A Final Deal by Nadia Lee


A Final Deal
Nadia Lee
Publication date: August 15th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

One thing I’ve never lacked in life is money. I was born to it. I’ve made it hand over fist. I have more than I know what to do with.
But all that money couldn’t give me Faith Mortimer, a damaged heiress with secrets of her own. I found her irresistible two years ago, and would’ve laid my empire at her feet…until she betrayed me.
Now she barges into my office, offering marriage, ostensibly to help me fulfill the conditions of my father’s hateful deal. Although I toss her out, I’m curious. Once I realize how desperate she is, I make a counteroffer that leaves her vulnerable and defenseless.
However, I never counted on my own machinations leaving me exposed in return…and both our hearts are going to break before this is over…

EXCERPT:

A small lamp in the living room’s on, and I frown. Did Blake forget to turn it off? I take a bottle of water and walk over, then stop.
He’s stretched out on the couch, tablet in hand, a finger of scotch on the table in front of him. All he’s got on are the loose black pants from earlier and a pair of glasses. The effect is devastating, all the more because he doesn’t mean it to be—a perfect combination of lickable body and amazing brain. His torso is totally bare, his shoulders broad, chest thick. His abs are ridged with clear definition even in repose, and his arms are lean and muscled and eminently nibbleable. The dusting of dark hair below the navel disappears underneath the waistband of his pants, and I pull my lips in, wishing I could do more than just look.
He glances up from his tablet.
I flush, embarrassed at being caught staring. “I wanted to get something to drink.” I gesture at the kitchen. “Why are you still up?”
“Couldn’t sleep, so I was reviewing a few proposals.”
“I see.” I clear my throat. “Well…think I’ll go back to sleep now,” I say, then stop. He knows I wasn’t sleeping.
He sits up and places his tablet on the coffee table. “Before you go… About what you said during dinner—”
I raise a hand. “Don’t.”
“Faith—”
“It’s in the past, and I don’t want to talk about it again, Blake.”
His eyes get that stubborn look I’m all too familiar with. He had the same expression when he asked me out that first time and I declined. I had an early shift the next day and I didn’t want to waste my time with a guy who was in Vegas for a couple of days on business.
I put the bottle of water next to his tablet. “I mean it. You got all your questions answered.” My heart thuds. This is my chance. I place my palm against his chest, then push him against the back of the sofa. His skin’s hot underneath mine, and I lick my lips. “The only thing I want out of your mouth is something filthy. Otherwise…”
He drops his gaze to my lips, his throat working. But the words out of his mouth are anything but filthy. “I meant what I said in New York.”
This man is slaying me, little by little. “I know.” I place my left knee by his right hip. “That’s why I’m taking advantage of you late at night—to use you for sex.” I swing my right knee over to where it’s flush against his left hip.
One dark eyebrow quirks up. “Is that so?”
“Uh-huh. You’re going to be my boy toy and you don’t owe me anything for what I’m about to do to you.”


Author Bio:
NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling author Nadia Lee writes sexy, emotional contemporary romance. Born with a love for excellent food, travel and adventure, she has lived in four different countries, kissed stingrays, been bitten by a shark, ridden an elephant and petted tigers.
Currently, she shares a condo overlooking a small river and sakura trees in Japan with her husband and son. When she’s not writing, she can be found reading books by her favorite authors or planning another trip.
Stay in touch with her via her website http://www.nadialee.net/ or her blog http://www.nadialee.net/blog/


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When We Swing by Kyla Ross

 
 
 
 
Title: When We Swing
Author: Kyla Ross
Genre: Erotic Thriller
Release Date: August 15, 2017 
 
 
 
Friends have a way of breaking a person out of their comfort zone . . .
Mark has always felt like an outsider. Growing up, being bullied and teased, he doubted his life would ever get better. Then he meets his new college roommate, Blain Prazzel. 
 
Blain is the opposite of Mark, popular and oozing a sex appeal women can’t resist. Mark would kill to live in Blain’s world and gets his chance when Blain invites him and their roommate, John Motley, to a party.
 
After college, they go into business together and quickly become an overnight success. But when they each find their mates; their friendship is put to the test. 
 
Will these women interfere with their bond or will they find a new adventure awaits each of them? Where darkness and light sing their own forbidden melody of taboo? Where words, when spoken, have the power to change their lives forever?
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter 1- Mark
 
The after-work sun crept between the mountain peaks coating the road in a golden glaze. Aching for a stretch, Mark shifted his shoulders. The hour-and-a-half drive sure needed to end soon.
 
Casey leaned forward, dabbing her lips in fire-red lipstick with the help of the sun visor’s mirror. With steady hands and a still face, she was like an artist sculpting a masterpiece on an airplane experiencing life-threatening turbulence. Mark didn’t even have to look at her to know. He’d spent most of the last ten years staring.
 
Mark, or Mr. Introvert as they called him in college, preferred staying in the background. Growing up, he seldom had friends, but his parents were never around much to notice. Mrs. Lane was a pediatric nurse and Mr. Lane was a traveling photographer. With no siblings, very few acquaintances, and more bullies than he could count, Mark was a loner and preferred it that way. But when he hung out with Blain Prazzel and John Motley, his perception of sociality twisted.
 
It was Fall 2004, Mark faltered over his suitcases through the door of the dorm room. Oak framed twin beds lined three walls. Next to each was a personal walk-in closet. Oak desks stood in the center, propped against each other, back to back with two on either side. Wooden seats were pushed up against each desk and a bulky TV sat atop one of the desks.
 
Mark’s brow drooped at the whooshing of running water booming behind a closed door to the right. He sighed. The bed propped against the window had a leather duffel bag stretched across it and an open laptop propped on a plump pillow. Royal blue sports sandals sat beneath the footboard.
 
Mark inched over to the bed diagonal of the taken one and dumped his backpack, laptop case, and a suitcase. Pressing his palm against the mattress, he frowned. Even a mattress pad wouldn’t grant him a good night’s sleep. Cutting his eyes away, a ball of frustration clogged his throat. Sharing his space, an uncomfortable one at that, demolished the worth of the full ride provided by his scholarship.
 
The bathroom door slung open and out came a tall, olive toned, gray-eyed preppy dude. His collared polo and khaki shorts reminded Mark of the things he’d brought along.
 
Great, and this asshole may take my clothes. He’d been sure he was done with bullies as he strolled across the stage, kissing grade school and its sour memories goodbye.
 
“Hi, I’m Blain.” Blain’s husky tone shook as he patted his hands dry on the front of his shorts and extended one to Mark.
 
Mark dropped a brow and stared.
 
“Shy, huh?” Blain chuckled and flopped down on his bed, running his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “So, where you from?”
 
“Here,” Mark replied.
 
“Me too!” Blain said. His baritone timbre and flashy smile took Mark back to the jocks and pretty boys: the ones he wished he could be. But he was too shy to give it a go and always found himself doing their homework or eating their fists when they were in a bad mood. God. And I have to share a room with this guy?
 
With the faintest smile, Mark said, “Cool.”
 
“Hey.” Blain dug his elbows into his knees as he moved up to the edge of his bed. “There’s a party going on tonight at one of the frat houses. I heard there was gonna be some nice ass there. Coming with?”
 
Mark sat tongue-tied for a few seconds. Was this guy inviting him to a party? To hang out with fraternity guys? And girls? Pretty college girls? Mark shook his head.
 
“Oh, come on. Why not?”
 
“Because I have to study.” It was bogus rolling off his tongue. Mark was more than prepared for classes that didn’t start for another day or so. Some courses he could pass with his eyes closed.
 
“What’s your major?”
 
“Accounting.”
 
Slapping his chest, Blain spread a toothy grin and said, “Me too! Wow. I didn’t take you for the nerdy type. A baseball player, but not a nerd.”
 
Mark smirked. “Yeah? Me either.” A baseball player? Though he’d hiked and jogged religiously, no one had ever taken Mark for a baseball player.
 
“Yeah, well, my dad owns an accounting firm, so I don’t have a choice but to prepare to take over when he retires. He’s been preaching about networking and building a team. Ya’ know, bull shit.”
 
Mark raised a brow and cocked his head at the guy. “Really?”
 
“Yeah, man. If you want or if you’re still around this summer, I can get you in there for an internship.”
 
Mark’s eyes went wide. “Um, sure.”
 
“But only if you come to this party with me.”
 
Shit. Mark frowned. He hated being cornered or manipulated. But if this kook was telling the truth, he’d benefit. And if Blain was lying, Mark knew where to find him. Huffing and clearing his throat, he said, “Fine.”
 
After several hours of unpacking and listening to Blain chatter on about the different races and smells of women he’d had or wanted, Mark was relieved when it was time to head out. But another guy, this one tanned with a brawny chest and tall with sky blue eyes, barged in with a sack across his back while they were checking for wallets and phones. Though his luggage reminded Mark of someone homeless, his baseball cap, jeans and t- shirt were fresh and crispy.
 
“Hey man, I’m Blain.” Blain extended a hand.
 
The tall guy groped it with his open palm and nodded. Gravelly, he said, “John.”
 
“Me and Mark, over here, are going to a party. Wanna come? Supposed to be more than enough to look at.”
 
“I’ll come, sure. As long as there are drinks.” His deep voice cracked a little. “What time you guys leaving?”
 
“Whenever you’re ready.” Blain flopped down on his bed and Mark did the same.
 
After tossing his sack on the bare mattress across from Mark’s, John peered in the body mirror, turned his face cheek to cheek, then said, “Alright, let’s go.”
 
Bits and pieces of that night still made Mark blush. Flashes of bong smoke, bare tits, and the stench of alcoholic vomit stuck with him. Bulbous street lights flashed from either side of the stony pathway. Evergreen canopies and morning dew clung to the air. The bitterness of vodka and pale ale swirled around Mark’s tongue. Stomping on, with the help of his new-found buddies, Mark was overwhelmed with joy, a rolling gut, and slurred words.
 
“We got you,” Blain grunted, hoisting one of Mark’s arms up as it tried sliding off his shoulder.
 
“No. Ugh. I love you guys. I never―” Snatching his arms from Blain and John’s shoulders, Mark bent at the waist and fell to his knees. Heaving, liquid spewed up his throat, dousing the ground and coating the backs of his hands.
 
“Are you sure you’re a drinker, dude?” John asked through breaks of his explosive laughter.
 
“Come on, we gotcha,” Blain said, grasping Mark’s shoulder. John did the same. They dragged Mark to his bed, caring enough to flip his sandals off, and pull a sheet over his limp body.
 
Though he’d sworn off alcohol and parties after that night, Mark continually found himself a part of Blain’s escapades. He and John dragged Mark to parties and clubs on and off campus. One party just so happened to be a rush they’d tricked him into, leading to the trio’s pledging. They’d study names, mottos, and missions. They were bruised and battered with holey, wooden paddles, tossed around like rag dolls, and caught open-handed slaps and thumping fists to the chest. Aches, bruises and sleepless nights were the norm for a few months. Mark had never cried so much in his life. But Blain and John pulled him through, forcing him into the clutches of the big brothers night after night, with them at his side. Of the ten guys they started with, only four, the trio and Kyle, made it through. But things only got wilder from there.
 
Especially when they went up to the cabin.
 
Blain had always had the keys, leading Mark, and everyone else on campus, to believe he had owned it before he officially inherited it. There were many parties and hazing events that took place in that private piece of wilderness. Back then, it offered the typical fraternity guys a chance to live the social dream. They’d party all day, winning praise from their peers and, in some cases, professors.
 
As they’d gotten older, cabin visits adopted a twist in agenda. It was more about just going fishing and spending time with your closest friends and, in Blain’s case especially, kids. Still, Mark didn’t mind driving up. There was something about the wilderness that relaxed his muscles and banished day to day migraines. He loved the sound of the birds playing around in the tree canopies as his boots crushed the gravel and greenery on his lone hiking ventures. Taking in the view of the surrounding mountain ranges and sucking in the breeze that lingered along Lake Tahoe was refreshing. But mostly, he loved the solidarity.
 
After Mr. Prazzel’s fatal heart attack, the certified public accounting firm and cabin was left to Blain. This came as no surprise. Mark, Blain, and John interned there every summer during college, as promised. After the massive restructuring, Blain became managing partner, John became partner, and Mark was financial comptroller.
 
Mark couldn’t be happier with the arrangement. He was comfortable with silently laughing in the background, egging the guys on and tolerating their antics. He was much better at calming John’s explosive temper or covering for Blain when whoever he was dating became curious about his infidelity. They made Mark into the man he was, and he owed them everything, with loyalty being at the top of the list.
 
“I’m so excited we’re doing this,” Casey said, continuing with her eyeliner.
 
Mark cringed as he glared at the alpine curvature that played with the horizon, protecting them from the sun. His heart thumped at his chest as the night he’d met her played over in his mind, burning his heart for the fiftieth time.
 
That night, the frat house was crawling with wannabes and drunken girls. Alternative rock blasted, vibrating the walls, threatening to bring the colonial down on its foundation. Mark turned a beer can up, barreling through it and crushing it on the pale wall. Straightening his back and puffing his chest out, he smiled. The dim living room was crowded. They’d moved the furniture so there was nothing but the waist high stereo and the creaky oak floor. And praise from peers. Lots and lots of praise.
 
“Ah! Mark, Mark, Mark! We made it!” Blain screamed over the jeers of Kyle and John. His bald head glimmered in the dim lights.
 
John cuffed Mark’s peach-fuzzed crown, reminding him of what they’d lost for social acceptance. “Mark, we fucking did it!” Teary eyed, he cuffed Mark’s neck and shook him. “We fucking did it!”
 
“God damn right!” Kyle agreed. Though he had shed about fifty pounds over the last two months, his cheeks still jiggled as much as his gut. His tinted head shone from the laser lights that bounced off table-dancing girls. Mark smirked. Screaming old heads cheered the girls on as they hoped to get lucky while they were back in town. It must’ve taken a lot to convince their wives to let them come back to town to beat the shit out of their new little brothers.
 
Mark shook himself loose of the huddle. He shuddered. The fresh welts from the beating were raw on his rump. But pride and elation made the bruises a minor hindrance. Feeling the cool beer trickle through him, he said, “I gotta hit the head.”
 
“Hurry back, dude,” John slurred. “We gotta do more shots and Lilian brought us a cake.”
 
Mark nodded and squeezed through the crowd and a freshman tripped over his shoe. “Shit, dude! I’m so sorry!” the guy said, his eyes wide and tone shaken.
 
Mark smiled, clasped the guy’s shoulder and yelled, “Blain, John, Kyle, this asshole scoffed my shoe! What should I do?”
 
The brothers at once replied, “Upside down kegger!” Girls screamed and laughed as John and Blain pushed through the crowd, took the freshman by his legs and arms, and carried him over to the corner. Mark laughed and headed for the only bathroom, but he was stopped by a line that swallowed the staircase.
 
Scoffing, he pushed through a group of stumbling girls, making his way to the whining screen door. Outside, he burrowed through smokers. Some were preaching about a government conspiracy and how college was a rip-off. Others were whistling and yelling at a group of girls coming up the walkway. The old Mark would’ve waited for them to the clear the stairs before proceeding. But his knees were starting to shake and his stomach felt tight. So, he pushed forward.
 
Most of the girls cleared his way, but one grazed his side with her shoulder.
 
“Oh!” She chuckled while catching her footing, “I’m sorry.”
 
“God, Casey! Come on. We’re already late,” a blonde whined, before slamming the screen shut.
 
“You’re fine,” Mark said. He stared, trapped in her sapphire gaze. For a second, he thought he’d pissed himself as his belly loosen and knees seized. His cheeks burned.
 
“Wait, this is your party, right? Congratulations.” She smiled, flicking her shoulder-length, dark curls, and batting long eyelashes that just barely shielded her glimmering baby blues.
 
He’d never been so stuck on someone’s beauty and sultry voice. He didn’t want this to pass. He couldn’t let her pass. Of the many girls Blain and John tried setting Mark up with to lose his virginity, this was it. She was it. He wanted to suck her plump lips and kiss the mole on her left cheek. How would Blain handle this? he thought.
 
“I’m Mark,” he said, wanting to kick himself for having a tremoring throat. He’d just endured the ass whipping of a lifetime. His dark, egg-yolk-stained, sweaty, long sleeved shirt, holey jeans, and raw rump were proof of a job well done. The celebration that went on behind him solidified it, too. But he couldn’t bring himself to be smooth enough to get a girl. Have you learned nothing? He yelled to himself.
 
Before he could turn around and run off, she said, “I’m Casey. Well, some of the people here call me Marilyn but I resent that.” She giggled. “I’ve seen you around. You’re a tutor, right? And on the dean’s list? You’re pretty smart.” It tickled him inside, making him ache the way he did when Blain made he and John watch lesbian porn. Casey was the first girl to compliment his brains, not his newfound status or his friendship with the guys.
 
“Thanks.” He cursed himself for lacking the cleverness to woo her back.
 
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
 
“Uh, no. I’m going for a walk. This is a little overwhelming,” he said, trying his best to smile through a lie.
 
“Can I come?”
 
He winced at her. What? With me? No way this is real, he thought. “Isn’t your friend―”
 
“She’ll be OK. Honestly, I didn’t want to stay here long. She wanted me to come with her so she wouldn’t feel like a Blain groupie. Whoever that is.” She rolled her eyes.
 
Mark snickered. Blain had probably fucked half the freshman class by now. “He’s my buddy and brother. This is our party.” She smiled and shrugged. Which was strange. Mark hadn’t met a girl on, or off, campus who resisted Blain’s charm. So, he went on. “Sure, you can come with me,” he said. But his bladder was ready to burst, along with other things. Quickly, he decided to use his perks of belonging to a house now by pushing through to the front of the line to pee. “Do you want me to grab you a drink and meet here in about five minutes?”
 
“Sure. I’ll go tell Shelly that I’m leaving.”
 
“OK.” He smiled as his heart thudded.
 
All the noise around him fell on empty ears. He was deafened by her glow, her sweet perfume, and her smiling eyes. And she wanted to walk with him. She wanted to talk to him. And soon after, he found out she wanted to be with him. And he wanted nothing more than to have her.
 
Day in and day out, they’d spent every night together. Between classes, they discussed number theory and conspiracies, law, and sports. Casey was an intelligent, outgoing soul, and as charismatic as Blain. Well, she had to be. Being a pre-law then law school graduate granted such an attitude. But most of all, she allowed Mark to be himself. Not the sarcastic frat boy who tortured freshman, but the dorky, shy kid that grew up as a loner.
 
“Mark?” Casey asked, returning the makeup back to her purse and him back to their current reality.
 
Though her eyes burned the side of his face, Mark didn’t answer. Instead, he concentrated on the asphalt that disappeared underneath the SUV. Oak trees along the foot of the range provided a persistent evergreen stain in his left peripheral.
 
Casey’s stare, voice, and presence were too much for him–still. His chest got tight and his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. Every day for the last couple months, he’d wake on the couch alone with tears in his eyes, rage in heart, and that evening replaying in his mind.
 
That evening, he’d found her sobbing in their dim bedroom. After comforting her (sort of), she revealed the thing that weighed on her shoulders.
 
“I slept with Sean,” she blubbered. Time froze and Mark’s heart skipped a few beats as his body went numb. He couldn’t speak or cry. Not even faint. He only stared as she begged for forgiveness through glassy red eyes.
 
Mark knew Sean from the corporate Christmas parties Casey had been dragging him to for years. They’d talk about professional football before Mark excused himself and disappeared at the open bar. Sean wasn’t a half-bad looking guy either. Taut, tan, with dark hair and eyes. Opposite of Mark’s pale, lanky figure, short, platinum-blond hair, and blue eyes.
 
Sean. What a fucking douche bag.
 
Though Casey claimed it happened once, Mark couldn’t shake that nagging feeling that she was lying. She worked with Sean. He was her paralegal for God’s sake.
 
Since her confession, Casey had been more attentive than ever. The way her eyes shimmered with hope and optimism made Mark grimace. He wasn’t sure if it was her attempt at getting sex from him or if she genuinely felt sorry for what she’d done.
 
But it didn’t matter. He’d been too repulsed to touch or even look her in the eye. There was no telling what they’d say about him–or worse, her.
 
“Mark, if you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.” Her voice became stern.
 
Instead of replying, he read the jade sign off to the right: Carnelian Bay, California. Their destination.
 
“Mark?” When he didn’t respond, she slapped her thighs. Huffing, she said, “I thought we agreed we would at least pretend to be in a good place with our marriage while we try this.”
 
Casey was frowning. He didn’t have to look at her to know.
 
“Well, what do you want me to say?” He began, cracking a half, cynical smile. “The way I see it, if we are in a good place, we wouldn’t have to come up here for such a disgusting, ugh, thing.” 
 
“People who are in healthy relationships do this. We agreed we were going to at least try it.” She smiled, now rubbing the back of Mark’s neck.
 
Once again, those lasers peered through his flesh down into his soul, but he bit his tongue, gulping down an insult that would’ve sent her over the edge.
 
“Look, Mark,” she went on, “I thought we were trying to get past that by doing new things. We both agreed that swinging may help our sex life. I mean you rarely―” She stopped. Casey hated complaints. She only liked solutions; a motto that she preached daily to Mark who, himself, was a realist. “You know what? No. This’ll be fun and you’ll enjoy yourself. Besides, you brought it up to me so. . .”
 
She was right. One night, a few weeks ago, she’d invited him out to dinner. After four bottles of red, he’d brought it up to her as a joke he shared with Blain and John. Then the swing, spearheaded by Blain, was being planned.
 
I’m making a two-hour drive into the mountains with you. Obviously, we’re doing this.
 
“Mark, let’s just stick to our plan–do this for the month and go from there. OK?” She ran her fingertips over his shoulder and down his polo sleeve.
 
The tautness of her glare made Mark want to flinch. How could something so sexy nauseate him? Finally, he flashed Casey a smile, a weak attempt at being reassuring.
 
Casey was so sure their perverted misadventures would tame the heap of garbage known as their marriage. He chuckled inside, anticipating it all blowing up in her face.
 
To keep the peace at home, Mark often pretended to be kind when he couldn’t avoid her or when they weren’t fighting. He did have his moments of doubt, when a piece of him wanted to leave the couch and cuddle in bed. But a bigger piece wanted to be a million miles away from her. He resented his bleeding heart as much as the sleepless nights.
 
But his buddies were so sure this would work, so sure that this would save him from despair and anger. That things would go back to the way they were, only better. So, he stretched his half-smile full and said, “I know.”
 
Casey planted her lips on Mark’s cheek, stealing a kiss. The warmth from her aura sent chills up his spine.
 
Mark slowed to turn left onto a single lane road as they continued up the mountainside. They passed several vacation homes in a variety of styles before approaching a hidden driveway off to the right side of the road.
 
He pulled into the narrow asphalt driveway that was paved with bull pine, buckwheat, and large shrubs for a mile on either side. Blain’s father was keen on privacy, so it didn’t surprise Mark that he bought a massive piece of mountainside land only for a mile of it to be woodlands and a tar driveway.
 
There were beds of pink and purple Musk flowers and purple columbine along the last few feet of the driveway, breaking the dreary brown and green foliage that made up the scenery from the road. The end of the asphalt wrapped around the cabin and merged back into itself, leading back to the road. It was a nightmare getting out whenever there were parties going on. But it birthed a love of 4X4 off-road antics for the guys.
 
The two-story Bavarian chalet sat ahead, nuzzled up against a wall of oak trees that broke around the back, offering a serene view of the crystal blue lake and the mountain range that towered over it in the distance. Thick chunks of gray stone made up the outer walls and each window was hidden under honey wood awnings that matched the door and porch. It looked like it belonged in an eighteenth-century English town.
 
The pine and oak trees that led the way up the driveway riddled most of the land, making it nearly impossible for the sun’s rays to make their way in to destroy the shade. Only nearly. Shimmering sunlight danced on the brown shingles and wherever it could sneak through. Small animals scurried about, veering in and out of the flower beds, darting back into the dimness of the woods.
 
At the front of the house, on the dirt yard, sat a black jeep.
 
“Oh, it looks like Roxie and uh…” Casey snapped her fingers, as if trying desperately to remember who Mark’s best friend was. “Blain,” she blurted, “…are already here.”
 
Mark flicked his eyes. He hated when she acted petty over Blain. She always complained about how his arrogance made her want to slap the spit out of his mouth. But Mark thought Blain’s pompous attitude was entertaining. Mark tried to get her to see that too. But he gave up when he decided he didn’t care about what she thought about anything anymore.
 
They climbed the wooden steps and the arched Victorian door flung open. Roxie appeared, wielding a bottle of white wine and a big smile.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Kyla Ross is a horror, thriller, and dark fiction writer from Detroit, Michigan. She posts suspense and horror flash fiction on her blog at kyrobooks.com and is the author of a gruesome, suspenseful short story series titled A Trinity of Wicked Tales and an erotic thriller novel titled When We Swing—An Erotic Thriller. Kyla’s extreme horror novel, Hotel Holly, will be released fall 2017.
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Shattered by JL Drake

 
 
Title: Shattered
Series: Broken Trilogy #2
Author: J.L. Drake
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date:  Publisher: Limitless Publishing
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

5 Stars from Two Darlin’ Dolls and a Book Review – “This book picks up right where we left off, shocked and on the edge of our seats.”

5 Star review from Amazon Customer Renee Bird – “I’m hooked, I couldn’t stop reading”

5 Star review from Amazon Customer – “J.L. Drake really knows how to keep you in the edge of your seat!”

 
 
After witnessing the murder of her lover and the heartbreaking loss of their unborn child, Savannah wants to end it all.
 
Then she is given a second chance at love. Sadly, even when life hands you second chances it doesn’t always follow that things will work out the way you want them to.
 
Some lies can just be too painful to move on from. What’s worse than being Broken? Being shattered…
 
Bestselling author J. L. Drake was born and raised in Nova Scotia, Canada, later moving to Southern California where she lives with her husband and two children. 
 
When she’s not writing, she loves to spend time with her family, travelling or just enjoying a night at home. One thing you might notice in her books is her love for the four seasons. Growing up on the east coast of Canada the change in the seasons is in her blood and is often mentioned in her writing. 
 
An avid reader of James Patterson, J.L. Drake has often found herself inspired by his many stories of mystery and intrigue. 
 
She hopes you will enjoy her stories as much as she has enjoyed writing them.
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Reel Love by Elizabeth Hartey

Reel Love

by Elizabeth Hartey Publication Date: August 2, 2017 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romantic Fantasy

Sometimes you land a great job, meet your soulmate and live happily ever after—nothing else required. This isn’t one of those times. Annie Caslo is a successful, young doctor, but when she begins rethinking the career choices she’s made, she makes a decision to find a way to stay focused and achieve her true ambitions – that is until fate steps in and she is thunderstruck by Colt Ballard. He’s six foot three inches of heart-stopping hotness, an adept, roguish soccer star and also one of her interns. But he’s a player – on and off the field – and Annie has better things to do. Still, the combustible chemistry between them is impossible to resist – Colt brings out feelings she never knew existed and Annie’s swept off her reluctant feet. When she continues to second-guess her life choices, opportunities and obstacles begin piling up higher than the greasy Mexican food stacks she hates to admit loving. While in a state of emotional turmoil, she gets a celestial visit from a hunky, Hollywood heartthrob, lookalike, who claims to be her guardian angel. He takes her on a magical road trip to self-discovery with the help of several, dearly departed film icons. Drawn into the excitement of a life she’s always dreamed of, this new life threatens to shatter the LIFE and love she already has—unless her quirky angel can help her find a way to have it all.

About Elizabeth Hartey

As a lover of the northeast US, Elizabeth moved to the Poconos with her husband several years ago to open a Chiropractic Clinic. Four children and a menagerie of animals later, she has finally found time to fulfill her lifelong dream of writing novels. A dreamer at heart, romance is, of course, the genre she spends most of her time writing and reading into the wee hours of the morning. When she’s not juggling work responsibilities and writing, she enjoys swimming, knitting and hiking the beautiful hills and woods around her home and spending time with her family.

 

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Doggy Style by Alana Albertson

Doggy Style

by Alana Albertson Publication Date: October 3, 2017 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance

When it comes to doggy style, he’s behind you 100%. Preston Evans is a legend in and out of the bedroom. He’s six foot two, gorgeous, and famous because his celebrity ex snapchatted his huge package. I hate him. I hate his stupid puppy store, Doggy Style. I hate the way he looks at me like I’m a piece of meat. I don’t care that his abs are chiseled, his arms are tattooed, and his face belongs on the cover of a magazine. Every dog bred means a shelter dog dead! I chain myself to his store in protest, but instead of calling the cops, he throws me a bone. If I spend one week with him in Hawaii pretending to be his fiancée to snag an investor, he will transform his store into a shelter dog adoption center, saving thousands of dogs’ lives. One week and I never have to see this sexy, dirty-talking jerk again. How hard can he, uh I mean it, be? Sex is off the table. So why do I want him to bend me over it?

About Alana Albertson

Alana Albertson is an award winning Latina author, the former President of Romance Writers of America’s Contemporary Romance, Chick Lit, and Young Adult chapters. She holds a Masters of Education from Harvard and a Bachelor of Arts in English from Stanford. A recovering professional ballroom dancer, Alana currently writes new adult romantic suspense, young adult, and contemporary romance. She lives in San Diego, California, with her husband, two sons, and five dogs. When she’s not spending her time needlepointing, dancing, or saving dogs from high kill shelters through her rescue Pugs N Roses, she can be found watching episodes of House Hunters, Homeland, or Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team.

 

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My San Francisco Highlander by Aleigha Siron

 
 
Title: My San Francisco Highlander 
Series: Finding My Highlander
Author: Aleigha Siron
Genre: Time-Travel Romance 
Release Date: August 23, 2017
 
 
 
 
 
A love three hundred years in the making — After being knocked out in battle, Angus Cameron wakes in a terrifying new world with flying beasts, horseless carriages, crazy music, and strangely dressed people. Has he gone mad? When Angel Adair discovers a man in 1975’s San Francisco Lands End park dressed in little more than a Scottish kilt, is he just a confused drifter or her dream-lover come to life?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
First Meet – My San Francisco Highlander
 
Angel stepped carefully down the slope toward her deerhound. “Simon, come to me,” she commanded more forcefully. As she reached to brace herself against a tree, the form of what appeared to be another dirty, ragged homeless man turned in her direction. His heavily muscled frame, imposing even while leaning against a boulder and sitting in the dirt, halted her. Dried blood crusted along his arms and legs, tangles of debris clotted through his chestnut shoulder-length hair. He wore a dark plaid kilt streaked with mud and more blood. Her breath stopped, could he be Daniel? Of course, only the man’s rugged mien and broad shoulders resembled her brother.
 
“Oh, Jesus, you’re wearing a kilt, and you’re injured.” 
 
Well, that was about the stupidest response she could have made. She gave Simon another sharp command. With a whine, the dog returned to her side. 
 
She snapped on a restraining leash. “He’s not dangerous, really. I think the smell of blood has disconcerted him.” She waved her hand in a vague pass toward the man’s battered body and took a step back. 
 
“Are you in need of assistance?” The man’s fierce, disturbing appearance should have caused her to run in the opposite direction as fast as possible, but she felt an unexplainable urge to help him. 
 
“My name is Gillian Adair. My father is a doctor. You look as though you might need his help.” The man watched her; an expression of total confusion twisted his face. “Are ye my angel, then? Have ye come to take me from this hell?” 
 
He spoke with a deep, heavy brogue. At first, she could only make out a few words. She thought he’d called her Angel. Only her family and best friends shortened her middle name, Angelina to Angel, and used it as her nickname. However, they referred to her as Angel enough times around members of the St. Andrews Benevolent Society. Could this man be a newly arrived Scotsman who recalled one of them addressing her as such? She didn’t recognize him, but covered in dirt, brush, and blood…rather a lot of dried blood, and wounds still oozing, it was unlikely she’d be able to identify him from any previous brief encounter. 
 
Weary, haunted eyes registered a flash of fear in their deep, green depths. The sudden loud rumble of a helicopter overhead spurred the man to his feet while at the same time ducking his head. He moved with such obvious distress that he lost his already awkward perch and slid further down the steep embankment futilely snatching at passing brush until he caught hold of a sturdy bush. 
 
If he slipped any further, he would tip over the edge and plummet several hundred-feet onto a pile of jagged rocks at the base of the embankment. Angel removed Simon’s leash, issued a harsh command to stay, and scrambled down the slope clinging to rocks and trees as she went. 
 
She’d intended to extend the leash to help the man up, but her good intentions went awry when she slipped, fell on her back, and slid feet first in his direction. 
 
A strong hand latched onto her arm as she tumbled past his precarious position. He pulled her up with amazing strength and anchored a muscled arm under her breasts in a vise-like grip.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Aleigha Siron is an Amazon best selling author of Time-Travel romance. After more than twenty years writing and delivering management and other training programs for modest-sized to Fortune Five Hundred companies, and ten years developing community crisis-intervention training programs, Aleigha turned her writing efforts to her first loves, fiction, and poetry. Her poetry has appeared in numerous anthologies and university presses over the past few decades (under her alter ego’s name.) Following a difficult period in her life, she discovered solace in romance novels that inspired her to write in this genre. As she says, “who doesn’t desire a guaranteed happy-ever-after scenario?” Always interested in the concept of time-travel, she knew her first few stories would follow that theme.


When not writing, her trusty four-legged companion/helper, Strider, accompanies her on sunset walks along the shore. During these quiet walks under an expansive sky, with the whoosh of waves across the sand and her gaze drifting over the rolling sea, her best glimmers of inspiration come to mind. Following the recent discovery of distant Scottish ancestors, she embarked on a trip to the Highlands that is still weaving stories in the Finding My Highlander Series.

 
 
 
 
 
 

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