A faceless name. That’s all she was when I agreed to play a part in deceiving her. But then the unplanned happened.

We met. And all I wanted from her was a dirty weekend . . . until that wasn’t enough and I longed for so much more.

Lawrence Thorn suddenly means the world to me. And that’s a problem. She’s my business partner’s sister. Forbidden fruit. Pursuing her can mean trouble for me at Lovibond Brewery. But I don’t care.

I yearn for her skin against mine.

I crave her smell on my body.

I want to make her laugh and then hear her moan my name.

And she does for a brief moment in time.

But Lawrence wants more than I’m able to give. And it’s a damn shame because there’s no one on earth I want more than her.

An epic love.

A miserable ending.

Unless it’s not.

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Lucas Broussard

“I told you I didn’t need a man to feel complete. I meant that.” I’m going to make her come

so hard she’s going to know what she’s been missing.

I stroke the back of my hand down her cheek. Soft. Smooth. Delicate. “You’re beautiful,

Wren.”

Most of the women I’ve been with are too skinny, and they hide behind masks of cosmetics.

But not Wren. She’s an all-natural woman.

She’s very different from Bridgette, yet alike in many ways.

Both make me laugh.

Both put me at ease.

Both are so genuine.

I rub her hip and there’s actually something there to grab instead of skin-covered bone.

Skinny isn’t attractive to me. I like curves and shape. Wren is everything I like in a woman.

She strokes my face again, running the tips of her fingers through my facial hair. “I love this,

Brou. It’s my idea of manly beauty.” I’m used to being called Boudreaux. But I can get used to

Brou if it’s coming from her.

“Manly beauty.” This is the second time she’s made a reference about me being manly.

Makes me wonder if she’s ever been with a man she considers masculine. Well, I’m going to

show her how much of a man I am. And not just once.

I lower myself until I’m hovering over her. I press my lips to the side of her neck as I grasp

the back of her thigh and bend it at the knee. That’s it, baby. Wrap it around me.

I glide my hand up the back of her smooth leg until it’s inside her shorts. And panties. Same

song from last night. Second verse. But it’s palm against bare ass this time.

I wonder what she’d do if my fingers left the safety of her ass cheek and moved to that

sensitive place between her legs. Let’s find out.

It’s been a long time for Wren. I don’t want to rush this so I move slowly, gliding my hand up

to her waist before moving it lower. She jolts when I touch her groin. “Sorry. I’m terribly ticklish

there.” Duly noted. I’ll use that to my advantage later.

I move my hand away from the bend of her leg closer to her center. “What about that?

Better?”

“Yes.” The single word comes out in a soft whisper. Time to take her breath away, as

promised.

She pants as the tips of my fingers stroke her through the wet crotch of her panties. I’ve

barely touched her and she’s drenched. Physical proof of her arousal and desire for me. Fucking

beautiful.

I push her panties aside and drag my finger up her wet center. She jolts when I graze her clit.

Given it’s been a long time, she’ll be more sensitive than ever. That’s going to make this even

hotter.

I take my hand out of her panties and suck her slick moisture from my fingers. “Mmm . . .

you are delicious. I can’t wait to taste you fully.”

She reaches up a

nd rubs my bottom lip. “You have a dirty mouth.”

“I have a greedy mouth. Lucky you.”

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Georgia resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author and hasn’t looked back yet.

When she’s not writing, she’s thinking about writing. When she’s being domestic, she’s listening to her iPod and visualizing scenes for her current work in progress. Every story coming from her always has a song to inspire it.

Representation: All questions regarding subsidiary rights for any of my books, inquiries regarding foreign translation and film rights should be directed to Jane Dystel of Dystel & Goderich.

He found me in blood and tears.

I stayed with him through darkness and fire.

We loved each other in the moment between innocence and bitter truth.

We were the kids easily ignored, who grew into adults we hardly knew.

We weren’t meant to last forever. And we didn’t.

He ran away.

I tried to move on.

Yet I never stopped thinking about the boy who had fought to keep me alive in a world that would have swallowed me whole. He was the past that I buried, but never forgot.

Until the day I found him again, years after believing I had lost him forever.

And in cold, resentful eyes, I saw the heart of the man who had been everything when I had nothing at all. So I vowed to hold onto the second chance that was stolen from the children we had been.

Sometimes fate is ugly. Life can be twisted.

And who we are can be ruined by who we once were.

For two people who had survived so much, we would have to learn how to hold on before we were forced to let go.

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The New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Contemporary and Paranormal romance including The Find You in the Dark and Bad Rep series as well as the upcoming stand alone romance, Reclaiming the Sand, and a dark new adult series for Gallery Books.

A. Meredith spent ten years as a counselor for at risk teens and children. First working at a Domestic Violence/Sexual Assault program and then later a program for children with severe emotional and mental health issues. Her former clients and their stories continue to influence every aspect of her writing.

When not writing (or being tortured with all manner of beauty products at the hand of her very imaginative and extremely girly daughter), she is eating chocolate, watching reality television that could rot your brain and reading a smutty novel or two.

A. Meredith is represented by Michelle Johnson with the Inklings Literary Agency.

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SEATTLE

Maverick

‘Not in a million years, kid.’

‘No.’

‘NOT INTERESTED.’

‘Get the fuck out of my face!’

Four cities in two days, and more doors slammed in my face than I can count. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and scratch another name from my list.

Hopping on to a bus and hopping off thirty minutes later, I scan the mix of both commercial and apartment numbers down the block, then knock on my last door.

“Coach Hennesy?”

He’s a tall man, his hair like pepper, clad in sweats, with a yellow timer hanging from his neck. He gives me a questioning look.

“I’m your next champion.”

He laughs, but then he must see something on my face. In my stance. Thirst, resoluteness, guts. Maybe I’m wearing my balls in my eyes. He falls sober and swings the door wide-open. “Come on in.”

He doesn’t ask for my name.

I guess with one look, he knows he’ll find my name in the dictionary, right next to “determined.”

He leads me to his garage. “Where’d you train before?” he asks.

“Self-taught. I watch videos.”

He scoffs, then shrugs. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”

I eye the equipment across the room. The heavy bag hangs from the ceiling, the leather worn from other fighters before me. There’s a boxing dummy at the corner. Speed bag. Weights. A whole private gym set up here. I drop both my bags, then zip open my backpack and start to put on the gloves without bothering to remove my hoodie.

“Take that off; I need to know what you’ve got. Need to see your form,” Hennesy says.

I clench my jaw. Slowly unzip my hoodie. Take it off and glance past my shoulder, shifting to keep my back from the coach’s view. The guy is clearing the fighting area. Good. We can get down to business. He walks to me when I face him.

“Give it over.” I hand him my hoodie and he tosses it aside, then crosses his arms and looks at me. “Speedball first.”

I inhale, position myself before the speedball, and hit. Wham.

I keep on hitting, lightning fast, my fists making the bag fly.

I would have warmed up first, but I’ve been doing this for days, and I won’t stop until I’ve got myself a coach—and not even then.

I’ve got momentum now, and I pick up speed, my arms moving back and forth, working the speed bag until it’s moving so fast you can’t even see it.

I’m starting to sweat; it’s stuffy in here, but I can’t stop. I need him to take me on. I need one yes to get me in the ring. Just one yes and I’ll do the rest.

“Time.” Hennesy stops me. He signals to the boxing dummy and the heavy bag. “Let’s see you pound the bag.”

I swing out and slam my knuckles on the bag, putting everything into my fists. Thack, thump, thud.

Hennesy’s composure starts to crumble with excitement. “Holy shit, boy!”

I’m getting in to it. I’m in the zone—where it’s just me, the leather brown bag, my fists, and nothing else but slamming the spot I’m looking at.

“I’ve seen enough.” He stops the bag from swinging. His eyes glassy. “Fill this out.”

I pull off my right glove and grab a pen as he slaps a paper onto a desk at the corner. I bend down to fill out my name and contact information and realize, too late, that I exposed the tattoo on my back.

“You’re his boy.”

I freeze midsignature.

A second ticks by. Then two.

I slowly set the pen down and take one last look at the paper. I might not get to fill it out after all. I turn.

His face has paled.

I wait it out for a few beats. Maybe he’s different. Maybe he can deal with it.

He tosses my jacket at me. “Get out. Nobody wants to see you fight.”

I frown fiercely as I catch my jacket in my fist and edge forward, equally mad now. “That’s too damn bad. ’Cause I’m fighting anyway.”

I keep my eyes on him as I pull off my left glove, shove my arms into my hoodie, and zip up.

I walk out and the door slams behind me. I clench my jaw, and I shove my gloves into my bag and spot the old, black gloves inside too. I push them down into the bottom of the duffel bag and zip it up.

The season starts in a week and a half. No coach? No fight. I can’t even get into a gym.

But I won’t let anyone or anything keep me from the ring.

I pick up a penny from the ground.

And I spot a girl in workout clothes across the street, tying her shoelaces. She’s a step away from the gym door. I straighten, pull my hoodie over my head, and cross the street, following after her like I belong.

Meet Maverick “The Avenger” Cage in Legend, the newest stand alone in the REAL series releasing February 9th!

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Blurb

Maverick “the Avenger” Cage wants to rise to the top and become a legend in the ring. Though he keeps his identity well guarded, he’s known on the fighting circuit as the new kid with a chip on his shoulder and a tattoo on his back that marks him as trouble. He’s got a personal score to settle with the Underground’s one and only Remington “Riptide” Tate.

As Mav trains, he meets a young girl—the only other new person in the town–and sparks fly. When things get heated between them, he finds out she’s none other than Reese Dumas, the cousin of Remington Tate’s wife. A girl who’s supposed to root against him and a girl he’s supposed to stay away from.

But Maverick fights for the woman in his heart, and the monsters in his blood. The world’s eyes are on them and the victor will go down in history as the ultimate fighting champion; the ultimate LEGEND.

* LEGEND is the 6th and final installment of the REAL series, but it can also be read as standalone or after the three Remington and Brooke books (Real/Mine/Remy.)

Real (Book One) The Real Series

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Ripped  (Book Five) The Real Series

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About the Author:

Hey! I’m Katy Evans and I love family, books, life, and love. I’m married with two children and three dogs and spend my time baking, walking, writing, reading, and taking care of my family. Thank you for spending your time with me and picking up my story. I hope you had an amazing time with it, like I did. If you’d like to know more about books in progress, look me up on the Internet, I’d love to hear from you!

Website: www.katyevans.net

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Email: authorkatyevans@gmail.com

Dirty Pleasures by Meghan March

Book Two of The Dirty Billionaire Trilogy

Date of Publication: December 29, 2015

Blurb

Dirty Pleasures

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.

Buy Now:

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 CHECK OUT OUR 5 SMOOCHES REVIEW HERE!

About Meghan March

Meghan March is the author of contemporary and erotic romance novels.

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.

Find Meghan March Online

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More from the Dirty Billionaire Trilogy!

Dirty Billionaire: Release Date 12/08/2015

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.

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Dirty Together: Release Date 01/12/2015

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.

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Only one man can help her. Is she willing to pay his price?

Faced with the potentially overwhelming loss of her family’s fortune, Lara Bertrand turns to the one man who can help her, the gorgeous and powerful Connor Donovan.

She knows he’s dangerous to her on every level. Only desperation would drive her to make such a risky proposition. After all, she knows all about his ruthless nature and relentless determination to succeed.

When the classy, elegant Lara walks into his office with an outrageous proposal, Connor is stunned and more than a little intrigued. Ever since he first met her, he’s been attracted to the cool beauty, but she’s more than kept her distance.

Connor is absolutely willing to help her out. For a price. He not only wants her hand in marriage, but also her total submissive surrender…

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Winner of the 2013 Best BDSM Book of the Year award (Over The Line), the 2014 LASR Book of the Year award (In The Den), and the 2015 Golden Flogger (Crave), Sierra was born in Manchester, England where she spent her early years traipsing through castles. After living in Denver for a number of years, the internationally acclaimed author now calls Galveston, Texas, home. She loves the way history blends with Southern manners (being called “sugar” is an experience unto itself) and rich pirate lore.

She invites you to join her on a sensual journey where the limits are explored and expanded.

Ink & Lies

by S.L. Jennings

Releasing February 2016

Synopsis

From International Best Selling Romance Novelist, Hope Hughes, comes a gripping, heartfelt tale of two lovers, fighting for the freedom to…

No. Scratch that. Too cheesy. Continue reading

Jesse

I admit, I didn’t think much of Charlie at first. She was rounder than the girls who usually caught my eye. Not my type. But when I saw her sitting in that booth alone, for the first time something in my mind or my instincts or my heart told me to join her.

She defied me.

She challenged me.

She gave me hope.

Before I knew it, moving forward was my only option.

Charlie

I couldn’t tell you when it happened, but it had to have been a gradual change; I never moved too quickly.

If someone would have told me earlier that year what I was going to go through, I wouldn’t have believed them.

Jesse was so different from anyone I’d met before. And everyone I’ve met since. He sucked all the life out of me, in the best—and worst—ways.

We don’t get strong overnight. For most of us it takes time. Strength isn’t measured by how high and fast our walls go up, but how easily we can watch them fall.

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Amalie Silver resides in Minnesota with her husband, two toddlers, and German Short-haired Pointer, Saba. She consumes approximately three pots of coffee a day, and credits this for her survival over the past decade.

When not completely consumed in her writing, she can be found taking road trips to northern Minnesota, engaging in fierce Scrabble games, or reading a good book. She’s a sucker for all romance genres, literary fiction, and psychological fiction.

Sebring (Unfinished Heroes #5)

by Kristen Ashley

January 11th, 2016

Blurb:

Nick Sebring has issues. Born feeling like an outsider in his own family, growing up under the shadow of a brother who could do anything, Nick isn’t that great of a guy. But when this culminates with Nick lashing out to hurt his brother through the woman he loves, Nick turns inward and makes some decisions about the man he intends to be.

And as he does this, he falls in love and truly learns the man that he’s grown to be.

When his love is murdered right before Nick’s eyes, Nick knows he has to avenge her. He knows how he’s going to avenge her. And he has no qualms using Olivia Shade to exact that vengeance.

Olivia Shade has grown up on the outside of her family too. Her problem is that they don’t want her outside. They want her all the way in, right under their thumbs. She pays the price for seeking escape and learns her lesson—she’ll never see a dawn where she wakes up free.

Then she meets Nick Sebring, and even as she fights it, the hope that died years ago starts to blossom. She can find love. She can have a man of her own. She can be happy. She can be free.

Olivia hopes while Nick schemes.

However, as Nick peels back the layers of all that is Olivia Shade, he finds something surprising. He understands its fragility. He falls in love with its beauty. He seeks to protect it.

But he forgets to protect his Livvie from one thing: Nick Sebring.

Check out our 5 smooches review HERE.

Excerpt:

In the hotel room, Nick heard the knock at the door.

He moved to it, looked out the peephole and felt the corners of his mouth hitch up when he saw her.

Fuck, those big green eyes, perfectly arched dark brows, the olive tint to her skin, the expert way she shaded under her cheekbones…

She was a coldhearted criminal but she was one that was very easy to look at.

And even easier to fuck.

He opened the door.

He was going to say something but he didn’t get the chance when her hand darted out and she caught him under his jaw, using it to push him in and around until his back hit wall.

She stared up at him, her hand wrapped around his jaw, her expression holding an emptiness that was so extreme it was almost like a void he could fall into and get lost forever.

He heard the door swish closed and latch.

Then she was up on her toes, her head moving toward his, those green eyes dropping to his mouth.

She didn’t get her lips to his before his tongue was out, as was hers, both of them colliding and tangling before her mouth slammed to his just as her body pushed in, pressing hard, forcing him tighter to the wall.

He shoved out. Gripping her wrist at his jaw, he yanked it down, twisting and slamming her against the wall, slanting his head to deepen an already deep kiss. Their tongues again clashing before he actually took her mouth.

But he took her mouth.

And like she’d done to his, he consumed it.

His fingers still around her wrist, he yanked it around his back, using his body to shove her tight to the wall, pressing his hardening cock against her stomach.

She arched, and moving quickly, whipped him around so his back was to the wall and she took over the kiss. Tearing her wrist from his hold, she curled her fingers around his throat just as she cupped his hardening crotch with her other hand.

Fucking hell, this woman was hot.

But he was done playing.

And he was done kissing.

Her mouth, that was.

He pushed her away. She struggled to regain control.

She lost this struggle when he caught her hand and dragged her down the short hall into the room.

She lost her footing when he gave her hand a strong tug and she fell into him with a soft gasp.

He let her hand go, caught her hips and threw her four feet onto the bed.

That got him another soft gasp which took his cock from hardening to rock-solid and throbbing.

He bent over her, holding her now intense green gaze, spanning her hips with his hands. Shoving backwards, he found the hook of her skirt, released it and pulled down the zipper.

He moved his fingers to curl them into the sides of her skirt’s waistband. With a vicious tug that took her hips and panties with it, he yanked off the skirt.

Chest to the bed, eyes to her cunt, the black curls neatly groomed with a precision that meant her wax technician was a master with possible OCD issues, they were also glistening with wet.

Having the tussle at the door, seeing the utter perfection of her pussy, smelling her, watching her legs part in invitation, her knees shifting up, Nick couldn’t have gone gentle if he’d wanted to.

Luckily he didn’t want to.

He bent his neck and devoured her.

Fuck, she tasted just as perfect as she looked.

As he fed, he felt her excitement ramp. Tasted it. Ate it. Gave her more. Consumed the result. Drove her to the edge.

And when he had her there, he stopped and moved over her.

Not surprisingly, she used both the pump she already had planted into the bed and the calf she had wrapped around him to flip him and then she was straddling him, pushing up, her hands already to his fly.

Normally, he would not allow this.

Her face flushed with need, her manner urgent, even desperate, all that surged through his blood, his gut, straight to his cock.

So he allowed this.

She tugged his pants down, grabbed his dick, guided it to her and took him home.

At the beauty of her sheathing him, he gritted his teeth against the urge to let go and release way too fucking early. Bucking his hips, he watched how much she liked taking him, her head thrown back, her shining, straight mass of silken black hair swaying.

Then she dropped forward into a hand in the bed by his side, locked eyes with him and rode him violently as he watched until she gave it to herself and she kept doing it until she forced it from him.

Fucking spectacular.

He came down buried inside her, his eyes opening to see her still resting in her hand in the bed, her body moving gently with her still-labored-but-evening breathing, her dark hair framing her oval face, her straight bangs brushing her lashes, her green eyes locked to his trying to brand him, make him hers.

No way in fuck that was happening.

But he’d take more of this.

A lot more.

That said, the woman was going to learn how to give up control.

Not surprisingly, without a word, she swung off his cock, moving immediately toward the side of the mattress.

Nick focused on pulling up his trousers, doing the fly and angling off the bed. By the time he was up and had turned his attention back to her, she was on her feet, facing him, arms twisted behind her to do up the skirt she’d put on.

He held her gaze.

“We got all night, Olivia,” he informed her.

Not even a hint of a response to him calling her the name she hadn’t given him.

Then again, he knew she knew him; she’d make it her business.

She also knew he’d do the same with her, even before he sat next to her the night before.

Her expression might not have changed but his words spurred her to action, this being walking his way.

She stopped. Her eyes still on his, she lifted a hand and touched his chest lightly with just the pad of her middle finger.

It lasted half a second.

Then she dropped her hand, turned and walked away.

He heard the door close behind her and he couldn’t stop his smile.

Fuck yes, a seriously cool customer.

And the hottest fuck he’d had in his life.

About The Author:

Kristen Ashley was born in Gary, Indiana, USA. She nearly killed her mother and herself making it into the world, seeing as she had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck (already attempting to accessorise and she hadn’t taken her first breath!).

Kristen grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana but has lived in Denver, Colorado and the West Country of England. Thus she has been blessed to have friends and family around the globe. Her posse is loopy (to say the least) but loopy is good when you want to write.

Kristen was raised in a house with a large and multi-generational family. They lived on a very small farm in a small town in the heartland and existed amongst the strains of Glenn Miller, The Everly Brothers, REO Speedwagon and Whitesnake (and the wardrobes that matched).

Needless to say, growing up in a house full of music, clothes and love was a good way to grow up.

And as she keeps growing up, it keeps getting better.

http://www.kristenashley.net/

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