 "She was the one who got away... He'll probably always love her."
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We're thrilled to reveal an excerpt from Chapter 2 of Owning Violet, by New York Times bestselling author, Monica Murphy. Owning Violet is the first book of Monica's new series, the Fowler Sisters, a sexy new contemporary romance series that introduces three sisters born to wealth, raised to succeed, ready to love, destined to make waves. Read the sizzling excerpt, meet Ryder Mckay, and you'll be as hooked and intrigued as we are.... Pre-order now for the December 2 delivery. “I’m going to seduce Violet Fowler.” I keep my gaze locked on the very woman I’m referring to, enraptured with the way she tucks a wayward strand of glossy brown hair behind her ear, her pretty smile directed at that asshole boyfriend of hers.
I fucking hate Zachary Lawrence. And I fucking want his girlfriend.
Which, of course, gets my mind churning with ideas. Not a one of them good.
“Absolutely not.”
I jerk my gaze away from Violet and stare incredulously at my former boss and occasional lover. “What did you just say?” “Please. You heard me.” She scowls, her blood-red lips forming into an obvious pout. Even angry, she’s strikingly beautiful. Her exotic features help Pilar stand out among any crowd. “Why in the world would you want to even touch Violet, let alone fuck her? She’s so incredibly boring.”
She sounds jealous. Not that I’d ever say that. Pilar has extra- sharp claws and she’s not afraid to use them. “That’s what’s so intriguing about her.” I have the distinct feeling that in the hands of the right man, Violet Fowler would be anything but boring.
“You just want her because you can’t have her. Typical male.” Pilar waves a hand dismissively. “Can’t we talk about something else?”
“Fine.” I stare at her, knowing she has information I want. It’s the reason I asked her to go to dinner with me tonight. “Tell me about Zachary.”
Pilar’s lips curl into a cat-got-the-mouse smile. Now I was talking her language. “What do you want to know?” She sounds bored but she loves this. I can tell from the glittering of her golden-brown eyes that she’s far from bored.
“I heard they’re sending him to London,” I say. “Yes, they are.”
“To do some sort of temporary tryout for the global marketing director position that was just created,” I continue.
“Yes. It’s an excellent opportunity. One that many would want.” She looks so damn pleased with herself, saying that. She knows my blood is boiling.
And I feel like I’m about to burst. “Right. Like me. I want that job.” So bad I can almost fucking taste it. I’m damn good at what I do. I’ve risen among the ranks within Fleur at surprising speed.
She rolls her eyes. “You haven’t earned it.”
“I work my ass off. I’ve earned it far more than fucking Lawrence. He gets the chance because of who his girlfriend is.” I can’t even say his first name. I hate how he insists everyone call him Zachary. It makes him sound like a complete pussy. Pompous asshole. “I told Fowler.”
Pilar frowns, her eyes dimming. The excited sparkle is gone just like that. “Told him what?”
“That I want the position.”
She looks shocked. Good. It’s rare when anyone can surprise her. “And what did he say?”
“ ‘Prove yourself, son.’ And that’s a direct quote.” I lean across the table, my gaze locked with Pilar’s. “So that’s what I plan on doing.”
A perfectly arched eyebrow rises. “How? By getting into Violet’s granny panties? Please. That little prude won’t let you even look at her. How do you think you’re going to get your dirty paws on her pristine body?”
I hadn’t thought that through yet. But it doesn’t matter. Once I focus on something, I always get what I want. At least now I do. When I was a kid, hell no. I begged. I stole. I fucked to get what I wanted. My past, though, just made me tougher. More determined.
And for whatever reason, just looking at Violet Fowler sitting there in her pretty little dress with her pretty little body, tolerating that asshole Lawrence while he ignores her and chats on the phone . . . makes me want to jump her. Show her what a real man could do for her.
I’d probably scare the shit out of her. Hell, I might enjoy scaring the shit out of her.
Clearly, I’m a twisted fuck.
“If her asshole boyfriend is leaving her behind, I’m sure I can figure something out.” I shrug. “She’ll be alone and vulnerable. Missing Lawrence. I can step in and ease her pain.”
“Ballsy, aren’t you?” Pilar murmurs. “And what about me? Am I supposed to sit by without protest while you’re out fucking another woman?”
“You have before. Plenty of times. Not like we’re committed.” Our relationship isn’t what I would call conventional. Our ties are there, but we’re not forever bound to each other. Pilar is a user.
So am I. It’s why we work so well together, both personally and professionally.
Lately, though, I’ve felt conflicted. I know I’m ready to end the sexual relationship with Pilar, but we have a history. She’s the only woman who ever took care of me, so I take care of her.
My mom disappeared when I was little and I don’t remember her. Dad was a semi-presence in my life until I was around fifteen, but he was never a real parent. More like a roommate. A man who brought whores around and passed me my first drink when I was barely twelve. A real stellar example of what a parent should be.
When Pilar walked into my life, took one look at me and decided I would become her personal little project, I was relieved. Fucking thankful.
I was nothing more than a stupid, dirty street kid, nineteen and with a minor drug problem, no job, and no place to live, when we first met. I slept on a park bench at night and hung out in Starbucks all day. At least it was warm. I could afford a tall coffee and a free glass of water. I nursed that shit all damn day. I didn’t care.
Pilar entered that Starbucks like she owned the place every single morning. Sometimes I saw her, sometimes I didn’t. One morning in particular, I caught her eye and she surveyed me like I was a bug under a microscope. She came closer to where I sat, peering at me. She’s older, beautiful, and radiates so much confidence that I was caught. Hell, I wanted to be caught.
She brought me home to clean me up. Her apartment was like a palace. Clean, with new furniture and food in the refrigerator and a toilet that flushed, with a shower that had hot running water and soft towels, a warm bed to sleep in at night. I was in heaven.
When she said she could get me a job where she worked as her assistant, I said yes. That job was more than anyone had ever given me before. The meals she provided? I ate more than I’d ever eaten in my entire fucking life. The first night I stayed with her, I threw up, I ate so much goddamn food. I remember thinking what a waste as I bent over the toilet and puked my guts out.
Nobody had ever wanted me. Nobody had ever given two shits about me. When no one has ever given you anything, not one thing in your life, and then someone comes along and gives you not only what you need, but what you want . . . you never forget it. What Pilar and I share, it’s not what I would call good.
But it’s more than I ever thought I’d be getting.
That she was interested in me had blown my mind. Made me want to work harder for her, prove that I could actually amount to something. She rewarded me, too. First with sex, and eventually with job opportunities, and I’ve proven my worth. Even though I don’t work directly under her anymore, supposedly I still owe her.
I’m ready, though, to have my debt paid in full.
“I won’t sit by and let you screw around with her. Have you lost your mind? Do you really believe by getting Violet Fowler in your bed, you’ll automatically get a promotion? Forrest Fowler is extremely protective of his daughters, you know. He’d probably chop your dick off if he found out you fucked his little girl,” Pilar points out. “Especially since she’s the damaged one of the bunch.”
The CEO of Fleur is overly protective of his two youngest daughters. The oldest one—Lily—is a walking disaster. A sexy one, too, who spent most of her time at parties half naked and drunk, gaining constant coverage on shitty gossip sites.
Violet is the restrained, fragile one. Rumor is she’d been admitted to a psych ward at one point. That their mother offed herself when the girls were young and Violet’s just like her. Vulnerable. Unstable.
A mess.
She’s the perfect victim. I could scoop her up and spit her out, no problem.
“I want to get in her good graces,” I say, because what the hell else can I say? I know Violet Fowler doesn’t give a shit about me. That I caught her staring at me a few minutes ago had surprised the hell out of me. “Besides, haven’t you always wanted to fuck around with Lawrence?”
The mock surprise on Pilar’s face is telling. “I’ve found him . . . scrumptious. On occasion.”
Scrumptious. The word in reference to Zachary Lawrence grates. The guy is an arrogant prick. It takes everything I have to restrain the frown that wants to appear. “So help me out here. Wrap your lips around Lawrence’s dick, take a few pictures, somehow get them to Violet, and then she’ll break it off with him. I’ll console her, look like a superhero, and Fowler will have no choice but to give the promotion to me.” It sounds like a shitty plan and I prefer to earn my promotions the old-fashioned way—doing a damn good job—but I’m pissed. I’d love nothing more than to snatch that job right out of Lawrence’s hands.
Snatch the promotion and his beautiful girlfriend, all at once. “It’s not that simple, darling. Zachary is leaving for London.
Remember?”
“Not for another week or two. That’s plenty of time for you to set your sights on him and fuck him over.” She moves quickly when she wants. So do I.
Pilar smiles and tilts her head back to let out a throaty laugh. One she’s honed to perfection over the years. Not one thing Pilar does is spontaneous. She’s calculated down to the very finest detail. “Aren’t you the naughty one, suggesting I nail Zachary Lawrence to help you get ahead in the company? What do I get out of it?”
“Sex with Lawrence?”
She smirks. “Not good enough. I want more.”
I decide to distract her by changing the subject. “Speaking of that jackass, he’s sitting over there right now having dinner with Violet.” He’s such a smarmy asshole. He knows how to put on the charm and most everyone at Fleur is completely enamored with him, but I see through the façade. I’ve lived enough, especially during the first nineteen years of my life on the streets, to recognize some real bullshit and know that what Lawrence is dishing out is top-of-the-line B.S.
“I saw them already.” Pilar schools her expression, grabbing her wineglass and bringing it to her lips so she can take a sip before she responds. “Such luck, that we chose the same restaurant tonight. I assume he’s telling her that he’s leaving.”
Good riddance. I won’t miss the guy, though I’m sure ninety- five percent of the staff is ready to throw him a huge going-away party. I bet he’s fucked about ninety-five percent of the female staff, too, what with the way he loves to chase a skirt.
More than once I’ve heard that Violet knows about Lawrence’s extracurricular activities but chooses to turn a blind eye. Why she tolerates him I have no clue.
Pilar sighs when I say nothing, propping her elbow on the edge of the table and resting her chin on her hand, looking like a wistful teenage girl. “He shall be missed by all.”
“Not by me,” I mutter.
She laughs. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of Lawrence? Hell no.” I shake my head. “He’s an asshole.”
“A charming asshole who has everything you could ever want.” The look on Pilar’s face tells me she thinks she knows all. “Admit it. You’re jealous. He’s your direct competition.”
I shrug. He’s the closest thing to competition I have when it comes to work. I started at Fleur about six months before he did. We’ve both moved up the ranks, at right about the same speed, though he’s outpaced me recently. I blame it on his relationship with Violet.
It doesn’t matter what anyone says. The man is banging the owner’s daughter. There has to be some advantage in there someplace.
“Tell me what you want, Pilar.” I say, wanting to refocus. Needing to refocus. I have to come up with a new plan. After speaking with Forrest Fowler earlier, letting him know that I want the position Lawrence is temporarily taking over, I want my chance.
I deserve a chance. So I need to use every advantage I can get. She sobers, her expression thoughtful as she taps a blood-red fingernail against her pursed lips before she snaps her fingers and points her index finger at me. “I know. I want Violet gone.”
Now it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows. “Gone?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Pilar nods and drops her hand to the table, her fingers clutching the edge. “Zachary has something you want? Well, Violet has something I want.”
“And what’s that?” “Power,” she says simply.
No shit. “She’s a Fowler. Of course she has power.”
“Yes, but if she’s gone, that’s one less Fowler I have to deal with, hmmm? And Violet is so determined to follow in her grandmother’s footsteps. Certainly more determined than Rose is.” Pilar smiles, her lids lowering. “You destroy Violet, she’ll crumble like she has before. Then . . . she’s gone.”
Unease slips down my spine at Pilar’s suggestion. Yeah, we’ve played these sorts of games before, but she’s never asked me to destroy someone, particularly someone as delicate as Violet.
“You’ve already admitted you want to fuck around with Violet, right? Once Zachary’s gone, you’ll get the promotion and move to London and Violet will be left behind to pick up the pieces. She’ll fall completely apart, disappear, and I’ll step in and take over.” Pilar leans back in her chair, contemplating what she just said. “I personally think it’s a brilliant idea.”
It’s a fucking dangerous idea. One that makes me feel uncomfortable, not that I’d ever tell Pilar that. She’d use it against me.
I let my gaze slide toward Violet, watching as she perches on the edge of her seat, those wide, velvety brown eyes taking in everything that asshole Lawrence has to say. My skin tightens as I imagine her looking at me like that. Like I hung the moon and stars and everything in between, all of it just for her.
Yeah, I’ve fantasized about her. More than once. Who wouldn’t? Sometimes even when I’m fucking Pilar, I’ve imagined Violet in her place. Pictured her beneath me, all that long, silky dark hair spread across my pillow, her cheeks glowing, that velvet gaze stuck on me. Only me. There’s just something about her shy, reserved personality that drives me out of my fucking mind. That makes me want to drive her out of her fucking mind.
With my cock imbedded deep inside her tight little body.
“I don’t know. This idea comes with zero guarantees,” I finally say with a quick shake of my head. One wrong move and we could both be fired. I can’t afford to screw around. I need to focus. I need to get away from Pilar once and for all and get her to back off.
I need to grow the fuck up and do something with my life. I’m tired of dealing with distractions. But sick as it is, Pilar is all I have. There’s no family, no real close friends. It’s hard to let her go.
And she knows it.
“Just when I was ready to agree with your plan, you act like this. You’re no fun.” Pilar mock pouts. “You’ve become awfully serious lately.”
“I have to be. Look, Pilar.” I lean across the table, wanting her to see just how damn serious I am. “I can’t afford to fuck around anymore. I want that promotion. I want the fuck out of here. We start pulling too many people into this and actually . . . hurt someone, the CEO’s daughter for Christ’s sake—it’s too damn risky.”
“Oh, it’ll be fun. And like you care about Violet’s feelings. When has she ever done anything for you? She usually looks at you like you’re a piece of dirty, sticky gum on the bottom of her shoe.”
Pilar’s probably right. Doesn’t matter, though. I may be a user, but the idea of pushing Violet over the edge doesn’t sit well.
Guess I have some morals after all.
“I don’t know . . .” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Please. You can’t do this for me?” She waves a hand, dismissing my words. Since when did this plan turn into her project? “After I took you in. Gave you a job when you had nothing. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”
Fuck. I know. She’s told me often enough.
“You owe me,” Pilar continues. “I loaned you money.”
“I paid you back, didn’t I?” Freaking tenfold, I want to add but don’t.
“I saved your life,” she reiterates. “Come on. I think your idea sounds fun. Everyone gets what they want.”
Fun. The idea is much more than just fun. “Meaning me and you,” I say.
“Darling, we are the only ones who count in this world. If we can’t look after each other, then no one else will.” She reaches across the table and settles her hand on top of mine. “Come on, my darling, sweet boy. Do this for me—do this for you—and we can ensure each other’s climb at Fleur. I guarantee it.”
How the hell can she guarantee anything? I’m not the same gullible kid I was when she first found me. “Knock it off, Pilar,” I mutter, sliding my hand from beneath hers.
I swear I feel Violet’s eyes on me, watching me. Judging me. Little prude. She probably thinks I’m a complete jackass, when she’s the one inviting the biggest asshole on the planet into her bed every night.
Makes me wonder how she is in bed. Uptight? Prim and closed off? Lawrence probably has to pry her thighs open with a crowbar to get in there and then she dissolves into tears every time they have sex.
Sounds like a nightmare to me.
Yet I’m still hard as a rock just thinking about it.
Which means . . . I should do this. Fuck it. What have I got to lose? And if it all comes together as planned, I have everything to gain. Everything.
“If I do this . . .” I start, lowering my voice. The excitement that flares in Pilar’s eyes fuels my own. “If I fuck her . . . play with her for a while, we have to be discreet. Meaning you have to keep quiet.”
Pilar nods, her eyes going wide. “I can do that.”
“You fuck Lawrence and cause them to break up, but don’t make a huge scene. Then we get him the hell out of Fleur,” I say, laying it all out. “I console Violet, we become closer. I prove to her father that I’m perfect for the London job and he has no choice but to promote me. I leave Violet behind, devastated that I broke up with her so harshly, and then she’ll need to—go away for a while to recover. That’s when you slide in and take over her responsibilities.”
“Sounds perfect,” she croons, her hand covering mine once more, her foot sliding along my leg. My cock twitches to life, both from Pilar’s actions and the challenge of the hunt, the chance at the prize.
Fucking Violet Fowler and getting a promotion in London, away from Pilar? I couldn’t ask for anything better.
“After her, this is it, though. No more games. We remain friends only, Pilar. That’s all,” I add.
The smile on Pilar’s face diminishes, but I can still see the glow in her eyes. She loves it when I talk like this because she thinks I don’t mean it. This time, though, I do. “Fine. Whatever you want, darling. It’ll be fun. We can compare notes.”
I don’t say a word as she scoots her chair closer to mine, her hand gripping my shoulder as her gaze goes to my lap. “You know, you can act like I’m the one who selected Violet as your latest conquest, but remember it was your idea. I suspect you’ve wanted her for a while,” she whispers, reaching out to settle her hand on my dick. “So pretend all you want that hard-on of yours isn’t for her.”
I take a deep breath, tell myself to remain calm. “It isn’t. It’s all for you,” I lie smoothly. My life is fucking chaos. I don’t need Pilar making it more of a mess than it already is and she knows how. That’s the scary part. “So you’ll start in on Lawrence tomorrow?”
She arches a perfectly sculpted brow, removing her hand. I swear my cock breathes a sigh of relief. “And you’ll start in on Violet?”
“Yes.” I take a deep breath, pushing aside the uneasy feeling that wants to take over. “But then . . . like I said, that’s it. We’re done. I go my way and you go yours. My debt to you is paid in full.”
“All right.” The smile returns, darker this time, her eyes lit with an unfamiliar fire that makes me wary. “Then we’d better make this interesting, shouldn’t we?”
“As interesting as we fucking can.” I shift in my seat and her hand falls away from me, thank Christ.
My gaze wanders yet again to Violet and Zachary’s table, but they’re gone. They’ve just left, Zachary heading toward the entrance of the restaurant, Violet going in the opposite direction, most likely to the restroom.
“I should go after her,” I suggest, never taking my eyes off of her. God, she’s beautiful. I want her.
Though I shouldn’t.
“Yes, you should. Now shoo.” She waves her hands, as if she’s a mama duck pushing me out of the nest for the very last time. “Work your McKay magic all over her and I’ll go find Zachary.”
Without another word, I stand and wind my way through the tables, following the path Violet just took. It’ll be a game. A little fun. How long will it take to make her fall for me?
I’ve done it before and I can do it again. I know how to play the game. Be what she wants me to be. I’m a chameleon. Been told that since I was a kid. “Adaptable” is a much nicer way to put it.
A phony. A fake is the more honest term for what I do. I own every title. After all . . .
I’m practically a professional.
Want more? We don't blame you. Go HERE to unlock Chapter 3!  New York Times bestselling author Monica Murphy begins a sexy new contemporary romance series—perfect for fans of Christina Lauren and Emma Chase—that introduces three sisters born to wealth, raised to succeed, ready to love, destined to make waves.
I’ve moved through life doing what’s expected of me. I’m the middle daughter, the dutiful daughter. The one who braved a vicious attack and survived. The one who devoted herself to her family’s business empire. The one who met an ambitious man and fell in love. We were going to run Fleur Cosmetics together, Zachary and I.
Until he got a promotion and left me in the dust. Maybe it’s for the best, between his disloyalty and his wandering eye. But another man was waiting for me. Wanting me. He too has an overwhelming thirst for success, just like Zachary—perhaps even more so. He’s also ruthless. And mysterious. I know nothing about Ryder McKay beyond that he makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.
One stolen moment, a kiss, a touch . . . and I’m hooked. Ryder’s like a powerful drug, and I’m an addict who doesn’t want to be cured. He tells me his intentions aren’t pure, and I believe him. For once, I don’t care. I’m willing to risk everything just to be with him. Including my heart. My soul.
My everything.
“This woman makes me feel too much. Makes me soft when I’ve been nothing but hard. Unfeeling. I didn’t like it then. I hated it. Now, I crave it. Need it. Need her.”
- Ryder McKay, Owning Violet by Monica Murphy
We're honored to reveal an excerpt from Chapter 1 of The Prince, by New York Times bestselling author Sylvain Reynard. The Prince, scheduled for release on January 20th, 2015, is a bridge between The Gabriel Series and The Raven. It’s a chance to see Gabriel and Julianne and also meet new characters from The Florentine Series. Sylvain Reynard's description of The Prince is below and enjoy the first half of Chapter 1. The unveiling of a set of priceless illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy at the Uffizi Gallery exposes the unsuspecting Professor Gabriel Emerson and his beloved wife, Julianne, to a mysterious and dangerous enemy.
Unbeknownst to the Professor, the illustrations he secretly acquired years ago were stolen a century earlier from the ruler of Florence’s underworld. Now one of the most dangerous beings in Italy is determined to reclaim his prized artwork and exact revenge on the Emersons, but not before he uncovers something disturbing about Julianne …
Set in the city of Florence, “The Prince” is a prequel novella to “The Raven,” which is the first book in the new Florentine Series Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard.
“The Prince” can be read as a standalone but readers of The Gabriel Series may be curious about the connection between The Professor’s world and the dark, secret underworld of “The Prince.” August 2011
Florence, Italy
The Prince of Florence stood on the first floor of the Uffizi Gallery, contemplating murder.
A crowd of the city’s human elite swirled around him – men in tuxedos, women in floor length gowns - as the arrogant, insufferable Professor Gabriel Emerson filled the Renaissance structure with his insipidity.
The Prince had killed before. He was discriminate in his choice of victims and only on rare occasions did he take pleasure in it. This was going to be one of those occasions.
He was fleet of foot and cunning in the extreme, his supernatural strength compounded by his intelligence. No doubt he could reach the American professor and break his neck before anyone noticed something amiss.
The Prince fantasized about sprinting across the floor, executing the Professor, and fleeing through a window before any of the one hundred guests paused in sipping their sparkling wine.
Human beings were easily deluded. Probably they would credit the Professor’s death to a sudden, spontaneous stroke, having no idea what stood in their midst.
The Prince’s body tensed at the tantalizing thought, the muscles in his forearms contracting beneath the sleeves of his expensive black suit.
A swift death was not in keeping with the magnitude of the Professor’s crime, which including considerable insult in addition to personal injury. The Prince prided himself in his commitment to justice (as he defined it), so he discarded the possibility of a quick execution.
The Professor must be made to suffer and that meant his beautiful wife must suffer, also.
She was standing near her husband and wearing a red dress, the color of the garment acting like a flag before a bull. Certainly, she’d captured his attention.
He stared intensely, taking in every aspect of her figure.
As if she felt his eyes, her gaze moved to his.
She looked away quickly.
Mrs. Julianne Emerson was younger than her husband, petite, and in the Prince’s view, much too thin. Her eyes, which by all accounts were very pretty, were large and dark. Her face put him in mind him of Renaissance paintings – elegant of neck and cheek.
The Prince indulged himself in admiring the Professor’s wife as the fool droned on and on in Italian about how she’d persuaded him to share his copies of the original Botticelli illustrations. His ignorant remarks only fanned the flames of the Prince’s anger.
They were his illustrations, not the Professor’s, and they were original, completed by Sandro Botticelli himself.
Clearly, the Professor, in addition to being a thief, was a Philistine who couldn’t tell the difference between an original and a copy.
The Prince began constructing new and elaborate methods of torture, combined with a primer in art history, while ignoring the Professor’s wordy praise for his wife’s philanthropic work with orphans and the homeless. Too many human beings hoped their deeds would cover their sins and save them.
The Prince knew too well the futility of good works.
The Emersons trafficked in stolen property. They had acquired artwork the Prince had tried to recover for over a century. In addition, they had the temerity to march into the Prince’s city, offer his illustrations to the Uffizi, (while claiming them to be copies), and make a spectacle of themselves. It was as if they had constructed the most detailed and elaborate way of inciting his ire.
Now their lives were forfeit.  The unveiling of a set of priceless illustrations of Dante's Divine Comedy at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence exposes Professor Gabriel Emerson and his beloved wife, Julianne, to a mysterious enemy.
Gabriel may have acquired the illustrations only a few years ago, but unbeknownst to him, they were stolen a century earlier from the ruler of Florence's underworld.
Now one of the most dangerous beings in the city is determined to reclaim his prize and exact his revenge on the Emersons--but not before he uncovers something disturbing about Julianne...
Don't miss the first novel in the Florentine series, The Raven, available February 3, 2015.
 Ripped, the highly anticipated Book 5 of Katy Evans' New York Times bestselling Real series, releases next month on December 9th. Are you ready for Pandora and Mackenna's love story? Want a sneak peek? We have a treat for you with an exclusive excerpt from Chapter 1. True to Katy Evans' heart-pumping & intense writing style, the excerpt will leave you aching for more. Happy reading, pre-order Ripped now, and enjoy.SynopsisA ripped rock star with attitude. An ex-girlfriend with a reckless plan.
Pandora assumed getting her heart broken by her bad boy ex could only happen once--until Mackenna Jones comes back to town for the biggest concert of his career. They say girls are getting pregnant just thinking about the Crack Bikini tour and it's destined to be a huge hit.
Oh, it'll be a hit alright--when Pandora comes out swinging. She and her friend Melanie are determined to humiliate him onstage. But when they're caught by security and her ex is
summoned, Mackenna decides not to press charges if she'll join him on tour and follow certain conditions--rules designed to give him the upper hand and keep her in close contact with him once again. Soon, the passion they once shared is reignited, and no matter how much Pandora wants to hate him, her hard exterior starts to crack.
And worse: Mackenna knows it, too. But he hasn't uncovered all her secrets...
Exclusive Excerpt from Ripped, Chapter 1 ♥ ♥ ♥
Have you ever had a secret?
One that tears at the deepest part of your soul, that’s so overwhelmingly painful you cannot speak of it for fear it’ll break you apart, limb by limb, cell by cell . . . becoming real, and frightening, and saddening . . .
Or have you had a secret that makes your chest swell like you’ve just been pumped with helium, and you want to shout your secret to the world, but shouting it would mean the world would take your precious secret away from you?
I’ve had both. The secret you love, and the one you hate.
And for the last six years, I’ve carried both . . .
♥ ♥ ♥
One
Secrets
Pandora
♥ ♥ ♥
I’m the only person in my apartment building that still gets a newspaper. It sits on my doorstep this morning, and I love the way it smells. I love the crackling noise when I drop into my dining room chair and slap the sucker open. This sound, this smell . . . they remind me of lazy Saturday mornings reading the paper with my dad, his cologne scent engulfing me. By the time I was seventeen, he was gone. As was his morning rumple-of-my-hair and his cologne—but not the smell of the paper. It’s been almost a decade and I still find an incomparable little joy in the smell of this freshly printed newspaper. Until now . . .
Now . . . when the heading of the entertainment section stares back at me, mocking me.
Mackenna Jones Is Back in Town! the headline says, and just reading that feels like a punch in the gut.
I squeeze my eyes shut and open them, my stomach trembling uncontrollably.
Mackenna Jones is back in town!
Fuck, I really need to stop reading that.
Mackenna Jones is back in town!
God. Still reads the same.
Mackenna.
The name curls around me like smoke in my insides, and butterflies I didn’t even know I still carried crash into the walls of my belly. I thought it impossible that a single one of these butterflies had survived Mackenna Jones.
He’s coming to town, Pandora. What are you going to do about it?
The thought of him being in the same state makes me scowl bleakly. “Seriously, asshole? You had to come here?”
I begin reading the article about Crack Bikini, how the band has revolutionized music. How even Obama has openly said this band is responsible for turning young kids back to the music of the masters—Mozart, Beethoven. But it doesn’t end there. It’s just getting started turning up the schmooze. The reporter keeps going on and on about how this tour has sold out Madison Square Garden faster than Justin Bieber’s first show, and how it will be the concert of the year, if not the decade.
Briefly, the band’s breakout song flits through my head. For a time, this song played on every radio station in the country, and it made me loathe music with a passion—hell, the mere thought of it angers me all over again.
My hands shake as I set down the newspaper, fold it, and try to move on to another section. I live with my mother and my cousin, and I’ve always had an appreciation for my quiet time on Saturdays, when Magnolia has ballet and my mother has errands. But now, my precious Saturday—time I get our apartment to myself—has officially been ruined. Not only my Saturday, this just ruins my entire fucking year.
Mackenna. In Seattle.
My hands tremble as I go back to the entertainment section and slowly scan for the date of the concert. I find myself clicking open Internet Explorer on my phone and navigating straight to Ticketmaster. Yep, the show is already sold out. So I head to eBay, where I discover the staggering prices the best tickets command.
I don’t know why, but for a moment, I imagine myself in one of those pricey seats, calling him the world’s greatest asshole from up close so he can hear through all the noise he and his band members make.
I don’t know what I’m doing. Or maybe I do know. A cold chill is settling in my body. The show is sold out. The tickets cost a fortune. But no. I won’t miss this opportunity. It’s been almost six years since I last saw him. Almost six years since seeing that hard, perfect man-butt as he jumped into his jeans.
The first time he took me, I could almost see my V card nicely tucked into his back pocket. He told me he loved me and asked me to tell him that I loved him. He was still inside me when he asked if I wanted him to be with me. I cried instead—because something is wrong with me, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t say it back. But I know that he knew.
He kissed me harder than ever when I started to cry, and our kiss tasted of my tears. At the time, I thought it all so painful and raw, the way he kissed me. So beautiful. I trembled as he held me. I couldn’t seem to piece myself back together after breaking for him the way I did during my orgasms. I could hear his breath mingle with my breath as he soothed a hand down my spine, telling me over and over that he loved me.
And that wasn’t the only time he took me. For days and weeks and months, we made hot, fevered love. I was seventeen and he was my everything, and when he took me, I thought he wanted everything I had to give. He left anyway. Bastard.
Mackenna was a secret, you see. He was the closest I’ve ever been to a person in my life—but he was a secret nobody could find out about. Especially not my mother. He knew it. I knew it. But we always managed to see each other anyway. We lied, hid, stole out of our homes and into the night, meeting at the docks and hijacking some unsuspecting family’s yacht until sunrise. We didn’t care who our families were, or what was “best” for us.
As far as I was concerned, he was it for me, and I for him.
He was my best friend too.
My world broke when I heard he left Seattle.
He didn’t even say goodbye.
The last thing he’d said to me was that he loved me.
Now. I. Hate. Love.
I thought that with his absence, the wound would heal. But the wound is still there. It’s festered and bubbled up and grown.
I gave the motherfucker everything that was in my young, stupid heart to give, and he ruined me.
Well, fuck him.
Next week he’s in Seattle. He and his mashers are in town and everyone is going. I call them mashers because there’s no other group like them. They mash their songs to someone else’s—to real music. Bach, Chopin, the masters. The result is a rock band symphony that runs through your body and curls your toes. And if you add in his vocals . . .
Hell, I don’t even want to talk about his vocals.
People choose to fall in love because it makes them feel good. Love makes them feel protected, safe. Not me. I choose hate. It makes me feel good. Protected and safe. Hating him is all that keeps me sane. Hating him means what he did to me doesn’t matter. I can still feel something. I am not yet dead, because I can feel this hate corroding me. He’s ruined me for other men. Stopped me from being the woman I could have been. He’s broken every dream of a future with him I had. He was my first love and my first everything, including my first heartbreak.
Even after he left, all I’ve been aware of is him, and what he left me with, and what he took from me.
The tickets are expensive. I spend most of what I make helping my mom care for Magnolia. But three little clicks on eBay is all it would take. Three little clicks and I can go up that last notch of debt on my credit card and see this asshole again, in the flesh.
Totally worth it, I decide, and go online and buy two of the most expensive tickets eBay has to offer.
Opening my calendar, I find the day and mark it with an X.
Get ready, asshole. Your Seattle concert won’t be considered a success. Not if I can help it.
♥ ♥ ♥
Ripped Teasers: Meet Mackenna & Pandora
Click on pictures for full view The Real Series Reading Order & Purchase Links Author Bio: Meet the Fabulous Katy Evans  Hey! I’m Katy Evans and I love family, books, life, and love. I’m married with two children and three dogs and spend my time baking, walking, writing, reading, and taking care of my family. Thank you for spending your time with me and picking up my story. I hope you had an amazing time with it, like I did. If you’d like to know more about books in progress, look me up on the Internet, I’d love to hear from you!
Website: www.katyevans.net
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Email: authorkatyevans@gmail.com
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We're thrilled to exclusively reveal the sexy new cover for Kaleb by Nicole Edwards and a sneak peek of Braydon's book that is scheduled for release on November 24th. Kaleb and Braydon are part of Nicole Edward's scorching hot Alluring Indulgence series. If you haven't had the pleasure of reading these erotic novels, we have giving you a chance to win an ebook set of the series: Kaleb, Zane, Travis, and Ethan. Happy Reading and Good Luck. Kaleb: New Cover, Synopsis and Series Purchase Buttons Two neighbors and long-time friends come face-to-face with their forbidden fantasies in this sizzling ebook from New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Nicole Edwards.
Zoey Stranford might’ve had a crush on the sexy boy next door since middle school, but she’s a woman now, and that crush has turned into a full-blown case of lust. So why is it that at twenty-nine, her libido decides to ramp into high gear and the only thing she can focus on is the intensely sexy, scorching hot boy next door who is definitely not a boy anymore?
The only problem is that Zoey and Kaleb have been best friends for as long as she can remember. Not to mention, Kaleb and his brothers are working on buying Stranford land to build a new resort, and she’s more than a little hesitant about his intentions.
Kaleb Walker has had his eye on Zoey for close to twenty years, but never before has he considered taking their friendship to the next level, no matter how many fantasies he’s had about her over the years. That doesn’t explain why Kaleb is hell bent on having her—in as many ways as possible.
Kaleb finds himself in a precarious situation. His brothers have nominated him to pursue Zoey’s father about purchasing the land needed to get their new resort off the ground. Finding out that Carl Stranford is on the brink of foreclosure and Zoey might just lose her house and the land, Kaleb now has to convince her to put aside her pride and let him help her.
It doesn’t take long before the flames start burning bright and hot, and the two of them burn up the nights and the days as they explore each other’s forbidden fantasies. But can their friendship survive a business transaction or the new friends with benefits clause? Or will they realize that they’ve been overlooking something much deeper that’s been right in front of them all along?
Alluring Indulgence Reading Order and Purchase Buttons Braydon Excerpt: Meet Jessie and Braydon (coming Nov 24th) “How’s your headache?” she asked as she looked up into his face.
“Miraculously, it’s gone.”
Jessie smiled despite herself. It was hard not to smile when he was around.
“Oh well,” she replied, pretending to look disappointed.
“What’s that look for?”
“I guess I don’t need to try out my other cure for a headache if you’re all better.”
“Hold up,” Braydon said, followed by an exaggerated moan. “I feel it coming back. What’d you have in mind?”
Jessie loved Braydon’s playful side. “It consists of a soak in a hot bath.”
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“I think in this case, I should be there to keep an eye on you,” she answered smoothly. “But if you don’t think it’s necessary, we could watch a movie or something.”
“Oh, it’s necessary,” he replied, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers while his hands travelled up the backs of her thighs beneath her skirt. “Definitely necessary.”
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We're thrilled to exclusively reveal the cover of SLOW BURN by New York Times bestselling author K. Bromberg. Slow Burn is the highly anticipated spin-off novel from the Driven series that centers around Becks and Haddie's sizzling love story - expected release on March 3, 2015. You can pre-order Slow Burn now but if you are dying for a sneak peek you're in luck. Scroll down for a very steamy moment between Haddie and Becks. Enjoy! Slow Burn Cover Reveal, Blurb, & Pre-order Buttons  From the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Driven series.
ONE NIGHT. THAT'S ALL IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE.
Reeling from the sudden loss of her sister, Haddie Montgomery has sworn off relationships. All she wanted from Beckett Daniels was a sexy distraction to help her escape her pain for just a little while....There weren’t supposed to be any strings attached—so why can’t she shake the memory of that unforgettable night from her thoughts? Or the taste of his kiss from her lips?
No matter how hard Haddie tries to forget about him, Becks relentlessly tries to prove that she should start living for today. But she is determined to avoid romantic commitment, and she can always use her ex-boyfriend’s reappearance to help snuff out the slow burn within her that Becks has sparked....
Or will fate force her to realize that this kind of connection doesn’t come along very often and a chance at love is worth the risk?
Steamy Slow Burn Excerpt: Meet Becks and Haddie Posted by arrangement with New American Library, a member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC, A Penguin Random House Company. Copyright © K. Bromberg, 2014
“Sweet Haddie,” he murmurs as his hand finds my breast and yanks down the cup of my bra, his callused palms replacing the softness of the lace. I gasp out loud as his mouth
slides in its tempestuous descent. “Sweet, sweet Haddie…I wonder if your pussy
tastes just as sweet as your kiss…as your skin…as right here.”
The heat of his mouth replaces the caress of his fingers on my breast and I’m swamped by the sensation of it. Of him. My head falls back and my words tumble out. “What are you waiting for?”
That chuckle of his hums against my breast before he tilts his head back and looks up at me under lust-laden eyelids. “Demanding are we?” His eyes dance with humor before the dare flickers through them. Try me, they say.
And a part of me wants to. A part of me wants to push him to see just how much control he’s willing to give me. Is he going to do what I say or is he going to do what he wants?
Challenge accepted.
“Then taste me, Becks. I want to feel your mouth on me, your tongue in me. I want you to taste me on your lips as I’m still coming and while you’re fucking me.”
He sucks harder on my nipple; a tortured groan escapes his lips as he rises to full height
and stares at me. “Fucking hell, Had,” he says before his lips brand mine, his mouth
possessing, taking, claiming as if I were his. “Are you trying to tell me how to fuck you?”
I feel the heat of his breath on my lips, see the taunt in his smirk and raise of
a brow, but I can’t think of the witty comeback I know is there. His hands slide
down my torso and grip my bare waist causing my breath to stutter as he yanks my
body into his. His impressive hard-on presses against my lower belly causing the ache simmering there to intensify.
Becks leans in close, his lips grazing my ear, causing chills to chase over my skin.
“Rest assured, Haddie, I know how to fuck you. I know how to make you come.”
His teeth graze and tug on my earlobe to reinforce his words. “I know how to
make this hot-as-fuck body of yours tremble, tense, and beg for more…so lay
back, and let me taste you.” Driven Trilogy Reading Order & Purchase Links
Have you met Colton Donavan? Author Bio: Meet the Fabulous K. Bromberg  K. Bromberg is that reserved woman sitting in the corner that has you fooled about the wild child inside of her- the one she let out when her fingertips touch the keyboard. She's a wife, mom, child, rustler, toy-picker upper, chauffer, resident web-slinger, LaLaloopsy watching, American Girl dressing multi-tasking of all things and otherwise. She likes her diet cokes with rum, her music loud, and her pantry stocked with a cache of chocolate.
K. lives in Southern California with her husband and three children. When she needs a break from the daily chaos of her life, you can most likely find her on the treadmill or with Kindle in hand, devouring the pages of a good saucy book. Stalk K. Bromberg: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest
 Meet Beth and Mark: the good girl who wanted to be naughty and the bad boy who wanted to be good - in Winning Appeal, book four in N.M. Silber's rom-com series - Lawyers in Love! Winning Appeal will be available November 2014 and we are honored to be launching the uber-sexy book trailer.
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Go HERE to read Chp 1 of Beast Part 3: http://bit.ly/TW1xbbContinue the dark, erotic journey of Annabelle, the warden's daughter, and the man she's pined for since her girlhood. No longer Cal Hammond, actor, Beast is a brutal man who runs the prison's gangs from behind a shroud of secrecy and lies. Can Annabelle's love save him from his tainted past, or will his deceit ruin both of them?
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