Mixed Up, a Sexy New Enemies-to-Lovers Romance by Emma Hart

Release Banner for Mixed Up by Emma Hart

About Mixed Up

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000035_00022]Hiring my brother’s best friend was not on my to-do list.

Neither was he.

Expanding my dirty cocktail bar into food was supposed to be easy, except finding a chef in my little town of Whiskey Key is anything but.

Until Parker Hamilton comes home—bringing his Michelin starred chef’s hat with him.

He has no work. I need someone like him in my new kitchen.

There’s just one problem: I hate his cocky, filthy-mouthed, sexy-as-hell guts.

Even if I might want him. Just a little…

Working for my best friend’s sister? Not on my to-do list.

She’s another story.

Whiskey Key was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, except I haven’t reached the heights I have by lying in a hammock drinking cocktails. So when Raven Archer is desperate for a chef, I offer up my skills.

I’m bored. She needs what I can give her.

Except there’s a problem: I’ve always hated her.

Her and her big, blue eyes, sassy mouth, and killer curves.

If only I didn’t want her.

BUY MIXED UP TODAY:

AMAZON US  | AMAZON UK | AMAZON AU | AMAZON CA | B&N | iBooks

MIXEDUP-sq9

An EXCERPT from MIXED UP

The sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand was loud, jarring, and very, very annoying.
It wasn’t the most pleasant sound in the world to wake up to.
Groaning, I rolled over and batted my hand around on the top of the nightstand. Then, I realized the bed was vibrating. It was a mammoth effort to open my eyes, but somehow I managed it so I could look down the gap between the cupboard and my bed. Just like I assumed it was, my phone was wedged between the leg of the bed and the wooden side of my nightstand.
I fished it out with my finger. The moment it was free, it stopped ringing.
Of course it did.
I picked it up and looked at the screen. Ryan. I frowned—it was early for him to be calling…wait, no it wasn’t. It was seven-thirty. I’d overslept.
No sooner had I finished the thought than my phone buzzed again. It was Ryan.
“What do you want?” I demanded, answering the phone.
“Did you oversleep?” came his response.
“Maybe. I was tired. What do you want?”
He laughed. “Have you seen Parker?”
“You just woke me up. Do you think I’ve seen Parker?”
“Shall I call back when you’ve had coffee?”
“Can you get to the point of this irritating conversation?” I shoved the covers to the side and swung my legs out of the bed. I hadn’t bothered to throw any clothes on before I’d fallen asleep last night.
Ryan sighed. “Ilsa said Parker didn’t go home last night. She came over this morning when his car wasn’t in the drive and asked me if I knew where he was. I don’t, and you’re the last person I know who would’ve seen him, so I’m calling you.”
I jerked around and looked at the other side of the bed. Messy and unkept, but no Parker.
“No idea.” I swallowed and glanced at the floor. His clothes were gone, too. Only mine remained. “Hold on.” I put my phone down and checked the notification bar. There were no messages from him, so if he wasn’t here and hadn’t gone home, maybe he was downstairs?
I threw an oversized shirt on over my head and quickly pulled some panties up my legs before grabbing my phone again.
“I don’t have any messages from him,” I said, opening my bedroom door. “I can’t hel—” I finished on a scream, because the missing man was standing shirtless in my kitchen.
“Raven?” Ryan said into my ear right as Parker glanced over his shoulder at me. “Are you all right?”
“Ssshhh—shit!” I held my finger in front of my mouth. “Spider!” I said to Ryan. “I walked into the bathroom and there’s a big spider in my tub.”
Parker rubbed his hand down his face and shook his head.
“You’re screaming at a spider?” Ryan’s amusement was evident in his restrained tone.
“It’s a big one. It scared me.” I slammed my bedroom door behind me. “I just locked it in there.”
“It’s a spider.”
“You’re not helping.” This was the worst lie ever. “I need to get rid of it, so I have to go. If I haven’t heard from you by the time Parker starts work, I’ll tell him to call his mom. Bye!” I hung up and threw my phone on the sofa like it was on fire.
“What the hell was that about?” Parker asked, spatula-flipper thingy in hand.
“You’re still here!” It came out as more of a squeak than anything.
He stared at me for a moment. “Yeah, but I’m kind of stuck on the fact I’ve been both a stubbed toe and a spider this week.”
I sunk my fingers into my hair. It was messy, and my fingers got caught on some small knots as they threaded through the locks. “Ryan called and woke me up.” I summarized the phone call. “And I panicked when I saw you, because I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“I fell asleep and thought you left!”
He shook his head, turning back to my cooker. “I fell asleep, too. I didn’t wake up until your alarm went off this morning.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m late and I have to put orders through today.”
“You didn’t move,” he said. “So I shut it off, took a shower, and came to make breakfast.”
Now that he’d mentioned it, I could see his dark hair was wet. “Okay, well, you need to call your mom and tell her you aren’t dead or anything.”
“I’ll text her soon. I can’t do it right after Ryan’s called you, can I? That won’t look suspicious at all.”
“Half an hour. Say I left you a voicemail to see if you were coming into work because you were MIA and you realized you forgot to tell her you weren’t coming home.”
“The fact I have to tell her I’m not coming home is, in itself, ridiculous.”
“And that’s why I live alone.” I smiled and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. “What are you making?”
“Omelets. Yia-Yia left me omelet seasoning so I thought I’d try it.”
I peered over his arm at the pan. “Where did you get the the ingredients?” I knew for a fact I didn’t have eggs in my fridge.
“Downstairs.” He glanced at me as if the answer was obvious. Which it was, honestly. “Your fridge is both impressively empty and sadly understocked.”
I shrugged and leaned against the counter. “I don’t eat breakfast unless I’m forced to.”
Parker slid the omelet out of the pan and onto a plate in one smooth movement. Then, he picked up the plate, and held it out to me. “Well, I’m forcing you to eat.”
I might not have been a big breakfast eater, but I wasn’t going to turn down food.
“I can deal with that.” I smiled and reached for the plate, but before I could take it, he swung his arm out wide where I couldn’t reach it. “Hey!”
He grabbed the front of my shirt, yanking me toward him. I’d barely righted my footing when he dropped his mouth to mine and planted a slow, easy kiss on my lips. Releasing me like he’d done nothing out of the ordinary, he put the plate back between us and also handed me a knife and fork. “Morning.”
I snatched the plate and cutlery before he could take it away again. “Thanks. I think?”
He laughed as I sat at the table. “Your good morning was screaming at me. The least you could do was kiss me.”
I rolled my eyes and stabbed my fork into the cheesy, melty, eggy goodness. “You should have announced yourself. Left your pants on the floor or something.”
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
“Next time? This is going to happen again?” I was teasing him, because let’s be honest. There were worse things in life than having sex with a hot guy, then waking up to find said hot guy making you breakfast while half-naked.
“Yep. I’ll just remember to call my mom first.”
I laughed, then moaned as I finally put the first forkful of breakfast into my mouth.
Parker side-eyed me. “If you want to finish your breakfast in peace, don’t do that again.”

mup2

Meet Emma Hart

emma-hart

By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies—usually wine—and writes books.

Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.

She likes to be busy—unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.

SIGN UP FOR ALL NEW RELEASE INFO!

FACEBOOK / TWITTER / GOODREADS / AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

Just Like That: A Sweet, Sassy and Sexy New RomCom by Nicola Rendell (Excerpt and Review)

 

goodreads-badge.png

 

Book Cover, Just Like That, by Nicola Rendell
AP new - synopsis.jpg

“I bet I can untangle you.”

At an airport baggage claim, Penny Darling looks up from her knotted mess of ear buds to find the sexiest hunk of man she’s ever seen. He’s got a military haircut, a scar through his eyebrow, and he’s rocking a pastel pink dress shirt like only a real man can. But Penny is on a man-free diet so she leaves the airport without succumbing to his delicious double-entendres…or his dreamy dimples.

PI Russ Macklin can’t take his eyes off Penny. As she sashays out of the airport with hips swaying and curls bouncing, he suspects they may share more than just sweltering chemistry. That suitcase she’s rolling along behind her? It looks a lot like his.

Because it is.

When he tracks her down, he holds her bag hostage in exchange for a date. Their night begins with margaritas and ends in urgent care, and Russ proves that Cosmo’s theory about a very particular type of orgasm was oh-so-wrong.

In Penny, Russ finds a small-town sweetheart with a very naughty side. For the first time ever, he’s thinking about picket fences. Penny finds in Russ a loving, caring man who understands the power of massaging showerheads.

But Russ is only in Port Flamingo for a week. They agree it’ll be a fling and nothing more. Because really, they can’t fall ass-over-teakettle in love just like that…

Can they?

99k words. HEA. Dual POV. No cheating.
Featuring a big drooly dog named Guppy.

 

Penny

There’s all sorts of sexy Russ-rustle-rustling as he tries on his clothes. It takes all my willpower to stop myself from running over to his changing room and pressing my eye up to the slats like I’m looking through a peep hole. He slings his shirt over the top of the changing room door, then steps out of his shoes and socks. I can almost hear a drumroll in my head and then it happens: his suit pants fall to the ground.
Maybe today’s boxer briefs are light gray, like a sporty heather gray, because that would just be…
I grab a random black dress off the rack and dash into the second changing room. As I shut the door, I hear Maisie saying something like, “Boy, I sure could use some help with all these sunglasses, ahem-ahem.” But I ignore it. As the rustling next door continues, I unfasten the knot on my sundress and let it fall from my shoulders, so I’m standing in my bra and panties in front of the very unflattering full-length mirror. I’m hoping it’s unflattering. It damned well better be unflattering. But then I notice a very faint bruise on my hip, in exactly the pattern of his fingers as he gripped me last night. I slide my fingertips along it and turn to warm caramel inside.
“What kind of movie is it?” I ask him as I finagle my hands through the spaghetti straps above my head and tug the new dress down over my body. It’s a size too small and hugs me like shrink-wrap.
“Romantic comedy.” His zipper slides up. “Workplace romance.”
Oh, God.
I shimmy into the dress and stare at my reflection. There are times in my life when I am acutely aware of that devil-angel-shoulder situation, and this is one of them. Looking at myself in the mirror, and I can almost see the two of them in position. The devil is a real vixen. Combat boots, and a raspy, sultry voice. No bullshit and a very respectable smoky eyeliner. She likes her music feminist and her tequila straight. On the other shoulder sits the angel. She’s a dead-ringer for my fourth-grade librarian. She smells like mothballs, her lipstick flakes off when she talks, and she’s big into smooth jazz. I hate her. Also, she’s pretty much always exactly right. Double-demerit.
The angel says, “Penelope Eloise Darling. Why can’t you find yourself a nice man with a steady job? That eHarmony questionnaire doesn’t take that long. Just think: you could find a nice Baptist minister in Tallahassee! At least you’d live in the same state!”
I suck in my stomach so hard that I feel dizzy, and try to pull up my zipper. Not even close. I cinch the fabric shut with one hand, suck in harder, and give it a yank. It bites into me, and I stretch the dress to the side as far as I can, testing the tensile strength of 1% spandex to its limit.
The devil takes out her hip flask and downs a pull of tequila while she considers her black nail polish. “Fuck that noise, Pen. You want him, take him. Boom. Done.”
The zipper finally cooperates. I don’t even look like myself, this thing is so tight. I spin slightly and look at my ass, over my shoulder.
Which is when the door squeaks open. I fully expect it to be Maisie, brandishing her Kindle and saying something like, “I knew I’d seen that jawline before,” but it isn’t. It’s him.
“Oh, fuck. Sorry, I thought this was my…” He trails off.
The desire ricochets between us like a pinball trapped at the bottom of an arcade machine. He’s in shorts that fit him like a glove, and a soft navy T-shirt, with a vintage Pac-Man logo, washed out and faded. And he’s found a hat, like a super-stylish baseball hat with mesh on the back. Plus, flip-flops.
I thought he was handsome before, but this, this… Casual, and carefree, and look at those shoulders. Peeking out from the sleeve of the T-shirt is the bottom edge of his tattoo on the curve of his massive bicep.
Here lies Penelope Darling, who died of a swoon.
He lets out a breathy, quiet whistle. “I’m buying that for you.”
The way he talks, that dominance, makes me feel like I’m some new but treasured thing. I’m not used to it, but one thing is for sure: I like it. Except even in my haze, it’s the angel that answers first. “No, no, no. I’ll never wear it.”
“I don’t care.”
Frivolous retail purchases especially for me? “We…should get to work.”
His eyes move up and down over me again so deliciously slowly that I feel a shiver up my spine. “I’ll show you getting to work.” He takes a step toward me, and runs his hand up the side of my dress.
I grab ahold of the hanger rack behind me as my knees start to get a little wobbly. “I’ll take you to the boardwalk first. Rides. Ball-and-hammer. Funnel cakes.” He’s reducing me to bullet points. I can’t even string two nouns and a verb.
He pulls his hand away with a frustrated grunt. “Fine. But I’m buying it for you. No arguments. Got it?” he says finally, and then heads back to his changing room.
The devil turns to the angel, who’s got her lips in a tight, prudish line. But the devil?  She gives zero fucks, and she raises her hip flask to me. “Here’s to romantic comedy.”
Toodles, Man Wagon.


 

AP new -about the author.jpg

 

Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a Ph.D. in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.
Author Links

 

My Review of Just Like That

 

Just Like ThatJust Like That by Nicola Rendell
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I’ve been a die-hard Nicola Rendell fan since Professed, one of the sexiest debut novels I’ve ever read. Since then, I one-click her new releases as soon as they’re available for pre-order, because I know I’ll want to read every book more than once. Nicola has a fresh, lively writing voice and a genuine talent for balancing just the right amount of heat, heart, and humor in a story that engages readers from beginning to end.

If you love explosive chemistry; dominant, drop-dead-sexy, passionate heroes; sweet, quirky heroines; and big, goofy, drooling, gassy dogs you will love this story. Even if you’re not a fan of “insta-love,” Just Like That will convince you to suspend disbelief. I happen to believe in “insta-love,” because I’ve experienced it; so I didn’t have to stretch my imagination too far to convince myself that Russ and Penny are a match made in heaven.

But, as always, there are obstacles to overcome. They have to convince themselves to follow where their hearts lead. And as usual, our hero has a secret. He’s holding back his true identity, for plausible reasons, but since all relationships depend on trust, it’s a secret that could unravel their relationship altogether. And then there’s the fact that they only have a week together to go from a casual fling to a happy ever after.

Their romantic journey goes from hot to hilarious in a heartbeat, thanks to an unfortunate seafood incident, a disastrous trip to an Urgent Care center, a batch of suspicious “candy,” and an enormous dog with digestive issues. Because of the compressed timeline, and the use of alternating points of view, the story moves along quickly, which fits the story perfectly. My one critique is that Nicola delivers a twist at the end that defies logic. It was a distraction that didn’t add to the story, but as a writer, I know that the characters speaking into our heads don’t always apply logic. In fact, they rarely do. It’s a sweet, happy twist, however improbable, and that’s just fine with me.

I’ll read Russ and Penny’s story again and again whenever I need a healthy dose of erotic, alpha male sex; a little bit of angst, enough to twist my heartstrings; and a load of laughs at our hero’s expense. These well-developed, loveable characters will stay in your heart long after you’ve read their story; and you just might believe that lasting love can happen Just Like That.

View all my reviews

Now LIVE: Mister Moneybags, a new RomCom from Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward

Release Banner for Mister Moneybags

MEET MISTER MONEYBAGS

IMG_5273I met Bianca in an elevator.

She was on her way to interview me when we got stuck.

The beautiful, raven-haired reporter assumed I was a delivery guy because of the way I was dressed.

She had no clue I was really Dex Truitt, the wealthy, successful businessman she’d dubbed “Mister Moneybags”—her afternoon appointment.

Bianca told me how much she hated Dex’s type—snobby, over-educated, silver- spooned men who didn’t appreciate the simple things in life.

So, after the elevator finally started moving again, I canceled the interview and let her believe I was someone I wasn’t—a bike messenger named Jay. I loved the way she looked at the fake me and didn’t want it to end.

I began dating her as “Jay”—all the while letting her interview the real me over email.

I didn’t expect that our chemistry online would be just as hot.

I didn’t expect the mess I’d gotten myself into.

I didn’t expect that Jay and Dex would fall in love with her.

And she was falling for two men.

Only, both men were me.

And when she found out, we were both going to lose her.

Nothing could have prepared me for that day. And I certainly wasn’t prepared for what came after.

All good things must come to an end, right?
Except our ending was one I didn’t see coming.

BUY MISTER MONEYBAGS HERE:

Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play | Audio | Amazon paperback

MMB release graphic

MEET VI KEELAND

Author photoVi Keeland is a #1 New York Times Bestselling author. With more than a million books sold, her titles have appeared in over fifty Bestseller lists and are currently translated into twelve languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.

Website | Facebook Fan Group | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

 

MEET PENELOPE WARD

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She’s a fifteen-time New York Times bestseller of twelve novels.

Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 12-year-old girl with autism and a 10-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.

Connect with Penelope Ward

Facebook Fan Group  | Facebook | Website |Twitter | Instagram 

Now Available: Just Like That, a Sexy New RomCom by Nicola Rendell!

 

 

goodreads-badge.png

 

Book Cover, Just Like That, by Nicola Rendell
AP new - synopsis.jpg

JUST LIKE THAT


“I bet I can untangle you.”

At an airport baggage claim, Penny Darling looks up from her knotted mess of ear buds to find the sexiest hunk of man she’s ever seen. He’s got a military haircut, a scar through his eyebrow, and he’s rocking a pastel pink dress shirt like only a real man can. But Penny is on a man-free diet so she leaves the airport without succumbing to his delicious double-entendres…or his dreamy dimples.

PI Russ Macklin can’t take his eyes off Penny. As she sashays out of the airport with hips swaying and curls bouncing, he suspects they may share more than just sweltering chemistry. That suitcase she’s rolling along behind her? It looks a lot like his.

Because it is.

When he tracks her down, he holds her bag hostage in exchange for a date. Their night begins with margaritas and ends in urgent care, and Russ proves that Cosmo’s theory about a very particular type of orgasm was oh-so-wrong.

In Penny, Russ finds a small-town sweetheart with a very naughty side. For the first time ever, he’s thinking about picket fences. Penny finds in Russ a loving, caring man who understands the power of massaging showerheads.

But Russ is only in Port Flamingo for a week. They agree it’ll be a fling and nothing more. Because really, they can’t fall ass-over-teakettle in love just like that…

Can they?

99k words. HEA. Dual POV. No cheating.
Featuring a big drooly dog named Guppy.

 



Russ

In my shopping cart, I’ve got assorted gifts: a box of wine, like I saw in her fridge; every kind of salt-and-vinegar potato chips they sell; a box of Dots; some Kama Sutra warming massage oil because I couldn’t fucking resist.
And that just leaves one more thing.
I put my basket down by a display of cupcakes and clear my throat. “I need to get something written on a cake.”
The baker turns around. She pulls her hairnet off her head and says, “I’m leaving for the night, sir. I can take your order, but it’ll have to be for tomorrow.”
This part can’t wait. Penny needs to know I’m not sleeping on this. She needs to know I listened to every single thing she said—every last detail, every last word.
I lean forward, putting my hands on the curved glass case. I glance at the baker’s nametag and then look her in the tired, baggy eyes. “Jacquie. It’s urgent. I fucked up, and I need to apologize.”
“The bait shop has some nice carnations. Usually.”
“Already tried that. Didn’t take.”
She gives me a stern stare, like if the blue carnations didn’t do it, I must really be in the shit.
“Jacquie. Please.”
She inhales long and hard, pursing her lips tight. “I’ve got my bowling group in twenty minutes.” She points backward toward the freezers, and I see a turquoise bowling shirt hanging on the back of a door. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have time.” She starts undoing her apron, which is a smudgy, colorful explosion of frostings. “Like I said, come back tomorrow. I’ll be glad to do whatever you’d like then.”
I pull out my wallet and open the billfold. “I’ll pay your overtime. I’ll pay your lane fees. I’ll buy you a new goddamned pair of bowling shoes. Whatever you want.” I put a fifty on the counter, next to the crumbly remains of some free cookies. “I just need a cake, tonight, with a message written on it.”
She looks at the money and then back at me.
“Jacquie. We’re talking about…” What the hell are we talking about? Chemistry? Sparks? That feeling in my gut that I’ve never felt before? Happiness? No, it’s more than that, and there’s only one word for it. “Love, Jacquie. We’re talking about love.”
Holy fuck. As soon as I say it, I know it’s true. Just a few days with Penny and I’m saying the word I’ve never said before—the one I never thought I’d ever say at all.
She lowers her nose, crumpling her chin into her throat. “Love?”
“Love. Like love-at-first-sight, different-planet, just-like-that love.”
She sighs hard, considering the cash. And then finally she untangles her hairnet from her palm, slipping it over her crunchy curls. “Five minutes. Pick out your cake. I’ve only got time for writing, though. No extra flowers. No balloons. No decoration. No sprinkles. We’re clear?”
“Jacquie, you’re a life saver,” I say, and pull a small round cake, decorated with pink roses, from the display shelf below. I slide it across the bakery case as she reties her apron. Then she takes a pad of paper and hands me a pen.
“Print what you want. Nice and clear. No cursive. I’m not letting one of my cakes become a hashtag bakery fail, all right?” She puts on a pair of plastic food service gloves and pops the lid off the cake. She sets it on a pedestal to the left of the register.
I pick up the pen and look at the blank pad, thinking about what I want to say and how.
It isn’t Shakespeare. It’s the truth. Six words does the job. When I’m finished, I put the pad on the other side of the case. “There.”
Her gloves crinkle as she reads it, and then she recoils a little. She gives me a shame on you shake of her head. “Sir, this is a family establishment. I can’t write that on a cake.”
I pull another fifty out of my wallet. “How about now?”

 



AP new -about the author.jpg

Meet Nicola Rendell

Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.
Author Links

 

ArdentProse_LogoMain.jpg
 

 

Meet Me Under the Stars – Coming Soon from KD Proctor: Cover Reveal!

Today I have the pleasure of hosting the cover reveal for KD Proctor’s MEET ME UNDER THE STARS, releasing on July 18, 2017 from BookFish Books! Check out this beauty…

Meet Me Under the Stars, front book cover

MEET ME UNDER THE STARS

Author: KD Proctor
Genre: NA Romance
Release Date: July 18, 2017
Publisher: BookFish Books (www.bookfishbooks.com)
Cover Designer: Anita B. Carroll, Race-Point US (www.race-point.com)

Synopsis

When ratings for her popular DIY show start to circle the drain after the sudden death of her sister, Charlotte “Charlie” Conti has only one mission—to plan a comeback. But her sister had other plans. As part of the will, Charlie must work with him  to create a memorial scholarship in her sister’s memory. The same him  Charlie fell in love with three years ago while working at a summer camp.

The same him she dumped to protect his heart.

Sexy British player, Nate Walsh, has sixty days to find a new job or he’ll be deported back to England where he’s no longer welcome. He doesn’t have time to work on a memorial scholarship with her. The same her  who shattered his heart without explanation or warning.

The same her  he’s never gotten over.

Unable to agree on a benefactor for the scholarship, Nate and Charlie challenge each other to a winner-takes-all competition. They both know the only way to win is to turn up the heat and tease one another with the one thing they both want: each other. But as sparks fly, their true feelings resurface. Nate and Charlie must decide if their love is worth the effort or if they’ll allow their disastrous past mistakes to destroy their chance at forever.

Meet KD Proctor

KD Proctor

KD Proctor loved college so much that when it came time to graduate, she didn’t want to leave.  Trading in her textbooks for student handbooks and policy manuals, she began a career in College Student Personnel and she fulfilled her wish to stay on a college campus forever.  She always joked that one day she’d write a book about college students, never expecting that to come true!

KD lives in West Central, Minnesota with her husband and fur-kids.  She likes to write fun twists on the usual tropes that we all love. Her characters are smart, funny, and always swoony.  And yes. They always get their happily ever after.

Before being accepted for publication, MEET ME UNDER THE STARS (formerly titled IF YOU’RE EVER IN TOWN) was the 2016 YARWA winner for the New Adult category.

Rafflecopter link- Two $15 Amazon Gift Cards are up for grabs! http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/6d6904f27/?

Find KD here:

Website:  http://www.kdproctor.com

Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.com/kd_proctor/

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/kdpwrites

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/kd_proctor/

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/54410000-kd-proctor

The Wright Boss, a Contemporary Office Romance by K. A. Linde: Coming Soon!

Boss_FB_comingSoon (1)

Front Cover of The Wright Boss by K. A. Linde

About The Wright Boss

TWBoss iBooksThe Wright Boss is new stand-alone office romance from USA Today bestselling author K.A. Linde.

I’ve always had one rule:

Don’t mix business and pleasure.

But then Landon Wright comes home to his family’s construction company with a broken back and a beaten heart and ends up as my new sexy boss. As the office gets heated, I’m thinking about throwing the rulebook out the window.

If only there weren’t a million reasons this could never work.

We may have shared a single perfect kiss, but I can’t let our intense connection cloud my judgment. Not with everything I’ve worked for on the line.

Dating your boss is so very, very wrong…even if he feels so Wright.

ADD TO GOODREADS

Pre-Order Links:

Amazon  ✦ iBooks  ✦ B&N  ✦ Kobo  ✦ Google Play

Boss_Ad_PreOrder (1)

About K. A. Linde

KylaK.A. Linde is the USA Today bestselling author of more than fifteen novels including the Avoiding series and the Record series. She has a Masters degree in political science from the University of Georgia, was the head campaign worker for the 2012 presidential campaign at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and served as the head coach of the Duke University dance team. She loves reading fantasy novels, geeking out over Star Wars, binge-watching Supernatural, and dancing in her spare time.

She currently lives in Lubbock, Texas, with her husband and two super adorable puppies.

WEBSITE / FACEBOOK / TWITTER / INSTAGRAM

Fighting Attraction: A New Erotic Romance by Sarah Castille – Release Tour!

Release Banner for Fighting Attraction

Fighting Attraction is NOW LIVE!

Get YOUR copy today!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2nhXhlm

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2nBKYDF

B&N: http://bit.ly/2j5qgYa

iTunes: http://apple.co/2iKwXkv

Google Books: http://bit.ly/2jsS5NG

BAM: http://bit.ly/2j5oB4J

 

About Fighting Attraction

 

front cover, Fighting AttractionMy sweet, sexy Penny has a dark side. Just like me.

I will have her. And then I will lose her, and suffer a lifetime of regret.

Rampage. Everyone loves him. He is Redemption’s top heavyweight fighter and the biggest gossip in the gym. But he isn’t the teddy bear everyone thinks he is. He’s hiding a dark secret and he hates himself for it.

Twice a week, Rampage transforms into Master Jack, a notorious Dom only the most hard-core submissives will play with. How can he — a Southern gentleman, bred to respect and protect women — want to dominate them?

But Penny Worthington wants him. Beneath her pearls, kitten heels, and prim British exterior beats a tortured heart…Master Jack is the only one who can set her free.

An Excerpt from Fighting Attraction

Rampage tracks me with his gaze as I skirt around the people getting into position on the mat. He is breathtaking in his crisp, white gi, a worn black belt tied tight around his narrow waist. Some of the fighters wear T-shirts under their gis, but I am not so lucky. As I slow to a stop in front of him, I am forced to endure the visual feast of his truly magnificent chest.

Burn cheeks burn. “Um…hi.”

“Penny.” His voice is laced with amusement, thick with his Southern drawl.

“Blade Saw said you needed a partner.” I amaze myself at my ability to form a coherent sentence without collapsing in a puddle on the floor.

“So he sent me a white belt? Did I do something to piss him off?”

My cheeks heat, and I look up, only to fall into the warmth of his gaze. “No one else is free.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “I’m just messing with you, darlin’.”

My insides turn to mush, and I dip my head so he can’t see just how red my cheeks can get.

Rampage lies on his mat, propping himself up on his elbows in a semi-recline. His gaze sweeps over me as I get in position on my knees in front of him. He’s got guard, which means he has to make me submit, and I have the goal of passing guard to a dominant position and holding it for three seconds. The irony isn’t lost on me, but I don’t laugh because his eyes suddenly darken almost to black.

“You ready?”

Boy, am I ever. “Yes.” I try to play it cool, like I wasn’t shackled to the ceiling of his BDSM playroom in my bra and knickers last night, stroked into a frenzy, and ordered not to touch myself. Like that was going to happen.

“You understand the drill?” He licks his lips, like a predator about to feast. “When one of us succeeds in our goal, we stop, and the loser goes back to the end of the line. The winner stays out and takes guard on the next person in line.”

“You have to make me submit.” I toy with the ends of my very white belt. “Maybe I should just go to the end of the line now. You didn’t seem to have any trouble with that last night.”

“Come here and say that,” he murmurs, patting his belt. “I’ll give you the advantage of full mount.”

My mouth goes dry as I crawl up his body and seat myself over his belt, my knees spread uncomfortably wide on either side of his hips in a fully dominant position. Something hard and smooth presses against the juncture of my thighs, and I pray he is wearing a cup because the urge to rock against that delicious hardness is almost overwhelming.

Rampage’s corded neck tightens when he swallows. “Move up. Your knees should be under my arms.”

I shuffle up, and he grabs my hips and drags me forward until my knees are on either side of his chest and I can feel the heat of his breath on a place where heat should not be felt in the middle of a packed Brazilian jiu-jitsu class.

“I think maybe I’m too close.”

He heaves in a breath, his eyes glittering as he grips the inside edges of my gi. “Not close enough.” With a hard yank, he pulls me down until I am laying flat on his body, my breasts against his chest, my hips against his cup, my hands braced on either side of his head.

“Full mount is where you want to be when you’re grappling a bigger, stronger opponent.” His words whisper over me, his lips so close to mine I only have to drop a few inches to have a little taste.

“You can use the strength and power of your own body and the force of gravity to your advantage.” He pulls me right down, wraps his free hand around me, shifts his hips and rolls. Before I can catch my breath, I’m flat on my back and Rampage is on top of me.

“This is where you don’t want to be as a smaller grappler,” he says. “How are you going to get out of this?”

The question isn’t so much how am I going to get out of it but do I want to get out of it? And with Rampage’s hard, muscular body on top of me, his legs between my thighs, his hardness pressed tight against the juncture of my thighs, I’m not sure I do.

Rampage stills, and his eyes widen.

Bugger. Did I say that out loud?

“I’m not sure I want you to either.” His breath is warm against my ear. “But if you don’t move, we’ll both get kicked out of class. So, what are you going to do?”

“Um…overhook an arm, bridge and roll, then get on top into the closed guard?”

Rampage drops his weight, stealing my breath. “Won’t work against a larger opponent. You need to blast through my hips and use a bit of strength to overturn me. Strength you don’t have. Your best bet is to escape back to half guard.”

“Okay.” I wiggle just the tiniest bit against him, seeking more of that delicious pressure against my clit. With my vibrator on high, I was able to take the edge off this morning, but with Rampage on top of me, I’m wound up all over again.

A low growl rumbles in his throat. “You’d better be wiggling ’cause you’re moving into half guard,” he warns. “Now straighten up and make your transition.”

“This is as straight as I get,” I mutter. “I’m a woman. Women have curves. I happen to have a curve in my back, and it wants to stay that way.”

“I can feel your curves, darlin’. Every one of them. And it’s making it fucking hard to concentrate. Make your move ’cause if you don’t do it soon, I’ll have to go out and get a cup.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “You aren’t wearing a cup?”

“No.”

Don’t move. Don’t move.

I can’t help it. I move. Or, more accurately, I grind.

Wham. Rampage transitions into half guard and flips me onto my front. While I try to get my knees under me, he straddles me and grabs my hips in his huge hands. Heat surges through my body, and I groan quietly in my throat. “What are we doing?”

“Hips up,” he barks. “Ass down.”

“They’re connected,” I point out. “Where the hips go, the ass follows.”

Shilla snorts a laugh and drops to the floor beside me. “Like this.” She stretches her body out into a perfectly smooth, flat, plank position, holding it with one hand. On her knuckles. Then she rolls to show me what Rampage wants me to do.

“If my body was one solid sheet of muscle, I could do that.” I tense my muscles, try to force myself into a position my body is not meant to go. “However, I have a weakness for chocolate biscuits, lazy Sundays on a blanket in the park, scones with clotted cream, and chicken tikka with thick, white naan bread slathered in butter. Unfortunately, it lowers my middle center of gravity.”

Rampage’s hands slide over my stomach, his touch firm, arousing my whole body with the promise of what those fingers could do if they drifted just a little lower. My mind goes hazy with desire and I can’t tell if I’m flying or if my hands and feet are still on the floor. I don’t care about jiu Jitsu transitions. I don’t care that Shilla is watching us with curious eyes or that we’re supposed to be doing a group drill. I don’t care if the whole class is watching us. All I care about is feeling connected to Rampage and wanting this moment to last forever.

He lifts me right off the floor, as if I weighed nothing, and pulls me against his broad chest, my ass against his hips, feet barely touching the mat, his hands firm around my body. My stomach clenches. My heart pounds. He leans down until his mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel the heat of his breath.

“I told you not to touch yourself last night,” he whispers.

A flush of adrenaline tingles through my body, followed by a thrill of fear. “What are you going to do about it?”

About the Author

Sarah Castille is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Redemption Series, Ruin & Revenge Series, Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club series, Legal Heat series and the Club Excelsior series. A recovering lawyer with a fondness for dirty-talking alpha males, she now is a full-time writer, who lives on Vancouver Island.

 Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Logo for The Rock Stars of Romance