If A Maddox boy falls in love, he loves forever. But what if he didn’t love you, first?

No-nonsense Liis Lindy is an agent of the FBI. Deciding she is married only to her job, she breaks off her engagement and transfers from Chicago to the field office in San Diego. She loves her desk. She is committed to her laptop. She dreams of promotions and shaking hands with the director after cracking an impossible case.

Special Agent in Charge Thomas Maddox is arrogant, unforgiving, and ruthless. He is tasked with putting away some of the world’s toughest criminals, and he is one of the best the Bureau has to offer. Though, as many lives as he’s saved, there is one that is beyond his reach. Younger brother Travis is faced with prison time for his involvement in a basement fire that killed dozens of college students, and the media want a conviction. Travis’s only savior is his unusual tie to the mob. In a deal that will spare his brother, Thomas has agreed to recruit Travis into the FBI.

Liis is stubborn, defiant, and yet somehow softens Thomas’s rough edges, making her the perfect agent to accompany him to the ceremony. Posing as a couple, they must travel to Travis & Abby’s beach vow renewal and give him the news, but when the pretending ends, she finds herself wondering if they were pretending at all.

In the second installment of the Maddox Brothers books, experience firsthand the mysterious world of the elusive Thomas Maddox, and how good love can be when you’re not the first, but the last.

MANWHORE by Katy Evans

EXCERPT

I look very different than the girl Saint met in his office. But I don’t feel any different. My nerves are frayed to the edges as I give my name to a bouncer at the entrance and I’m allowed into the club, every part of me snug and tight in my dress as my black heels hit the floor.

Whereas M4 was all museum-like, the Ice Box is pure dark decadence. Ice sculptures sit on pedestals around the room. Cages with body-painted dancers hang from the ceiling. A bar with white and blue lights stretches from one wall to another.

Strobe lights flash across the space as I get jostled by the crowd. The bass thumps as the song “Waves” by Mr. Probz plays for the dancing crowd. Drinks are flowing on shiny silver trays, and the drinks are so adorned—by fruits, olives, salt glitter or colorful liquid swirls—they’re like artworks. This isn’t a normal swanky club. It’s the rich boys’ club and everywhere you look are beautiful people wearing beautiful things.

“I met him! God! When he said hi I thought I’d faint…!”

My nerves eat at me as I hear that, because I know for sure they’re talking about him. Trying to breathe, I wind deeper into the club, wishing for Gina so bad I ache. The room is packed with women, some clearly on the hunt, others already paired with someone, a few hanging out with their friends. I breathe slowly, in and out, telling myself I can do this. It’s just a club. I can have some fun. It’s been a while since I’ve gone out to a club, and never a club like this, but it doesn’t matter. I can interview people, and if I’m lucky, I can do more than that.

After scanning the area and trying to find the best spy-spots, I go to the top level and that’s when I get the best look at what’s happening downstairs at the most crowded corner.

And speak of the devil. My heart stops a beat when I see that dark head of his, and that loathed, burning knot in my stomach squeezes with a vengeance. I swear no one in my life has ever made me this nervous.

He sits with his arms stretched out behind him, a wine glass and two women vying for his attention as he chats with his friends. His masculine face is illuminated in certain angles when the lights flash—his beauty unprecedented.

Okay. Breathing. Do I want him to know I’m here or not?

A watery sensation seems to spread down my limbs as I force myself to go downstairs. I wind a path to the ladies’ room and worm myself through the throng of bodies toward a wide mirror above a set of modernist floating sinks. A group of women preen at themselves while I look our reflections. To my right, a woman pouts her red lips, and to my left, her friend pouts her pink ones. Me? I’m still me, but I look extravagant, like I was born here. I look very different than the young girl in coveralls he met. Will he even recognize me like this?

“You going to the after-party?” Red Lips asks Pink Lips as they retouch their lipsticks.

“No key yet.”

“Lookie lookie.” Red Lips waves a keycard in the air.

There’s squealing in the room and she tucks the key into her bra. “Mine!”

“So there’s an after-party?” I ask them.

“At Saint’s penthouse,” one says, nodding.

“How do you get invited to this party?”

“A hundred keys are distributed during the evening.”

A sudden thought of stealing the very key she’s just tucked into her bra flickers through my mind. I mean, it’s just a key. It couldn’t possibly be a felony.

“Babe,” she tells me, “stop giving my key the eye! I’ve been waiting three years to get a key like this. Go and work your ass out there if you want one. Only the finest asses make it.”

“Thanks,” I say, turning to look at my ass in the mirror questioningly. Gina says I’ve got a great ass. It’s perky and the perfect handful, some would say. But would Saint say that?

I sigh and lean against the wall, then I spot all the little writings on an open stall door. I narrow my eyes, forcing my focus.

Malcolm for my baby-daddy

I sucked Saint’s cock

Tahoe rammed me right here

Callan licks cunt like a caveman

I head back into the noise and try to find a good spot for spying when I see him again. The two women won’t leave his side and now my stomach for some reason feels jumpy, annoying me. One of the blondes takes a shot from the waiter, licks the rim, and then adds salt.

Saint edges back and watches her with an expression of casual boredom, but his lips are curled, as if he’s having some fun.

I’m so engrossed watching—a little too fascinated and a little bit disgusted—I don’t realize a guard has walked up to me until he’s right in my face. He signals to the back of the room—to where Saint’s best friends are now watching me. Saint isn’t even looking my way. Oh no, he’s too busy being entertained, still wearing that almost-bored smile. Maybe they need to take their tops off to get him excited?

All three men fit in perfectly with the lavish surroundings, but I can’t look at the other two. Only at Malcolm. Malcolm’s dark good looks blend with the shadows like Hades in his own little corner of hell.

Suddenly he laughs over something one of the blondes does and he turns a little, his eyes landing straight on me—and stopping there.

I feel his stare like a hit of adrenaline. I want to look away, but I can’t, I feel trapped. I don’t know if I made this up but I could’ve sworn his chest jerked as if he sucked in a breath.

Does he recognize me?

Do I want him to?

Suddenly the atmosphere is so heavy I can’t breathe. My lungs feel like rocks and I really can’t breathe. As he rakes me in one fast, complete sweep of hi eyes that makes my stomach grip nervously, he takes in my pumps up to my long blonde hair, and I become aware of my dress hugging the top of my thighs, my hips, my abdomen, my breasts and even my ass. Oh god. I force myself to follow the guard in his direction, every step accelerating my heartbeat. In that black suit and without a tie, the top button of his shirt open and his hair a bit rumpled, Saint is the embodiment of luxurious and decadent and sin. He is Sin Itself and I feel like an absolute…virgin.

He stretches his long legs out before him, his stare fixed on mine without any seeming inclination to move away.

“Mr. Saint,” the guard clears his throat. “The gentlemen had me summon her.”

Although his smile doesn’t waver, the look on his face is completely remote and unreadable.

“Here she is, gentlemen,” the guard then tells the other two—the blond and the copper-haired men looking at me like lunch.

“Tahoe,” the blonde says.

“Callan,” the copper-haired says.

Saint merely pats the blondes on the butt and sends them on her way, then he reaches out to take my elbow somehow in an instinctive gesture that brings me a strange sense of comfort. I don’t know anybody else here, so when he tugs me to his side, I go down and sit next to him on the edge of the long booth.

And that’s when he leans his dark head over to me and murmurs, “Malcolm.” His voice is so deep and rumbling, I shiver.

“Rachel,” I lamely offer.

He raises his eyebrow and stares at me. What are you doing here, Rachel? he seems to ask.

I’m wondering what to say, when Tahoe lifts his drink and drains it. “You’re up past your bedtime.” The Texan oil baby. Oozing charm, drawling out the words.

I don’t know why but I’m acutely aware of the position of Saint’s body in relation to mine. He just straightened fully in the booth and somehow shifted so his arm is very noticeably stretched out behind me.

“Like they say, no rest for the wicked,” I answer Tahoe with an extra-wide smile, my heart pounding over Saint’s nearness.

Suddenly I can smell him. Just him. Among all the mingled scents in the room, it’s Saint somehow in my lungs, in every breath. He radiates a vitality that draws me like a magnet. It unnerves me but something in his presence, so close to me, soothes me too.

“Apparently there’s a dress code—Saint had to drop his tail and horns at the door,” Callan jokes as a waiter sets a drink before me.

“Oh yes.” I tug the hem of my skirt self-consciously, “I had to drop half my dress.”

“Did you now?” Tahoe asks.

“T.”

One word, one letter, from Malcolm.

“Yeah, Saint?” Tahoe returns, lifting his eyebrows.

“Dibs.”

I almost spit out the drink. I cough and slam my hand to my chest, and Saint calmly reaches out to take my drink from my hand and sets it aside.  “Okay?” he asks, ducking his head and peering into my face.

I give one last cough and squeeze my eyes shut and nod, and when I open my eyes, Saint is the only thing I see. I find him staring at me in such a penetrating way I can feel the stare in my bones.

“Did you just get to the party, Rachel?” he asks.

As he waits for my reply, he reaches for my cocktail and extends the glass out to me. His wrist is thick and looks so strong, so golden, his skin smooth, his arm dusted with a little bit of hair as I cautiously take it from him, our fingers brushing.

Tahoe reaches for his coat pocket and waves whatever he extracted in the air. “Saint! May I?”

Excitement leaps in my chest when I realize it’s the key!

“Not happening, that’s not her scene,” Malcolm murmurs besides me.

“Aw! Come on, let me give her a key. She’s a dime, man,” Tahoe drawls.

I’m so disbelieving, I’m not even breathing as Malcolm slowly stands. I follow him up, staring up into his face in confusion.

“What do you mean it’s not my scene?” I demand. I feel like there’s no gravity when he stands so close to me. I’m dizzy. Confused. And unexpectedly hurt.

For the first time since we met, he looks at me like he’s actually losing his temper…with me. He leans closer and puts his lips close to my ear. “Trust me when I tell you, it’s not your scene. Go home,” he whispers. He sends me a look laden with warning and walks away, blending into the crowd.

Tahoe and Callan stare at me, speechless. “That’s a first,” Tahoe mumbles and heads away.

I feel myself burn in humiliation and confusion. Worse is that, when I go outside, the same man who drove us around the day before walks over to me.

“Miss Livingston, a pleasure to drive you,” he says, hanging up his phone as if Saint just called him. He is a huge man, with a bald head, an earpiece, and no expression. A second later, he’s opening the car door of the Rolls for me.

Seriously?

Did Saint call him just now and ask him to escort me home?

Aware of people staring and seeing me being led to Saint’s car, I climb into the back of the car and I murmur my thanks simply because it’s not this man’s fault.

The car smells new and expensive and, like him. A bottle of wine and water bottles ride with me. There’s music in the background and the temperature is just right. The perfect luxury of it all tempts me to run my hands down my dress and look down at myself in confusion. What is wrong with me?

I feel as if he pulled the rug from under me and reminded me what I’m up against. The top of the species. Somebody ruthless.

I can’t take the heat in the back of my ears and on my cheeks. I sag on the backseat and set my forehead on the window. Focus, Livingston! Exhaling, I grab my phone and try to write down all the details about what I saw, but I can’t right now. I just can’t do anything but ride here, in his car, wondering why I feel so vulnerable.

COMING SOON

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RELEASE DATE: March 24th

MANWHORE

book #1 of ‘the manwhore series’

Is it possible to expose Chicago’s hottest player—without getting played?

This is the story I’ve been waiting for all my life, and its name is Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint. Don’t be fooled by that last name though. There’s nothing holy about the man except the hell his parties raise. The hottest entrepreneur Chicago has ever known, he’s a man’s man with too much money to spend and too many women vying for his attention.

Mysterious. Privileged. Legendary. His entire life he’s been surrounded by the press as they dig for tidbits to see if his fairytale life is for real or all mirrors and social media lies. Since he hit the scene, his secrets have been his and his alone to keep. And that’s where I come in.

Assigned to investigate Saint and reveal his elusive personality, I’m determined to make him the story that will change my career.

But I never imagined he would change my life. Bit by bit, I start to wonder if I’m the one discovering him…or if he’s uncovering me.

What happens when the man they call Saint, makes you want to sin?

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

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatyEvans

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorkatyevans

Email: authorkatyevans@gmail.com

RELEASE DATE: FEBRUARY 19

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Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

 

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com

 

 

 

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Throb by Vi Keeland is LIVE!

Now is your chance to meet Cooper & Kate!

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 Check out our 4 Smooches Review HERE!

Blurb

Excerpt

Every girl needs three things

1.  A flutter in her belly when she meets him for the first time.

Meet Cooper

My lips brush the top of her hand lightly, my tongue sneaking out to fleetingly touch her skin.  The brief contact stirs an ache inside me.  This woman tugs at something—more than arousal—something that makes me want to slow down time just to spend a few more minutes standing here.

“Did you just…” she stammers a bit.

“Did I just what?”

She squints at me.  “You know.”

“Do I?”

“I felt your tongue on my hand.  You…you licked me.”

I’d been dying to run my tongue along her neck all evening, although I hadn’t really meant to be so crude about it.  It just sort of …happened.  “I wouldn’t say licked, maybe just a little taste.”

“So you tasted me?”

My entire body suddenly has interest in this conversation.  “I suppose I did.  But it wasn’t nearly enough.  That brings us back to my invitation for dinner.  Tomorrow night?”

“I can’t.”

“The day after then?”

She laughs and shakes her head.  The sound makes me smile.

“Good night, Cooper.”  She pulls the driver’s side door shut and leaves me standing there…for a full five minutes after she’s gone.

2.  A best friend to talk about him to.

Meet Sadie

“And?”

“And I kissed him when we were in his office.”

“How was his office?”

“Really?  That’s what you want to know.  Not how was the kiss or aren’t you in breach of your contract?  How was his office?”

“You can tell a lot about a man by his office.”

I gulp another unladylike sip from my wine glass.  “His office was beautiful.  Sleek, overlooking the city.  It oozed power.”

“Nice.  Bet he fucks like he owns you.”

The thought of what he’s like in bed is enough to make me lose my train of thought.

“Go on,” Sadie prods.

I don’t continue immediately.

“You forgot what you were up to because you were thinking of him fucking you like he owns you, didn’t you?”  My best friend smirks knowingly.

“Shut up.”  I pause.  “Anyway, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Well, him.  Obviously.”

“I wish it were that easy.”

3.  A gentleman that turns into a bossy dirty talker in the bedroom.

Cooper – behind closed doors.

“You haven’t even begun to see bossy yet.  Tonight I’m going to tell you to do things, and you’re going to do them.  When I tell you to open wider, or take my cock deeper, you’re going to listen.  You know why?  Because since the moment we met, all I’ve wanted to do is make you feel good.  Hell, I don’t even need to get off physically.  Because I’m going to get off watching you every minute.  So, yeah, I’m going to be bossy.  Now let’s put the rest of this behind us.  Do you want to be with me tonight?”

After that prelude, I nod my head fast.  I’m no fool.  Who wouldn’t?

About the Author:

Vi Keeland is a native New Yorker with three children that occupy most of her free time, which she complains about often, but wouldn’t change for the world. She is a bookworm and has been known to read her kindle at stop lights, while styling her hair, cleaning, walking, during sporting events, and frequently while pretending to work.  She is a boring attorney by day, and an exciting smut author by night!

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GIVEAWAY

 
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We are thrilled to be able to bring you the Release Day launch for BETTER WHEN HE’S BOLD by Jay Crownover! BETTER WHEN HE’S BOLD is a New Adult Contemporary Romance novel being published by HarperCollins, and it is the 2^nd book in The Point Series. This amazing book releases today!! Check it out below then grab your copy.

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About BETTER WHEN HE’S BOLD:

From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jay Crownover, comes the second book in a combustible new series, Welcome to the Point, that is sexier, darker, and better than ever.

There’s a difference between a bad boy and a boy who is bad. . . . Welcome to the Point.

In a dark and broken kingdom, a ruler has be fearless to control the streets and the ruthless people who run them. Race Hartman is just bold enough, just smart enough, and just lost enough to wear the crown. Places like The Point will always have bad things and bad people, but the man in control of all that badness can minimize the devastation. Race has a plan, but can he prevent total annihilation without destroying himself?

Brysen Carter has always seen the real Race—a guy too pretty, too smooth, and way too dangerous. Basking in his golden glow is very tempting, but Brysen knows she’ll eventually get burned. She has enough problems without the risky danger and mayhem that comes with a guy like Race. Too bad Brysen faces a threat close to home that might be more dangerous than anything The Point has ever produced.. And the only person interested in keeping her safe is the one man she can’t allow herself to have.

Sometimes being bold is the only way to stay alive. But can she let Race save her life . . . if it means losing herself to him?

Excerpt:

I wheeled the Mustang into the compound and watched to make sure the gates swung closed behind us. The security lights flickered on overhead, casting her in an ethereal, bluish glow. Everything about her was refined and pure looking. God, I wanted to mess her up. I wanted my hands in her hair, my marks on her skin, and my taste in her mouth. I wanted her to look as rough as she made me feel on the inside. No one had ever riled me up like that before. Maybe because I was so used to just getting without having to ask, and Brysen never offered that to me. I always had to ask her what the next move was going to be, and her answers often surprised me. She was not a sure bet, and I think the challenge of that made her even more desirable.

“The lengths we go to in order to keep our family safe, to do right by those we love, is often a weighty burden to bear.” I got out of the car and went around to let her out of the passenger side. When I pulled her up, I pressed her back into the side of the car with the full length of my body and bent down so that my mouth hovered enticingly over the plump ridge of hers.

“I would do anything for Dovie, anything. I have done things for her that made me hate the man I had to be in order to do them, but it was in her best interest. I admire you being able to put your own life down and pick up a different one out of loyalty to your sister, but somewhere in there, you need to remember she’s going to have to learn to take care of herself. She’ll eventually have to admit that your parents are fucked and move on with her own life. Dovie found the one person in the world to love who has the ability to insulate her from anything the Point wants to throw at her. Your sister will eventually have to find her stability as well. She won’t need you forever.”

I saw something flare deep in those cerulean eyes, a spark of pain, maybe of realization that I was right, but then it was gone and she was pressing up on her tiptoes and sealing her mouth over mine. I let my hands glide down her sides and fall under her backside. She had the nicest butt on any girl I had ever seen, the nicest body really. There was no end to all her curves and dips, and anywhere my hands decided to land, they were filled with firm and sexy flesh. The brief glimpse I had had of her out of her towel the last time we were this close together had been enough to burn out the image of any other female I might’ve seen naked in the last few years. All I could see was Brysen and her pretty, pale skin, her high breasts with perfectly pink nipples, and her most private of places that were just at elegant and alluring as the rest of her. She was a blond bombshell and I could feel my body urging me to stop playing around and finally seal the deal with her.

And don’t miss the previous book in The Point Series!

BETTER WHEN HE’S BAD

About Jay Crownover:

Jay Crownover is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Marked Men and The Point series. Like her characters, she is a big fan of tattoos. She loves music and wishes she could be a rock star, but since she has no aptitude for singing or instrument playing, she’ll settle for writing stories with interesting characters that make the reader feel something. She lives in Colorado with her three dogs.

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BETTER WHEN HE’S BOLD Goodreads ** Jay Crownover Goodreads

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Take Me

by Amber Lin & Shari Slade, Anna Zaires & Dima Zales, CD Reiss, Gemma James, Jenika Snow, Kendall Ryan, Lynda Chance, Pam Godwin, Pepper Winters, Shay Savage, Skye Warren

Publication Date: February 3, 2015

Genres: Anthology, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance

Surrender to desire with 12 books by the hottest names in dark romance, including bestselling authors Pepper Winters, Anna Zaires, and Lynda Chance.

CD Reiss – Spin

Jenika Snow – A Beautiful Prison

Pepper Winters – Destroyed

Skye Warren – Trust in Me

Kendall Ryan – Unravel Me

Anna Zaires & Dima Zales – Twist Me

Shay Savage – Otherwise Alone & Otherwise Occupied

Amber Lin & Shari Slade – Three Nights with a Rock Star

Pam Godwin – Deliver

Lynda Chance – Marco’s Redemption

Gemma James – Torrent

These e-books would cost over $40 if purchased separately. This set will only be available for a limited time, so order your copy now!

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About the Authors

Please consider following the authors to find out more about their books…

Pepper Winters – Website | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter

Excerpt from Destroyed by Pepper Winters

It was the best kiss I’d ever received, but also the worst. It sparked lust and need in every inch of me. My lips wanted more, my tongue wanted savagery. My skin wanted to bruise because he needed to touch me so badly.

All my thoughts disappeared as I nipped at his bottom lip. He flinched, but a second later he copied, his sharp canines piercing my oversensitive flesh.

I moaned.

I couldn’t take it.

My hands flew up and gripped his shirt. Yanking him toward me, fireworks whizzed in my fingertips; my heart galloped toward exploding with lust. I’d never been so drunk on someone before.

Then I landed flat on my back.

The crack of my skull jangled my teeth. The thick carpet did little to cushion me. My eyes flared wide and I grunted in pain. Fear, hot and terrible, swamped my lust in a dampening wave.

“Top rule. Unbreakable rule. Don’t. Ever. Touch. Me.” Fox kneeled on one knee beside my head, breathing hard. His hand noosed my throat, pressing my spine into the carpet. His eyes were cold and lifeless, looking like a hunter intent on blood. –HAZEL

Skye Warren – Website | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter

Excerpt from Trust in Me by Skye Warren

Tyler sighed, resigned. “Okay. Come on.”

And really, isn’t that just what every girl wants to hear from a guy agreeing to fuck her? But I wasn’t like every girl. This was a job, that was all.

He led me to the bed and pulled me down with him. But I didn’t want him, not like this. I didn’t want him to have sex with me, not if he didn’t want me. I only remained here to protect those girls from forced sex, from rape. I couldn’t do the same thing to Tyler, not even to spare myself pain.

“Wait,” I said. “You don’t have to do this. Please don’t.”

“I have to,” he said, his teeth gritted.

This was all wrong. “You don’t want this,” I whispered.

He pulled my hand to his jeans where I felt his hardness pushing against the zipper. “Does this feel like I don’t want it?”

I already knew the body had nothing to do with the mind. “No,” I said. “I can tell you don’t. It doesn’t matter about me.”

He pushed me onto my back and loomed over me. “This is happening. Are you going to fight me?”

I shook my head. No, I wouldn’t—couldn’t—fight Tyler, not ever. No matter how I pledged my allegiance to Carlos, I couldn’t help but fight and resist every time he hurt me. With Tyler, it hurt just to be near him, but I’d endure it, if only to pretend a few minutes more.

He kissed me again, and it was almost real. Like a real kiss between two people having sex, as if I knew what that felt like. Both of us were doing this for business or to avoid pain or whatever reason, but none having to do with passion or pleasure. Still, I felt a long-buried stirring of passion. And, too, I felt pleasure as his lips molded over mine and his body lowered.

The weight of him, the heat of him, was delicious. Somehow I felt safe with him, which was a stupid error to make after working so hard and so long to be careful. He was working with Carlos—I couldn’t forget that. If Carlos ever found out I was double-crossing him, he wouldn’t kill me. He would keep me alive and make me wish I were dead.

Tyler’s hands found my breasts and easily slipped under the small halter top. He looked down at my breast in his hand. I knew I had beautiful breasts. Not because they looked beautiful to me—I hated the sight of them—but because I’d been told so. From very young, I’d been told how pretty they were—large, despite my lanky body, and pale with dark, hardened tips.

He groaned, just staring. “So beautiful.”

I hated that he said that, that he noticed what all the other men had noticed, that he was like them after all. At the same time, I almost preened. At least I had pleased him in some way. One of these days my contradictions would tear me apart.

His fingertip, blunt and rough, traced from the top of the slope to the tip.

“Why are you doing this?” he muttered, and it didn’t sound like he was talking to me but to himself.

Why was he doing this? Why did he need to get mixed up with Carlos? It would only end badly for Tyler. I had seen enough of Carlos’s business partners disappear to know that. God, but I didn’t want to think that Tyler would even want to be involved. Carlos had lots of different businesses, but they were all bad—drugs, guns. And my personal crusade, my curse, human trafficking. Which was Tyler involved in?

“You shouldn’t be here,” slipped out on a moan.

“I know,” he said, still mesmerized by my hated breasts.

“It isn’t right.” Why couldn’t he see? I wanted him to be good, but if he couldn’t do that, then at least I wanted him to be safe.

“I can’t stop,” he said.

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Excerpt from Deliver by Pam Godwin

He stalked toward her, mirroring the tilt of her head, knees and shoulders loose, and his gaze
holding her prisoner. A breath away, he paused, soaking in the subtleties of her tipped-up chin,
parting lips, and glossy but resolute eyes.

With the next breath, he launched, hands on her jaw, fingers spread around the back of her
head.

His elbows dropped, shoulders raised, and he yanked her to him, lifting her on tiptoes, guiding
her mouth, taking it. His grip twisted through her hair as he drew in her upper lip and shoved her
against the fridge, following her with the weight of his body.

The kiss went fucking wild, their lips mashing in a frantic battle. His tongue plunged her mouth,
attacking, thrusting in and out, possessing her movements, owning her. Breath for breath, lick
after lick, he ate at her mouth, tasting, devouring.

He dropped his hands to her breasts, squeezing ruthlessly as he rolled his cock against her
cunt.

His tongue tingled, his skin burned, and his head swam. God, she was a drug, and he was so
fucking high.

She gripped his biceps, bit at his lips, and threw her arms over his shoulders, her fingers
scratching the fuck out his back. He shuddered, loving it, but he was in control.

Reaching back, he grabbed her wrists and slammed them above her head. Their bodies ground
together, his forearms pressing hers to the fridge, their tongues dancing and clashing. Chest-to-
chest, hips fused together, he flexed his ass, dry humping her like a horny teenager.

Jesus, fuck, he didn’t care. He wanted her.

He leaned back to study her face and found strong smoldering eyes, sharp breaths, and swollen
wet lips. Whatever she saw in his expression made her mouth chase his and her fingers curl
around his hands. They kissed endlessly, fueling the fire and pushing his control long past the
point of discomfort before pulling back and starting all over again.

When he broke the kiss with a hand on her jaw, they panted as one, mouths open and so close
their bottom lips brushed. She peered at him through lowered lashes, and he stared back in
awe. What trembled between them wasn’t an if? Or even a how hard? Those were foregone.

The question they shared was simple.

Ready?

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Excerpt from Three Nights with a Rock Star by Amber Lin and Shari Slade

Hailey forced herself to stand still for his leisurely perusal. Even when he stood and stalked toward her, she managed to hold on to her dignity—whatever dregs she had left after donning these clothes and almost falling on her face. But his smile hit her like a blast of heat, blinding her, scalding her. He looked far too pleased with himself, like a man about to get everything he wanted. And her shaky insides warned she might just give it to him.

“What do you mean?” she asked, proud her voice didn’t quaver too much.

“You want to stay here while we’re in Chicago,” he said. “To stay here for three days, to blend in so that no one questions why you’re here. To ask questions, poke around.”

Yes, that was exactly what she wanted. So why did her nod feel like surrender? As if she’d agreed to his terms before she even knew them. But then maybe she did know what his terms would be. His eyes spoke the words his lips had yet to say. There were volumes of gold-flecked pages filled with all that sensual knowledge. They promised delight and, even better, a hard bite to the exchange. Where the men she had been with were a fresh spring breeze, he stood before her like the calm before the storm, his eyes darkening clouds.

“Can you…” She licked her lips. His gaze tracked the movement, making her feel hunted. “Can you help me?”

His expression softened. Just the slightest degree, but it was enough to slow the hammering of her heart. This was the same kind man she’d met in the lobby. Desire had given him a rough edge, turning his loping gait into a prowl, making his nostrils flare—scenting her. But he was still kind inside.

When he didn’t answer, she searched for whatever strength she might have found. You want… he’d said, listing her terms. Only his terms were left to be stated. A negotiation, then. But even as she thought the words, an image flashed through her mind, a gazelle caught from behind, the vicious beauty of her captor feasting in a National Geographic special.

“What do you want?” she whispered, and somehow the wall was at her back. He was at her front…crowding her…embracing her?

“You,” he snarled. “Under me. Over me. On your knees in front of me. I get full artistic license to your body for three days.”

His words pounded her like hail, leaving dents and then pooling in the hollows left behind. They drowned out the rest of the world and shook the floor. She began to shake too—but her gaze remained locked with his. The shaking was on the inside, fear and a strange longing warring inside her, a battle to the death. She stood frozen, caught in his sights and too terrified to run. Too curious to walk away.

He stepped back, sending a wash of crisp hotel air over her body. She sucked in a breath and immediately missed the earthy scent of him.

“And you,” he continued conversationally, “will have total access to play Nancy Drew in the hotel. That is, whenever I’m not using you.”

Her body lit up when he said the word using. It imploded on you, spoken with such self-assured possession. What was wrong with her that she wanted to be used? Maybe because she wanted to be free to enjoy sex, to really explore it, for the first time in her tame little life. Maybe because he would be the one using her, and he seemed like he would know just what to do with her.

This was a bad idea. For reasons that weren’t quite coming to her at the moment. But she knew it was bad. If she’d said it once, she’d said it a thousand times to her preschoolers: don’t make decisions when you’re angry. Though she wasn’t angry. She was concerned. And frustrated. And…

God, Chloe, why? After I worked so freaking hard so you could start college, why couldn’t you be more careful?

Okay, she might be angry.

She swallowed. So maybe this weekend could be for her too. She would find the baby’s father, but she’d also find something for herself.

With a deep breath, she struggled for levity. A lopsided tilt of her lips was all she could manage. “Where do I sign?” she joked.

His grin widened, revealing an even row of white teeth. The Cheshire cat had just such a smile. “I’m so glad you asked. I have blank copies of my contract in the side table. Right next to the lube.”

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Excerpt from Twist Me by Anna Zaires

It’s evening now. With every minute that passes, I’m starting to get more and more anxious at the thought of seeing my captor again.

The novel that I’ve been reading can no longer hold my interest. I put it down and walk in circles around the room.

I am dressed in the clothes Beth had given me earlier. It’s not what I would’ve chosen to wear, but it’s better than a bathrobe. A sexy pair of white lacy panties and a matching bra for underwear. A pretty blue sundress that buttons in the front. Everything fits me suspiciously well. Has he been stalking me for a while? Learning everything about me, including my clothing size?

The thought makes me sick.

I am trying not to think about what’s to come, but it’s impossible. I don’t know why I’m so sure he’ll come to me tonight. It’s possible he has an entire harem of women stashed away on this island, and he visits each one only once a week, like sultans used to do.

Yet somehow I know he’ll be here soon. Last night had simply whetted his appetite. I know he’s not done with me, not by a long shot.

Finally, the door opens.

He walks in like he owns the place. Which, of course, he does.

I am again struck by his masculine beauty. He could’ve been a model or a movie star, with a face like his. If there was any fairness in the world, he would’ve been short or had some other imperfection to offset that face.

But he doesn’t. His body is tall and muscular, perfectly proportioned. I remember what it feels like to have him inside me, and I feel an unwelcome jolt of arousal.

He’s again wearing jeans and a T-shirt. A grey one this time. He seems to favor simple clothing, and he’s smart to do so. His looks don’t need any enhancement.

He smiles at me. It’s his fallen angel smile—dark and seductive at the same time. “Hello, Nora.”

I don’t know what to say to him, so I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. “How long are you going to keep me here?”

He cocks his head slightly to the side. “Here in the room? Or on the island?”

“Both.”

“Beth will show you around tomorrow, take you swimming, if you’d like,” he says, approaching me. “You won’t be locked in, unless you do something foolish.”

“Such as?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest as he stops next to me and lifts his hand to stroke my hair.

“Trying to harm Beth or yourself.” His voice is soft, his gaze hypnotic as he looks down on me. The way he’s touching my hair is oddly relaxing.

I blink, trying to break his spell. “And what about on the island? How long will you keep me here?”

His hand caresses my face now, curves around my cheek. I catch myself leaning into his touch, like a cat getting petted, and I immediately stiffen.

His lips curve into a knowing smile. The bastard knows the effect he has on me. “A long time, I hope,” he says.

For some reason, I’m not surprised. He wouldn’t have bothered bringing me all the way here if he just wanted to fuck me a few times. I’m terrified, but I’m not surprised.

I gather my courage and ask the next logical question. “Why did you kidnap me?”

The smile leaves his face. He doesn’t answer, just looks at me with an inscrutable blue gaze.

I begin to shake. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No, Nora, I won’t kill you.”

His denial reassures me, although he could obviously be lying. “Are you going to sell me?” I can barely get the words out. “Like to be a prostitute or something?”

“No,” he says softly. “Never. You’re mine and mine alone.”

I feel a tiny bit calmer, but there is one more thing I have to know. “Are you going to hurt me?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer again. Something dark briefly flashes in his eyes. “Probably,” he says quietly.

And then he leans down and kisses me, his warm lips soft and gentle on mine.

For a second, I stand there frozen, unresponsive. I believe him. I know he’s telling the truth when he says he’ll hurt me. There’s something in him that scares me—that has scared me from the very beginning.

He’s nothing like the boys I’ve gone on dates with. He’s capable of anything.

And I’m completely at his mercy.

I think about trying to fight him again. That would be the normal thing to do in my situation. The brave thing to do.

And yet I don’t do it.

I can feel the darkness inside him. There’s something wrong with him. His outer beauty hides something monstrous underneath.

I don’t want to unleash that darkness. I don’t know what will happen if I do.

So I stand still in his embrace and let him kiss me. And when he picks me up again and takes me to bed, I don’t try to resist in any way.

Instead, I close my eyes and give in to the sensations.

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