The Fear That Divides Us is LIVE!
Meet Doc & Bobby in the newest stand alone in The Devil’s Dust Series by M.N. Forgy!
Read an excerpt & enter to win either a BRAND NEW KINDLE! Teaser Do I fight my fear? Triumph the terror wracking my mind and soul and gamble on the chance that Bobby can reset it all, make me forget my past and actually restart and build a life without being afraid? Or do I do what I know best, resisting, and run home behind my door with the security of three deadbolts and wonder what if?
 Road Captain of the Devil’s Dust Motorcycle Club, Bobby has the scars to prove just how dangerous his life is. He gives the world he knows hell and loves every moment of it. Wearing a panty-dropping grin along the way, his fierce life has never been a problem for him, until her. Jessica is the only female who has him distracted in his game. After taking him to bed, she’s the only woman to tell him to take a hike. Waking with her gone, he can’t resist her pull. He’s seen the marks on her body, ones which tell the horrors she’s lived through. He’s also seen the fear in her eyes when she lets herself become weak to his advances. Bobby has a decision to make. Can he help Jessica, or will it mean giving up his carefree life?
Jessica, also known as Doc, lives life in fear. Years back, she ran to the Devil’s Dust for protection, seeking the demise of her abusive, dominant husband. Her mind and soul tortured by her past, she can’t allow herself to move forward. The only thing in her sight is her daughter’s safety. Even if she has the attention of one particular tattooed biker, she can’t succumb to his charm and drag her daughter back into a world of danger, no matter how much he thinks he can save her.
Mistakes will be made.
Fears will be faced.
Pain will be remembered.
Can Bobby and Jessica survive the dangers they bring upon themselves?
The Devil's Dust Series Reading Order Meet the author M.N. Forgy was raised in Missouri where she still lives with her family. She's a soccer mom by day and a saucy writer by night. M.N. Forgy started writing at a young age but never took it seriously until years later, as a stay-at-home mom, she opened her laptop and started writing again. As a role model for her children, she felt she couldn't live with the "what if" anymore and finally took a chance on her character's story. So, with her glass of wine in hand and a stray Barbie sharing her seat, she continues to create and please her fans.
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GIVEAWAY
 Manwhore, by New York Times bestselling author, Katy Evans, releases very soon on March 24th. Click here to pre-order now. We're thrilled to give you a chance to win an advance copy! 4 lucky winners will read it before it officially goes live!
We had the pleasure of reading an advance copy and it took us on an unexpected but completely addicting journey.... Malcolm Saint is so much more than what you might think based on the title of this novel... and you will thoroughly enjoy unwrapping all his many layers. Read an excerpt and get a sneak peek into the provocative world of Malcolm & Rachel. Plus, enter the advance copy giveaway. Happy reading and good luck.
"People look at me like I can get them the world, but you look at me like I already did."
- Manwhore by Katy Evans Excerpt: Meet Malcolm Saint and Rachel I look very different than the girl Saint met in his office. But I don’t feel any different. My nerves are frayed to the edges as I give my name to a bouncer at the entrance and I’m allowed into the club, every part of me snug and tight in my dress as my black heels hit the floor.
Whereas M4 was all museum-like, the Ice Box is pure dark decadence. Ice sculptures sit on pedestals around the room. Cages with body-painted dancers hang from the ceiling. A bar with white and blue lights stretches from one wall to another.
Strobe lights flash across the space as I get jostled by the crowd. The bass thumps as the song “Waves” by Mr. Probz plays for the dancing crowd. Drinks are flowing on shiny silver trays, and the drinks are so adorned—by fruits, olives, salt glitter or colorful liquid swirls—they’re like artworks. This isn’t a normal swanky club. It’s the rich boys’ club and everywhere you look are beautiful people wearing beautiful things.
“I met him! God! When he said hi I thought I’d faint…!”
My nerves eat at me as I hear that, because I know for sure they’re talking about him. Trying to breathe, I wind deeper into the club, wishing for Gina so bad I ache. The room is packed with women, some clearly on the hunt, others already paired with someone, a few hanging out with their friends. I breathe slowly, in and out, telling myself I can do this. It’s just a club. I can have some fun. It’s been a while since I’ve gone out to a club, and never a club like this, but it doesn’t matter. I can interview people, and if I’m lucky, I can do more than that.
After scanning the area and trying to find the best spy-spots, I go to the top level and that’s when I get the best look at what’s happening downstairs at the most crowded corner.
And speak of the devil. My heart stops a beat when I see that dark head of his, and that loathed, burning knot in my stomach squeezes with a vengeance. I swear no one in my life has ever made me this nervous.
He sits with his arms stretched out behind him, a wine glass and two women vying for his attention as he chats with his friends. His masculine face is illuminated in certain angles when the lights flash—his beauty unprecedented.
Okay. Breathing. Do I want him to know I’m here or not?
A watery sensation seems to spread down my limbs as I force myself to go downstairs. I wind a path to the ladies’ room and worm myself through the throng of bodies toward a wide mirror above a set of modernist floating sinks. A group of women preen at themselves while I look our reflections. To my right, a woman pouts her red lips, and to my left, her friend pouts her pink ones. Me? I’m still me, but I look extravagant, like I was born here. I look very different than the young girl in coveralls he met. Will he even recognize me like this?
“You going to the after-party?” Red Lips asks Pink Lips as they retouch their lipsticks.
“No key yet.”
“Lookie lookie.” Red Lips waves a keycard in the air.
There’s squealing in the room and she tucks the key into her bra. “Mine!”
“So there’s an after-party?” I ask them.
“At Saint’s penthouse,” one says, nodding.
“How do you get invited to this party?”
“A hundred keys are distributed during the evening.”
A sudden thought of stealing the very key she’s just tucked into her bra flickers through my mind. I mean, it’s just a key. It couldn’t possibly be a felony.
“Babe,” she tells me, “stop giving my key the eye! I’ve been waiting three years to get a key like this. Go and work your ass out there if you want one. Only the finest asses make it.”
“Thanks,” I say, turning to look at my ass in the mirror questioningly. Gina says I’ve got a great ass. It’s perky and the perfect handful, some would say. But would Saint say that?
I sigh and lean against the wall, then I spot all the little writings on an open stall door. I narrow my eyes, forcing my focus.
Malcolm for my baby-daddy
I sucked Saint’s cock
Tahoe rammed me right here
Callan licks cunt like a caveman
I head back into the noise and try to find a good spot for spying when I see him again. The two women won’t leave his side and now my stomach for some reason feels jumpy, annoying me. One of the blondes takes a shot from the waiter, licks the rim, and then adds salt.
Saint edges back and watches her with an expression of casual boredom, but his lips are curled, as if he’s having some fun.
I’m so engrossed watching—a little too fascinated and a little bit disgusted—I don’t realize a guard has walked up to me until he’s right in my face. He signals to the back of the room—to where Saint’s best friends are now watching me. Saint isn’t even looking my way. Oh no, he’s too busy being entertained, still wearing that almost-bored smile. Maybe they need to take their tops off to get him excited?
All three men fit in perfectly with the lavish surroundings, but I can’t look at the other two. Only at Malcolm. Malcolm’s dark good looks blend with the shadows like Hades in his own little corner of hell.
Suddenly he laughs over something one of the blondes does and he turns a little, his eyes landing straight on me—and stopping there.
I feel his stare like a hit of adrenaline. I want to look away, but I can’t, I feel trapped. I don’t know if I made this up but I could’ve sworn his chest jerked as if he sucked in a breath.
Does he recognize me?
Do I want him to?
Suddenly the atmosphere is so heavy I can’t breathe. My lungs feel like rocks and I really can’tbreathe. As he rakes me in one fast, complete sweep of his eyes that makes my stomach grip nervously, he takes in my pumps up to my long blonde hair, and I become aware of my dress hugging the top of my thighs, my hips, my abdomen, my breasts and even my ass. Oh god. I force myself to follow the guard in his direction, every step accelerating my heartbeat. In that black suit and without a tie, the top button of his shirt open and his hair a bit rumpled, Saint is the embodiment of luxurious and decadent and sin. He is Sin Itself and I feel like an absolute…virgin.
He stretches his long legs out before him, his stare fixed on mine without any seeming inclination to move away.
“Mr. Saint,” the guard clears his throat. “The gentlemen had me summon her.”
Although his smile doesn’t waver, the look on his face is completely remote and unreadable.
“Here she is, gentlemen,” the guard then tells the other two—the blond and the copper-haired men looking at me like lunch.
“Tahoe,” the blonde says.
“Callan,” the copper-haired says.
Saint merely pats the blondes on the butt and sends them on her way, then he reaches out to take my elbow somehow in an instinctive gesture that brings me a strange sense of comfort. I don’t know anybody else here, so when he tugs me to his side, I go down and sit next to him on the edge of the long booth.
And that’s when he leans his dark head over to me and murmurs, “Malcolm.” His voice is so deep and rumbling, I shiver.
“Rachel,” I lamely offer.
He raises his eyebrow and stares at me. What are you doing here, Rachel? he seems to ask.
I’m wondering what to say, when Tahoe lifts his drink and drains it. “You’re up past your bedtime.” The Texan oil baby. Oozing charm, drawling out the words.
I don’t know why but I’m acutely aware of the position of Saint’s body in relation to mine. He just straightened fully in the booth and somehow shifted so his arm is very noticeably stretched out behind me.
“Like they say, no rest for the wicked,” I answer Tahoe with an extra-wide smile, my heart pounding over Saint’s nearness.
Suddenly I can smell him. Just him. Among all the mingled scents in the room, it’s Saint somehow in my lungs, in every breath. He radiates a vitality that draws me like a magnet. It unnerves me but something in his presence, so close to me, soothes me too.
“Apparently there’s a dress code—Saint had to drop his tail and horns at the door,” Callan jokes as a waiter sets a drink before me.
“Oh yes.” I tug the hem of my skirt self-consciously, “I had to drop half my dress.”
“Did you now?” Tahoe asks.
“T.”
One word, one letter, from Malcolm.
“Yeah, Saint?” Tahoe returns, lifting his eyebrows.
“Dibs.”
I almost spit out the drink. I cough and slam my hand to my chest, and Saint calmly reaches out to take my drink from my hand and sets it aside. “Okay?” he asks, ducking his head and peering into my face.
I give one last cough and squeeze my eyes shut and nod, and when I open my eyes, Saint is the only thing I see. I find him staring at me in such a penetrating way I can feel the stare in my bones.
“Did you just get to the party, Rachel?” he asks.
As he waits for my reply, he reaches for my cocktail and extends the glass out to me. His wrist is thick and looks so strong, so golden, his skin smooth, his arm dusted with a little bit of hair as I cautiously take it from him, our fingers brushing.
Tahoe reaches for his coat pocket and waves whatever he extracted in the air. “Saint! May I?”
Excitement leaps in my chest when I realize it’s the key!
“Not happening, that’s not her scene,” Malcolm murmurs besides me.
“Aw! Come on, let me give her a key. She’s a dime, man,” Tahoe drawls.
I’m so disbelieving, I’m not even breathing as Malcolm slowly stands. I follow him up, staring up into his face in confusion.
“What do you mean it’s not my scene?” I demand. I feel like there’s no gravity when he stands so close to me. I’m dizzy. Confused. And unexpectedly hurt.
For the first time since we met, he looks at me like he’s actually losing his temper…with me. He leans closer and puts his lips close to my ear. “Trust me when I tell you, it’s not your scene. Go home,” he whispers. He sends me a look laden with warning and walks away, blending into the crowd.
Tahoe and Callan stare at me, speechless. “That’s a first,” Tahoe mumbles and heads away.
I feel myself burn in humiliation and confusion. Worse is that, when I go outside, the same man who drove us around the day before walks over to me.
“Miss Livingston, a pleasure to drive you,” he says, hanging up his phone as if Saint just called him. He is a huge man, with a bald head, an earpiece, and no expression. A second later, he’s opening the car door of the Rolls for me.
Seriously?
Did Saint call him just now and ask him to escort me home?
Aware of people staring and seeing me being led to Saint’s car, I climb into the back of the car and I murmur my thanks simply because it’s not this man’s fault.
The car smells new and expensive and, like him. A bottle of wine and water bottles ride with me. There’s music in the background and the temperature is just right. The perfect luxury of it all tempts me to run my hands down my dress and look down at myself in confusion. What is wrong with me?
I feel as if he pulled the rug from under me and reminded me what I’m up against. The top of the species. Somebody ruthless.
I can’t take the heat in the back of my ears and on my cheeks. I sag on the backseat and set my forehead on the window. Focus, Livingston! Exhaling, I grab my phone and try to write down all the details about what I saw, but I can’t right now. I just can’t do anything but ride here, in his car, wondering why I feel so vulnerable.
Teasers: Who is Malcolm Saint?
Click on pictures for full view  Is it possible to expose Chicago's hottest player--without getting played?
This is the story I've been waiting for all my life, and its name is Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint. Don't be fooled by that last name though. There's nothing holy about the man except the hell his parties raise. The hottest entrepreneur Chicago has ever known, he's a man's man with too much money to spend and too many women vying for his attention.
Mysterious. Privileged. Legendary. His entire life he's been surrounded by the press as they dig for tidbits to see if his fairytale life is for real or all mirrors and social media lies. Since he hit the scene, his secrets have been his and his alone to keep. And that's where I come in.
Assigned to investigate Saint and reveal his elusive personality, I'm determined to make him the story that will change my career.
But I never imagined he would change my life. Bit by bit, I start to wonder if I'm the one discovering him...or if he's uncovering me.
What happens when the man they call Saint, makes you want to sin?
"You make my world spin a little faster."
"I'd like to rock it even more," he rumbles... He looks at me, he grins, his eyes, all of him mischief to the tenth power. Mischief and sin.
- Manwhore by Katy Evans
Giveaway: Win an Advance Copy + 4 Winners
Excerpt “What the fuck is wrong with you.” The guy that was at the head of the group asks stepping in front of my bike.
I shake my head as words are lodged in my throat.
He pulls me off my bike and the men who are with him begin yelling obscenities as well.
“Sorry.” I croak out and I don’t even know if he hears me his hand goes to the collar of my leather jacket and he shakes me hard and my hand accidently presses down on the button for the Taser to ignite it. The loud crack fills the air and his eyes go wide then he falls to the ground and I fall on my ass and crab walk backwards then look up when I hit something only to meet the eyes of another man who looks pissed.
“Get up.” He growls picking me up my feet flail under me as I’m lifted off the ground with my hands restrained behind my back.
“Hold him still.” The guy who I had Tazered growls in front of me as I try to get away from the anger I feel coming off him. His hands go to my head and he rips my helmet off causing my hair to float down around me.
Complete silence descends I swear no one even takes a breath.
“Um.” I bite my lip
 Wes Silver wasn’t looking for love, but when July Mayson literally knocks him on his ass during their first encounter, his world is turned upside down by the quirky blonde, and every moment with her makes him more determined to protect her.
July Mayson doesn’t understand the pull she feels toward the bad boy biker Wes Silver, but she knows being with him is like nothing she’s ever felt before. Now all she has to do is tell her overprotective father, Asher Mayson, that she’s found her boom.
Meet the author  Aurora Rose Reynolds is a navy brat who's husband served in the United States Navy. She has lived all over the country but now resides in New York City with her Husband and pet fish. She's married to an alpha male that loves her as much as the men in her books love their women. He gives her over the top inspiration everyday. In her free time she reads, writes and enjoys going to the movies with her husband and cookie. She also enjoys taking mini weekend vacations to nowhere, or spends time at home with friends and family. Last but not least she appreciates everyday and admires it's beauty.
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We're thrilled to help reveal the breathtaking book trailer for one of our favorite authors, New York Times bestselling M. Leighton and her highly anticipated upcoming novel, Pocketful of Sand. It's scheduled for release on March 15th and available for pre-order on iBooks. We have the pleasure of reading an advance copy and it tugs at your heart strings instantly. A beautiful, powerful, and sensual love story that will both break and lift your heart and spirit.... soul-touching and memorable. Watch the book trailer and meet Cole, Eden and Emmy. Enjoy! Pocketful of Sand Book Trailer
Stunningly Beautiful it gave us chills Teasers: Meet Cole and Eden
Click on pictures for full view  “She was beauty for my ashes and I was hope for her heartache.”—Cole Danzer.
I don’t know what makes a great love story. Is it that instant attraction when boy meets girl? The passionate kisses and the fairy-tale ending? Or is it a lifetime of tragedy, paid in advance, for a few stolen moments of pure bliss? The pain and the suffering that, in the end, you can say are worth it for having found the missing piece of your soul?
The answer is: I don’t know. I don’t know what makes a great love story. I only know what makes MY love story. I only know that finding Cole when I did, when my world had dissolved into nothing, when I couldn’t separate nightmare from reality, was the only thing that saved me. He was more broken than I was, but somehow we took each other’s shattered pieces and made a whole. Without him, I wouldn’t have made it. If THAT is what makes a great love story, if THAT is what makes an epic romance, then mine…OURS is the greatest of them all.
********************************
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 We're thrilled to reveal the epic book trailer for Hearts of Fire by L.H. Cosway! Upcoming stand-alone that releases very soon on March 9th - click here to pre-order now. We recently discovered L.H. Cosway's unique and captivating love stories... always told from a fresh, sizzling new angle with characters who instantly capture your hearts. We can't wait for you to meet Jack and Lille! Watch the book trailer that gave us chills, check out some gorgeous teasers, and enter an amazing giveaway to win a $50 gift card, signed books and SWAG! Note: If you missed Six of Hearts, it's on sale for only $0.99. Read this stand-alone and meet Jay Fields, the sexy and mysterious illusionist, mentalist, and trickster. It is not necessary to have read Six of Hearts in order to enjoy Hearts of Fire.
Hearts of Fire Book Trailer... it gave us chills! Stunning Teasers: Meet Jack and Lille
All teaser graphics have been designed by Alleskelle Fraser: Twitter, Goodreads, Facebook
Click on teasers for full view  The Circus Spektakulär is proud to present Jack McCabe: Fire-breather, knife-thrower, risk-taker.
My house burned down when I was just a boy, robbing me of both my parents.
Now I breathe fire, eat the poison that almost killed me.
Crowds come to see me night after night. Men for the spectacle, women for the thrill. I’m an oddity to be stared at and desired. With each flame I spit, I risk my life.
I wear scars on my body that will never go away, but the scars inside my head are far more difficult to overlook.
My brother doesn’t know me, and if I have it my way he never will.
Life was going exactly the way I’d planned until Lille came along. She wanted to run away with the circus, have an adventure, but this world was never meant for her.
I try to keep her safe, because she doesn’t know the dangers that are out here on the road. She doesn’t know the monsters that lurk behind the bright lights of the ring. In truth, I could be considered one of them.
We were fashioned from different cloths, never intended to mix. So I watch her. I try not to touch, even when her eyes invite me.
Join us in the Spiegeltent and let us give you a show. Allow my Lille to draw a picture for you in paint and sweat and skin.
The truest love is always the hardest to let in.
 Step right up and meet Jay Fields: Illusionist. Mentalist. Trickster.
I think in triangles. You think in straight lines.
I show you a table and make you believe it’s a chair.
Smoke and mirrors, sleight of hand, misdirection. I trick and deceive.
But most of all, I put on a good show.
The world thinks I killed a man, but I didn’t. Bear with me. It’s all a part of the plan.
Revenge is what I want. I want it for me and I want it for her.
I want it for all six of us.
She doesn’t remember me, but she’s the reason for everything. She’ll be my prize at the end of all this – if I can hold onto my willpower, that is. Maybe I’ll slip up a little, have a taste, just a small one.
So go ahead and pick a card. Come inside and see the show. Look at my hands, look so closely that you can’t see what’s happening while you’re so focused on looking. I’ll be destroying your world from right here in the spotlight.
You’ll never see me coming until it’s too late.
I’ve only got one heart, and after I’ve pulled off my grand deception I’ll hand it right to her.
So, sit back, relax, and let my girl tell you our story. You’re in for one hell of a ride.
Huge Giveaway: Hearts of Fire tote bag, Signed copy of Six of Hearts, Signed copy of Hearts of Fire, Hearts of Fire pocket mirror, $50 Amazon giftcard
Are you looking for something different? Do you like a good paranormal romance? If you do, you have to one-click Take by Nashoda Rose. Take is book one in her new series: Scars of Wrath and this stand alone will take you on an adventure into Max and jasper's world where everything isn't quite as it seems. Meet Max & Jassper in an excerpt & be sure to enter to win your very own SIGNED PAPERBACK! Good Luck & Enjoy! Excerpt “How long since you fucked a guy?”
“What?” Her arms moved as if she was about to cross them over her breasts and then decided against it and put them back at her sides. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Because when I fuck you, it will be hard. I need to know if you can take it.” I’d expected her to grab her shirt and put it back on. That was what I had intended. To scare her. Instead, she stared at me as she undid her bra and let it fall to the floor.
Fuck.
I was a guy. A guy that didn’t give a shit if a woman hated me in the morning, but they never did. I may be a selfish bastard but I never left a woman unsatisfied. And it was more a self-serving reason as I could always get seconds when I wanted. But this was different. Everything about it was different. Max was different.
And that should’ve scared me enough to walk away.
But Max … staring at her milky white naked skin … her handful of breasts with nipples erect and waiting for my mouth to be sucking on them. I should’ve walked back into the bathroom, shut the door and jerked myself off in the shower.
 MAX
Feelings are a luxury I can’t afford. Hidden behind a shield of quiet placidity, I keep my secret safe from those who’d use it against me. Until him—the tatted up, self-centered Scar assassin hired to protect me.
He takes pleasure in tormenting me, chipping away at my defenses as if I’m a toy to be played with. I hate that he continuously reminds me that I’m nothing more than a job. I hate that my body responds to his touch. I hate him.
JASPER
I’m not a good guy and I don’t pretend to be. Condemn me if you want, I don’t give a fuck. You’re nothing to me. No one is … except her—Max. She’s my target. And I was hired to do a hell of a lot more than protect her … I was hired to kill her.
It should’ve been simple, but it was complicated as hell.
Full-length novel. Come meet the Scars.
Scars: Immortal warriors with capabilities derived from the senses:Trackers, Sounders, Healers, Tasters, Visionaries, and the rareReflectors. They each have what is known as an Ink, a tattoo that can be called life.
Additional Teaser pics
(click on photo for full view) Meet the author Nashoda Rose is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Toronto with her assortment of pets. She writes contemporary romance with a splash of darkness, or maybe it’s a tidal wave.
When she isn't writing, she can be found sitting in a field reading with her dogs at her side while her horses graze nearby. She loves interacting with her readers and chatting about her addiction—books.
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GIVEAWAY Tour hosted by: The Book Enthusiast
Rock Hard is by Nalini Singh is LIVE!
Meet Gabriel (sexy rugby player turned CEO) & Charlotte in this fantastic addition to the Rock Kiss Series!
Read an excerpt & enter to win a $50 Gift Card! EXCERPT Charlotte arrived at work at seven thirty the next morning to find Gabriel Bishop’s office door open, but no carnivorous predator inside. A fresh suit was hanging on the back of his door, however, which meant he’d been in already.
Deciding to catch up on e-mails that had come in overnight from international suppliers as well as stores involved in a stock take, she was typing a reply when a sweaty Gabriel arrived fifteen minutes later. He was dressed in black running shorts and a faded University of Auckland T-shirt that was currently sticking to his body.
She’d known he was in shape, but now she realized none of it was an illusion created by his well-cut suits. Okay, she’d already known that, but seeing his muscled body in the flesh was a whole different ball game. He was built like a tank, hard and powerful.
Each of his thighs was thicker than both of hers put together, his biceps toned, his shoulders appearing even wider than usual. Everything about him was big. Civilized clothing didn’t make him look better, she realized—it toned down his intense masculinity. Out of his suits, with the ink on the upper part of his left arm exposed, as well as that on his opposing thigh and…
Her skin hot and lower body clenching, she just nodded in response to his “Good morning.”
Disappearing into his office, he returned with his suit pants and a fresh shirt slung over his arm, along with a sports bag. “Push the meeting with Sales to nine, will you, Ms. Baird? I need to talk to HR about something before then.”
“Yes, sir,” Charlotte said almost soundlessly, but he was already gone, heading toward the employee shower one floor down.
The thigh tattoo went all the way around, the design intricate.
Heart rate a rapid stutter, Charlotte got up after he disappeared and decided to go grab him a coffee. He’d bought her one yesterday after all. She was just being nice. “Oh, shut up, Charlotte,” she muttered once she was in the elevator, and slumped her face into an upraised hand.
The truth was she was running away. Only for a few minutes, but that’s what this was: strategic retreat. Gabriel Bishop was overwhelming. Once, before she’d ever met him and under the influence of cocktails, she’d told Molly she wanted to rip off his shirt and sink her teeth into his pecs.
That desire hadn’t waned even now that she knew he was a T-Rex. Of course, the desire was all strictly in her imagination. The idea of actually handling him in real life? So impossible as to be laughable. Charlie-mouse was not about to play with a predator who could eat her alive and not even notice the bones. The good news was that she could admire him in relative safety—there was no chance in hell he’d ever notice her as a woman.
Getting the coffee from a nearby café, she took it back upstairs. He was in his office when she entered, the striped dark gray of his tie hanging around his neck and his damp hair roughly combed. The scent of clean, fresh soap over warm skin permeated the office. Shooting her a smile that turned him from gorgeous to flat-out devastating, he flipped up the collar of his white shirt to get the tie in place. “Thank you, Ms. Baird.”
Nodding, Charlotte escaped, though she really wanted to stay. She’d never realized how erotic it was to watch a man dress until this precise moment. And she shouldn’t be having these thoughts about her boss—especially since she couldn’t keep from quivering like a rabbit in his presence. Sometimes she just annoyed herself.
“Get to work,” she muttered and knuckled down.
Gabriel was fine for the first hour, but then he began barking orders even a six-armed woman with a split personality would have had trouble handling.
Finally, pushed to the edge, Charlotte snapped. “I’m going as fast as I can!” she yelled when he asked her for something a minute after he’d asked her to complete another task.
He scowled and held out a file. “This is a priority.”
Grabbing it from his hand, she said, “Fine,” and slapped it down on her desk.
It was over an hour later that he disappeared for ten minutes. When he returned, it was to put a small bakery box on her desk. “I think you need something to sweeten your mood today, Ms. Baird.”
What she needed was for the T-Rex who was her boss to stop snarling and growling, she thought as he returned to his office. Not opening the box until her curiosity had almost killed her, she found it held a slice of decadent chocolate cake with a white-chocolate ganache topped with curls of both white and milk chocolate. “I cannot be bribed with cake,” she muttered, eating a bite nonetheless.
Full two-chapter excerpt available on Nalini’s Website HERE  In New York Times Bestselling author Nalini Singh’s newest contemporary romance, passion ignites between a gorgeous, sinfully sexy man who built himself up from nothing and a shy woman who has a terrible secret in her past…
Wealthy businessman Gabriel Bishop rules the boardroom with the same determination and ruthlessness that made him a rock star on the rugby field. He knows what he wants, and he’ll go after it no-holds-barred.
And what he wants is Charlotte Baird.
Charlotte knows she’s a mouse. Emotionally scarred and painfully shy, she just wants to do her job and remain as invisible as possible. But the new CEO—a brilliant, broad-shouldered T-Rex of a man who growls and storms through the office, leaving carnage in his wake—clearly has other plans. Plans that may be equal parts business and bedroom.
If Charlotte intends to survive this battle of wits and hearts, the mouse will have to learn to wrangle the T-Rex. Game on.
Series Reading order Meet the author NEW YORK TIMES AND USA Today bestselling author of the Psy-Changeling and Guild Hunter series Nalini Singh usually writes about hot shapeshifters and dangerous angels. This time around, she decided to write about hot and wickedly tempting rock stars (and one gorgeous ex-rugby player). If you’re seeing a theme here, you’re not wrong.
Nalini lives and works in beautiful New Zealand, and is passionate about writing. If you’d like to explore her other books, you can find lots of excerpts on her website. Slave to Sensation is the first book in the Psy-Changeling series, while Angels’ Blood is the first book in the Guild Hunter series. Also, don't forget to swing by the site to check out the special behind-the-scenes page for the Rock Kiss series, complete with photos of many of the locations used in the books.
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 Easy Love released on March 3rd and it is everything we have come to expect from a Kristen Proby novel. It is hot, steamy and the secondary characters keep you wanting more. Eli is a rich, southern playboy who is absolutely swoon-worthy When he "meets" Kate his world is instantly turned upside down. Eli and Kate's chemistry is instant and draws you in immediately. Their banter and sweet & sexy tension is fantastic and flawlessly executed. Find out for yourself in this exclusive excerpt and be sure to enter to win a SIGNED COPY of Easy Love just for you! Good Luck & Enjoy!
Excerpt “Can we go a bit faster here?” I ask breathlessly, and then groan when his tongue skims over my sweet spot. “God, I love it when you hit that spot.”
“I know,” he whispers and does it again, making my toes curl.
“Eli.” I’m whining, and I hate myself for it, but for the love of all that’s holy, why isn’t he naked and inside me?
“Kate,” he says and bites the tender skin at the top of my shoulder. “It’s Sunday.”
I frown, but then sigh when he finally pulls my shirt up my body and guides it over my head. “What does the day of the week have to do with anything?”
He pulls the cups of my bra down and slowly circles one puckered nipple with his tongue, then blows on it and repeats the motion on the other side.
Moving as slowly as humanly possible.
He’s trying to kill me.
“You’re in the South. Don’t you know that we don’t do anything quickly on Sunday?” He’s kissing down my stomach now, and I’m a bit self-conscious because hello, I don’t have a six pack. Or any kind of pack.
But he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves down my body, and I’m expecting him to pull my denim shorts off, but instead, he bypasses the center of my universe and begins kissing my legs.
My legs.
“Really?” I demand with a laugh, earning a sharp bite on the inside of my right thigh.
“Patience, Kate.”
“Not patient.”
He chuckles and drags his fingernails down my outer thighs, calves, to my bare feet and back up again while his mouth does something completely crazy to the back of my knee.
Apparently, he didn’t find all of my erogenous zones yesterday.
“Oh, my God,” I murmur, and can’t keep my hips from shifting and moving. He’s going to make me come without even touching me.
How is that possible?
“Open your eyes, sugar.” My gaze meets his, and I’m surprised to find his eyes on fire, watching me as he unzips my shorts, guides them down my legs, and tosses them over his shoulder. “No underwear for you either?”
I shrug and smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. He’s still watching me intently, braced on the back of the couch, as his fingers glide up my inner thigh and brush, ever so gently, over my lips, my clit, and then…my stomach.
Really? He’s not going to hang out in the one place that’s screaming for him?
I must frown because a wicked smile breaks out over that impossibly handsome face of his and he cocks a brow. “You don’t like that?”
“You’re teasing me.”
“Yes.” He watches my face as his fingers find my core again, but it’s just his fingertips tickling over my lips, the crease where my leg meets my center. I reach for his wrist to guide him inside, but he quickly grips my hand in his, kisses it, and places it above my head. “You’re not controlling this.” His lips are barely touching my own. “You’re going to be patient, and enjoy. It’s Sunday.”
“You’ve never been lazy on a Sunday in your life,” I whisper against his lips. Jesus, I can’t catch my breath.
I’m going to die of asphyxiation before I get to come. That’s not fair.
“There’s a first for everything,” he replies softly, bites my lower lip, then resumes the torture happening between my legs. He glances down. “Fuck me, you’re wet.”
“That happens when you do stuff to me,” I reply and circle my hips.
 Eli Boudreaux’s family has built ships and boats in Louisiana for generations. He comes from a hardworking, wealthy family and his empire is growing by leaps and bounds. At thirty, he is the youngest CEO to ever head Bayou Enterprises, co-chairing with his eldest brother. His head for business and his no-nonsense work ethic is also quickly making him the best the company has seen in generations. His staff admires him, women adore him and Eli’s family is solid. But he’s recently discovered that someone on the inside of his business is stealing from him and he’s determined to find out who.
Kate O’Shaughnessy is hired by companies all over the world to slip inside and investigate every member of the organization from the CEO down to the custodial staff to find the person or persons responsible for embezzling. She’s excellent at blending, becoming part of the team, and finding the weakest link. She’s smart, quick-witted, and she’s now been hired by Bayou Enterprises, specifically Eli Boudreaux. The attraction is immediate and the chemistry is off the charts, but Kate has heard all about Eli’s playboy past and she has a job to do. Sleeping with the boss isn’t a part of that job, even if just the sound of her name rolling off that Cajun tongue and the way he fills out a designer suit does make her sweat.
Eli’s southern charms surprise Kate. The man whose reputation labels him as a ruthless, callous womanizer is not the man she’s coming to know intimately. He’s generous, protective and makes her smile. Cracking through Kate’s cool, reserved demeanor and discovering her love of sexy, expensive lingerie is a challenge Eli can’t resist, but her sweet nature, love of family and sense of humor pull at him in ways no one else ever has.
But when the person responsible for trying to single-handedly dismantle Eli’s empire comes to light, and it’s time for Kate to move on, to what lengths will Eli go to keep the woman he’s fallen in love with by his side?
Meet the author New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Kristen Probyis the author of the popular With Me in Seattle series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong characters who love humor and have a strong sense of loyalty and family. Her men are the alpha type—fiercely protective and a bit bossy—and her ladies are fun, strong, and not afraid to stand up for themselves. Kristen spends her days with her muse in the Pacific Northwest. She enjoys coffee, chocolate, and sunshine. And naps. Visit her at KristenProby.com.
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Beverly Preston writes the perfect romance hero: sexy-as-hell good guys,
the kind you want to screw your brains out and put a ring on your finger.
Meet the men of The Mathews Family in this sexy, romantic box set!
Read an excerpt & enter to win a $25 Gift Card!
Excerpt Seconds after hearing the click of the front door shutting, his mouth was at her ear. His fingers slipped beneath the straps on her shoulder, lifting the dress above her head and tossing it on the end of the bed.
Spikes of sensual energy gathered between them. Reed nuzzled the rasp of his stubble into the sensitive spot on her neck and her skin came to life beneath his firm yet gentle touch. Tremors chased down her spine and desire ached between her thighs. Never in her life had JC been so completely in tune with the bodily forces filling her physically and emotionally.
A slight giggle dissolved into a soft gasp as one arm crossed beneath her breast, pulling her closer. Gooseflesh covered her body as his lips traversed the slope of her neck and shoulder, revisiting receptive areas he’d pursued the night before.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured. Reed pressed the shape of him, rearing and stiff, against the small of her back. Her head listed back against his chest, followed a soft ambiguous cry of need. “How do you do that to me?”
He turned her to face him, cupping the tender curve of her breast. “Darlin’, in few minutes, you’re not gonna give a damn.”
Heat.
Heat spread everywhere, engulfing her senses in flames of desire. Draping her wrists over his shoulder, she raised on her tippy-toes, searching for his lips. Reed resisted her fervent urges, pulling back, not allowing her the passionate kiss she yearned for. He stared into her eyes, capturing her spirit with his ice blue eyes. Zings of pleasure chased though her and JC feared she might melt before they even started.
Unspoken words drifted between them.
Reed’s unconditional acceptance disarmed her. He accepted her commitment phobias, occasional neurotic tendencies, her fears of love, her mishaps in life and bad judgments. He understood her implicitly and appreciated her exactly as she was.
Her heart pounded. Excitement and nervousness mingled through her emotions. Her eyes drifted shut as she leaned into his chest and his hands played over her slowly, tortuously igniting a new passion within. She quivered and stumbled, falling onto the chaise behind her.
He started toward her hungrily, but she shook her head.
“No?” he asked with a questioning grin.
“No.” She shook her head again. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured this. You make me too damn nervous.” She pointed toward the bathroom. “Can you please give me two minutes?”
He bent, securing her to the hide with his thigh between her legs, possessing her mouth with long, intimate licks of his tongue. “I’ll give you three,” he assured, releasing her from his kiss and sauntering into the bathroom.
JC leapt to her feet, pacing in circles in nothing more than her white cheeky panties. “What the hell is wrong with me?” Stopping midstride, she shook out her trembling limbs. “You can do this! Pull yourself together.”
She took a few deep breaths, trying to ward off the tension looming close the surface of her thoughts. Her limbs felt weighted and encumbering, restricting her body from its natural rhythmic flow of sensual language. He’s just a man. I’ve kissed dozens of men! You’ve already had sex with him. Don’t be chicken!
She bent over, tousling her hair through her fingers and flipped her head back, letting the long caramel layers cascade down her back in sexy loose pieces.
JC plopped onto the chaise, strumming her fingers on the hide. Yeah, but damn what a man!
Nestling back into the hide, she draped her hands above her head. Unable to find the right position, she fidgeted awkwardly. “This is not comfortable,” she grumbled. “Oh, my God. What is wrong with me?”
Irritated by her own anxiety and gracelessness, she flopped to the opposite end of the chaise. Her long legs and feet dangled over the arched back and her head hung over the foot of the lounge.
Sunbeams pushing through the glass door swept across her body. Her eyes drifted shut and she drew in a deep, full breath of air and then another. The scent of his skin lingered with the warmth of the sun, caressing her senses and calming her nerves.
She startled when Reed gently placed his hand on the outside of her thigh. His naked hip brushed against her skin when he sat beside her. Her eyes remained closed as the coolness from his hand slid along her waist to her breast, resting on top of her heart.
“I know…” she panted breathily. JC placed her hand over his. “Just feel you in here.”
“That’s right, darlin’”
“I don’t know why you make me so nervous.”
“Just relax.”
Feeling his avid stare burning through closed lids and the weight of his hand dip to her breast, she slipped her tongue across her lips sensually.
“You make me nervous too,”—his breath fractured—“JC.”
Her eyes opened when he called her by name.
“We’ll figure it out together.”
Feelings of passion and adoration flourished, stringing tightly around her heart. She nodded.
“Goddess,” he hummed, wiggling his brow. The back of his hand traced lazily over her jaw and earlobe. He leaned closer, nearly kissing her before halting. “You’re beautiful. Inside and out.”
 Beverly Preston writes the perfect romance hero: sexy-as-hell good guys, the kind you want to screw your brains out and put a ring on your finger.”
Sinfully sexy, emotionally rich contemporary romance series! Stunning love stories set in exotic destinations such as Bora Bora, Greece, Italy and more. Laugh, cry and fall in love with The Mathews Family one Happily Ever After at a time: with a Hollywood A-list actor, a sexy contractor, an Italian winemaker, and a dream-come-true architect.
Meet the author #1 Bestselling Author, Beverly Preston has been a stay at home mom for 21 years, although she prefers the title Domestic Engineer. Along the way, Beverly worked side by side with her husband Don, the love of her life, designing, building and selling custom homes. As her children begin to venture out on their own, she’s left to shed a tear—for a minute—wonder what’s next in life, and embrace the feeling of empowerment that surely must’ve been wrapped in a present she received on her fortieth birthday.
If Beverly isn’t at home riding her spin bike, you’ll find her spinning richly emotional and sinfully sexy romance stories.
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GIVEAWAY
Due to popular demand, CD Reiss’s Complete Submission…the complete eight book bundle of the Submission Series…is NOW AVAILABLE on ALL RETAILERS. As a bonus, the first three chapters of Coda are in the back, and CD Reiss promises they’re hot as hell. Read an X-Rated Sneak Peek from both theComplete Submission Box Set and Coda! And, be sure to enter to win a $50 gift card! Good Luck & Enjoy! “Get on your knees.”
Even through the phone, I could tell Jonathan was using his dominant voice. I got nervous that I would dampen the expensive panties so badly the protective paper at the crotch would curl and peel off. “Yes, sir.”
Facing the dressing room mirror, I got to my knees. The black garter and stocking I was trying on looked as though it had been taped on me. The black satin belt slung low on my hips held the straps that dropped down my thighs with silver rings.
“How does it look?” he asked.
“I think you’ll like it.”
“How does it make you feel?”
“You really want to know?” I asked.
“I’m sitting in the back of my car, thinking about you. It’s wall-to-wall traffic. So, yes, I want to know how it makes you feel.”
I heard women outside the dressing room door. Their soft conversations and laughter were muffled by the clothing draped around the room, lingerie with bows and clasps and metal rings set into lush satins and elastics. Every piece I’d tried on aroused me, and when he called, the addition of his voice to the mix brought me near tears.
“How do I feel?” I asked. The carpet dug into my knees, and I was goose bumped from the air conditioner, but that wasn’t what he meant. The black satin bra’s cups were made of two panels that could be moved for access. It felt so comfortable, I didn’t even know I had it on. The curves of the underwear accentuated the length of my pelvis. “I feel like fucking.”
I heard him take a breath. I did enjoy shocking him. “Tuck the phone under your left ear.”
“Done.”
“Done?”
“Done, sir.”
“Put your left hand on the mirror,” he said. “Lean on it.”
“Yes, sir.” My hand spread on the mirror like a starfish. It would leave a mark.
“Put your right hand between your legs.”
“Jonathan…”
“Do it.”
My cunt clenched with anticipation. I stroked lightly through the string of cloth, sucking air between my teeth from the tingle of the touch.
“Get under the fabric,” he said, as if he could see I hadn’t put my fingers on my skin.
“Yes, sir.” The word sir seemed to vibrate not just outward, to him, but inward, down a thick nerve connecting my vocal cords to my core. When I slipped my fingers under the panties, I shuddered.
“You wet?”
“So fucking wet,” I whispered.
“Your legs spread?”
“Yes.”
“Look at yourself in the mirror.”
I did, and I was greeted by a face slack with arousal, flushed with sex. “Yes, sir.” I watched myself submit to him, in that outfit, as if I needed to be more turned on. Outside the door, I heard a throat clear.
“How do you look?” he asked.
“I look like I can’t stay in here much longer without someone coming.”
“You got that right,” he mumbled. Papers shuffled on his side. He was working while telling me to finger myself. A true multitasker. “Stroke your clit and all the way down to that beautiful hole.” I groaned, my cheek caressing the phone. “Keep going. Work your clit. Go around it twice, then over the top.”
I did, and the heavenliness came as much from my own touch as the knowledge I obeyed him. “Oh, Jonathan.”
“Put two fingers in.”
My pussy clenched around my fingers, kissing them, sucking them in. The heel of my hand found my clit as I pushed my fingers in and out.
He whispered, “Tomorrow night, when I see you, I’m going to put my fingers in you and lick you until you beg me to stop. Then I’m going to squeeze your clit with my lips until you come again.”
“I want you.”
“You will have me.”
“May I come?” There was a distinct possibility he’d say no, and I was so far gone, holding off my orgasm would hurt. “Please let me come.” His silence tormented me. “Please, sir.” I smiled a little. I never thought I’d actually want to call a lover sir. But it felt good, and right, and fun.
I hears his smile as he said, “You may.”
I pressed my whole hand along my wet cleft, feeling everything from the tingle around my pussy to the powerful ache at my clit, back and forth, slowly. My breathing got hard and short. I had to keep it down. If I could hear myself, someone else could as well. I closed my eyes and buckled. My hand left the mirror as my back arched, encompassing me in heat from my knees to my waist. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. My hips pumped as pleasure washed over me in impossibly long waves. The phone dropped to the carpet.
 This bundle contains books 1-8 of the USA Today Bestselling Submission Series, and totals 1300 pages of intense, steamy romance that will leave you breathless.
***
Jonathan Drazen.
Gorgeous. Check.
Charming. Check.
Smart. Check.
Rich. Hey, I’m not gonna complain.
All the ingredients for a few nights of mind-blowing pleasure are right there. He’s made it perfectly clear he can’t love me, and I’m not out to fall in love either.
But I can’t stay away from him. He’s got this bossy way about him in bed. The word “Sir,” falls from my lips, and when he tells me to get on my knees…well, my knees have a mind of their own.
I got this. I can be his slave for a few nights and walk away unscathed.
We get in. Get it on. Get the hell out. Done.
He knows the line between love and lust. It’s right between my legs. Now, let’s see if that line blurs for me.
Teasers
(click on picture for full view) Excerpt from CODA (RATED NC-17)
Releasing: March 18th “You know what, Monica, you don’t even know yourself. Look at you. I haven’t seen you this relaxed in months. The only time you let your worry go is when you give me control. And your worry is what keeps you from being honest.”
I swallowed. Blinked. A torrent of wetness welled behind my eyes, “I don’t want to break the scene.”
“Stay still. Stay naked. Speak your mind.”
“I almost died with you a hundred times. That recovery room, they had you in this induced coma and you looked dead. There were bags of blood. Bags, hanging over you and you were all opened up. And, I’m sorry, I haven’t said this because you’re the one who went through it.” I swallowed a gallon of tears. “I don’t want to see you like that again. But I think about it all the time. I dream about it. I see it when I close my eyes. I want you to live, so I do what I think is going to make you happy and I always get it wrong. Stay or go. I give you attention or none. It’s always wrong.”
“What about your happiness?”
“It doesn’t matter. Not as much as yours. It’s not life or death.”
“It is, Monica. It is.”
I shook my head. “You can’t convince me of that. We can do this hurtful honesty thing all day. You’re the priority and I’m okay with that. Deal with it.”
He nodded, looking down for a blink, then up at me. He reached for my wrists.
“These go behind your back.”
I did as instructed.
“Now, get on your knees.”
I bent them. With my hands behind my back, it was hard to balance.
“Do you need some help?” he asked.
“Yes.”
I thought he’d take me gently by the elbow, but dragged me down. He was right. I was relaxed, totally submitting and trusting him, loving every bit of discomfort he dished out.
“Spread your knees apart.”
I did, too slowly for him. He kicked them wide.
“Do you remember your safeword?” He asked, unbuckling his belt.
“Yes.” A tingling rush went down my spine with the promise of his dominance and the way it made me forget how fragile he really was.
His cock was out in the next second. “Open. Your. Mouth.”
Meet the author CD Reiss is a USA Today and Amazon bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up, she’s at the well, hauling buckets.
Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere, but it did embed TV story structure in her head well enough for her to take a big risk on a TV series structured erotic series called Songs of Submission. It’s about a kinky billionaire hung up on his ex-wife, an ingenue singer with a wisecracking mouth; art, music and sin in the city of Los Angeles.
Critics have dubbed the books “poetic,” “literary,” and “hauntingly atmospheric,” which is flattering enough for her to put it in a bio, but embarrassing enough for her not to tell her husband, or he might think she’s some sort of braggart who’s too good to give the toilets a once-over every couple of weeks or chop a cord of wood. If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.
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