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Blurb:

Expected release date for JAKE UNDERSTOOD is March 2015.

VERY TWISTED THINGS

Series: Briarcrest Academy #3 (all novels are standalones)

Author: Ilsa Madden-Mills

Release Date: February 2015

Cover Model: Drew Leighty

Genre: Hot New Adult for 18+

A sassy violinist who lives next door. An obsessed rock star who watches her through binoculars. And one night when she bares it all. Life will never be the same in Tinseltown.

Description:

Vital Rejects front guy Sebastian Tate never imagined his YouTube music video would go viral, sky-rocketing him to acting success in Hollywood. Okay, maybe he did. After all, he’s a cocky dude who knows he’s hot-as-hell, and it was only a matter of time before his stars aligned.

But life in Tinseltown is never what it seems.

After being cheated on, his only rule to falling in love is simple: Keep Calm and Don’t Do It. Spying on his mysterious new neighbor with binoculars seems innocent enough, but quickly escalates into an erotic game between two very unlikely people.

Twenty-year-old Violet St. Lyons is a world-renowned violinist who’s lost her mojo on stage. She hides away in a Hollywood mansion, trying to find her way through her twisted past in order to make her future.

He’s the life of the party with girls chasing him down for his autograph. She’s the introvert with a potty mouth who doesn’t even know who he is.

When they meet, stars collide, sparks fly, and clothes come off. Yet, giving his heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention isn’t Violet’s.

Welcome to Briarcrest Academy—Hollywood style—where sometimes the best things in life are VERY TWISTED THINGS.

ADD TO GOODREADS:

Prologue:

“Then he came along, and like a twisted piece of metal that’s burned beyond recognition, I emerged from the fire. Different. Changed.” –from the journal of Violet St. Lyons

This wasn’t happening.

Clad in a pair of red lacy bikini underwear—his favorite—I sipped on tequila—not my favorite—and glared at Sebastian Tate, sexy rock star and billboard model. Wearing low-slung jeans and nothing else, he paced around my chair in tight circles, his tall frame blocking most of my vision, the lion tattoo on his back heaving as he took deep breaths. Blonde and sporting faint stubble on his chiseled jawline, he looked like the heartbreaker the tabloids said he was.

Bad, bad boy.

But, oh, so good.

He sent me a hard look. Pissed.

From my living room in the Hollywood Hills, I gazed out the window at the Santa Monica Mountains, my eyes everywhere except on the glossy nude photos he clutched in his hand.

Of me. Of him.

Of us.

He swiveled his ice-blue eyes at me. Earlier today they’d burned with another kind of fire, but things change fast in Tinseltown. “These will be in the papers. Get ready,” he said, tossing down the pictures on the table, making me cringe.

I gazed down at them, my eyes lingering over one of us on my patio, him on his knees with his mouth between my legs as my body arched in ecstasy. My skin burned at the memory, echoes of the passion we’d shared—and now everyone in the world would see. My family. The society people in New York. The board of directors for the orphanage. My stomach heaved at the thought, bile threatening to rise up.

Another caught my eye, this one a full color close-up of me crying black mascara tears as I played my violin. Nude. It looked depressing as hell although in truth it had been love that made me emotional.

“Remind me to pass on the make-up next time. And to not have sex outdoors. Obviously,” I said, forcing my shoulders to move in a nonchalant shrug like I didn’t care, but he knew the truth. I was devastated by these.

And so was he.

Because we weren’t supposed to be together.

He said my name in that husky voice of his, the one that made me crazy, the one that made me want to rip his clothes off. “Violet—”

“Stop,” I said, clenching my fists. Because whatever he had to say didn’t matter. These pictures ruined us, ensuring that he’d leave me for her, the beautiful Bubble named Blair. Bubble, bubble, bubble. I wanted to pop her.

Why did I always come last with him?

I stood and faced him, tossing back the last of my shot. “First off, I wish we’d never met.” I held my hand up. “No. Wait. I don’t wish that because then I wouldn’t know Spider or Mila. I—I wish I’d never fallen in love with you. Loving means losing. Always. And I was stupid to forget it. I may have to sell this house and move to another freaking country to get away from you, but I’ll do it. I’ve done it before.” I sucked in a breath. “I’ll be fine without you.”

Lie. I would likely end up drunk on Mexican tequila, nursing what was left of my heart.

He closed his eyes, a dazed expression on his face as if my words crushed him.

“We were doomed from the very start,” I reminded him. “You want to be a star, and all I want is you.”

He stopped his pacing, a muscle jerking in his cheek as he leaned down until his nose was level with mine. “Then this is goodbye, Violet? You’re giving up on us already?”

Did I hear a break in his voice? Impossible.

“If I don’t say goodbye first, then someone else will.” Truth.

He’d never be mine, simply because he didn’t belong with me. I was a washed-up freak who had nothing but a mansion and a Maserati; he belonged on the silver screen with a pretty starlet on his arm.

We were over. Kaput.

I smiled, a bitter thing, and sashayed past him, enjoying the hiss of breath when I let my hand drift over his crotch. “This moment is begging for a soundtrack, don’t you think?” I said, coming to stop by the stereo system and cranking up Kurt Kobain’s Smells Like Teen Spirit. Holding my hands up in the horns rocking out signal, I bobbed my head to the beat while he watched, anger flickering across his face. I danced and twirled around, closing my eyes, the music vibrating through my body, my fingers itching for my violin.

Bam!

My eyes flew open. He’d strode over to me and clicked the stereo off, chest still heaving.

He shoved his hands in my hair and dragged my face to his, and I groaned at the fire that blazed in my body. I felt the warm heat of his skin and pressed closer and inhaled. He smelled like bourbon and sex—a rock star’s diet—and I panted, cursing myself at the same time.

How would I ever get over him?

He pressed his thumbs across my mouth. Gentle. But his voice was cold. “You can’t wait to high-tail it back to Manhattan to your lawyer boyfriend, can you?”

“I plead the fifth,” I said, staring at his full lips. I licked my own. “But you can kiss me goodbye if you want. I don’t mind.”

We stared at each other until he exhaled heavily and put his back to me, his muscles as taut as the guitar strings he played. He verged on breaking.

Yeah, well, welcome to my world.

Yet at the same time, I reached my hand out to him. Stupid hand.

But of course, he didn’t see it.

“So long, V,” he said soft as a whisper, staring at the ground as if I was breaking his heart, when all along it was the other way around. He took a step from me, then another, then another, until finally, he was nothing but a speck.

I clutched my chest and wanted to fall to the ground and rail on it. Alone. Again.

But tough girls like me didn’t cry over black-hearted boys.

Although in his defense, I owed him a thank you for saving me.

To show you, I’d have to start at the beginning, the day I lost everything.

© Ilsa Madden-Mills, NYT and USA Today bestselling author

–Unedited and may change before publication

Available Now on Amazon

Very Bad Things

Very Wicked Beginnings

Very Wicked Things

Author Bio

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

She spends her days with two small kids, one neurotic cat, and one husband. She collects magnets and rarely cooks except to bake her own pretzels.

When she’s not crafting a story, you can find her drinking too much Diet Coke, jamming out to Pink, or checking on her carefully maintained chocolate stash.

She loves to hear from readers and fellow authors.

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VERY TWISTED GIVEAWAY

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Are you ready for Blaire?

Blurb

Love is selfish…

My name is Blaire.

I’m the bad girl.

The other woman.

The one who never gets the guy in the end.

I’m the gold digger.

The bitch.

The one no one roots for.

The one you love to hate.

I hate myself too…

Everyone has a story. Are you ready for mine?

Buy The Book

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Amazon UK:  TBD

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iTunes: TBD

Excerpt

Part I

Innocence

Past

What is love?

I don’t know.

I’ve never had it.

Is it even real?

No, I don’t think so. I mean, how can I believe in love when I’ve never witnessed it? When it seems to only exist in books and films, or in the lives of more fortunate people than me? Trust me, I know.

Love is my personal chimera.

I am gazing at brown eyes, admiring the richness of the color, the beauty of the man to whom they belong to.

“You’re so beautiful, Blaire … so wet,” he murmurs, his hand going between my legs as he begins to rub me. His fingers spread me open to their soft invasion, tuning my body to his wants and needs, preparing me to be taken as the hot friction of his touch lights a wild fire within my body. It’s not the first time he has touched me like this, but each time feels better and better—the sensations all-consuming and heady.

One finger.

Two fingers.

One finger.

Two fingers.

Over and over again.

His invasion is fast and slow, deep and shallow. His touch is soiled heaven.

As I open my legs wider for him, I wonder if it feels this good because of him or because I’m taking something that doesn’t belong to me and making it mine.

“Oh God … I love you, Blaire. I love you … I love you …” he pants in my ear.

“Don’t stop … it feels so good,” I breathe.

Okay, maybe it’s because at this moment in time this man thinks he loves me and no one else but me, however false his proclamation may be.

I close my eyes as his lips land on mine. He kisses me softly as if I’m made out of gold, kissing me with that familiar mouth I’ve seen smile tenderly at me so many times before. The assault of his tongue debilitates me but doesn’t incapacitate me.

“It’s four dollars, gorgeous,” the cute barista says, smiling at me.

I’m about to pay for my cappuccino when I hear a deep, manly voice say, “Let me get that for you.”

A man wearing a beige suit comes forward, standing next to me as he hands the barista some bills. “I’ve seen you around … you’re Paige’s friend.”

I smile, licking my suddenly dry lips. “Thank you, and yes … I know Paige.”

The smile on his handsome face seems to freeze as his gaze follows the tip of my tongue, the spark of hunger brightening his eyes. Inwardly, I smile because who knew it was so easy to make men desire me, particularly when I went without attention for so long.

“My pleasure. Are you,” he coughs, “here with someone else?”

I shake my head and look at him through fluttering eyelashes. “No, I’m here all by myself.” I pause, touching his arm invitingly, and smile. “Would you like to join me?”

He looks around the coffee shop, probably considering if he should, if it’s proper to do so, but less than five seconds later, he’s staring at me once again. “Sure.”

Yes, just like that.

The beige walls are spinning.

The clock is ticking.

The bedsprings creak as the moon cries outside the motel window.

And the man above me kisses me while he fingers me, preparing me for him. Gotta love such a thoughtful man.

I can taste his sweet saliva mixing with mine, and I love it.

“Please,” I beg against his lips, reaching for his hard cock and wrapping my fingers around it. “I’m ready.”

I feel his mouth leave mine as he begins to make his way down my partially dressed body. “Are you sure, Blaire? Are you sure you want to do this with me?”

I open my eyes to witness what I think I want him to do. No, what I’m sure I want him to do. I can’t help the smile I feel playing on my lips as I see him struggling with his conscience. He asks me if I’m sure when he has already fucked my mouth with his cock countless number of times, when his fingers have filled every orifice of my body. Should I laugh? No … I decide to take pity instead.

“I’m sure, so sure,” I say, letting my arms land like dead weight on the bed, the cheap fabric rough against my skin.

“All right.”

When I feel the bed dip between my legs, I instinctively open them for him and watch as he brings a condom package to his mouth. As he rips it open with his teeth, I admire his perfect full lips that emphasize how masculine he is.

I feel pleased with myself.

So fucking pleased because he wants me.

Mr. Callahan wants me. Me. Can you believe it? Chubby Blaire. Ugly and awkward Blaire.

Unlovable Blaire.

I guess I’m not that ugly anymore. My body? What was considered fat as a child is now called boobs and ass. Guys want it. They want me. They want to touch me, grope me, feel me … they want to screw me. And it feels good to be wanted … so good. It makes me feel powerful, and like a potent drug spreading inside your bloodstream, I want more.

I need more.

“Hurry up,” I say, not bothering to be shy or coy about it. I mean, he brought me here to have sex, right?

“Fuck, give me a second, Blaire. Trying to get the damn condom on my dick.”
As he rolls the rubber on his stiff dick, his eyes wonder over my bare chest, my face, my spread legs. Shaking his head as if trying to clear his mind, he mutters, “You’re so beautiful. I want you so much.”

That’s not the first time I have heard those words come out of a man’s mouth. Josh tells me all the time how beautiful I am, how perfect I am, how much he wants me, how much he loves me. But he’s my friend with benefits. The words kind of lose their meaning when it’s the same person saying them to you over and over again.

“Show me.”

Those two words are all it takes for him to spread my legs wider with his hands and finally enter me with his throbbing dick. Pain shoots through my body, and a groan escapes my mouth when he covers my body with his. I feel his whole length inside me in one deep thrust.

“Christ, you’re so tight.”

He lifts both my legs, wrapping them around his lean waist and starts to thrust. Hard. It hurts. But I like the pain. It sobers me.

And that’s when reality comes crashing down on me. It hits me with the speed and blinding power of a torpedo, making me realize what I’m doing. What I’m giving away and the man doesn’t even know it.

What the hell am I doing?

Proving that you are your mother’s daughter.

Making her proud.

The room is filled with the noises of the man grunting his pleasure and the wet slapping of our skin; it makes me want to gag.  I want to throw up. Maybe it’s the alcohol I drank.

Maybe it’s self-disgust.

The initial pain is gone and now I just feel sore. And strange.

His beautiful face lowers, his lips about to connect with mine, and I feel the bile rise inside my throat. I turn my face to the side, his kiss landing on my cheek. My eyes watch the way the lights in the bathroom illuminate all its used and dirty ugliness.

“Oh God, I’m going to come … I’m going to come … I’m going to come,” he continues to pant in my ear, pumping in and out of my body. Before I know what’s happening, he half-screams and half groans, his body going tense on top of mine.

And just like that it’s over. In less than five minutes I’ve managed to kill a part of me.

Our breathing evens and he pulls out, moving to stand up. I push myself up on my elbows to see him inspect his condom. It still glistens. By the time he lifts his eyes, connecting with mine, I’ve already wrapped my body with the duvet cover.

Confusion, shock, and pleasure reflect in those brown eyes. “I-I didn’t know … I …” His hands go to his hair as we stare at each other. “I didn’t know you were a virgin.”

I shrug my shoulder carelessly, causing the duvet to slide down, exposing my bare breasts to him. His eyes immediately flare with lust. “It doesn’t matter … I wanted it to be you.”

And that’s the truth.

“But—”

“But nothing. If it bothers you, then forget it happened. I already did,” I say, ending the conversation.

This is my body. I will have the last word. Not him. Not anyone. This is my life. This is my decision.

Without giving myself a chance to doubt my next words, I turn to look at him in all his naked beauty, the gold wedding ring on his finger catching my attention. “Don’t worry, Mr. Callahan … I won’t tell your daughter that you fucked her classmate.”

And with that, I seal my destiny.

About the Author:

Mia Asher

My name is Mia Asher.

I’m a writer, a hopeless romantic, a wanderer, a dreamer, a cynic, and a believer. And, oh yes…I might be a bit crazy – but who isn’t?

Stalk Her:Facebook |Twitter |Website |Goodreads |Pinterest

GIVEAWAY

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Title: Anyone But Him

Author: Cassie Graham

Release Date: Nov 25, 2014

Find on Goodreads

Whitley Hayes is an ordinary girl with a gypsy heart. College is the only constant in her life. She’s made a lot of mistakes and she intends on keeping them in the past. 

Move on and forget. 

That’s her motto. 

Jennings Cohen is no ordinary man—not at all. He would have never imagined his life would turn into such a spectacle. The tabloids exploit him, fans stalk him and the paparazzi are relentless. It’s not always fun being Jennings. 

It doesn’t help that he has a secret. One that comes at a price he’s not sure he can pay.

Relationships get complicated and hearts shatter.

It’s not easy living a lie, but it’s easier than telling the truth.

Check out our 4 Smooches Review HERE!

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I journey past the carved-by-hand eight-person table, and walk to the master bedroom. The white, canopy bed sits in the middle of the room. The barely see-through sheets that hang on the sides move and dance in the breeze. Whit walks quietly behind me, and I turn to look at her. Eyes wide, she takes in everything the house has to offer. Setting her soda down, she walks to the queen size bed and plops down. 

“Would it be completely inappropriate if I jumped on the bed?” she prompts, looking reluctant. 

I give a good belly laugh, and spread out my hands. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.” 

She shoots up, takes her sandals off and, in one swift hop, she lands on the bed. Bending at the knees she bounces. I sit down in a white armchair across the room and watch her as she lets loose. This is another one of those moments that is so rare, that I feel the intense want to capture this moment forever. She jumps with glee, squeaking with happiness with each bounce. Every time her feet come off of the bed, her arms go into the air. Her long blonde hair bobs with each movement, and she pushes it out of her face, just like the way she did it that day I ran into her at the beach. 

“Jump with me, Jennings.” 

Any macho doucheface would tell her to keep jumping and have fun. That he would sit in the chair and watch. But, I want to keep her smile fully intact for as long as possible. So, I take off my slip-on, stitched loafers and approach the bed.

– If you notice the cover, it has a lot of clues to what you’ll find in the story. Not only are there stars and rain, which are HUGE key points, but also if you look closely, you’ll see a person behind the couple taking a picture. A paparazzi. 

– The idea for Anyone But Him came to me in the shower as I was listening to one of my favorite bands, MKTO. The main singer is an actor and a singer and the idea just sort of blew up from there.

– Jennings was originally named Bradley, but I saw one of my ‘likers’ last name was Jennings and had to have it. Bradley is still in the book as Jennings’ best friend.

– Holli is loosely based off of a friend I have. She’s a spunky girl from Texas with a cute twang that I love. Holli helped me a lot when writing my first book and I promised her I’d write a character into my story using her name.

– My husband and I have always had a fascination with stargazing, so I felt it was appropriate to incorporate it into the book.

– When my husband was away with the Military, we would have moon dates. He would promise me he’d go outside and look at the moon and tell me he loved me. I promised to do the same. We moon dated for six months before he came home. 

– The ending was partly planned and partly unexpected. While I always promise a happily ever after, I’ve left it open ended so I can give you more of a story.

– Chapter Ten was made specifically for one of my beta readers, Ashlei. We talked and joked about Whitley and Jennings date and I decided to give it life.

Cassie Graham is the author of Unable to Resist. She also hates talking about herself. It makes her nervous and somewhat sweaty. So, she’s going to make this short.

While writing is her true passion, her family is even more important. Her ultimate happy place is sitting in her house with her husband and daughter while writing stories about lovers who are meant to be together. She’d live in that world forever if she could.

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