COVER REVEAL! ✾ Between Love and Fire ✾ by Dani René!

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Title: Between Love & Fire

Series: Backstage Series Book #1

Author: Dani René

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: May 13, 2016 More

Release Blitz! ** Deep Under ** by Lisa Renee Jones

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DEEP UNDER is the newest stand alone in the Tall, Dark & Deadly Series by Lisa Renee Jones!

NOW LIVE!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1WBaALU

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Amazon Paperback: http://amzn.to/22xBrrF

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deep under lisa now available

*This is a standalone book, as with the other books in the Tall, Dark and Deadly series you do not have to read the entire series to enjoy this book.*

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Kyle, one of the alpha men of Walker Security, is hot, bothered, and intense, and when Myla lands in his line of fire, she’ll soon learn her secrets, and her passion, belong to him, from New York Times bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones.

Myla is beautiful, a dove with clipped wings, captive by the wolf, a vicious drug lord. One look into her eyes and Kyle could see the pain, the fear…the desperation. Or so it seems. He’s been fooled before by a woman and it cost him everything and everyone he loved. He won’t be fooled again.

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Excerpt

“Who are you? And I mean really. Who are you?”

My gut tells me that if I tell her right now, in this moment, it will not be well-received. “A friend,” I say, my gaze lowering to her lush mouth and lifting. “And the man who wants to kiss you. Really kiss you. Can I kiss you, Myla?”

“You’re asking?”

“Yes. I’m asking. After all you’ve been through-”

“He hasn’t destroyed me. He hasn’t beaten me and I don’t like that you think he has.”

“I don’t think he’s beaten you.”

“He hasn’t,” she insists. “I’m not giving him that power and damn it, you better not either by treating me like I’m broken and fragile. So kiss me if you’re going to kiss me or let me go, if you don’t want-”

I cup the back of her head, and slant my mouth over hers, my tongue sliding against hers, stroking, caressing, and the taste of her, one part hunger I welcome, but the other part, the torment, I intend to drive away. I deepen the kiss, my hand pressing beneath her tank top, finding warm, soft skin. My fingers splay over her rib cage, while my mind reminds me that no matter how big she talks, she wants this escape for a reason. She has been abused, used, hurt.

I tear my mouth from hers, my breathing and hers ragged, my hands settling at her waist. “Myla-”

“Don’t do this,” she pleads, “Don’t be the kind of hero I don’t need. Give me something good to remember the next time he touches me, something that gets me through it.”

“I told you,” I grind out. “He will never touch you again.”

“You underestimate him.”

“You underestimate me,” I assure her. “You want to forget? Let’s forget.”

“Don’t treat me like-”

I tangle my fingers in her hair and drag her gaze to mine. “Is that too gentle?”

“It is until you kiss me again,” she challenges, and so I do, holding nothing back. My tongue stroking, taking, demanding, and she rewards me by giving me no fear, but rather a soft moan, and a whisper of “Kyle,” when I nip her lip.

“That’s what I want,” I say. “My name on your tongue, not his. My tongue on your body, not his.”

“That’s what I want too,” she dares, and when she adds, “very much,” there is this sense of her claiming something outside of a world she’d accepted but hated that empowers me, to help her go there, be there. I reach down and pull her tank top over her head, tossing it away. And she is not shy, timid or scared. She tugs my shirt up, but my shoulder strap and weapon, hold it in place. I’m far from detoured though, unhooking her sports bra and dragging it down her arms, my gaze raking over her high full breasts and pebbled pink nipples. And the minute our gazes collide, the fire between us ignites, and we are kissing again, my hand flattening over her back, melting her naked breasts to my chest.

She tries a new approach to getting me naked, shoving at my jacket and I shrug it over my shoulders, letting it fall to the ground, but when her hand goes for the clasp on my shoulder strap, my reaction is automatic. I grab her hand and stop her. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t get your shirt off while your gun is on,” she says, and then gives me an unhappy look. “Did you think that I was going for your weapon?”

“Programming,” I say. “Protect your weapon, always. And you aren’t the only one with a bad relationship baggage.”

“I can accept that and understand it, but now it’s my turn to say quid pro quo. I’m opening the door to trusting you. You need to do the same and trust me.”

She’s right. A hand for a hand. I let mine fall away now, leaving hers at my strap, a move from my gun. She closes her hand over the butt of my gun, daring me to challenge her, her chin lifting, gaze meeting mine as she says, “If you were him-”

My hands slide around her neck, dragging her mouth to mine. “Obviously I need to fuck you fast and hard before I go slow and sexy, just to get him the hell out of this room.” I kiss her, a deep, demanding, stroke of tongue on tongue, I end with a challenge. “Do you want me or my gun?”

“You,” she whispers, her hand sliding away from my weapon. “I want you.”

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Excerpt

“I want your trust.”

“And what will you do if you get it?”

His hand comes down on my leg, intimate, wrong. Right. “When I earn it you won’t ask that question.”

“I wish you could earn it,” I say, and my hand goes to his and I tell myself it’s to push him away, but I don’t even try.

“I can and I will,” he says, leaning in, or maybe I lean in or we both do, but we are close, our faces, our lips, and our breath. “Maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but I’m not going anywhere.”

“And then what?”

“And then, everything changes,” he promises, and suddenly his lips brush mine, a barely there touch that I feel, oh how I feel it in every part of me, before he pulls back and then he’s gone, leaving me swaying and grabbing hold of the cushion.

“Fuck,” he curses, standing up and giving me his back, just long enough to run a rough hand through his hair and to face me while I try to calm my racing mind and heart. “That can’t happen,” he says.

I blink. “What? I didn’t try… we didn’t…” Confused, heat and embarrassment assail me and I stand up, rushing toward the bedroom, running this time, but I simply don’t care. But I also don’t escape. He’s there before I make it into the bedroom, stepping in front of me, his hands settling at my waist, branding me, scorching me.

“If we happen now, you’ll question why. You will fear that I’m setting you up, and fear is not what I want from you.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“I could tell you trust again, which is true, but right now, in this moment, what I want is you. Every part of you naked, every way I can get you. Beneath me, on top of me, under my tongue, and many other ways.”

“You can’t say that to me.”

“And if I’d given you some generic bullshit answer you wouldn’t have believed it, I would have scared you just as much as actually doing what I want.”

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

“We’re fire, sweetheart. We both know it. It’s inconvenient, but it’s undeniable, which means we’re going to have to find a way to deal with it because I meant what I said. I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

My hands go to his wrist. “Let me go.”

“I’ll stop touching you, sweetheart, but I’m not letting you go.”

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New to the Tall, Dark and Deadly series? Experience the New York Times bestselling books that have sold almost one million copies! Read about the previous books and order them here. Each is a STANDALONE book.

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lisa renne jones new bio

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT SERIES, and is now in development by Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland) for cable TV. In addition, her Tall, Dark and Deadly series and The Secret Life of Amy Bensen series, both spent several months on a combination of the NY Times and USA Today lists.

Watch the video on casting for the INSIDE TV Show HERE

Since beginning her publishing career in 2007, Lisa has published more than 40 books translated around the world. Booklist says that Jones suspense truly sizzles with an energy similar to FBI tales with a paranormal twist by Julie Garwood or Suzanne Brockmann.

Prior to publishing, Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by Dallas Women Magazine. In 1998 LRJ was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at on her website and she is active on twitter and facebook daily.

STALK HER:  Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads

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TEASE ME THURSDAY!! ~* Frosted Sweets by A.M. Willard *~

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4-7 Frosted Sweets

Frosted Sweets by A.M. Willard

Morgan Lewis, the hardworking and devoted owner of the Polka Dot Cafe & Bakery, is ready to wed Simon Kensington. As she gears up for the next chapter in her life, her undying love for Simon causes her to forget what life was like before him. It’s not until a walk home with her wedding dress draped over her arm that she witness it all change. At that moment, her future was crushed with one act, one of weakness on Simons part. When she calls off the wedding of her dreams to the one she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with; Morgan has to ask herself if she can move forward. Can she become the person she once was? Or is the sweet baker gone?

Jayden’s career in production has him relocated to a new town. As he prepares for long hours and adjusting to his new life; there was one thing he wasn’t expecting. That was being knocked into by a sweet smelling baker carrying her wedding dress in the park.

His new sweet tooth gives him an unhealthy obsession to the busy bakery, where it’s more than just treats in a box.

Join us as author A.M. Willard brings you a pinch of contemporary romance, a dash of romantic comedy, and a sprinkle of chick lit wrapped in one giant cupcake.

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~*~ DIRTY by Kylie Scott Excerpt Reveal! ~*~

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Excerpt

Heavy footsteps roused me from my stupor. I don’t know how long exactly I’d been sitting in the bathtub, staring off at nothing, pondering the catastrophe my life had become. Couldn’t have been too long since sunlight still lit the room.

The footsteps came closer and closer. And then they entered the room. Oh, shit. I froze, not even daring to breathe. There was a loud yawn, followed by the cracking of joints. Then a large hand reached in beside the closed shower curtain and turned on the tap. A torrent of ice cold water poured down. It was like a billion itty-bitty knives stabbing at my skin. All of the scratches and raw patches from earlier stung like shit. I gritted my teeth, shoulders hiked up to around my ears as if that would provide any protection.

Yep, I sat there, all huddled up, listening to the man take a leak.

Awesome. Just plain awesome.

Wasn’t like I could jump out and interrupt the man midflow. And say what? I knew this was not a good situation to get caught in.

  1. I’d basically broken into this guy’s house.
  2. And had then gone on making myself right at home, having a messy emotional breakdown in his bathtub.

Normal, rational people didn’t do this sort of thing. I didn’t even have a criminal record, had never particularly done anything outlandish or interesting until now. This was all Chris’s fault, the bastard. I’d just have to make the best of it and hope this guy had a sense of humor.

Just as the water began to warm, he flushed the john and freezing cold water drenched me anew. I’d been about to open my mouth and announce my presence, but that put an end to that. Needles of icy cold water pelted down on my skin. I fucking froze. Teeth gritted, I suppressed a squeal of pain and rage.

Then the shower curtain flew back.

“Shit!” The man was very tall, very naked, and very surprised. He stumbled back a step, a hand clutching at the bench behind him, eyes furious and wide. “What the hell?”

Good question.

I opened my mouth, closed it. Language skills had apparently abandoned me. In total silence, the man and I stared at each other.

Even with no clothing to take cues from, the dude was clearly the epitome of cool. He looked about my age, or maybe a little older. He had longish red-blond hair, dark blue eyes set in an angular face, a lean but muscular torso covered in tattoos, and a rather large cock. Not that I meant to check him out, it’s just kind of hard to ignore a penis and scrotum when they’re dangling right in front of your face. I tilted my head, trying to get some perspective. Every viewpoint, however, was equally shocking. There was dick as far as the eye could see.

And I should stop ogling him. Right.

“Hi.” With a calm I didn’t even vaguely feel, I reached up and turned off the tap. Much better. His monster penis had momentarily derailed me, but I was back on track now. Time to talk myself out of this mess. “Hey.”

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” he asked flatly.

“Right. Well . . .” I neatly tucked my dripping-wet shoulder-length blond hair back behind my ears. As if that would help. My winged eyeliner and false lashes were probably halfway down my cheeks. “I, um, I . . .”

“You what?”

“I’m Lydia,” I said, the first thing to come to mind.

No reply. His handsome face, however, took on a distinctly pissy expression. Even his strawberry-blond hair seemed a fiery hue. Fine, so we weren’t swapping names and getting cozy. Fair enough. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was, keeping my eyes on his face. The struggle was real. It might have been due to my not seeing one in so long, but his dick seemed almost hypnotic. The thing had magical powers, I swear. It was so big and mobile, subtly swaying every time he moved. My gaze kept darting down despite my best efforts.

Finally he put me out of my misery, grabbing a towel off a nearby rack and wrapping it around his waist. It made for quite the hot-looking miniskirt. Not just any man could have pulled off such a look.

But back to my explanations.

“Ah, firstly, I’d just like to say sorry about this.” I waved a hand at him and his bathroom and, well everything, really. “For any inconvenience I might have caused here in your bathroom.”

The guy stood tall, looming over me with his hands on hips. Tattoos covered his arms to his wrists. Still, he had a whole lot of sinew on show. Definitely not the kind of man you’d want to mess with. Dude could probably snap me in half in a second. I bet he was a tattoo model, or a biker, or a pirate, or something. Something a lot hot and more than a little scary.

Shit. I really should have chosen another house.

“I don’t normally break into people’s places and hide out in their tub,” I babbled, on the verge of incoherency. “So I’m really sorry. Seriously. So very sorry. But you’ve got a lovely home.”

“That so?”

“Not that, I mean, that’s not why I’m here. I just . . .” Fucking hell, my mind was a disaster. I took a deep breath, letting it out nice and slow, before trying again. “I love the old Arts and Crafts bungalows, don’t you? They have such soul.”

His brows drew tight. “Are you high? What the fuck are you on?”

“Nothing!”

“You haven’t been popping any pills or snorting something?”

“No, I swear.”

“Nothing to drink?”

“I haven’t had anything,” I said, but the suspicion and anger still lined his face. Paired with the stubble on his chin and the shadows beneath his eyes, my unwilling host was one tired, cranky man. Couldn’t really blame him.

“So you’re completely sober,” he said.

“Completely.”

A pause.

“You’re thinking I’m bat-shit crazy now, aren’t you?” I asked, despite the answer sitting plain as day on his pretty face.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Oh, god. “I’m not. I’m sane.”

“You sure about that?” He looked down the long line of his nose at me, distinctly unimpressed. “Seen a lot of weird shit in my years. Stuff like you wouldn’t believe. But I got to tell you, right now, this . . . you, are taking the cake.”

“Great.” And I was so definitely probably going to jail. Someone ought to give me a cookie. My ability to take a bad situation and make it worse today was amazing.

“You touch any of my stuff?” he asked. “Take anything?”

“Yes, your sofa is cunningly hidden down the front of my dress. You won’t believe where I fit the TV.”

Again, his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Between you and me, probably not the time to be funny, babe.”

Crap. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You have every right to be mad.”

“Damn right, I do.”

I nodded, contrite. “I haven’t touched any of your things.”

The dude just stood there, staring. Lots going on behind his eyes. None of which I could read.

A stray tear trickled down my face. It must have saved itself up just for the occasion. Gah. How pathetic. I sniffled, brushing it off hurriedly with the back of my hand.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

“I really am sorry about this. The truth is, I just needed somewhere to hide for a little while. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

He sighed. It wasn’t a happy sound. “Lydia?”

“Yes?” Despite my best efforts, my voice trembled slightly.

“Look at me.”

I did so. He still looked cranky and crazy cool while I remained a hot mess.

“I’m Vaughan,” he said.

“Hi.”

He tipped his chin and silence fell between us once more.

With the tip of his tongue rubbing at his upper lip, he looked at the wide open window, and then back at me. Yep, that’s how I’d gotten in. Houdini had nothing on my mad skills.

“What are you doing in my house, Lydia? The truth.”

“It’s kind of a long story, actually.” Along with being excruciatingly embarrassing. But then, what wasn’t about this day?

Vaughan crossed his arms over his wide chest and waited me out while I fussed with my ruined skirts and tried to come up with a way to spin the story to not make me look a complete fool. Christ, the holes in my stockings were huge. On one side, my entire foot stuck out. So screwed.

Vaughan crouched by the side of the tub, resting his arms on the side. Up close the shadows under his eyes seemed even bigger and darker against his pale skin. And there were bags big enough to use as carry-ons. Despite the strong lines of his lean face, the man looked done-in. Ready to sleep for a hundred years.

I knew that feeling.

“Looks like a wedding dress,” he said quietly.

“Yes, it is. I was going to get married today.” I took a deep breath, wiping my face with my hands. Just as expected, my palms came away smeared with black eye makeup. “Ah, boy. I must look a wreck.”

Without comment, Vaughan reached out and grabbed a towel, handing it to me. It was sort of threadbare, old. Dated like the rest of the house. I hadn’t seen more than one room, but real estate agents got a feel for these sort of things. Minimal upkeep for the past five or so years would have been my guess. Perhaps it’d even been left empty. Bushes out front hid the house from view, so I’d never gotten a good look at it before.

“Thank you.” I patted myself dry with the towel as best I could. What remained of my beautiful dress was a sopping wet ruin. “I’m sorry I broke into your house, Vaughan. I swear I don’t normally do this sort of thing.”

“No,” he said, his voice deep. “Figured as much. Where’d you come from?”

“The big house at the back.”

His brow wrinkled. “You climbed over the fence?”

“Yes.”

Tired, red-tinged eyes appraised me anew. “That’s a tall fence. Must have been one hell of an emergency.”

“It was a disaster.”

For a long moment he studied me, deep in thought. Then he sighed yet again, climbing to his feet.

“Are you going to call the cops on me?” I asked, my throat tight with tension. “I know you have every right to, I’m not disputing that. I’d just, I’d like to know. Mental preparation and all that.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” My whole body sagged in relief.

Then he clapped his hands together, startling the crap out of me. “Okay, Lydia. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

“Yes?”

“I arrived late this morning, have only had a few hours sleep. If I don’t get some coffee soon, things are going to get ugly. And you probably need to get dried off.” With no fuss, he held out his hand. “Let’s get shit sorted out. Then we can sit down and you can tell me the long story of how the hell you ended up in my house. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” I said, voice lightening.

He pulled me up. Then, with strong hands on my waist, lifted me out of the tub. Immediately water started dripping off of my saturated dress, pooling on the scuffed wooden flooring at my feet. Chris would have been distinctly unimpressed. Chris didn’t like messes. But as Vaughan didn’t seem to care, neither did I.

“You’re really not going to call the police?” I asked.

“No. Hold still,” he said, carefully plucking a fake eyelash from my cheek.

“Thank you.”

“Your dress is kind of fucked.” He looked me over from top to toe.

“I know,” I said sadly.

“I’ll leave you to get changed.”

“Wait. Please. I can’t get out of it on my own.”

More frowning.

“It’s vintage,” I explained with a grim face. “There’s no zip, just a line of little buttons up the back.”

“’Course there is.” Without another word, he turned me around and got started in on said buttons. As he worked, he hummed beneath his breath, the song vaguely familiar.

“Aren’t you still mad?” I asked, perplexed.

“Nuh.”

“But I broke into your house.”

“Window was open.”

“I still trespassed.”

Busy fingers kept working on undoing the dress. “You sat in the tub and cried because some dickhead fucked you over.”

That shut me up.

“Or that’s what I’m assuming, given the dress and all. I take it he’s the one that gave you that shiner on your cheek?”

“No. No one hit me. And yes, you assumed right about the being fucked over.” I tried to look back at him, but I couldn’t see a thing beyond my wild-ass hair. Impressive how it’d survived the shower. The stylist clearly knew her shit.

“You sure no one hit you?” He did not sound convinced.

“Yes. I lost my grip and hit the floor when I was climbing in the window. My home invasion skills need work.”

“I’d suggest you try a different career.” He finished with the buttons and took a step back, scratching his head. “You okay with the dress now?”

“Yes, thank you,” I told his reflection in the mirror. “For everything, I mean.”

“Sure.” He almost smiled and gave a small shake of the head as if he couldn’t quite believe what was going on. Or maybe it was disbelief that he wasn’t kicking me straight back out the window through whence I’d come.

Lord knows, it’d shocked the shit out of me.

He turned toward the door. “See you out there.”

dirty preorder

Are you ready to get DIRTY!?!

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Title: DIRTY

Series: Dive Bar Series

Release Date: April 19th!

Genre: Erotica-Contemporary / Rockstar Romance

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Blurb

The last thing Vaughan Hewson expects to find when he returns to his childhood home is a broken hearted bride in his shower, let alone the drama and chaos that comes with her.

Lydia Green doesn’t know whether to burn down the church or sit and cry in a corner. Discovering the love of your life is having an affair on your wedding day is bad enough. Finding out it’s with his best man is another thing all together. She narrowly escapes tying the knot and meets Vaughan only hours later.

Vaughan is the exact opposite of the picture perfect, respected businessman she thought she’d marry. This former musician-turned-bartender is rough around the edges and unsettled. But she already tried Mr. Right and discovered he’s all wrong-maybe it’s time to give Mr. Right Now a chance.

After all, what’s wrong with getting dirty?

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Pre-order your copy of DIRTY here:

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kylie scott

Kylie is a long time fan of erotic love stories and B-grade horror films. She demands a happy ending and if blood and carnage occur along the way then all the better. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and one delightful husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet.

Kylie is represented by Amy Tannenbaum at the Jane Rotrosen Agency, New York.

Stalk Kylie Scott: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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What if you—VANISHED!

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❤ Sneak Peek Saturday ❤

Brand New Paranormal Romance Series
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Vampire/Witch Romance Read

Vanished
Times Journey – Book One

Excerpt:
   His gums ached as he imagined what her sweet, hot blood would taste like. She’d be delicious, of course. What would it be like to drain her dry? Would he feel remorse as she gasped her last breath? Yes. Somehow the little witch wiggled her way into his heart and he couldn’t fathom how that happened. It had been years since he’d cared for someone other than family. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her as he waited for her to make a move.
Her gaze flicked away from his and her hand went to her neck, brushing aside her sandy blonde curls as she rubbed her throbbing pulse point. Does she possess the power to read minds? Her fingers trailed across her throat as she glared. Perhaps she does.

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