Title: Lust Muscle
Author: Alexis Angel
Genre: Romance
12 Inches. Thick and throbbing.
Grab on if you dare. Magic stick. Pleasure rod. Girth Vader. Pipe cleaner. Lip splitter. Womb raider. No matter what you call it, you know you're thinking about it when you see me. You're licking your lips at my 12 inches. Filled with rippling power ready to shoot you to paradise. Most women - they can't get enough of it. They swoon when they see my bedroom eyes. They sigh when they feel my 8-pack abs. And then they touch the hammer head. And it's all over. But what happens when it doesn't work? When the woman, Cara Lynn, pretends that she doesn't give a plugged nickel about my trouser rod. When the game that I spit falls flat? Usually I move on. But somehow, I'm drawn to this alpha female like a deer to headlights. Thing is, I know she's pretending to not care. She's teasing me. Tempting me. She's testing me. Well, darlin'... two can play at this game. She wants to play head games? It's a good thing that I have more than just the one on my shoulders. Come ride the pleasure pole of this standalone romance from Alexis Angel! It's gonna be a scorcher, babe, so be ready. No cliffys and you know there's a HEA that's guaranteed ;)
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: 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.
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.
Email
Instagram is @dez.burke
Title: Damaged Goods
Series: The Redemption Series
Author: L. Wilder
Genre: Romantic Suspense
“Damaged Goods is a emotional roller-coaster of a read that will grab you from the start, it will mess with your heart, nerves and give your body the tingles.” ~Books, Wine & Time “OMG HOLY HELL! My emotions are still all over the place, even after finishing it over 24 hours ago.” ~The Power of Three Readers “Heartbreakingly sweet with just the right amount of suspense to keep you glued to the pages.” ~You Can’t Resista Dirty Book
New York Times and USA Today Best Seller L. Wilder presents a new romance series where the broken find their redemption.
Every man has his weakness. She was mine.
Nitro-
The job was simple- get the girl and bring her home, but with one look, she became my obsession. The blonde, blue-eyed beauty with the sinful curves wasn't mine to keep, but I wasn't about to let her go. I was determined to have her, no matter the consequences.
She was the only one who could calm the beast that raged inside of me. So, I risked everything and did what had to be done - for her.
Tristen-
Nathan James was every girl's fantasy- rich, powerful, and hot beyond words. He saved me during my darkest hour. Like me, he was damaged, scarred by the memories of a horrible past. I saw the way he looked at me, like a predator about to take his prey, but as much as I craved his touch, I wanted something more. I wanted his heart.
I'm afraid I've just exchanged one hell for another.
Will their love heal the wounds of their past, or will they both remain damaged goods?
While Damaged Goods is the first in a new series, the main characters were introduced in the Satan's Fury MC series. This is a full-length standalone novel filled with romance, suspense, and a lot of heart. I'm a firm believer that bad boys need love, too. Damaged Goods is intended for mature audiences only due to the explicit language and violence.
As I walked by him, he reached for my arm, gently stopping me before I started down the steps. His voice was dripping with warning as he growled, “Tristen.” “What?” He stood over me, just inches away, and my heart began to thump a little harder. Damn. Why did he have to be so freaking hot? I was furious with him, and yet, I still felt an undeniable pull towards him. I wanted to touch him, to feel his arms around me and his mouth on my skin, and I had no doubt that he knew how I felt. It was written all over my face every time I laid eyes on him. Trying to ignore my traitorous hormones, I crossed my arms and looked him directly in the eye. “You might think this is some kind of game we’re playing here, that I’m just some pawn you can play with, but you’re wrong, Nathan. This is no game, because I refuse to play.” “You’re not just some pawn, Tristen. You’re the fucking queen, the most powerful piece in the game.” He took a step towards me, placing his hands on my waist as he closed the gap between us. “Maybe you didn’t know, but it’s your job to protect the king.” “Oh, please,” I scoffed. “Who am I protecting you from?” His eyes pierced straight through me, pulling at my heart as he stared at me. “Myself.”
Leslie Wilder grew up in a small town in West Tennessee. A country girl at heart, she’s always thought that life is too short, but she had no idea how short it really was until her brother passed away in 2014. She’s always been an avid reader, loving the escape only a great book can give, and wondered if she had what it took to write one of the wild romances she’d come to adore. With the support of her family and friends, she published Inferno: A Devil Chaser’s MC, one year after her brother’s death. With him in mind, she fulfilled her lifetime dream of writing. Since then, she’s completed the Devil Chaser’s Series and continued on with the Satan’s Fury MC Series. She has so many stories in her head, and can’t wait to share each and every one.
Title: Detour
Series: Off Track Records #1
Author: Kacey Shea
Cover Design & Photography: Marisa Shor, Cover Me Darling
Cover Model: Haley Loan
Release Date: June 1, 2017
Trent Donavan is the golden boy of the rock world. As lead singer of Three Ugly Guys, he’s every fangirl’s dream, and with his newfound fame the women flow as readily as alcohol and drugs. There’s no doubt women are Trent’s preferred indulgence after a successful show.
That is, until the feisty little blonde joins the tour.
Lexi Marx loves music. It runs in her blood and flows through her soul. As the illegitimate daughter of a rock legend, she’s determined to make it in the music industry on talent alone. So when her agent scores her the opening act gig for the next 3UG tour it seems her hard work, hopes, and dreams have finally come to fruition.
Until she spends time with the band. More accurately, Trent Donovan. She’d feel better if that arrogant manwhore of a lead singer would stop hitting on her with his dreamy eyes, witty comebacks, and voice that melts the most jagged of hearts.
But Trent is determined to prove to Lexi he’s not such a bad guy, and as music binds their friendship, Lexi’s left with the most confusing of emotions. Could this be love or an uninvited distraction? She can still have it all, if only her heart doesn’t lead her off track.
“Detour is a must read for every rockstar romance fans. It checks all the essential points in my list: amusing, angsty, passionate and swoony! This read completely consumed me! It was my first Kacey Shea’s book and I’m really impressed by it.” ~ Book Maniac Forever “As soon as I finished this story all I could think about is - when is the next book coming out because I need more of 3UG!” ~ Aurora Hale, Whoo Gives A Hoot “Detour was way beyond awesome, and it was miles above the usual rock romance, as it came off highly original which I LOVED!” ~ Jennifer Pierson: The Power of Three Readers
Enjoy this excerpt from lead singer of Three Ugly Guys, Trent Donavan from Kacey Shea’s rock star romance, Detour:
The dive is actually charming inside, with its retro fifties décor and twenty-four-seven breakfast menu. The crowd is popping for a weekday lunch, and with its location in the heart of downtown I take that as a sign the food will be good.
A no-nonsense waitress leads us to an empty booth near the back.
“This okay?” Her tone dares us to suggest it’s not . . . and end up with spit in our meal.
“Perfect. Thanks.” Lexi slides into the seat across from me. The waitress points to where the menus are nestled between the table and a dish of creamer, sugar packs, and other condiments.
“What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have a glass of orange juice,” Lexi says and then glances at me. “And I don’t need to see the menu. I’m ready to order. If you are?”
“Yeah.” I’m surprised, since most people scan the menu before deciding on their meal.
“A stack of plain pancakes. Please,” she says.
“You want the half or the full?” our server asks without looking up from her notepad.
“Full, please.” Lexi smiles.
The waitress pauses to glance at Lexi and raise her brows. “Mmm’kay. And for you?” She nods my direction more than asks.
“Same. Except coffee for me.”
“’Kay.” She turns and leaves without a backward glance.
“I don’t know how you do that,” I say.
“What? I can eat a lot of food. Especially pancakes. Don’t judge me by my size.”
I grin. “Not that. I’m talking about ordering orange juice.”
“You don’t like OJ?” she asks as if I’m the crazy one.
“I do. But you have no idea the pulp situation. Does it have none, or extra? How can you order a glass without knowing the level of pulp?”
She laughs and at that moment our server comes back to set down our drinks. “Pancakes’ll be up shortly.”
“I take it you’re not a fan of pulp.” Lexi observes and takes a sip from her drink.
I eye her from over the brim of my mug. “That obvious?”
She laughs and sets down her glass. “You’ll be happy to know there’s a low pulp situation going on. We’re safe here.”
“Thank God!” I bug my eyes and delight in the way her lips lift in a comfortable smile. Not forced or guarded. I like this Lexi. “Hey, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you since we met.”
Her shoulders straighten just the slightest and I can’t help but kick myself for chasing away some of her ease. “You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want. Just call me curious.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes but her lips twitch up with the trace of a smile. “Shoot.”
“Why Marx?” The words leave my mouth and I instantly regret the question.
Her eyes drop and her jaw hardens with her frown. She studies the patterned Formica table and traces her fingertips along the silver plated fork and spoon atop her paper napkin. Fuck. She was just starting to open up. Talk to me. Now she’s like ice. I should apologize. Or make a joke. An inappropriate one about her luscious breasts. Yes, then she’ll get angry. Angry I can do.
“Don’t laugh,” she warns.
My gaze snaps up to watch her still playing with the silverware. “Okay.”
“Swear it.”
I reach my hand across the table and set my fingers next to the napkin. “Pinky promise.” I wiggle my finger and her lips soften as though she wants to smile. “I won’t tell a soul.”
Her pinky slides along mine, and the soft brush of her tiny finger against my much bigger one kicks up my pulse. Her hands are so delicate and skilled, and fuck if my dick isn’t already making my tight jeans irritably uncomfortable. She squeezes her finger and I barely lock mine with hers before she pulls her hands back into her lap.
“I was a child. I can’t be held responsible.” She glances around the room before her gaze settles back to me. “But I had a major crush on Richard Marx.”
“The singer?” I press my lips together because I’m certain there’s a smile stretching across my face.
Lexi’s glare confirms my suspicion. “Not a word. You promised.”
“I won’t. It’s cute. What were you, like five?”
“More like twelve.”
“But you’re only twenty-three, right? Wasn’t Marx big in the late eighties, early nineties?”
“Yeah, well, my mom loved his music so we listened to it a lot.”
“You’re telling me your stage name is a shout out to the guy who romanced millions of women with his piano and soft rock ballads, all from a little childhood crush?”
“Don’t judge, okay. I was a kid.” Even she can’t hold back a laugh.
“Not judging, just finding the connection rather shallow for a woman who does everything with great meaning.”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to compliment or insult me.”
I wink. “Compliment. Go with the positive.”
“You’re delusional.” She throws up her hands.
“Says the Marx diehard fan!”
“Look. It’s more than that,” she grumbles and when I tilt my head she shakes hers, her next words leaving her lips in a rush. “God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this . . . When I was a young girl I had this ridiculously famous rock star dad. One who was a horrible father. One who never remembered to call or visit, and who made my mom cry herself to sleep. One who made her waste her entire youth devoted to a man who didn’t give two shits about us.
When I listened to “Right Here Waiting,” I used to pretend that my dad wasn’t Richie Sands. That my mom had gotten it all wrong. I imagined my father was Richard Marx and he was singing that song to us—my mom and me. That he loved us.” She gave a short pause. “So as soon as I turned eighteen, I legally changed my last name to Marx.”
“Two big stacks.” Our server interrupts by setting down our plates with a clatter. “Refills?”
“Yes, please,” Lexi answers. However, I can’t seem to move my gaze from her eyes. The green shines a little too brightly under the florescent lights while she pours way too much syrup on her pancakes. She continues with her meal as if she hadn’t just shared something completely intimate and personal.
“Syrup?” Lexi holds the jug over my stack and I quickly grab it from her hands.
“I’ve got it, Sugar Tits! You’ll give me diabetes if I let you pour.”
“What? I like syrup with my pancakes!”
“I can see that.” I grin and douse my stack with a conservative amount before cutting a few bites with the side of my fork. “So, when you’re not basking in pancake griddle heaven, what other food do you enjoy this much?”
“Chinese, Thai, Sushi. I love them all. But there’s nothing like a stack of pancakes.” Lexi shovels in another mouthful. A groan of pleasure escapes from where her lips lock around the fork. Fork me. What I wouldn’t give to be a piece of cutlery.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice the sugar tits comment, either. That nickname ends here.” She points the fork in my direction before taking another bite.
My lips pull up with a big ass grin. “I don’t know . . . ’Cause that I didn’t promise.” I pop in a mouthful of pancakes.
She shakes her head, rolls those eyes, and takes a sip of juice. “Hey, Trent.” She glances down at her plate, using her fork to push around the sopping mess she’s made of a perfectly delicious breakfast.
“Yeah?”
“I never said thank you.” She lifts her gaze and those eyes pierce me with their sincerity. “Thank you.”
I lick my lips and take a big gulp of coffee. “You’re welcome. For what exactly?”
She smiles and taps her fork against the plate. “Why did you bring me on your bus in Oklahoma?”
That night fills me with sadness and I rub my hands through my hair. “To keep you safe.”
“That’s it? No ulterior motives?”
“Lexi, that night, I . . . There was no way I was letting you sleep in Big Betty. Not after what happened. What could have happened. No. I just needed to keep you safe. The best way to do that was in our bus. Simple.”
She scoops up her drenched pancake and brings it to her lips. Oh, those damn lips. “Well, then, thank you,” she whispers before the food goes inside her mouth and she does the groan again.
It’s all I can do to not pounce over the table, claim those lips, and join her in the sound.
“And thanks for not trying to get in my pants.” She grins, wider now, and I feel as though she’s playing some kind of mindfuck game. She’s gotta be on to me, inside my head, knowing I’ve been thinking unprofessional thoughts throughout this entire breakfast.
“Who says I’m not trying to do that?” I go with humor, always my best defense, and it works when she laughs aloud.
“You’re such a manwhore.”
“You got me.” I join in her laugher and pray my little obsession with her mouth dissipates the further into this tour we go. Lexi is a cool chick, more down to earth than I ever imagined, and she deserves the best. More than I could ever give, that much is true.
Pick up your copy to find out what happens next! Detour is available now from Amazon Kindle or read free with your Kindle Unlimited subscription.
Kacey Shea is a mom of three, wife, and indie author who resides in sunny Arizona. She enjoys reading and writing romance novels as much as her son loves unicorns, which is a lot.
When she's not writing you will find her playing taxi cab to her children while belting out her favorite tunes, meeting friends or family for food and to share some laughs, or sweating it out in the gym. Kacey finds that picking up heavy weights repeatedly is good for her mental health as much as it is for the physical.
She has an unhealthy obsession with firefighters. It could be the pants. It could be the fire. It's just hot. On occasion she has been known to include them, without their knowledge, in her selfies outside the grocery store.
Kacey one day aspires to be a woman hand model in a sexy photo shoot. You know, the woman's hand raking across the muscular back or six pack stomach of the male fitness model. Yep, that hand.
Until that day comes she will continue writing sexy, flirty romance novels in hopes to bring others joy!
Kacey enjoys interacting with her fans so please feel free to stalk her on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter.
Title: Undercover Intentions
Series: Russkaya Mafiya Spin-Off
Author: Sapphire Knight
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Published: May 29, 2017
Not everyone born of Mafiya blood wants to be in the life.
I was determined to never go anywhere near it. Headed in the
opposite direction, I pushed away from my family and their legacy.
Until they needed me.
And then...so did she.
I got sucked in too deep, going after her and trying to save them all.
Now, there's no turning back. I'd do anything for my cousins, for Sasha.
After all, family is everything.
“This one tore at my heart strings one by one. What a tragic, yet beautifully written story!” ~Headtripping Books “This is such a passionate story full of pain and love that will have you holding your breath while screaming out loud!” ~Monsterella Reviews “Stunning, gritty, Intense!!” ~You Can’t Resista Dirty Book
Sapphire Knight is the International Bestselling Author of Secrets, Exposed, Relinquish, Corrupted, Forsaken Control, Unwanted Sacrifices, Friction and Unexpected Forfeit. The series are called Russkaya Mafiya, Oath Keepers MC, Ground and Pound and Dirty Down South.
Her books all reflect on what she loves to read herself.
Sapphire is a Texas girl who is crazy about football. She has always had a knack for writing, whether it is poems or stories. She originally studied psychology and that has only added to her passion for writing. She has two boys and has been married for ten years. When she's not busy in her writing cave, she's busy playing with her three Doberman Pinschers. She loves to donate to help animals and watching a good action movie.
I have read all of the Russkaya Mafiya from Sapphire Knight and even though this is a standalone I loved this book! I was happy to see some familiar faces in here and was glad that Beau got his story. Beau is on the opposite side of things with his family, being a cop and all, but when he helps out his cousin's bodyguard and friend Niko he will spend years looking for Niko's sister. Which leads him down a rabbit hole he didn't expect and finding a woman he never saw coming in his search. Sasha knows nothing other that what the Master tells her and violence, having been taken from her mother and raised in the life that Beau finds her in. The chance encounter leads Beau on a mission ti help these women and to make some changes in his life. When Sasha leaves with Beau the only thing she hopes is he won't hurt her and ends up getting so much more. Beau and Sasha are absolutely perfect for each other and I can't say enough how much I loved this book.
Title: The Royal Treatment
Series: A Crown Jewels Romance #1
Author: MJ Summers
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: May 23, 2017
Enough laughs to satisfy fans of Bridget Jones. Enough sparkly shoes and breathtaking ball gowns for fans of Cinderella… Twenty-eight-year-old Tessa Sharpe, a.k.a. The Royal Watchdog, hates everything about Prince Arthur. As far as she’s concerned, he’s an arrogant, lazy leech on the kingdom of Avonia. When he shocks the nation by giving her the keys to the castle in an attempt to boost his family’s dismal public approval ratings, Tessa has no choice but to accept and move in for two months. It’s lust at first sight, but there’s no way she can give in to her feelings—not if she wants to have a career or a shred of pride left when her time at the palace ends. Ultra-private, ultra-hot Crown Prince Arthur has always gotten by on his charm. But that won’t be enough now that the Royal Family is about to be ousted from power once and for all. When Prince Arthur has to rely on the one woman in the kingdom who hates him most, he must learn that earning the love of a nation means first risking his heart… Can two natural enemies find their forever in each other’s arms, or will they ruin each other to save themselves? [PLEASE NOTE: The Crown Jewels Series is not a typical MJ Summers book. It’s a light romantic comedy, very heavy on the laughs with a low steam level (but lots of delicious sexual tension and some swearing).]
Prince Arthur:
When we reach the vault room, there are two guards standing at the door. Normally there is just one, sitting on the inside; but for nights like tonight, there are a total of six. I nod, and one of them opens the door.
“Good evening, fellows,” I say.
“Good evening, Your Highness.”
Once inside the room, we go through the same routine with the other four men. I go to the keypad and press the code, then hold my face in front of the camera for a retina scan. When I look down at Tessa, she actually looks impressed.
“A little Bond-esque, no?” I ask.
“Very.”
“Come on, Moneypenny, let’s get you something for that beautiful neck of yours.” I tug her hand and pull her in with me before she can say no.
She’s already shaking her head, but I hold up one finger. “I can see those Sharpe family brains of yours going to work on ten different reasons why you won’t borrow a necklace, but I have already prepared counterarguments, and since we are now twelve minutes behind schedule, please allow me. One, they’re already paid for, some of them hundreds of years ago, so it’s not coming out of anyone’s taxes. Two, like the books in the library, they’re going to waste in here. Three, for the first time in my life, I want to share something with someone else—someone who deserves to feel like a queen, even if she’ll only allow herself that for one measly little evening. Four, I have this fantasy of seeing you in only the jewels. Maybe the heels could stay.”
Tessa laughs and her cheeks go pink. “All right. One necklace, but make it a cheap one.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Define cheap.”
“Less than a kitchen stool.”
“How about less than a car?”
“Sofa.”
“I said ‘queen.’ Would a queen really wear a sofa around her neck?” I reach up and run my fingertips along the base of her neck.
“Would she wear a car?”
“Good point.” I lean down and kiss the crook of her neck. “How about this? You choose whichever one you like the best, and I won’t tell you how much it’s worth.”
I continue to brush my lips along her skin, then move up to her earlobe. The other night, I discovered a little spot at the base of her ear that turns her to putty. After a moment of some careful work, I get what I want. A breathy, little ‘okay’ escapes her lips.
MJ Summers currently resides in Edmonton, Canada, with her husband, three young children, and their goofy dog. When she's not writing romance novels, she loves reading (obviously), snuggling up on the couch with her family for movie night (which would not be complete without lots of popcorn and milkshakes), and long walks in the woods near her house. MJ also spends a lot more time thinking about doing yoga than actually doing yoga, which is why most of her photos are taken ‘from above’. She also loves shutting down restaurants with her girlfriends. Well, not literally shutting them down, like calling the health inspector or something. More like just staying until they turn the lights off.
MJ is a member of the Romance Writers of America, as well as the International Women's Writing Guild.
MJ would love to hear from you! She does her best to respond to all inquiries and emails personally. If you would like her to attend a book club meeting via Skype please contact her to book a date.
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