Overnight Sensation, by Sarina Bowen – Cover Reveal!

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Mark your calendar for January 22nd and be ready to experience an Overnight Sensation!

About Overnight Sensation…

Everyone knows the girl is off limits. But it’s so good to be bad.
 
There’s this girl…
Heidi and I have been trading hungry looks all year, and everything she does makes me smile. But I don’t do girlfriends, and I certainly can’t get involved with the league commissioner’s daughter. I need shots on goal, not a hookup and a widely misunderstood paparazzi photo.
Can I resist her, though? The way she teases me should be a game penalty for interference with my libido.There’s this guy…
Jason wants me, but he won’t admit it. That man looks at me the way a hockey player eyes the lunch buffet after practice–and I love it.
But when victory is finally within my grasp, I blow it and humiliate myself. Even then I can’t even avoid him–as the team intern, I’m in constant view of his hard body and cocky smile.
I need another chance. Jason Castro is about to learn the true meaning of an overnight sensation.

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A Taste of Overnight Sensation…

I’m used to being a good girl. I never refuse Daddy’s calls, and I never drink shots of tequila with the team in the bar.

Tonight, though? It’s time for a change. Take that, Daddy. And who knew I could slug back tequila like a party girl?

The problem is that I don’t know what to do next. I’ve never had a one-night stand. And every time Jason looks me up and down with those sinful eyes, I feel a little thrill of excitement.

And—fine—nerves. Although the tequila will help with that.

Besides, when you need a job done right, you’re supposed to hire an expert. And that’s what I want from Jason Castro. He’s the most notorious hookup artist on the team. He’s hot as blazes, and a real smooth-talker. I like everything about him, from his rich, bronze-toned skin to his hypnotic brown eyes.

He can talk me through it. I’m a quick study.

And I’m not a virgin. There have been boyfriends—four of them. But not one of them ever managed to… There’s no polite way to say it. Nice Southern girls aren’t supposed to speak in detail about sex. But let’s just say I’ve never been very satisfied by my sexual experiences so far.

So this is not an opportunity to be squandered. In fact, it’s time to up the ante. Just because I don’t have a whole lot of experience seducing men doesn’t mean I’m clueless about life in general.

Slowly, I ease my body a little closer to his. Two inches, maybe. Then I smile at him.

And—holy heck—the results are instantaneous. His eyes sweep down my body. And it’s almost as if he touched me with his hands, too. I feel that gaze burning me up everywhere it lands. Then he looks up again and gives me a hot smile. We’re having an entire conversation without words.

This is a revelation. I feel bold and a little wild.

“So what happens next, Hot Pepper?” he asks.

Oh my. That thumping sound is my heart taking off like a jackrabbit running a fifty-yard dash. I thought I had some more time to get used to the idea before we actually made our move.

“Are you gonna stay in Brooklyn and finish your internship, even if it causes family strife?”

“Oh,” I say slowly, because, whoops! I’m the one who’s gotten ahead. “I’ll stick with the internship. Heck, yes. I have no marketable skills.” My internship doesn’t pay very much. But I can live in Daddy’s Manhattan apartment and ride the subway to work.

“Good for you,” Jason says.

“It’s an easy decision,” I agree. “I need to start living differently, or I’m in danger of spending the rest of my life trying to please other people.”

“That’s no good,” he agrees. We’re still standing way too close together, and we’re still flirting. But I can tell he’s actually listening.

“I was deeply unhappy at school last year. And my parents didn’t care. You know what’s funny?” I can hear myself talking too much, but his attentiveness encourages me. “When I was a teenager I actually took classes on how to please people. It’s called charm school.”

His deep laugh vibrates through my belly. “To learn to be charming? I can already tell you got an A-plus.”

“That’s natural ability,” I tease. “But they taught us etiquette—which fork to use first and how to set a table for six courses. How to daintily remove an olive pit from your mouth. How to introduce two people when there’s an imbalance of power.”

“How do you do that?” he asks, leaning in just a few millimeters closer.

“You’re supposed to address the person of higher rank first. ‘Mr. Important Person, I would like to introduce Mr. Lesser-person.’ And then you offer any further details that are appropriate to the situation.” I can smell his aftershave. It’s clean and spicy. I have the strangest urge to lean in and kiss his angular jaw.

“Who knew?” He moves imperceptibly closer. “And now I’m wondering how many times I’ve been put in my place like that without realizing it.”

“Oh, please,” I tease him. “Try being the office intern for a day. I might as well wear a nametag that says, Hello My Name Is Lesser Person.”

“What else did they teach you at charm school?”

“How to foxtrot. The proper way to phrase a wedding invitation. Penmanship. How to dance with a boy you don’t like in order to save his feelings. In other words, how to be a good girl even when you don’t want to be.” The more I think about it, the more it sounds like brainwashing.

“Hmm,” Jason whispers. We’re so close together now that the word vibrates against my cheek. And then he leans in and lets his lips coast past my temple. It’s so faint that it can’t even be called a kiss. But it makes me shiver just the same.

No wonder this man gets any woman he wants. I’m practically quivering for him, and he hasn’t even kissed me.

Then his voice drops low, and he asks, “Would you rather be a bad girl, Heidi?”

Holy heck in a handbag! It’s the cheesiest line ever, but my girl parts shimmy all the same.

And then he puts his mouth right beside my ear. “Are you—” He drops his voice to barely a whisper. “—thinking of wearing white after Labor Day?”

Front Cover-Overnight Sensation

Shimmy Bang Sparkle, by Nicola Rendell – Excerpt Reveal!

EXCERPT REVEAL!!

Shimmy Bang Sparkle by Nicola Rendell

Release Date: August 21st

Add To Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/37916608-shimmy-bang-sparkle?

Pre-Order Shimmy Bang Sparkle Today!

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About Shimmy Bang Sparkle

To catch a thief…or fall for one?

All Nick Norton wants is to stay on the straight and narrow…and never get caught stealing again. Then he lays eyes on her: Stella Peretti—100 percent sexy and absolutely irresistible. Especially when he sees her smooth moves lifting a two-karat diamond. Nick realizes he’s found the sparkling woman of his dreams—one so perfect for him it’s almost criminal.

The Shimmy Shimmy Bangs are master jewel thieves who are planning the heist of the century. And Shimmy leader, Stella, isn’t about to let anyone—even if he is a hunky, tatted-up studmuffin—get in her way. But when two of her girls are put out of commission, Stella realizes that Nick isn’t just a red-hot distraction. He might be the answer to her pilfering prayers.

Now, Nick and Stella are putting everything on the line for one last job. But when two thieves have this much chemistry, it’s only a matter of time before somebody’s heart gets stolen.

 

An Excerpt from Shimmy Bang Sparkle

Two hours later, I was standing in a department store in Palm Desert, wearing gray dress pants, a pair of Italian loafers that squeaked when I walked, a light blue button-up shirt, and . . .

Suspenders.

When she’d picked them out, I’d said, “Oh, fuck no,” but as she stood in front of me outside the men’s dressing room, buttoning them into the slacks and making helpless groans and moans, I knew I didn’t have the strength to tell her no for real. At this rate, I’d be buying dipped fruit and suspenders for the rest of my life, and honestly . . .

I was psyched about it. When I turned to check myself out in the mirror, I realized the suspenders didn’t look so bad. Not at all. They looked sharp. Old-fashioned in the right way, like out of Peaky Blinders. But I was an ex-con who weighed 275 pounds and drove a motorcycle. I couldn’t be wearing suspenders, for Chrissake.

“It’s a big ask, Stella,” I said, eyeing her as she riffled through a rack of dress shirts. Over her shoulder was a dog carrier bag she’d brought with her, pink-and-white with black paw prints. Priscilla had nodded off and was slowly sliding down into the bag, her lip stuck on the top edge.

Stella froze with one finger perched on a hanger hook as she chewed an enormous chunk of apple, moving it around in her mouth so that it expanded the inside of her cheek. “I know,” she said, with her palm covering her overstuffed mouth. “But just look at you.”

As she said it, a woman approached, pushing a stock cart. When she glanced in my direction, she promptly drove the cart right into a mannequin, and its arm popped off. That, in turn, knocked over a second mannequin, which knocked over a third. Everything the lady did just made it all so much worse. I stepped in to stop the domino-mannequin effect, while Stella stood next to the shirts with a big told you so smile on her face. The woman clutched an arm and a foot, and stared at me, as I tried to reposition a mannequin in a fuzzy track suit on its stand.

“Oh sir, that ensemble is very nice!” she cooed, with big Bambi eyes. Her gaze went from my tattoos to the suspenders, to the pants, and back again.

“You like it?” I asked as I rolled up my sleeves.

The woman gulped. “I do. Very much. Very much.”

Stella circled back around a table covered with dress shirts, and I saw that in her hand she was holding a fedora—like a stylish hipster sort of thing. Not my jam at all.

“Oh no you don’t,” I growled, teasing her, trying to snatch it out of her hands. But she pressed her body up against mine, and instinctively I pulled her into me. She took advantage of me being a fucking sucker for her body, and put the hat on my head. Her eyes lit up, and she leaned back in my arms. Then she said to the salesgirl. “What do you think?”

The salesgirl didn’t even speak. Just dropped a plastic mannequin arm and smiled. Stella made a long, adorable, “Mmmhmmmm!” as she slipped from my grasp, and headed off toward cocktail dresses.

Once I’d changed, and made was sure the woman wasn’t going to knock over another row of mannequins, I followed along behind Stella, weaving and dodging between racks and displays. Stella held up a stunning little black dress, classy and with a slit up a side that was mouthwatering even on the hanger. But then, behind her, there it was. The dress. Little black dresses were fine, but we were going out on the town for our first real date, and that dress was the one. A showstopper. So I shook my head at the black one in her hand, and Stella rumpled up her eyebrows. She put the dress back on the rack, plunged her hand into her purse, and emerged holding the apple on its stick. She took a bite, and stuck it back in its bag, and turned her attention to a strapless red number that would’ve looked great on her, no doubt. But still, it wasn’t the dress.

I tickled her side to get her attention, and when she turned to me, I pointed behind her, at a two-story atrium. The mannequin was set up on a round platform, with a spotlight on it, next to a piano that wasn’t being played. The dress was nothing but rhinestones, with thin jeweled straps coming up from a plunging neckline.

Stella hooted and approached the dress while laughing and shaking her head. “I can’t possibly wear this,” she said, and ran her fingertips over the jeweled front. “I’m not sure anybody can wear this.”

“Oh yeah,” I said as I circled her. “You most definitely can.”

I took the first dress off the nearby rack and held it up. The tag said XS/S. Seemed about right. I held it out, imagining her in it. The very idea made me start to get hard. I let it dangle from my finger and waited for her to take it.

She grabbed the size tag of the dress I was holding. A huge laugh shot out of her mouth, echoing around the marble foyer. “Oh you,” she said, shaking her head, and then grabbed the dressed marked M/L. She took the dog bag off her shoulder, and I transferred it to mine. Priscilla was out cold, snoring softly. I gave her tummy a little scratch as Stella headed off to the ladies’ fitting rooms.

While she was gone, I picked out a gorgeous light-pink teddy for her, and a pair of black panties that had a red ribbon up the back, corset-style. I was thinking through what it’d be like to pull that ribbon off with my teeth while she had them on when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I don’t think I can pull this off.

Let me see.

I look like I just got Bedazzled.

Let me see.

I feel like my phone case.

Let me see.

Or like a disco ball.

Let me see.

Or like the rhinestone aisle at Michaels.

Stella . . .

I can’t wear a bra OR panties!

You’re getting the fucking dress.

I can’t stop thinking and talking about this clever story! Read my review of Shimmy Bang Sparkle here:

Book Cover for Shimmy Bang SparkleShimmy Bang Sparkle is wicked sexy fun from cover to cover, with enough tension to keep you riveted, enough heat to set your Kindle on fire, a heavy dose of heart, and a lot of humor. I read it on a road trip and missed most of the scenery because I couldn’t put it down. I also sprinted past my data limit and kept on going.

SBS has a unique storyline–a comedic, romantic, sometimes emotional contemporary Robin Hood tale with a gutsy female as the lead. There are hilarious, relatable, well-developed primary and secondary characters, and if that isn’t enough, there’s also an adorable dog. It’s a non-stop adventure, in alternating POV, with masterful banter and hilarious internal monologues.

Nick and Stella are a perfect match: sexy, passionate, and smart. From the moment they meet, their chemistry is off the charts. Fans of “insta-love” may object, but Nick falls fast and hard for Stella, for some very good reasons: he respects her, admires her, and understands her. He is willing to risk his freedom to give Stella the life she deserves, and Stella is willing to do the same.

The stakes are also high for Stella, who’s left to pull off the heist without her usual partners-in-crime, the Shimmy Shimmy Bangs. But Nick is a perfect companion for busy days of plotting and planning, and for hot, hot desert nights full of passion and romance.

I don’t want to spoil any surprises – and there are plenty of them in this wonderful read – so all I will say is if you want a perfect, funny, fast-paced, and suspenseful summer romantic read, look no further. Five sexy stars.

About Nicola Rendell

Bestselling author Nicola Rendell loves writing naughty romantic comedies. After receiving a handful of degrees from a handful of places, she now works as a professor in New England. Nicola’s work has been featured in USA Today’s Happy Ever After and the Huffington Post. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. Her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady, but she’s totally okay with that. She is represented by Emily Sylvan Kim at the Prospect Agency.

Connect with Nicola

Website: http://nicolarendell.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorNRendell/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorNRendell

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15292581.Nicola_Rendell

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Nicola-Rendell/e/B01JCVXOAU/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/nicola-rendell

 

Studly Period: An Exciting New Addition to the Ivy Years Series by Sarina Bowen!

Announcing…

Studly Period

A brand new serial delivered straight to your email inbox from bestselling author

Sarina Bowen

About Studly Period…

She’s a brilliant writing tutor. Too bad she’s tongue-tied every time he sits down in front of her…

There are 1016 people in the freshman class at Harkness College. I can’t be the only socially awkward nerd girl virgin among them. Right?

It’s time I learn to talk to guys without blushing and stammering. So I take a confidence-building job at the student tutoring center. Twelve bucks an hour, plus human interaction. What could go wrong?

A fun-loving French Canadian hockey hunk, that’s what.

When Pepe St. George sits down at my tutoring table, my brain shuts off and my mouth goes right into hyperdrive. Even the sound of my name on his lips—Josephine—gives me a mini orgasm.

I want to hand him my V-card. But all I manage to hand him is…my thesaurus. And my dignity. All seems lost, until I hatch a plan to get him alone…

How it works…

Beginning on Tuesday, March 20th, you will get one chapter each week, straight to your email inbox! Anyone who signs up midstream will immediately receive links to previous chapters. No reader will be left behind!

An excerpt from Studly Period…

“Bonjour.” The deep voice—from right above me—startles me so badly that I jump. My phone goes clattering to the desktop as I whip my chin upward to see whoever snuck up on me. 

Désolé!” he says. “I should come back later?”

“No,” I say, fumbling my phone back into my bag. “Please sit down.” 

My heart is banging against my ribs, and not only because he startled me. If possible, I’m even more awkward with men than with women. It’s worse if they’re attractive.

And this guy? Very attractive. Wow. He has a wide, handsome face and coal-dark eyes ringed by impressively thick lashes, and a broad face. Broad shoulders. 

Broad everything. Wow. He must eat a lot of protein. And now I’m staring as he arranges himself in the chair opposite me and draws out a folder. He’s really handsome. One of the BPs, for sure. 

I can’t stop staring. There’s something rugged about him that’s hard to describe. There’s color in his cheeks—at least the part that’s not covered with dark scruff. And his biceps bulge from the sleeves of his T-shirt. He reminds me of a superhero going incognito, concealing his identity among the ordinary college students. 

Though the muscles can probably be explained by the logo on his T-shirt—Harkness Hockey. 

It’s always the jocks who need tutoring. I swear. Nadia I have a disagreement about this. She says that jocks are used to coaching, and thus accept tutoring help more readily than the general population.

“I think they’re just not as smart,” I always tell her.

She just shakes her head. “You say that, but you’re still intimidated by them. So which is it?”

Indeed.

“How can I help you,” I whisper up at this handsome giant. 

He frowns, and then folds massive hands onto the desk between us. “Excusez-moi?” 

People always tell me my voice is soft. That I’m hard to hear. He must agree, because he leans forward, those big, dark eyes blinking in close proximity. It doesn’t help the knee-knocking, teeth-rattling nerves that overtake me whenever a beautiful man looks at me.

Get a grip, Josie. “How can I help you today,” I ask carefully.

Bon. I have the paper due for English. And my English is not so excellent. So I hope you will help me find all the places I fuck it up. I bring it…” He opens a folder and rifles through some papers.

For a long moment I just blink at him. “Your English…” Did he just say that he didn’t speak the language?

“When I come to Harkness last year? I don’t speak much English at all,” he says, dropping a rough draft of an essay on the table between us. “Please help me find zhe places where I fuck up the grammar.” 

His honesty has stunned me. The Harkness students I’ve met so far would never admit to any kind of weakness. In fact, they tell me that most students wait until their grades are in jeopardy to find the tutoring center at all. 

And I don’t blame them. Struggling? That’s shameful. Harkness is a top-notch school where everyone worships at the alter of intellectual exceptionalism. With an admissions rate that hovered around nine percent, having a big brain is the only way to get in. 

Or at least I thought it was. Every year, something like a thousand valedictorians get rejections from Harkness. Who would dream of implying that he isn’t as qualified as the next student? 

This guy.

More in this series…

The Ivy Years novels are a series of inter-connected stand-alone stories. The first book is The Year We Fell Down, available at: