Title: Cindersmellya
Author: Alexis Angel
Genre: Dark Comedy Fairytale Romance
What if Cinderella had a lace thong instead of a glass slipper?
The moment I walked into the club, we both knew we were gonna fuck.
Champagne. VIP. Dirty. Sexy. Nasty. Just the way I like it.
But at the _stroke_ of four, she had to leave me because of last call.
All she left behind was her delicate lace thong.
And now she's gone. She got fired from her club for sleeping with me. She didn't even know I was the Prince. Now I’m searching all over my Kingdom looking for her.
She’s stripping at a club. I just need to find which one.
All I have in my quest is that slip of fabric she gave me with the scent of her juices.
*Because this fairytale is about to get filthy…*
Alexis Angel writes steamy contemporary romance about bad boys for the bad girl in all of us. She is still single at 30, in case anyone is interested to know, and still very much looking for love. Her favorite things in the world are flowers, chocolate, lingerie, high heels, lipstick, perfume, and the credit card award miles that she gets from buying all that. Prior to writing, Alexis used to be a financial analyst in New York City. She quickly decided that working for a faceless corporation run by men was not her dream job. So she began to write. And as she began to write, she began to use those credit card award miles to travel all over the world. Alexis is still single, in case you forgot from above. She spends winters in California, fall and spring in New York City, and summers in Europe.
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Title: Harem
Author: Abby Angel
Genre: An MFMM Romance
madame_angel [10:25 AM] *All y’all doing these MFM menages are so totally missing out. Three guys is so much better than just two…*
I mean, spice it up, add an extra M into the MFM. Make it MFMM. Extra pair of hands. Extra pair of lips. An extra uhm.…well, you know :wink: Like what woman doesn't wanna get totally consumed by three big dudes that just put her on a pedestal and take her to paradise? Just focused entirely on her and making sure she's just twitching with pleasure by the end of it, ya know? Is there a story in all this fun times? Sure. There’s a really great story in here about love, betrayal, jealousy, all capped with a HEA and no cliffy’s at all. Lana and I had a lot of fun writing it, but I mean the hot scenes were what totally made us late in putting this out because we kept having to take 'breaks'. And with good reason too. Like add an extra M into the mix and you really do go 'mmm' ya know? In fact, I guarantee that MFMM is so hot and sizzling that you’ll never be able to go back to plain ol’ vanilla MFM anymore. If you have any babies after reading this, they better be named Abby! Just sayin’ :wink:
Abby Angel is actually two dirty angels who got together to write some filthy words. Lana Hartley, when she isn't writing Abby Angel, writes dark romance under her own pen name as well as contributes to Dark Angel. Alexis Angel, writes erotic contemporary romance under a variety of names - she's forgotten them all at this point. They both write under Naughty Angel publishing and wanted to create a pen name to provide exclusive MMF content! To receive a free dose of filth from the archives, sign up for the Naughty Angel newsletter at http://eepurl.com/cvgi4v.
Title: No Excuses
Author: Nikky Kaye
Genre: Contemporary romance, romantic comedy
1. Pack the right clothes. Especially extra underwear. 2. Don’t try to school your insanely hot boss on acceptable trust exercises. 3. Be prepared for the extracurricular ropes course. 4. Make sure there is a safety net when you fall, because you will fall hard. Gage doesn’t appreciate how hard it is to be his right hand woman—especially when I’m spending so much time with my own right hand, fantasizing about him. My demanding, control freak boss is testing all my limits, and I don’t know how long I can stay professional. No Excuses is a hot, full-length contemporary romance, featuring blindfolds, rope play, food fights, and sexy architectural features like wainscoting. As in all Nikky Kaye books, cheating is not allowed, but a little angst, some funny business, and a HEA are non-negotiable.
He moved close to me, our bodies nearly touching. I kept my eyes on his chest as he gently draped one of the ties around me, cool and soft on the nape of my neck. The tiny hairs under my ears stood up at the feel of the silk sliding across my skin. Every sense I had was on high alert.
He smelled like fresh laundry, and a trace of something else lingered on his skin. It was almost like the scent of paper, or an overworked photocopier. I felt the heat from his hands close to my throat, and the hairs on his forearms tickled my collarbone for an infinitesimal moment.
My attention remained focused on the buttons of his shirt. I was very worried that if I met his gaze, my hyperawareness of him would shine out of my eyes like a flashlight.
“We’ll just leave this here for now,” he murmured, flicking one end of the tie against the underside of my chin. “Are you ready?”
Not even remotely.
I nodded mutely, but I let out a little gasp when his fingers touched my chin and tilted my face up. It was so tempting to screw my eyes shut, like a little girl trying to pretend that something didn’t exist if she couldn’t see it. I’d had plenty of practice with that before.
But he wouldn’t let me retreat. He looked at me directly and without guile, as usual. What was a little different this time, however, was the way his eyes darkened into stormy seas.
“Trust me.” His simple words wormed into my heart as his warm breath landed on my lips.
My voice cracked as I said, “Mister Gage.” It wasn’t an answer or a question, a protest or a plea. I honestly didn’t know what I wanted to say, and whatever was building in me halted as he lifted the other piece of fabric to my eyes.
He smoothed his thumbs across the strip of silk over my eyes, spreading out from the bridge of my nose to my temples. The tie was held firm between his fingers—those nimble fingers that paused in my hair briefly before they met again at the back of my head.
“Is that too tight?” he asked as he pulled the half-knot.
The sound of the silk rubbing against itself whispered in my ear. I shook my head. His hands clutched my hair and held me still.
“I’m not done.” His fingers tangled in my hair as he finished tying, pulling a few strands just enough to make me suck in a breath.
He froze. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” My nipples hardened into tight buds as his breath washed over my forehead. “I, uh, no,” I repeated.
Gage had never touched me this much in the whole time I’d been working with him. Just the memory of his hands in my hair was enough to make me wobbly in the knees.
He dragged his thumbs across my covered eyes again, like a parent wiping away their child’s tears. Tracing his index fingers lightly over my eyebrows, he made an indistinct but satisfied noise.
“I can’t see anything,” I complained.
I was so blind that I flinched when his mouth dipped to my ear. “Good,” he chuckled.
Reflexively I swayed toward him, like a flower toward the sun. He pressed his thumbs gently into my cheekbones, then his fingertips left a trail of fire down my jaw and neck. On the journey he slipped the other tie from where it dangled around my neck, and pressed it into my trembling hands.
“Tie me up,” he ordered in a low voice.
Yeah, those were words I definitely never expected to hear from my boss’s mouth.
When he took my hand, he pressed his open mouth first to my palm, then the pulse point on my wrist. I was sure it was fluttering like a freaking butterfly.
“I want to show you my playroom. It’s important to me.”
Oh god. “Um, okay.” I could do this. I could totally do this.
He led me down the hallway in his little dollhouse. Another time I would have run my hand along the banister at the top of the stairs, its patina velvety with age. Or I would have probably noticed the vintage glass doorknobs at each room. But all I could see was the bright white of his shirt like a truce flag as I trailed behind him.
He stopped us in front of a door at the back of the house, and I hesitated. Actually, we both did. Gage rubbed the back of his neck. The direct, motivated, successful billionaire was nervous—and that made my knees close to knocking together.
“This is probably the most… personal, private part of me,” he explained haltingly, his gaze penetrating me. “Someday I would like very much for you to join me in here.”
Do not hyperventilate, I told myself. You are a mature, sexually active adult with an open mind—and past rope burns to prove it. You just role-played in the office, for god’s sakes. Do not embarrass yourself.
Instinctively, I squeezed my eyes shut as he reached for the knob, and the door creaked open. When I opened my eyes to slits, it was first to look up at the exultant look on Gage’s face. Then I faced the playroom. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until it whooshed out of me.
“Gage, you are sick and wrong. Just no. No.”
“What?”
“How can you have Pac-Man but not Ms. Pac-Man?” I pointed to the array of arcade games lined up against the far wall. “That was clearly the better game!”
“I beg to differ.” With his arms crossed over his chest like that and his jaw looking like it had been set in concrete, there would be no persuading him.
At least he had Mortal Kombat and… was that a Dance Dance Revolution platform? It was covered in Japanese writing.
“Please tell me you have an Xbox.”
“Baby, I have everything.” He pointed to the giant beanbag and large—but not huge—television in one corner. Gage was almost glowing as brightly as the screens on the old consoles. Their sound had been muted, but the lights blinked in the background like dozens of little disco lights.
I wanted to laugh at myself for my idiotic fear. Whips and chains? Come on. I began giggling as I imagined myself bent over and tied to a bubble hockey table.
Boys and their toys. It gave a whole new meaning to “joystick.” At that ridiculous thought I bent over a little, my hands on my thighs, trying to cork up the laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh god, you are.”
He stiffened, probably unused to being seen as a source of comedy. Well, it was past time to change that. Finally I managed to control my giggle fit, which was probably half due to relief.
His annoyance came out in a strange sound from deep in his throat. When I flung my arms around his waist, he felt as though made of steel. I wanted to melt him down in a fiery forge and bend him into sinuous shapes. Cradling his carved jaw in my hands, I pulled him down for a tender, apologetic kiss.
“I would love to play with you, Gage. But you should know that I take no prisoners in Mario Kart.”
He sighed against my lips, multi-tasking while devouring me. “That is one… of… the sexiest… things… I’ve ever… heard… come out… of your mouth.”
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After a 15-year hiatus from romance writing, she began self-publishing in the summer of 2016. Her first new adult erotic romance novella, Once Should Be Enough, became a bestseller in “Humorous Erotica”—which she found to be a hilarious accolade. She has a horrible addiction to diet cola (known in her house as “Mummy sip”) and an impressive collection of power tools. Her half-finished home projects keep taunting her while she writes. In her diverse career as a college professor, working in the film industry or with the United Nations, she never got to go to work in her PJs—until now.
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Title: Prisoner Of Fate ( Twisted Fate Series #3)
Author: Tami Lund
The bad guys are winning.
There are two types of shifters in the world: Rakshasa--the bad guys who want to destroy the world—and Light Ones—the good guys who want to protect it. Lily's one of the good guys, the last of her kind, the only one who can save their species. She's also a 170-year-old virgin who isn't in a hurry to get tied down. And then she meets Matteo, a Rakshasa who has been a prisoner of the Fates for a thousand years. They should be mortal enemies. She shouldn't strike up a friendship with the man. She certainly shouldn't develop feelings for him. And while we're listing don'ts, she definitely shouldn't give the man her most precious commodity: her innocence. Because otherwise who's going to save humanity?
Finally, finally, the First allowed them to talk about the reason for their visit. While Prim explained, Lily watched the door behind the large wicker chair. Was there really a Rakshasa in there? How had the First captured him? Why did he hide in the dark room? And why in the world did she keep a Rakshasa as a pet anyway? Lily was practically vibrating with curiosity.
“Would you like to see the First’s pet?”
Lily jumped at the sound of the voice, and then she blushed when she realized the Fate was speaking directly to her. She’d thought she was being unobtrusive, as she sat there and stared at the partially opened door, but apparently her curiosity was far too obvious.
Lily swallowed and said, “Is it really a Rakshasa?”
The First smiled and touched Lily’s cheek with one perfectly manicured finger. The tips of her nails were painted silver. “The First will show you her pet, but you must promise to stay out of his reach. The First’s pet has a taste for Chala.”
The Fate stood up and lifted her wine glass and glided over to the large wicker chair. Bending over, she reached behind the chair and grasped a thick, heavy, silver chain. She placed her drink on the small table and then used both hands to pull on the chain. She tugged three times, until Lily sensed movement in the shadows behind the door.
And then a man stepped into view. He was tall, as tall as Gavin, who was the tallest man Lily had ever met. His dark hair hung well past his shoulders. His face was clean-shaven, something Lily had never seen before on a shifter. He wore only a pair of white cotton, loosely fitted pants with a drawstring at the waist.
If Lily thought Gavin had mouthwatering abs, he had nothing on this particular shifter. Each muscle was sharply cut under his skin, from the top of the waistband of his pants to his collarbone. A single, thin trail of curly black hair led from just above his bellybutton down into his pants. His arms and shoulders were equally as impressive. He was an utterly glorious specimen of maleness, except for one startling attribute.
His eyes were black as night.
“Stay away,” the First warned, and Lily gave a little jump, as she realized she’d come out of her chair and had been walking toward the man with a thick silver collar around his neck. The collar connected to the chain in the First’s hands. The man watched her with an intensity that caused her insides to quiver.
He probably thinks I’m dinner. And yet her nipples contracted almost painfully. Who the heck would be turned on by the idea of being dinner?
~~~
Excerpt #2
The First’s pet Rakshasa lounged in the wicker chair, one cotton-covered leg crooked over the armrest, the other perched on the floor. He hummed a tune Lily didn’t recognize, while he twirled what looked like a grilled jumbo shrimp on a stick.
He abruptly stopped humming and lifted his face and sniffed the air. Lily scuttled behind a nearby pillar. She waited until her heart wasn’t beating quite so erratically, then she peeked out from behind the column.
The shifter stared directly at her with unblinking black eyes.
“Oh,” she squeaked, unnerved by the solid, steady stare.
“Chala.” His voice was deep, like that actor from the insurance commercials she saw on television.
Lily felt that intense sense of awareness sweep through her again, licking at her insides, making her feel both hot and cold at the same time. She dropped her head back and leaned against the cool pillar and gave in to the racking shiver.
“No need to hide, Chala. I cannot harm you so long as you remain outside the reach of my lovely necklace.” He chuckled at his own joke.
Lily risked another look. He still lounged on the wicker chair, although the shrimp on the end of the stick was gone. And he still watched her with that breathtaking intensity.
“I–I didn’t think you would be awake,” she stuttered.
“I wouldn’t think you would be awake,” he countered. “It is terribly late. Is it not past your bedtime, Chala?”
Lily slowly stepped out from behind the pillar and stood next to it, feeling oddly exposed. Not returning to her room to change suddenly seemed like a poor decision.
“It’s Lily,” she said. “Lily Gallow. I hate it when people call me Chala,” she said, hoping he would appreciate the show of solidarity. She had to believe he hated to be referred to as “Pet.”
“Why? Are you not a Chala? Have my senses finally gone askew, after all this time?”
“Yes, I am. But I have a name, and I prefer people use it. Just as I imagine you do.”
“Are you asking for my name, Chala?”
“Yes,” she said boldly. “You must have one. Everyone has a name.”
“The First does not,” he pointed out.
“She does,” Lily countered. “She just chooses not to use it. You, I assume, didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
He paused, watching her for several heartbeats worth of time. “No,” he said finally. “I was not given a choice.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “I take it you aren’t going to tell me.”
The shifter chuckled. “Maybe I do not remember. I have been called Pet for a thousand years, you know.”
Lily shook her head. “You remember. I’m sure of it.” She paused, and when he still did not offer his name, she asked, “What do you miss most about your freedom?”
The shifter stared at her, blinking far less frequently than most other people she’d encountered. Finally, he sighed and kicked his foot into the air.
“I haven’t had a good kill, a good steak, or a good fuck in a thousand years. I miss everything, Lily Gallow. Everything.”
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Tami Lund writes. And drinks wine. And wins awards. She also loves romance, and is writing happily ever afters, one book at a time.
Those happily ever afters come in contemporary and paranormal, so pick your poison. Or try them all. You’re bound to find something that curls your toes and makes you smile.
Probably, there’s a new book releasing soon. You should stalk Tami on social media, so you know when.
And most important, if you’ve already enjoyed one of Tami's books, please let other readers know by leaving a review on the site from which you bought it. Otherwise, how will they know which book to read next?
Psst: There's a FREE READ, available for download only through her website
Title: Take Down
Author: Dez Burke
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Suspense, Comedy
Photographer & Model: Leo Taylor
She thinks I'm her Guardian Angel. I know I'm her worst nightmare.I thought I had everything under control. Until the day I saved Maggie’s life. Most men would melt if a girl like her looked at them the way she looks at me, as if I was her savior, her protector. She sees the muscles, the tats, the hero the media makes me out to be. I’d give anything to be that man, to hear her screaming my name as I showed her exactly what a Marine can do in bed, but I can’t let her in. What I had to do in Afghanistan made me a monster. If I let her in… I might let it out. I belong over there, in hell. I don’t know how to live in the heaven that is Maggie. She doesn't realize how hard I'm fighting to keep her away. She doesn't know who I really am. I'm irredeemable. She should run. Before she unleashes a monster that can’t be controlled. Take Down is a full-length stand alone romance novel with a guaranteed HEA, no cheating or cliffhangers! Take Down is 87,000 words and 418 pages long.
I glance down at the small hand reaching over to cover mine. Maggie gently pries my clenched fingers apart and laces her fingers through them without speaking.
The small gesture is a gut punch to my insides. I struggle to swallow past the pain I’m feeling inside.
It’s almost too much to hope that she’s willing to give me a second chance. Especially after what I just put her through. I’m nothing but a total stranger. She doesn’t know me at all. Yet she’s willing to take a risk.
On me.
For me.
It’s hard for me to believe someone would be willing to do that. Most of my life I’ve been alone. Scraping by and making it the best I can by myself without help from anyone.
“Why?” I ask.
I don’t elaborate. I don’t need to. She knows what I’m asking.
“Because I see something hidden in you deep down below all the pain,” she says. “I know it’s there. I feel it. You’re a good man inside, Toby. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past. Or even tonight. I can look past all that. I know who you really are.”
I feel the tension I’ve been holding in my body for what seems like forever slowly start to melt away. Lifting our hands to my lips, I gently kiss her fingers. My lips linger a long second.
“Look at me,” she says.
I can’t.
Not yet.
I’m afraid if I do, she’ll see me for what I really am. When I don’t, she places a hand on my cheek and turns my face toward hers.
“See?” she says. “Take a long look. I’m still here, and I’m okay. A little freaked out and bruised, but I’ll survive.”
I’m not so sure.
“How can you ever forgive me?” I ask, reaching up a gentle hand to lightly touch her neck.
“I already have,” she says softly.
“Fuck…Maggie.”
With a defeated groan, I pull her close and crush my lips against hers in a desperate kiss. All of the emotions I’ve fought so long to keep in check come flooding out. I close my eyes and drink in her intoxicating sweetness until my head reels.
Knowing that she’s willing to take a chance after what I did makes me crazy. She should run out into the night screaming for help. Instead here she is, her lips soft and eager against mine.
I need her tonight.
She’ll never know how much.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Dez Burke writes hot, steamy books featuring bad boy alpha males.
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Instagram is @dez.burke
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