ve seen you here three nights in a row now. I was just wondering if tonight was going to be the night you finally jump.”

My eyes flashed wide, but since they were covered by the dark glasses, my reaction remained hidden. “I just like the view. That’s all.” What a load of shit.

I watched him nod out of the corner of my eye. “Yeah me too. It’s gorgeous up here.”

Shuffling my feet to the side, I attempted to slip away as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered it my way.

“You want one?”

I shook my head and then crept down a few inches to put distance between us.

“Suit yourself.” He used a hand to shield the lighter from the wind, but the constant sprinkle of rain made his task impossible. “Damn it,” he cursed with the cigarette tucked between his lips. “Little help?” he asked, swinging his gaze to mine.

Arching an eyebrow, I asked, “With what?”

“It’s raining…and windy…and I’m trying to burn one.” He tilted his head, equally as incredulous.

“You want me to call God? We had a bad breakup recently, but he might be willing to do me one last favor.”

He breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. “That would be fantastic. What’s the big guy’s response time like these days? Last time we spoke, it was”—he paused to look at his watch—“oh, twenty-seven years.”

A soft laugh bubbled from my throat, and one side of his mouth lifted in a gorgeous grin.

“I’m not exactly in the mood to wait that long, so maybe you could just block the wind with your body?” His smile spread as he stepped toward me, forcing my gaze to nervously bounce away.

“Sorry. Can’t help you there. Lung cancer and I broke up too.” After gathering the back of my wig into a ponytail, I pulled it over my shoulder and turned away from him. The chill of the wind blasted my face and roared over my ears as it rushed past me.

I went back to staring out at the dark, choppy water, becoming lost in the idea of how cold it might be.

Is tonight the night?

No.

My feet would more than likely never leave the edge of that bridge, but there was a definite reason why I was imagining ending it all. Exactly zero other people in the world would understand why. I had it all, and I dreamed about losing it all—more often than I would ever admit, even to myself.

After stepping out of my heels, I slipped my foot between the bars on the railing. The wind slammed my bruised leg against the metal. “Shit,” I hissed as pain shot through me.

“You think that hurts? Imagine falling twenty-five stories then crashing into the water, which might as well be concrete, at speeds upward of seventy miles per hour,” the man said, leaning on the metal railing next to me.

“Wow. Someone’s done some research,” I said sarcastically, barely sparing him a glance.

“Daily,” he responded frankly, causing my surprised gaze to swing to his. Simply shrugging at my reaction, he turned his back to the railing and propped himself up on his colorfully tattooed forearms. “You forget I’ve been here the last three nights in a row too.” He smirked, lifting the cigarette up to his lips for a deep inhale.

“Listen, I’m not going to jump if you’re some kind of caped crusader on a mission. I just needed some fresh air.” I pointedly glanced at his cigarette.

A laugh escaped his mouth in a grey puff. “Fresh air is overrated. Especially given the reason you’re standing here.” He knowingly arched a dark-brown eyebrow.

“Riiiiight,” I drawled, rolling my eyes behind my glasses. “Okay, well, I was just heading out anyway.”

“Then my work here is done.” He bowed, and the corner of my mouth lifted in a smile as I stepped back into my shoes and walked away.

I shook my head at the random stranger. Then, a thought struck me, stopping me only a few feet away. Spinning back to face him, I asked, “Wait. Were you reaching out to me as a cry for help?”

“Oh look. Designer Shoes has a conscience!” He dropped his cigarette to the damp ground, stepping on it with the toe of his well-worn, black boots. Bending over, he picked the butt up and tucked it in his pocket.

At least he didn’t litter.

“Oh look. Tattooed Stalker has jokes!” I smarted back.

He smiled, pulling another cigarette from his pocket and then pausing just before guiding it between his lips. “Were you judging me based on my tattoos? I’m offended.” He feigned anguish then laughed while lifting his lighter to once again battle the wind for a nicotine fix.

I wanted to walk away, but he wasn’t wrong. I did have a conscience, and right then, I was worried that it might really be his night to make good on his apparent numerous visits to the bridge.

With a huff, I headed back towards him, praying that I could wrap it up as quickly as possible then head back to my house for a few hours of sleep. Or, more likely, lie awake while staring at the ceiling and crying.

“Are you planning to jump for real?” I asked.

His smile fell as he focused on the water. “Nah. I don’t have the balls to do something like that. Talking to you wasn’t a plea for help or anything. You just look worse than usual tonight.” His gaze slid down to my battered legs.

“Oh!” I exclaimed in understanding. “That’s not at all what you’re thinking. I fell down some stairs.”

He quirked his lips in disbelief.

“I’m serious!”

“I’m sure you are,” he told the wind. “You can go. I’m good.”

I could have walked away, but for some reason, I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders and silently stood there while he finished his cigarette.

After a final deep inhale, he flicked it over the railing of the bridge.

Apparently, he does litter.

Turning to me, his face became serious. “You need to call the cops before he makes the decision to end it all for you.”

“Who?” I asked, watching the burning ember hit the metal column then explode in a million different sparks before disappearing down to the water below.

Lucky cigarette.

“The stairs…and whatever inanimate object you’re blaming for those bruises you’re hiding behind sunglasses at one in the morning. You should call the cops before…” His voice trailed off, but his dark gaze narrowed on mine. His eyes bored into my hidden stare, combining with the rain and wind to send chills down my spine.

I took the moment to secretly assess him. He was insanely sexy, but nothing like the men I was accustomed to. His chin was the kind of scruffy that made women weak, but it was obvious he didn’t pay four hundred dollars for his personal hairstylist to shape it. Judging by his shaggy, brown hair that begged for me to thread my fingers in it, I wasn’t sure he was even a barbershop kind of guy. He stood a few inches taller than I was in heels, so I pegged him at around six one. And while his tattooed forearms were deliciously sculpted and his shoulders were notably defined, his body didn’t appear to be swollen with muscles from hours spent at the gym. By the aura of bad boy he gave off, I would have expected him to be a self-consumed, arrogant prick.

He wasn’t though.

He was just an average guy worrying about the well-being of an average girl.

Only he couldn’t have been more wrong, and a pang of guilt hit me hard.

Just not hard enough for me to do anything to correct his assumptions about who I was.

Very softly, I attempted to put his fears to rest. “I promise it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Okay,” he responded, unconvinced. He nodded to himself before dragging another cigarette from his pocket.

I watched him struggle for a second before I scooted towards him, using my body to block the wind.

Biting the cigarette between his straight, white teeth, he smiled devilishly around it. “Thanks.” Flicking the flame to life, he hunched over until a stream of smoke swirled up from the red tip.

“You should stop smoking.”

“Noted.” He exhaled through his nose.

We went back to silently staring over the side of the bridge. The familiar lights of the San Francisco skyline danced all around us. And, even as tourists and locals alike passed by us, I felt an odd, and unbelievably comfortable, isolation standing there with him.

When my teeth began to chatter, his attention was drawn my way. “I’m not here to jump. You really can go.”

I nodded but didn’t move away.

He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest and rubbing his biceps for warmth.

“How are you not frozen?” I asked, taking in his thin Henley for the first time since we met.

Shrugging, he dropped his cigarette, answering as he bent to retrieve it. “Thick skin? I’m used to it? I come here a lot? I’m half Eskimo?”

I eyed him suspiciously. “You’re cold, aren’t you?”

“Fucking. Freezing,” he admitted, tucking his arms close to his body and blowing into his hands. “I just came up here for one smoke. Then I saw you. Now, come on. Be a lady and loan a man a jacket,” he joked, tugging on the edge of my coat.

I laughed, hugging it even tighter around my body and stepping out of his reach. “How about we both just leave? Then neither of us have to worry about the other plummeting to their death.”

“Sounds like an amazing plan.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of the tattered jeans riding low on his hips. As we began the hike back down to the foot of the bridge, he asked, “You have a name, Designer Shoes?”

I smiled and shook my head, not willing to lie—or divulge the truth.

“Yeah. Me either,” he replied.

I bit my bottom lip to suppress a laugh.

Side by side, we trudged the rest of the way in silence.

When we got to the foot of the bridge, he turned to face me and sighed. “Well, I genuinely hope I never see you again.”

My head snapped back in shock, and maybe a little hurt.

But he quickly corrected himself. “No! I just mean… Shit.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair while I watched, amused. “I just mean, given the way we met… I…um. I hope you never have a reason to go back up there.”

I teasingly tipped my head to the side. “But I really like the view.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. Of course, the view. Okay, well, have a good night.”

“You too.” I smiled tightly, but my feet didn’t budge. I told myself that it was because I didn’t want him to see my car or the bodyguard waiting for me behind the wheel. But, in reality, I just wasn’t ready to leave. Home wasn’t where I wanted to be. I didn’t actually want to be anywhere.

Not even standing at the foot of a bridge, talking to a witty and sexy man.

Okay, maybe I wanted that a little bit.

“Yep. Have a good night,” he repeated, shoving his hands inside his pockets and slowly backing away.

I gave him a quick wave, which he returned before he jogged in the other direction.

I smiled to myself, shaking my head at the entire interaction—secretly lamenting that it hadn’t been longer.

Maybe there’s only one direction to go when two people fall

in love at rock bottom—up.

Add The Fall Up  to your TBR list on Goodreads!

http://bit.ly/1LjdGAD

RELEASE DATE: October 26th

I wanted to jump.

He made me fall.

As a celebrity, I lived in the public eye, but somewhere along the way, I’d lost myself in the spotlight.

Until he found me.

Sam Rivers was a gorgeous, tattooed stranger who saved my life with nothing more than a simple conversation.

But we were both standing on that bridge for a reason the night we met. The secrets of our pasts brought us together—and then tore us apart.

Could we find a reason to hold on as life constantly pulled us down?

Or maybe there’s only one direction to go when two people fall in love at rock bottom—up.

About the Author:

Aly Martinez

Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.

After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Meet Declan and Elizabeth in Ilsa Madden-Mills

new fighter romance!

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**Dirty English is a modern love story inspired by Pride and Prejudice**

A scarred fighter.

A girl with rules.

One night of unbridled passion.

There are three things you need to know about Elizabeth Bennett: she’s smart as a whip, always in control, and lives by a set of carefully crafted rules. She’s learned the hard way that people you love the most always hurt you in the end.

But then she meets Declan Blay, the new neighbor at her apartment complex.

A tattooed British street fighter, he’s the campus bad boy she’s supposed to avoid, but when he saves her from a frat party gone bad, all her rules about sex and love fly out the window.

She gives him one night of unbridled passion, but he longs for more.

With only a cardboard-thin wall separating their bedrooms, he dreams of possessing the vulnerable girl next door forever.

One night. Two damaged hearts. The passion of a lifetime.

Check out our 5 smooches review HERE.

Excerpt of DIRTY ENGLISH

“Come to my apartment and spend the night with me.” I touched his face, my fingers stroking the softness of his sensuous lips. “Just one night and we can make this shitty world disappear.”

He exhaled. “A one-night stand?”

“Yeah.”

He cupped my chin. “Someone hurt you, didn’t they?”

My lips tightened. No one at Whitman knew about Colby except for Shelley and Blake, and I sure as hell wasn’t telling him. He’d judge me like everyone else had in Petal, North Carolina. “That’s none of your business.”

“I see.” His eyes searched mine until I felt like a bug under a microscope. “What if I wanted more than just one night?”

“Then your hands can let go of my hips now.”

He removed his hands slowly, the tips of his fingers grazing mine. “This may surprise you, but I don’t sleep with every girl I kiss.”

I’d been rejected. Again. “Blake said you got around, that you used—”

“And you believed him?” His voice was incredulous. “Dude is in love with you and he saw exactly how we looked at each other tonight—”

“Looked at each other? What are you talking about? You refused to dance with me and then you ran off with your girlfriend. Not to mention I just kissed you and you didn’t even care.” I threw my hands up.

“I wanted to fuck you the minute you walked in that party,” he snapped.

“Then why don’t you,” I bit out, tossing back my shoulders.

“You think you want me?” he said tightly. “You can’t handle me, Elizabeth. I can see it in your eyes. You’re scared of something, maybe not me, but something.”

My eyes went to his black eye.

He let out a harsh laugh. “Ah, that’s what you’re afraid of. You want the real truth? You told me tonight you didn’t like violence, but I’m an arsehole who uses his fists. That’s who I am.”

“What do you mean?”

His gaze was intense, dark and low, his face struggling as he fought to find the right words. “I’m in a fight club for money. I show up at warehouses and fight other blokes. Sometimes I beat them so bad they need medical attention. A few times, I’ve been beat to unconsciousness. I’m everything you need to stay away from.”

I inhaled, anger and lust and excitement all riding me. Anger that he was pushing me away, lust for the alpha male in him, and God help me, the fighting thing repelled me and excited me at the same time. “I don’t want to stay away from you. I want you to fuck me and stop making excuses for why you can’t.”

My words seemed to snap his taut restraint.

He pulled me back in his arms, his lips fusing with mine unerringly. His tongue plundered me in a sensual way my body had craved for years. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my anger morphing into all-out desire as he turned us and pressed me against the wall.

Yes, yes, this is what I craved.

A passion to remind me that I was real, not just some sad excuse of a girl who chose to exist on scraps of love.

Before I knew it, he’d shoved my robe off, his hands sculpting my shoulders, massaging them as he ravaged my mouth. I reveled in the warmth of his hand on my neck as his mouth skated down, kissing the hollows of my throat, sucking on my collarbone.

“Like this?” he asked, his voice dark and gravelly. “You want me to take you up against this wall?”

“Yes,” I moaned. Gone. Past caring as long as he kept his hands on me.

Out of control, my brain whispered, but I beat back the dark warnings as his warm hand found my breast and squeezed, his fingers rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

I gasped in pleasure and arched my back to get closer to his body, ignoring the fear that pricked at the surface.

The rules girl in my head stamped her foot and yelled at me. I ignored her.

But even if I wanted to stop right now, I couldn’t. My tongue tangled wildly with his, my hands pulled at his hair, spurring him on, his hand palming my breast and then tugging. Sharp sensations of need went straight to my core.

“Is this what you want? Something quick where we just take what we want and forget each other the next day?”

No. Not that. Not like the way he said it, like it was something dirty.

“Yes, like that,” I whispered against his shoulder, my mouth on his skin, tasting him as my teeth bit down.

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.

She’s addicted to all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding heroes in books. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she’s a Gemini), Sephora make-up, and tattoos.

She has a degree in English and a Master’s in Education.

When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

You can stalk her on her website as well as get signed books: http://www.ilsamaddenmills.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorilsamaddenmills?pnref=lhc

IG: https://instagram.com/ilsamaddenmills/

Twitter: @ilsamaddenmills

Ilsa Madden-Mills’ other books:

VERY BAD THINGS

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1RH9CJY

iBooks: http://apple.co/1gl5Yaj

BN: http://bit.ly/1bOyH2g

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1D0BVw5

VERY WICKED BEGINNINGS

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1K5NvX8

VERY WICKED THINGS

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1NvRIr5

iBooks: http://apple.co/1mVS3Wo

BN: http://bit.ly/1mT1cDB

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1C9EZt3

VERY TWISTED THINGS

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1cvvkkh

iBooks: http://apple.co/1eN7Clh

BN: http://bit.ly/1KK0ljh

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1BHcK4R

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