Monday, September 30, 2019

Cruel Boy Release




Title: Cruel Boy
Author: Clarissa Wild
Genre: Dark Bully Romance
Release Date: September 30, 2019



Blurb

Rich boys sin best.
Gossip always goes around at Falcon Elite Prep.
Everyone knows Nate Wilson, the most popular football quarterback and every girl’s crush.
But there’s more behind those drop-dead gorgeous eyes and that killer smile …
He’s a notorious heartbreaker …
And he’s got his eyes set on me.
The twisted games he plays are cruel and dangerous.
He teases and tempts me … just to ruin me.
Because I know the one thing he doesn’t want anyone to know.
A big, dirty secret …
And there’s nothing bad boys won’t do to keep a secret buried.







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Excerpt

He’s so close now, all the ridges of his abs underneath his shirt are visible, and it’s almost making me want to reach out and touch them.
Stop this, Sam. Just fucking stop it.
“You make me laugh,” he mutters, placing both hands on the windowsill behind me, caging me inside his arms once again.
Goddammit.
“You piss me off,” I reply.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he quips.
One of his hands slides from the windowsill to my hand, and I freeze. His warm hand feels like lightning shooting all over my skin as it travels up my arm.
“You should know better than to taunt me,” he says, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I like scared little girls … like you.”
His tongue dips out and grazes along the rim of my ear. A chill runs up my spine as he places his other hand on my knee. The oxygen is knocked right out of me when he slides it upward along my thigh.
“You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?” he whispers, adding a groan that sets my body on fire. “I like that.”
His hand creeps up my red and black checkered skirt, fingers curling underneath the fabric of my panties.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Why am I letting him do this? He’s the bad guy.
He groans again, tugging at the elastic to pull them down. “You’re a filthy … little … thief.”
RIP!
In one quick pull, he’s torn them straight off.
I gasp in shock as he holds my panties in his hand, wearing a victorious grin on his face.
“What the—?”
He brings them to his face and takes a whiff, a delicious moan grumbling in his throat.
“I’ll hold onto these,” he murmurs, stuffing them into his pocket.
And after a dirty look, he turns around and walks off.
“What?” I mutter, ignoring the throbbing sensation between my legs.
He glances at me over his shoulder. “Consider it a down payment … I’ll give them back if you give me those pictures within a day. And if you don’t, I’ll find more creative ways to tempt you.”
So that’s what this is all about. Extortion. I should’ve known, shouldn’t have been so gullible to assume he’d ever feel something for me. Playing with lust as though it’s a goddamn tool.
I spit at him, but it lands on the floor. “You’re a disgusting piece of shit, Nate Wilson.”
He doesn’t even look at me when he says, “Believe me, I know.”
Then he closes the door on me.






Author Bio


Clarissa Wild is a New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of Dark Romance and Contemporary Romance novels. She is an avid reader and writer of swoony stories about dangerous men and feisty women. Her other loves include her hilarious husband, her two crazy but cute dogs, and her ninja cat that sometimes thinks he's a dog too. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, playing video games, reading tons of books, and cooking her favorite meals.

Want to get an email when my next book is released? Sign up here to receive 4 FREE short stories: http://eepurl.com/FdY71 


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BOOK'EM Piper Excerpt Reveal




Title: Book'em Piper
Series: Iron Badges #3, Iron Orchids #10
Author: Danielle Norman
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 8, 2019



Blurb

I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, an area that even the cops avoided.
The only light in my dark, was the boy next door. He was my hero.
And I was his Sunshine, at least that is what he called me.

Liam Kane wasn't just my neighbor, he was my first and only crush. 
He looked after me when I couldn't look after myself. 
When he disappeared my life returned to an endless grey. 

Now after all these years we're face to face. 
But we're standing on opposite sides of the law.    
He's a part of the Heretics MC and I'm a deputy. 

I’m all grown up and more than capable of handling myself.
But I dream about Liam’s capable hands.
Everything has changed... except my feelings for him.







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Excerpt

Chapter One


“Keep talking there, Twinkletoes, I’ll marry your dad and make you my stepchild.” I glared at three teenage girls who were destined to grow-up and be a drain on some man’s wallet as they walked past me on their way to the yellow Volkswagen Beetle.
“God, how manly.”
“I bet she’s single.”
“Hasn’t she ever heard of makeup?”
But seriously, what was up with teenagers these days? I was a fucking deputy in a fucking uniform and they still had the audacity to give me attitude. 
“If I ever say, that I want to be a cop, shoot me, will you?” One of the girls asked her friends.
“They won’t have to, I’ll do it for them,” I said in a low whisper. The entire time they were cataloging my flaws and their disdain for my job, I was straddling my sheriff’s motorcycle, while parked in a convenience store’s parking lot. The owner had been having problems with teenagers coming in after school harassing his patrons. Case and point.
A loud wolf whistle pierced the air, and I turned to find a boy hanging out of a truck. I rolled my eyes as the girls started to giggle. 
“Oh my god, Devin just whistled at you,” one of the girls said.
“I can’t believe it, does that mean he thinks I’m pretty?”
“Oh, Breezy, of course it does. You’re so pretty,” her friends reassured her.
“You really think so? I need to lose weight . . .” 
I smiled as I watched her twirl one loose strand around a finger. The only thing missing was her blowing a giant wad of bubble gum. It was all a little too cliché for me.
The boys in the truck pulled out and the girls got into their car and chased them. In their pursuit they plowed through an intersection ignoring a stop sign and cutting off several cars. 
I rolled my eyes. Fuck.
Nothing beat the feeling of twisting the throttle, the sun beating down on my back, or the vibration between my legs. Holy shit, I couldn’t believe that I just thought that, but it was true. There was just something about being on a Harley, and I was one of the lucky few who got to ride to my heart’s content since I not only rode for fun but also rode for work.
Okay, one thing beat all of that—the adrenaline rush I got every time I flipped on my lights, which I did a second before I went after the pale yellow Volkswagen Beetle. Some days, karma was a bitch and others she was your best friend, kind of like today. Yeah, Karma and I, we go way back.
“Well, hello, ladies, it seems that you were in a hurry.” I slightly lowered my sunglasses and smirked at three stunned teenagers. “I’m going to need to see your license and registration.”
“I can’t get a ticket; I’ll be grounded from my car.”
“You probably should have thought about that before you blew threw the stop sign and cut off those other vehicles.”
“But we came out of the parking lot and turned right. The stop sign is, like, right there, she already stopped and checked when she came out,” the blonde explained, obviously acting as the leader of the pack from the passenger seat.
“Number one, that doesn’t matter. You have to stop at every stop sign. Number two, you didn’t stop at the one in the parking lot either.”
“Just give me the ticket.” The driver turned to her friends. “I’ll just pay it before anyone knows.” 
“I’m actually writing you for two different tickets for failure to come to a complete stop as well as reckless driving since you cut off those other cars.” I glanced down at the registration I held in my hands. “Oh, this isn’t your name on the title of the car.”
“No, it’s my dad’s. He gave me the car for my birthday.”
“I’m going to have to call your parents since it is in his name.” I glanced down at her driver’s license and bit back a scoff. Breezy Kidd, yes, that was her fucking name, no shit.
“You can’t do that,” the girl in the passenger seat demanded. “This is harassment. You are harassing us.”
I leaned down so I was at eye level. “What’s your name?”
“I don’t have to tell you.”
“Umm, actually you do. All three of you have to hand your IDs over to me.”
The one girl in the back seat complied and passed hers forward, but the girl in the passenger seat was on my last nerve. “I don’t have it with me.”
“Here’s the issue. Your friend Breezy is eighteen and has committed enough traffic violations that I can write her up for illegal right hand turn, failure to yield right away, careless driving, illegal lane change, and reckless driving, which is criminal, requires her attendance in front of a judge, and can cause her car to be impounded. So, either you comply with the law or the law will not be in your favor.” 
Breezy jerked her head and stared at the passenger. “Hand over your license.”
“I’d listen to your friend. Because if the car is impounded, I’m going to have to call a squad car to come get you until you present your ID. We need to make sure you don’t have any warrants or that you aren’t a minor.” Finally getting through to her, she grabbed her license from her bag and handed it to me. I looked at the name. Brittany. Why wasn’t I shocked? “Now I’ll start with you, give me your parent’s phone number,” I said to the driver. She called her dad and was instantly in tears. Clearly, she knew how to play him. The girl in the back seat, Mikayla, who’d been the quietest, called her mom, had tears in her eyes, and even apologized to me . . . there was hope for the future yet. Brittany called her mom, and it was clear that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
“Mom, Breezey got pulled over. Some female cop.” The girl paused, and it didn’t take Neil Fucking Armstrong to figure out that they were bashing me. “Yeah, probably, she looks like she was probably checking us out. You’re right, that’s probably why she pulled us over. Okay. Love you too, bye.” 
When all three were done, I’d written Breezy a ticket with three different citations, and then I let them go. And whoever said that being cop wasn’t fun? 
It was close to quitting time, so I eased into traffic and headed back toward the stations, but before I got far, my radio crackled with an incoming a call. 
“Orange County, Commercial, Signal twenty-nine, Alpha, 441 and Waterbridge.”
I wanted to get home as much as the next person, but I was only two blocks away, and as much as I hated it, this was part of my job too. 
“Thirteen-seventeen, reference signal twenty-nine commercial alpha, I’m nearby. Assign it to me.”
“Orange County copies, seventeen thirty-three. Alarm, Hampton Storage, monitoring company has tried to get in contact with the property owner. Internal motion sensor has not been triggered.”
“Ten ninety-seven.” I stopped talking after giving dispatch the code that told them I was on scene. I dismounted my bike and checked the doors to the main building, which were all locked. I pulled a card out of my pocket and stuck it through the mail slot, proof that I was here and checked. The sign said that they closed at six PM, and since it was ten of six, my guess was that someone cut out early today. 
With nothing of note happening out front, I got back on my bike and slowly drove around toward the back. The alarm was still blaring as I rounded the corner to find the back gates wide open and two men on Harleys parked in front of a closed unit.
Even from forty yards away, I could tell that the men were wearing cuts and not just any cuts, they were members of the Heretics. Orlando had several biker gangs, many being one percenters. Most of them lived by the rule: leave us the fuck alone and we will leave you the fuck alone. But not the Heretics. Nope, they were the bullies. The I-want-to-start-a-fight-just-because-I-can type. The type of gang that will kick someone’s ass because they thought it made them look big. When they were done, their victims were seldom left breathing.
So, I stayed where I was and called into dispatch. 
“Thirteen-seventeen, ten fifty-six, Hamptons Storage on Waterbridge, signal forty-four, expedite, multiple subjects, known signal zero.” That sounded good, I needed backup because they were people who were known to be armed and dangerous. 
Retreating wasn’t an option, I was a deputy, this was my job, and the last thing I wanted was to turn my back on known killers.
At that moment, I wished for a car full of snotty teenagers over these guys, I could handle them. I said a prayer for backup to be nearby and that they would hurry, and I had just finished it about the same time the subjects turned in my direction. I could feel their eyes boring into me. Chills went down my spine, and I flipped my snap on my holster to give my fingers something to do, my heart thumping as the two riders rode over to me.
They were night and day, the one on the left looked like Hollywood’s version of scary biker dude. His cut read Sergeant at Arms, Bladder. 
Bladder
What kind of name was Bladder? He was of medium build, had a beard that could double as a rat’s nest, chains that hung from his pockets to his belt loops, and his face was . . . well . . . all I could do was hear Ham’s voice from The Sandlot. “You know, if my dog were as ugly as you, I'd shave his butt and tell him to walk backwards.”
The other guy also had a beard, but his was what they called a groomed beard—like he actually gave a damn if crumbs fell onto his face. He probably weighed two hundred pounds, and his cut read Candy. I would never understand where bikers get their names. He was on his bike, so I had to take that into account, but I would put him at least six feet.
As I continued my mental catalog, I took in his dirty-blond hair, his muscular arms. I studied the shaped of his face, sloping nose, hooded eyes, and then froze when I locked on to hazel eyes. Eyes that I still saw in my dreams. My eyes darted to his upper lip, and I caught myself before I could lean forward, not to touch him but to get a closer look at the scar there, it wasn’t as pronounced as the one Liam had when we were kids, but that was normal, scars faded over time, right?
It was as if I was eight years old again and he had been reading me Harry Potter. He’d taken me to the park and we both picked sticks to make into wands. When we got back to his house, he’d grabbed a pocketknife and had attempted to carve my name into my “wand.” When he tried to smooth the edges, he pulled back on the blade and lost control and cut his lip. He ended up getting stitches. 
It wasn’t long after that when he left during the night without saying goodbye, but I knew this was him.
“Liam?” I asked.






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Author Bio


Before becoming a romance writer, Danielle was a body double for Heidi Klum and a backup singer for Adele. Now, she spends her days trying to play keep away from Theo James who won’t stop calling her or asking her out. 

And all of this happens before she wakes up and faces reality where in fact she is a 50 something mom with grown kids, she's been married longer than Theo’s been alive, and now get her kicks riding a Harley.

As far as her body, she can thank, Ben & Jerry’s for that as well as gravity and vodka. But she says that she could never be Adele’s backup since she never stops saying the F-word long enough to actually sing.

Danielle writes about kickass women with even better shoes and the men that try to tame them (silly silly men).


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A Baby FOR THE BRATVA Release




Title: A Baby for the Bratva
Author: Chloe Kent
Publisher: Blushing Books
Genre: Reverse Harem
Release Date: October 2, 2019



Blurb

They wanted a girl quickly so they chose an orphanage where no one would ask questions.

They planned to use her until she was pregnant…

Instead they got twenty-one-year-old American Starla Anderson.

When the Russian Mafia invades the orphanage where she lives, in the middle of the night, throwing the nuns who raised her, into a petrified frenzy, it’s Starla who is chosen as the only one who could possibly survive the Bratva and their demands.

But in spite of her own fear of the three massive, glowering and scary men, Starla has to think and act fast…

With her heart thundering in her chest, her body on fire at their presence alone, she sees an opportunity, something that might help the other girls at the impoverished orphanage at a chance of a better life. She lays out her only condition.

Her body for a fee…

Except…

No one says no to the Bratva.







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Author Bio

Chloe Kent has been hooked on romance since her teens and couldn’t wait to grow up and write her own romance novels. Her books usually feature a spirited heroine, and at least two… sometimes more incredibly hot heroes.

Her favorites pastimes include her husband, her dog, and books. Her biggest fear is running out of coffee or her imagination.


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ANOTHER ROUND Release




Title: Another Round
Author: Nikki Belaire
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 30, 2019



Blurb

She knows I would die for her. Even if her father is the one who wants me dead.

A call I don’t expect. A job I don’t want. A hassle I don’t need. I’d protected his wife a long time ago, and now the notorious mob boss wants me to keep his daughter safe. I resist the tempting and troublesome mafia princess for as long as I can, but once I take her, there’s no going back, no giving her back. She thinks what we have between us is just a fling, but I know we’re forever. Regardless of what she says or her dad orders. 

Another Round is a friends-to-lovers, older man/younger woman mafia romance and touches on sensitive topics. Reader discretion advised. No cheating or cliffhanger.







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Excerpt

I lead her to the stool where I normally serve her dinner. She climbs up and slides her pert arse across the wood. Crossing her gorgeous legs out of habit. That tempt me more than ever knowing how close I came to having some other bastard touch them.

She takes in the mess on the floor behind me. Anxiety drawing down her face as she peruses the damage. “What happened?”

My palm cups her cheek to turn her back to face me. The only thing I give a damn about is settling things between us. Setting her straight about other men. Or the lack there of going forward. “I dropped it.”

“Andy?”

Now she knows I’m the one who’s lying. Silky hair brushing across my forearm as she tilts her head in worry and disbelief. Making the cords tighten from her concern over my stuff. Over my anger. Over me.

I place my fists on each side of the counter behind her. Locking her in place. Trapping her between my arms. Applying old interrogation methods she won’t be able to fight. “Who was that guy?”

She swallows and licks her lips. Responding to the demand pulsing in my tone.

“Josh. Lauren’s engaged to his older brother Logan.”

Tension surges between us from the proximity of our bodies. From her squirming in her seat. From her looking up at me with no way out from under my gaze. “Are you going to go out with him?”

Never fucking happening but I want to know what she intends. What she mistakenly believes I’m going to allow her to get away with.

“We just met.”

I don’t fall for her dismissive tone. As if the idea is preposterous. As if she’s never considered the possibility. As if I have nothing to be concerned about. “Are you going to go out with him?”

My voice is low, hard, almost unrecognizable even to myself with a possessiveness I’ve never heard. I’ve never experienced until now.

“Lauren is trying to fix us up. A double date. She thinks–”

“What do you think?”

She shivers when I lean closer. My nose nudging her hair out of the way while my lips brush over her ear. A shuddering breath blows against my cheek and fireworks explode across my skin when her hand curls over my opposite shoulder. Steadying herself from me engulfing her.

“He’s n-nice. He’s easy to talk to.”

“Of course he is. He wants to fuck you.”

“That’s all you think I am?” My accusation enrages her, and she twists to the side, trying to face me again. Too small to be at eye level she stares up at me with all the bravado she can muster, leveling me with her disgust. Before I got sympathy and compassion. Now I get unadulterated fury. She’s pissed as hell at me. Almost as much as I am at her. “That’s all you think anyone would ever want from me?”

What she lacks in size she makes up for in rage. Shredding me to the core with the pain in her wracked body. The mafia princess in her full glory as she rolls back her shoulders and gives me a hard shove. “Get the fuck off me!”

Fuck that. My hands encircle her wrists, and I diminish my force to ensure I don’t crush the fine bones under my fingers. “I’m not finished talking to you.”

“Well I’m finished with you. I’m tired of being humiliated. Now let me go!”

The agony in her voice slices through me, and I still. Shocked by her allegation. I’m hung over and my damn head’s spinning from booze and lust, but I know I can’t be hearing her right. “I may have fucked up more times than I can count, but I know I’ve never humiliated you.”

Straining against my grip, she keeps fighting for me to release her. Which will never happen. “That’s all you ever do.”

“Trouble, you’re going to have to explain it to me because I’m totally confused.”

Misery surges in me with the loss of her gaze. Unwilling to look at me. Her shoulders drooping as much as her fire fades. “When I held your hand you couldn’t get me off of you fast enough. And when I kissed you, you rolled away. It’s embarrassing that you don’t want me.”

No one has ever been more wrong than her in this moment. “Look down.” She draws in a shaky breath from the huskiness of my voice. From the need in my eyes and my touch and my body. “Look down at my cock and see how much I want you.”

Her forehead brushes my chin, and I breathe deep, relishing the enticing scent of her flowery shampoo with the top of her head near my lips as we stare at my dick bulging in my pants of its own volition. “I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you.”

“Then why do you keep rejecting me?”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

Once again I fuck up and have no choice but to let her go. Instantly, her arms cross over her chest in protection of her wounded heart. She still refuses to look at me. I force her to, sliding my fingers under her chin and lifting her exquisite face to mine. “If things were different I’d make you mine.”

“I want to be yours.”

Fuck. She is killing me. “You know that can’t happen.”






Author Bio


Nikki writes contemporary romantic thrillers and admits to a weakness for bad boys, especially ones who can't live without the strong women they love. She spends more time in her characters' lives than her own. But, when she's in the real world, her passions include reading, wine appreciating, running, and spending time with her husband and daughter.


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Best MAN Release

Best Man, a brand new contemporary romance from New York Times , Wall Street Journal , and USA Today bestselling author, Katy Evans, is ...