TOTAL SURRENDER by Erika Wilde

Review:

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Not all fairy tales are sweet.

Some fairy tales are dirty, sexy, and completely untamed.

Total Surrender, an all-new steamy standalone from New York Times bestselling author Erika Wilde is available now!

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How far would you go to make the man that destroyed your family pay?
 
Maddux Wilder is a man consumed, a beast in a three-piece suit. Rich and powerful, he built his empire with one thought in mind: revenge.
 
After years of patience and planning, the wait is finally over. Tonight, Maddux will finally watch Theodore Cole’s kingdom crumble. At a lavish ball in the New York City castle the Wilder siblings call home, the man that killed their parents will atone for his sins.
 
If only he’d planned for her.
 
Arabella Cole is Theodore’s only child; his cherished and sheltered daughter. She’s an innocent, captivating beauty that would do anything to save her loving father, including sacrificing herself.
 
With her freedom gone, she must surrender to a man she hates. A man that makes her want things she shouldn’t. A man that awakens deep, forbidden desires.
 
But everyone knows that roses don’t bloom in darkness.
 
Enter Maddux Wilder, a man that doesn’t believe in fairy tales.
 
Can the beauty tame the beast or will revenge cost them both everything that matters most?
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Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
 
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/30LgZeb
Meet Erika Wilde

Erika Wilde is a New York Times Bestselling author. She is best known for her super sexy Marriage Diaries series and The Players Club series, and has also co-written the Dirty Sexy Series and the Book Boyfriend Series with Carly Phillips, her best friend and writing buddy for the past twenty years. She lives in Oregon with her husband and two daughters, and when she’s not writing you can find her exploring the beautiful Pacific Northwest. For more information on her upcoming releases, please visit her website at http://www.erikawilde.com and sign up for her mailing list for updates and news!

Connect with Erika:
GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2MsZBqj Friend Erika on Facebook: http://bit.ly/2PkVyKZ
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Stay up to date with Erika by joining her mailing list:http://bit.ly/2OJIsWE
https://www.erikawilde.com
My Review
5 Stars

TOTAL SURRENDER by Erika Wilde is the First book in Dirty Sexy Fairy Tales series. This is the story of Arabella Cole and Maddux Wilder.
Maddux and his two younger siblings world changed with the death of their parents and they are wanting to get revenge for who they feel are to blame. Maddux has slowly gain enough money and reputation that they feel the time is to act. What Maddux didn’t count on was the feelings that Theodore Cole’s daughter brings out in him. Arabella lost her mother early in life and her father sent her away to school but even though he was a absent father she loved him. Arabella didn’t know what her father has or had done in the past, since he wanted to keep her from that. Now when she feels her father is being threaten, she sacrificed herself to Maddux.
While both want to hate each other, the attraction along with their feelings are making that impossible.
Enjoyed this book!
 
 
 

 

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Breathless by Helen Hardt

Review:

 
 
Breathless (Steel Brothers Saga #10) 
 

by #1 New York Times Bestselling author Helen HardtMarjorie Steel, sister of Talon, Jonah, and Ryan, takes centre stage in Breathless.  Marjorie’s story promises to deliver even more heat and surprises.AVAILABLE NOW!Amazon: https://amzn.to/2NV9oa5
Nook: http://bit.ly/2zEclDb
iBooks: https://apple.co/2xWg393
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2xYJ70H
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2xKZGwJ
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/GR_BreathlessThe Steel Brothers Series Genre: Contemporary Romance 

 
 
#Breathless #SteelBrothersSaga #HelenHardt #ReleaseBlitz
 
#WaterhousePress #BareNakedWords
 
 
 
Synopsis 
 
Marjorie Steel is still healing from the events of the past year, and she’s happy to put her plans to study culinary arts on hold to help her best friend deal with a difficult pregnancy and two recently adopted troubled boys. The fact that Bryce Simpson spends a lot of time at the Steel Ranch is a benefit, and she’s ready to see if her attraction to him might be something more.
 
Bryce wants to do a hard day’s work on the ranch. Once his muscles give out and he collapses from exhaustion, maybe he’ll stop torturing himself over his late father’s horrific double life. The Steels have a different idea. They ask Bryce to take an executive position complete with a profit share. As he has a young son and widowed mother to support, it’s an offer he can’t refuse. The only catch is Marjorie. She’s beautiful, smart, feisty, and her kisses set him on fire. But he’s an empty shell with nothing to offer her, and she deserves the world.
 
As the sins of his father continue to haunt him, Bryce learns the horrors of the past may not yet be buried.

 
Get Book 1 Free!
 
 
 
Craving (Steel Brothers Saga #1)
 
 
 
 
Meet The Author
 
#1 New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Helen Hardt’s passion for the written word began with the books her mother read to her at bedtime. She wrote her first story at age six and hasn’t stopped since. In addition to being an award winning author of contemporary and historical romance and erotica, she’s a mother, a black belt in Taekwondo, a grammar geek, an appreciator of fine red wine, and a lover of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. 
She writes from her home in Colorado, where she lives with her family. Helen loves to hear from readers.
 
 
 
 
Twitter                  Instagram
 
Buy Links for all Helen’s Books: http://www.helenhardt.com/book/
 
 
Join the official street team for Helen
 

My Review
5 Stars
Breathless by Helen Hardt is book 10 in the Steel Brothers Series. This is the story of  Bryce Simpson and Marjorie Steel.  I feel you will enjoy the books more if you read the series in order but Ms. Hardt does write so well that you could make this a standalone book.  Marjorie has always had a crush on Bryce but that is all that it has been.  Bryce is dealing with finding out about his father and his father dark second life, in addition he has his family that he needs to take care of.  Now that Marjorie is helping her best friend deal with a tough pregnancy along with helping with the family.  This has brought Marjorie in close counters with Bryce.  Both Bryce and Marjorie have issue they need to work through along with some back story going on, which leads us to the next installment in their story.
I really love this series and this author’s writing….can’t wait for more! 
 

 

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Than a Rogue by Sophie Barnes

Review:

More Than a Rogue

The Crawfords Series by Sophie Barnes Publication Date: June 25, 2019 Genres: Adult, Historical, Romance

All she wanted was a kiss… What she got, was fiery passion… Emily Howard knows she is destined to be a spinster. She has accepted this fate, but that doesn’t stop her from wanting to experience kissing. What she doesn’t expect, is for Griffin Crawford, the handsomest man in the world, to do the honors. Or for all her female relations to discover her in his embrace. Naturally, marriage is instantly mentioned, but since Emily knows this is not what Griffin wants, she tries to escape him, her family and the ensuing scandal. When Emily flees the Camberly ball in the wake of their kiss, Griffin goes in pursuit. He will not allow his sister-in-law’s determined friend to risk her safety for any reason. And risk it she will if she means to return to her countryside home by herself. But the longer he remains in her company, the more he is tempted to kiss her again. If only he could risk falling in love and remain in England forever.

About Sophie Barnes

Born in Denmark, Sophie has spent her youth traveling with her parents to wonderful places all around the world. She has studied design in Paris and New York and has a bachelor’s degree from Parson’s School of design, but most impressive of all – she’s been married to the same man three times, in three different countries and in three different dresses. While living in Africa, Sophie turned to her lifelong passion – writing. When she’s not busy, dreaming up her next romance novel, Sophie enjoys spending time with her family. She currently lives on the East Coast.

My Review
5 Stars
Than a Rogue by Sophie Barnes is book Two in The Crawfords Series.  This is the story of Griffin Crawford and Emily Howard. Griffin and Emily did appear in the first book, which I have read (and Loved!), but feel you could make this a standalone if you wish to do so.
Emily is 26 years old who doesn’t think anyone would want her. Emily has settled in to the life of a spinster.  But she is tempted to experience a kiss which she does with Griffin but they were caught.  Emily knows that Griffin wouldn’t want to be forced into a marriage and goes running from the ball to make it back to the country.
Griffin wants to make sure that Emily is okay but the more time they are together the more he feels more for her.
Loved their story! I am such a fan of Ms. Barnes’s writing…I always know I will be getting a great story. 

 

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BROKEN WITH YOU by J. KENNER

Review:

BWY - BT bannerTrue love never fades…

Broken With You, the next suspenseful tale in the all-new Stark Security series of standalones, from New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner, is available now!

BWY_ebook_1707x2500 After surviving a troubled childhood, Denise can’t believe that she’s blissfully married to her partner and soulmate. She’s confident that not even Mason’s long-term, deep-cover assignment will shake their bond. And she certainly doesn’t anticipate that when he finally walks back through her door that he’ll have no memory of her, himself, or their time together… When Mason is pulled out of an operation gone bad, all he knows is what he’s told — that he was a covert agent, that he has information vital to national security somewhere in his head, and that they can tell him no more for fear of burying those hard-fought secrets even further. They tell him nothing else; not even that the beautiful woman who makes his heart beat faster is not just his partner, but also his wife. The secret she must keep wrecks Denise, who wants only to return to Mason’s arms. But despite the desire that still burns hot between them, she can’t tell him who she is—or that she’s carrying his child. But when dark forces threaten both their lives in order to retrieve the information trapped in Mason’s mind, it’s not their past that will be tested, but the tenuous new love now burning hot between them. You don’t want to miss this sexy, suspenseful amnesia romance!

Excerpt:

The sidewalk was clear on both sides, and only a few empty cars dotted the parking area as heat shimmers rose off the asphalt. The world was a fucking inferno, but all things considered, that seemed apropos. Hadn’t he been tossed right out of the frying pan and into the fire? A sign that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the fifties sat perched atop vertical steel poles and identified the rundown little motel as the Stay-A-While Motor Inn. Hopefully that was only a suggestion, because he wanted to get out of there sooner rather than later. He walked down the sidewalk toward the sign, passing the pasted colored doors along the way. Green, room 106. Blue, room 105. Yellow, room 2014. This path was familiar, and there was some comfort in that. At the same time, having the full extent of his remembered life marked by the Easter egg colors of a half dozen doors weren’t exactly enough to have him jumping for joy. The same woman was in the office. About sixty with Lucille Ball hair-he remembered I Love Lucy! She smiled at him from behind a counter. “Well, you’re looking much better today. Got yourself some sleep, I guess?” “I did,” he said, then cleared his throat as he glanced around the room. “You got a bus schedule?” She shook her head. “Sorry, no. Where you heading?” “Just meandering,” he said, as if he was Jack Reacher, and it was perfectly normal to wander aimlessly around the country. “Well, let me see if I can find a schedule online for you.” She inched toward a computer that looked to be older than he was, but stopped midway down the counter to answer the phone as she rummaged through a drawer. He cocked his head, his hand sliding into his pocket as his senses went on high alert. The phone. He relaxed. Of course, He should have realized immediately. The numbers. They were a phone number. 323-555-0717. “Oh, good, I found it,” she said after ending the call. She pulled a crumpled brochure from a drawer. “So the Greyhound station’s not too far away. That what you’re looking for? Or did you want local routes?” “Greyhound,” he said, thinking of the 323 area code. “I need to make a phone call. And then I think I’ll head to Los Angeles.” “Friends there?” “I guess I’ll find out.” BWY - AN

Download your copy today!
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2COs7wa
About J. Kenner

Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over one hundred novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres. Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, “chicklit” suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal mommy lit. JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations” and by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A six time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy) and in 2017 for Wicked Dirty in the same category. Her Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series (as Julie Kenner) is currently in development as a television show. Her books have sold over three million copies and are published in over twenty languages. In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas. She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats. jkenner.jpg

Connect with J. Kenner
Stay up to date with J. Kenner by joining her mailing list: http://juliekenner.com/contact/subscribe-to-the-julie-kenner-newsletter/
My Review
5 Stars
BROKEN WITH YOU by J. Kenner is book One in the Stark Security Series. This is the story of Denise ‘Denny’ Walker and Mason Walker. There is a Prequel book ‘Shadows of You: A Stark Security’ that introduces these characters but I feel this can be a standalone book.
Mason and Denise are married but due to Mason job it takes him away from her. This time he has been gone for two years and she doesn’t know if he is alive or dead. Mason wakes up in a hotel room not knowing who or what he is but he does remember enough to get him help from his supervisor. This brings him home to Denise but he doesn’t know her or anything else. Denise has her work cut out for her to bring him back to her but their spark is still there for them both. But of course they can only let him know things slowly about his former life but then danger isn’t to far away for them.
Really enjoyed their story! 

 

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Bossy Brothers: Jesse by JA Huss

Review:

 
 
 
Title: Bossy Brothers: Jesse
Series: Bossy Brothers #1
Author: JA Huss
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 24, 2019
 
Blurb
 
Thirteen years before Emma Dumas bought me in a bachelor auction to teach me a lesson she stole my heart down on Key West. I fell so hard for this girl I made all the promises. Only with Emma, I really meant them.
 
And then I disappeared.
 
But it wasn’t my fault. Let’s just call my reason “Family Business”. I’d tell you what that business is, but then I’d have to kill you. Just kidding. I can’t tell you what my family business is because it’s so secret, even I don’t know.
 
My point is… I didn’t ghost. It was a weird twist of circumstances. And OK, yes. I did hook up with pretty much every girl on the island that week. But after I met Emma, I was ruined. She’s the only one I wanted.
 
It’s been thirteen years. I’m a changed man. I STILL want her. I have ALWAYS wanted her.
 
But it’s kind of hard to tell her that with a gag in my mouth and a hood over my head.
 
*****
 
Bossy Brothers: Jesse features a bachelor auction gone wrong, four smart ladies who botch a crazy revenge kidnapping, a fancy power dream date with fast cars, private jets, and expensive yachts, lots of ex-sex, and a happily ever after that proves… sometimes the best man for the job is a woman.

 
 
 
 
 
 
Purchase Links
 
99c for a VERY limited time!!
 
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
 
Free in Kindle Unlimited
 
 
 
 
 
Excerpt
 
JESSE
 
I’m outside. Where are you?
That’s what I text to Emma once I pull up in front of her building. She’s testing me but I’m ready for her today. I am willing to overlook the drugging and the kidnapping—but no one walks out on me the way she did last night.
No one.
So am I being petty and childish by demanding that she spend the day with me learning her lesson?
Absolutely.
Do I care?
Absolutely not.
I don’t even know what we’re going to do today. I have no plans other than monopolize her day. Make her waste time with me. Make her hate me.
This is what’s called the classic hate fuck, Jesse.
Her words are burned into my mind forever. I will never stop hearing her say that to me. Ever.
The balls on this woman. Giant, motherfucking bull-sized balls on this woman.
My phone dings in my hand just as a horn honks behind me.
I glance down at the screen and read her message. I’m right behind you.
Then I glance in the rear-view and see her waving at me from a… what the fuck?
She’s smiling broadly from the driver’s seat of a matte-black Lamborghini Huracán, her curlicue pigtails bobbing around her face.
She honks again. My phone dings. The text reads. Get in. I’m driving.
Oh, I don’t think so. I came here in a motherfucking Ferrari Portofino. Red. So I text back. You get in. I’m driving.
My phone rings. “What?” I ask, so annoyed. Because while the Portofino was an excellent choice, I do have to admit the Huracán has sex written all over it.
“I’m driving. Get in.”
“You’re not driving,” I say. “I’m the man, I do the driving.”
She revs her engine behind me. “We’re taking my car. If you’re a good boy maybe I’ll let you drive it.”
“I could buy my own Huracán, Emma. I don’t need to drive yours.”
I catch her smiling even bigger in the mirror. “We can compare dicks all day long if you want. But I’m not getting out of this car until we arrive at our destination. So. I suggest you pick and choose your battles carefully, Mr. Boston. Because as you can see, I’m sporting pigtails. And what you can’t see is that I’m wearing the same outfit I was that day at the shaved ice stand all those years ago.”
“Hmm,” I say.
“Hmm, indeed. This is your fantasy, right? You want to make me look like that teenager I was back then. Fine. I’ll play along. If you let me drive my car.”
“I don’t know where you got this car, but it’s definitely not yours.”
“It is now. I had it delivered fifteen minutes ago.”
“You bought a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car to impress me?”
“Two-seventy-five with upgrades. But who’s counting? And I didn’t do it to impress you, Jesse. Don’t be dumb. I did it to make you feel inferior.”
“So that’s how this is gonna go?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re trying to hate-fuck me with a car.”
“I… don’t really know if that’s a thing. But sure.”
I hesitate.
“You know you want to drive it.”
“I really don’t have a thing for fast cars, Emma. You miscalculated.”
She revs her engine again and it sounds like a fucking lion. Or a lion ready to fuck. One of the two. “Everyone has a thing for this car. Don’t you want to see the interior? I wish I had time to customize it myself, but oh, well. Listen to the sound system—”
The chorus of Smells Like Teen Spirit blares out into the city. Everyone within a hundred yards turn to look at her.
I check the mirror again and find her banging her head and laughing hysterically, her pigtails flying back and forth.
I text, Stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself.
She pauses her head-banging to text back. Get. In. The. Car. Now. Or I’ll roll down the window and ask that hot-as-fuck jogger to get in instead.
I glance at the jogger. He’s shirtless, sweaty, and not bad-looking—OK. No. He’s hot, even I can see that—and he’s also smiling at Emma like he wants to throw her down on the hood of that Huracán and fuck her right here in front of the whole city.
I get out, toss my keys to her building valet, and intercept the jogger with a hand in the air. “Back off, asshole.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
Author Bio
 
JA Huss is the New York Times Bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today Bestseller’s list 21 times in the past five years. She writes characters with heart, plots with twists, and perfect endings.
 
Her new sexy sci-fi romance and paranormal romance pen name is KC Cross and she writes novels and teleplays collaboratively with actor and screenwriter, Johnathan McClain.
 
Her books have sold millions of copies all over the world, the audio version of her semi-autobiographical book, Eighteen, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award and an Audie Award in 2016 and 2017 respectively. Her audiobook, Mr. Perfect, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award in 2017. Her audiobook, Taking Turns, was nominated for an Audie Award in 2018. Five of her book were optioned for a TV series by MGM television in 2018. And her book, Total Exposure, was nominated for a RITA Award in 2019.
 
She lives on a ranch in Central Colorado with her family.
 
Author Links
 
BOOKBUB
AMAZON
FACEBOOK
FACEBOOK GROUP
TWITTER
INSTAGRAM
JA HUSS NEW RELEASE ALERT

 
 
Giveaway
 
 
My Review
4 Stars
BOSSY BROTHERS: Jesse by J. A. Huss.
Emma Dumas met Jesse Boston about 13 years ago, they felt a connection. Emma thought that they were soulmates and everything with that. But Emma learns that Jesse is a playboy and has said pretty much the same things to a few other women. Those women and Emma end up being great friends that go on to become very well off but neither forgot the hurt Jesse made them feel. In the current day they think to kidnap Jesse from a bachelor auction that his brother roped him into. But Emma starts to learn that he may not be that playboy of the past when he was younger.
Enjoyed this hot read.

 

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BRASH by SC Daiko

Review:

 
 
Title: BRASH: An Enemies to Lovers Romance
Author: SC Daiko
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Suspense
Release Date: June 17, 2019 Cover Design: RBA Designs
 
 
 
 
 
From international bestselling author SC Daiko comes a thrilling new standalone romantic suspense novel, a spin-off from BRUTE, BEAST and Nanny and the BRATVA BOSS.
 
I’m cast away on a tropical island with a dirty, damaged alpha-hole. 
Women swoon over him. 
I’m not one of them. 
I hate him. 
And I see right through those indigo-blue eyes. 
Brash is hurting. 
But that doesn’t give him the right to be a douchebag.
Especially now that I’m all he’s got here. 
A mafia princess who knows how to set someone straight. 
I will bring him to his knees. 
If only he’d stop making me weak in mine. 
His strong arms have become my refuge.
And his gorgeous smile, my hope. 
He tells me that I belong to him. 
That he’ll protect me in this dangerous place. 
But what happens if my heart is at risk?
Who will save me then?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Kindle Freak Book Blog – “If you are looking for a book that will allow you to forget about real life for a while, then look no further. Ms Daiko swept me away in a tide of gentle angst and true love.” Ga Books LoverX – “This book is intense, emotional, super hot, and has a few funny moments included as well.” Goodreads Review – “A 1 click must that is beautifully written, fast paced and all round great read.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SC Daiko, aka Siobhan, is an award-winning British author of fast-paced international bestselling contemporary romance and romantic suspense. Siobhan loves to swim in the sea, travel around Europe, sample different food and enjoy local wine. She has worked in the City of London and taught languages in a Welsh high school before moving to Italy, where she now lives with her husband and two cats. Nothing makes her happier than connecting with readers and fellow authors.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
HOSTED BY:

5 Stars

BRASH by SC Daiko is the story of Alyona ‘Aly’ Abramovich and Ben ‘Brash’ Collins.
Ben and Aly meet at wedding where right off the bat they rub each other the wrong way. Ben acts like Aly is the mafia princess with nothing but air in her head where Aly sees him as nothing but a playboy boss. Ben is actually in business with her father but they are legit. When they meet again when he attends her photographer showing of her work, they hit heads again. Although this time he offers her an assignment to take pictures of their Maldives island resort. Since Aly is just coming into breaking free of her princess label and moving into the photographed world she accepts the job.
Of course they keep butting heads but what happens is that they end up being in a accident that they crash into the ocean where they end up on a island until they are saved.
Loved this author’s writing and enjoyed their story.

 
 
 
 

 

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Handle With Care Chapter Reveal

 
CHAPTER 1 WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?
WREN
I slip onto the empty bar stool beside the lumberjack mountain man who looks like he tried to squeeze himself into a suit two sizes too small. He’s intimidatingly broad and thick, with long dark hair that’s been pulled up into a haphazard man bun  thing. His beard is a hipster’s wet dream. His scowl, however, makes him about as approachable as a rabid porcupine. And yet,  here I am, sidling up next to him. He glances at me, eyes bleary and not  really tracking. He quickly focuses on his half- empty glass again. Based on the slump of his shoulders and the un co or di nated way he picks up his glass and tips it  toward his mouth, I’m guessing he’s pretty hammered. I order a sparkling
 water with a dash of cranberry juice and a lime. What I could  really use is a cup of lavender- mint tea and my bed, but instead, I’m sitting next to a drunk man in his thirties. My life is extra glamorous, obviously. And no, I’m not an escort, but at the moment I feel like my morals are on the same kind of slippery slope.
 
2 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 3
sidering the way  you’re sucking that  bottle back. I’m actually surprised you  didn’t ask for a straw in the first place. Might be a good idea to throw a spacer in  there if you want tomorrow morning to suck less.” I push my drink  toward him, hoping he  doesn’t send me packing like he did the other  women who approached him  earlier. He narrows his eyes at my glass, suspicious, maybe. “What is that?” “Cranberry and soda.” “No booze?” “No booze. Go ahead. You’ll thank me in the  morning.” He picks up the glass and pauses when it’s an inch from his mouth. His eyes crinkle, telling me he’s smiling  under that beard. “Does that mean Imma wake up with you beside me?” I cock a brow. “Are you propositioning me?” “Shit, sorry.” He chugs the contents of my glass. “I was joking. Besides, I’m so wasted, I can barely remember my name. Pretty sure I’d be useless in bed to night. I should stop talkin’.” He scrubs a hand over his face and then motions to me. “I  wouldn’t proposition you.” I’m not sure how to respond. I go with semi- affronted, since it seems like somewhat of an insult. “Good to know.” “Dammit. I mean, I think you might be hot. You look hot. I mean attractive. I think  you’re pretty.” He tips his head to the side and blinks a few times. “You have nice eyes, all four of them are lovely.” This time I laugh— for real— and point to the  bottle. “I think you might want to tell your date  you’re done for the night.” He blows out a breath and nods. “You might be right.”
“Rough day?” I ask, nodding to the  bottle that’s missing more than half its contents. It was full when he sat down at the bar an hour ago. Yes, I’ve been watching him the entire time, waiting for an opportunity to make my move. While he’s been sitting  here, he’s turned down two  women, one in a dress that  could’ve doubled as a disco ball and the other in a top so low- cut, I could almost see her navel. “You could say that,” he slurs. He props his cheek on his fist, eyes almost slits. I can still make out the vibrant blue hue despite them almost being closed. They move over me, assessing. I’m wearing a conservative black dress with a high neckline and a hem that falls below my knees. Definitely not nearly as provocative as Disco Ball or Navel Lady. “That solving your prob lems?” I give him a wry grin and tip my chin in the direction of his  bottle of Johnnie. His gaze swings slowly to the  bottle. It gives me a chance to  really look at him. Or what I can see of his face  under his beard, anyway. “Nah, but it helps quiet down all the noise up  here.” He taps his  temple and blurts, “My dad died.” I put a hand on his forearm. It feels awkward, and creepy on my part since its half- genuine, half- contrived comfort. “I’m so sorry.” He glances at my hand, which I quickly remove, and refocuses on his drink. “I should be sorry too, but I think he was mostly an asshole, so the world might be better off without him.” He attempts to fill his glass again, but his aim is off, and he pours it on the bar instead. I rush to lift my purse and grab a handful of napkins to mop up the mess. “I’m drunk,” he  mumbles. “Well, I’m thinking that  might’ve been the plan, con
 
4 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 5
He stares at the keypad for a few seconds, brow pulling into a furrow. “I  can’t remember the code. It’s thumbprint activated though too.” He stumbles forward and presses his forehead against the wall, then tries to line up his thumb with the sensor, but his aim is horrendous and he keeps missing. I  settle a hand on his very firm forearm. This man is built like a tank. Or a superhero. For a moment, I reconsider what I’m about to do, but he seems pretty harmless and ridiculously hammered, so he  shouldn’t pose a threat. I’m also trained in self- defense, which would fall  under the by any means necessary umbrella. “Can I help?” He rolls his head, eyes slits as they bounce around my face. “Please.” I take his hand between mine. The first  thing I notice is how clammy it is. But beyond that, his knuckles are rough, littered with tiny scars and a few scabs, and his nails are jagged. “Your hands are small,” he observes as I line his thumb up with the sensor pad and press down. “Maybe yours are abnormally big,” I reply. They are rather large. Like basketball player hands. “You know what they say about big hands.” I fight not to roll my eyes, but for a brief moment, I won der if what’s in his pants actually matches the rest of him. And if he’s unkempt everywhere, not just on his face. I cut that visual quickly  because it makes me want to gag. “And what do they say?” His eyes crinkle again, and he slaps his own chest. “Something about big hands, big heart.” I bite back my own smile. “Pretty sure  you’re mixing that up with cold hands, warm heart.” His brow furrows. “ There’s a good chance.”
He makes an attempt to stand, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, he stumbles into me and grabs my shoulders to steady himself. “Whoa. Sorry. Yup, I’m definitely drunk.” His face is inches from mine, breath smelling strongly of alcohol. Beyond that, I get a whiff of fresh soap and a hint of aftershave. He lets go of my shoulders and takes an unsteady step back. “I  don’t usually do this.” He motions sloppily to the  bottle. “Mostly I’m a three drink max guy.” “I think losing your  father makes this condonable.” I slide off my stool. Despite being tall for a  woman, and wearing heels, he still manages to be close to a head taller than me. “Yeah, maybe, but I still think I might regret it tomorrow.” He’s incredibly unsteady, swaying while standing in place. I take the opportunity for what it is and thread my arm through his, leading him away from the bar. “Come on, let’s get you to the elevator before you pass out right  here.” He nods, then wobbles a bit, like moving his head has set him off balance. “That’s prob ably a good idea.” He leans into me as we weave through the bar and stumbles on the two stairs leading to the foyer.  There’s no way I’ll be able to stop him if he goes down, but I drape one of his huge arms over my shoulder anyway, and slip my own around his waist, guiding him in a mostly straight line to the elevators. “Which floor are you on?” I ask. “Pent house.” He drops his arm from my shoulder and flings it out, pointing to the black doors at the end of the hall. “Jesus, I feel like I’m on a boat.” “It’s prob ably all the alcohol sloshing around in your brain.” I take his elbow again, helping him stagger the last twenty feet to the dedicated pent house elevator.
 
6 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 7
“Your hands are  really soft,” he  mumbles. “Thanks.” The pad flashes green, and I turn the  handle. “Okay,
 here we go. Home sweet home.” “This  isn’t my home,” he slurs. “My cousin’s  family owns this building. I’m crashing  here  until I can get the fuck out of New York.” I scan the pent house. It an eclectic combination of odd art and modern furniture, like two dif fer ent tastes crashed together and this is the result. Aside from that, it’s clean to the point of looking almost like a show home. The only sign that someone is staying  here is the lone coffee cup on the  table in the living room and the blanket lolling like a tongue over the edge of the couch. I’m still standing in the doorway while he sways unsteadily. He tries to shove his hand in his pants pocket, but all he succeeds in  doing is setting himself off- balance. He nearly stumbles into the wall. “Thanks for your help,” he says. He’s back in his pent house, which means my job is technically done. However, I’m worried he’s  going to hurt himself, or worse, asphyxiate on his own vomit in the  middle of the night, and I’ll be the one catching heat if that happens. I’ll also feel bad if something happens to him. I blow out a breath, annoyed that this is how my night is ending. I heave his arm over my shoulder and slip mine around his waist again, leading him through the living room  toward what seems to be the kitchen.  There’s a sheet of paper on the island, but other wise it’s spotless. “What’re you  doing?” he asks. We pause when we reach the threshold. “Which way is your bedroom?”
The elevator doors slide open. He pushes off the wall with some effort and practically tumbles inside. He catches himself on the rail and sags against the wall as I follow him in. I honestly  can’t believe I’m  doing this right now. He  doesn’t have to press a button since the elevator only goes to the pent house floor. As soon as we start moving, he groans and his shoulders curl in. “I  don’t feel so good.” Please  don’t let him be sick in  here. If  there’s one
 thing I  can’t deal with, it’s vomit. “You should sit.” He slides down the wall, massive shoulders rolling forward as he rests his forehead on his knees. “Tomorrow is  going to suck.” I stay on the other side of the elevator, in case he tosses his cookies. “Prob ably.” It’s the longest elevator  ride in the history of the world. Or at least it feels that way, mostly  because I’m terrified he’s  going to yak. Thankfully, we make it to the pent house floor incident- free. On the down side, now that he’s in a sitting position, getting him to stand again is a challenge. I have to press the open door button three times before I can fi nally coax him to his feet. In the time between leaving the bar and making it to the pent house floor, the effects of the alcohol seems to have compounded. He’s beyond sloppy, using the wall and me for support as we make our way to his door.
 There are two pent house apartments up  here. One on
 either side of the foyer. He leans against the doorjamb, once again fighting to find the coordination to get his thumb to the sensor pad. I  don’t ask if he needs my assistance this time since it’s quite clear he does. Once again I take his clammy hand in mine.
 
8 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 9
Moorehead Media fortune and all the crap that comes with it. And  there’s a lot of it. One eye becomes a slit. “ Every time I open my eyes, the room starts spinning again.” “If you drink this and take  these, it might help.” I hold up the glass of  water and the pills. “ ’Kay.” It takes three tries for him to sit up. He tries to pick the pills up out of my palm, but keeps missing my hand. “Just open your mouth.” He lifts his head. “How do I know  you’re not trying to roofie me?” I hold up the tablet in front of his face. “They  don’t say roofie, so  you’re safe.” He tries to focus on the pill and then my face. I have my doubts he’s successful at  either. His tongue peeks out to drag across his bottom lip. “The cameras in the hall  will catch you if you steal my wallet.” I laugh at that. “I’m not  going to steal your wallet, I’m  going to put you to bed.” “Hmm.” He nods slowly and opens his mouth. I drop the pills on his tongue and hand him the glass, which he drains in three long swallows. “Would you like me to refill that?” “That’d be nice.” He holds out the glass, but when I try to pull away, he covers my hands with his. His shockingly blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment
 they’re clear and compelling. Despite how out of it he is, and how much he resembles a mountain man, or maybe  because of it, I have a hard time looking away. “I  really wish I  wasn’t this messed up. You smell nice. I bet your hair is pretty when it’s not pulled up like that.” He flops a hand  toward my bun. “Not that it’s not pretty
He looks slowly from right to left. “Not that way.” He points to the kitchen. It’s very state of the art. I guide him in the opposite direction down the hall,
 until he stumbles through a doorway, into a large but simply furnished bedroom. Once we reach the edge of the bed, he drops his arm, spins around— it’s drunkenly graceful— and falls back on the bed, arms spread wide as if he’s planning on making snow angels. “The room is spinning.” “Would you like me to get you a glass of  water and possibly a painkiller for the headache you’ll likely have in the morning?” I’m already heading for the bathroom. “Might be a good idea,” he  mumbles. I find a glass on the edge of bathroom vanity— which is clean, apart from a brand new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. I run the tap, wishing I had a plastic tumbler,
 because I’m not sure he’s in any state to deal with breakable objects. I check the medicine cabinet, find the pills I need, shake out two tablets, and return to the bedroom. He’s right where I left him; sprawled out faceup on a massive king- size bed, legs hanging off the end, one shoe on the floor beside him. I cross over and set the
 water and the pills on the nightstand. I make a quick trip back to the bathroom and grab the empty wastebasket from beside the toilet in case his night is a lot rougher than he expects. I tap his knee, crossing my fin gers  he’ll be easy to rouse. “Hey, I have painkillers for you.” He makes a noise, but  doesn’t move other wise. I tap his knee again. “Lincoln, you need to wake up long enough to take  these.” I cringe. I called him by name, and he  didn’t offer it to me while we  were down at the bar.  Here’s hoping he’s too drunk to notice or remember. His name is Lincoln Moorehead, heir to the
 
10 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 11
my head. “I need you to roll onto your side, please,” I say loudly. Nothing. Not even a grunt. I pull on his shoulder, but he’s dead weight. Leaning over him, I make a fist and give him a light jab approximately where his kidney is. “Lincoln, roll over.” And roll he does, knocking me down and turning over so he’s right on top of me.  We’re face- to- face. Good God, he’s heavy. His bones must be made of lead. He shifts, one leg coming over both of mine. I push at his knee, but his arm swings out and he wraps himself around me on a low groan, pinning my arm to my side. He’s like a  giant  human blanket. “How did this become my life?” I say to the ceiling,
 because the man lying on top of me is apparently out cold. I try to wriggle  free, I even yell his name a bunch of time before I give up and wait for him to roll off me. And while I wait for that to happen, I replay the conversation with his  mother, Gwendolyn Moorehead, that took place forty- eight hours ago and put me in this awkward position under neath her drunk son. I’d been standing in Fredrick’s office, still digesting the fact that he was dead. It was shocking that a massive heart attack had taken him, since he was always so healthy and full of life. Gwendolyn, his wife— now a  widow— stood stoic
 behind his desk, papers stacked neatly in the center. “I’m so very for your loss, Gwendolyn. If  there’s anything I can do. What ever you need.” The words poured out, typical condolences, but sincerely meant  because I
 couldn’t imagine how my  mother and I would feel if we lost my  father.
like that, but I bet if you took it down, it would be wavy and soft. The kind of hair you want to bury your face in and run your fin gers through.” He exhales a long breath. “I  haven’t had sex in a  really long time, but I feel like I would have zero finesse if I tried right now.” I smile and turn away. In the time it takes for me to refill his glass, he’s managed to get one arm out of his suit jacket. He’s made it most of the way onto the bed, feet still hanging off the end, but he’s on his back, which is not ideal. I set the glass on his nightstand, along with a second set of painkillers, which I’m assuming  he’ll need in the morning, and give him another nudge. “Hey.” This time I get nothing in the way of a response. I poke him twice more, but still nothing. He  can’t sleep on his back with how drunk he is. He needs to be on his side or his stomach with a wastebasket close by. I  can’t in good conscience leave him like this. My options are  limited. I shake my head as I kick off my shoes and climb up onto the bed with him. This is not at all what I expected to be  doing when I brought him back up  here. I stare down at his sleeping form. His lips are parted,
 they’re nice lips, full and plump, even though  they’re mostly obscured by his overgrown beard. His hair has started to unravel from its man bun, wisps hanging in his face. He has long lashes,  really long actually, and
 they’re thick and dark, the kind  women pay a lot of money for. His nose is straight and his cheekbones— what I can see of them— are high. With a haircut, a beard trim or complete shave, and a new suit that actually fits, I can imagine how refined  he’ll look. More like a Moorehead than a mountain man lumberjack. I shake
 
12 HELENA HUNTING HANDLE WITH CARE 13
necessarily wanted, and I was prepared to politely reject the offer, but my  mother asked me to take the position as a  favor to her since she’s a friend of Gwendolyn. Beyond that, my relationship with my  mother has been strained for the past de cade. When I was a teenager, I discovered information that changed our relationship forever. Taking the job at Moorehead was in part, my way of trying to help repair our fractured bond. The financial compensation, which was ridiculously high, also  didn’t hurt. Besides, Gwendolyn is on nearly
 every single charitable foundation committee in the city, and since that’s where my interests lie, it seemed like a smart  career move. “Since  you’re already working with Armstrong and
 things seem to be settled  there for the most part, I felt it would make sense to keep you on  here at Moorehead to work with Lincoln. He’s been away from civilized society for several years. He’s nothing like his  brother, very altruistic and focused on his job, rather than recreational pursuits, so he should be easier to manage.” I fought a scoff at the last bit, since “recreational pursuits” was a reference to the fact that Armstrong
 couldn’t seem to keep his pants zipped when it came to  women. Gwendolyn pushed a set of papers  toward me. “It would only be for another six months. And of course, your salary would reflect the double work load, since you’ll still have to maintain Armstrong in some capacity while you assist Lincoln in transitioning into his role  here.” “I’m sorry, what—” Gwendolyn pulled me into an awkward hug, holding onto my shoulders when she stepped back. Her eyes
 were glassy and red- rimmed. “You have no idea how
Gwendolyn’s fin gers danced at her throat as she cleared it. “Thank you,” she whispered brokenly and dabbed at her eyes. “I appreciate your kindness, Wren.” “Let me know what you want me to  handle, and I’ll take care of it.” She took a deep breath, composing herself before she lifted her gaze to mine. “I need your help.” “Of course, what can I do?” “My oldest son, Lincoln,  will be returning to New York for the funeral, and  he’ll be staying to help run the com pany.” A hot feeling crept up my spine. I’d heard very  little about Lincoln. Every thing from Armstrong’s mouth was scathing, Fredrick’s passing references had been with fondness, and my interactions with Gwendolyn had been minimal as it was Fredrick himself who hired me, so this was first I’ve heard of Lincoln through her. “I see. And how can I help with that?” I could only imagine how difficult Armstrong would be if he had to share the attention with someone  else, particularly his  brother. “Transitioning Lincoln.” Gwendolyn rounded her desk. “ You’ve managed to turn around Armstrong’s reputation in the media during the time  you’ve been  here. I know it  hasn’t been easy, and Armstrong can be difficult to manage.” Difficult to manage is the understatement of the entire  century where Armstrong is concerned. He’s a cocksucker of epic proportions. He’s also a misogynistic, narcissistic bastard that I’ve had to deal with for the past eight months on a nearly daily basis— sometimes even on weekends. My job as his “handler” has been to reshape his horrendous reputation  after his involvement in several scandalous events became very public. It  wasn’t a job I
 
14 HELENA HUNTING
much I appreciate your willingness to take this on. As soon as your contract is fulfilled, you have my word that I’ll give you a glowing recommendation to whichever organ ization you’d like. Your  mother told me  you’re interested in starting your own foundation. I’ll certainly help you in any way I’m able if you’ll stay on a  little longer for me.” She dabbed at her corner of her eyes and sniffed, then tapped the papers on the desk. “I already have an agreement ready and an NDA, of course. Everything is tabbed for signing.” I’m pulled back into the pre sent when Lincoln shifts and one of his huge hands slides up my side and lands on my breast. At the same time, he pushes his nose against my neck, beard tickling my collar bone. He mutters something unintelligible against my skin. I’m momentarily frozen in shock.  Under any other circumstances, I would knee him in the balls. However, he’s not conscious or even semi- aware that he’s fondling me. Thankfully, now that he’s moved, I have some wiggle room. I elbow him in the ribs, which prob ably hurts me more than it does him. At least it gets him to move away enough that I can slip out from  under him. I roll off the bed and pop back up, smoothing out my now- wrinkled dress. My stupid nipples are perky, thanks to the attention the right one just got. Prob ably  because it’s the most action I’ve seen since I started working for the Mooreheads eight months ago. I hit the lights on the way out of the bedroom, pause in the kitchen to grab a glass of  water and check out the sheet of paper on the  counter. It’s a list of impor tant details regarding the pent house, including the entry code. I nab my purse, snap a pic, and head for the elevators. I have a feeling this is  going to be a long six months.
 
 

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Helena Hunting
 
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She’s writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
Social Media Links:

 

 

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