✴🔥✴Falling for his Best Friend by Katee Robert✴🔥✴

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Meet Avery & Drew in Katee Robert’s newest sexy standalone from Entangled Brazen!

NOW AVAILABLE!

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He’s going above and beyond the call of duty…

Avery Yeung’s biological clock just went off early. Thanks to her family’s medical history, she’s running out of time to get knocked up. And the only guy within donating distance? Her overprotective-and irritatingly hot-best friend. So clearly she needs an anonymous donor…

Anonymous donor? Over Sheriff Drew Flannery’s dead body. While daddyhood will never be in the cards for a man with his past, Drew won’t let Avery shop for a “popsicle pop.” He’ll do what’s right for his best friend bydoing his best friend. But only if they do it properly.

But there’s nothing “proper” about it. Between the bed, the kitchen counter, and against his squad car, Avery and Drew are having the hottest sex ever. They can’t get enough of it-or each other. And without knowing it, they’ve crossed the one line that could ruin their friendship forever…

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She ran her fingers over his chest, enjoying his well-defined pecs. Drew was in killer shape, and his upper body could seriously fill out a T-shirt. She leaned down and flicked his nipple with her tongue, before moving further south.

 

His breathing changed as she hovered over the waistband of his sweats, saving her from the debate of if she was really going to make a move on him while he was sleeping. “You going to stop there?”

 

She looked up to find his eyes open. Stop? Not a chance. “I’m considering.”

 

“Keep it up and I might have to jump you instead.”

 

No way was she missing this chance. “Shh. It’s my turn to drive things tonight.”

She hooked his waistband and pulled it down over his hips, the sight of his cock temporarily stealing her breath.

 

She’d seen him naked a few times, but the impact only seemed to be growing instead of decreasing like it should. Nothing about this was going like it should, from the sex to the forbidden emotions welling up in her chest. She didn’t want to think about that, though.

 

Not now, maybe not ever.

 

The only thing she did want occupying her headspace was how good it felt to touch him. She slid down a little further to get comfortable and then gave his cock a slow stroke. Truth be told, she could play with him all night, but she didn’t think his patience would hold for that kind of treatment unless he was tied down.

 

An idea for later maybe…

 

She licked up the underside of his cock, earning a hissed breath. Emboldened, she took him in her mouth, as deep as she could manage, mirroring the slow stroke she’d just done with her hand. Drew cursed, his hands spasming in her hair.

 

Power beat through her. She could drive him out of his mind like this, with just her mouth and her hands. It would be the easiest thing in the world. She moved to shallower strokes, using her tongue to swirl around the head of his cock.

 

“Avery, I—” She met his gaze as she licked him, and Drew cursed again, louder. “Holy fuck. Come here.”

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This was such a heart warming and HOT read!  The plot pulls you in especially after Avery discovers a sadness but trust me she will not let it bypass her. This was a story about two long time childhood friends/best friend as they venture to the line of lovers. The author gives you a full and deep story that I didn’t want to put down until the very last line.  The characters are exceptional and because of that deep bond I think is what made this story.  Avery is stubborn, feisty, and yes is not going to let anything stand in her way of having the one thing she wants most. A child!!!! Drew is every woman’s dream! Hes sexy, and will do anything for Avery.  However, his commitment is questionable when it comes to relationships! When he finds out Avery plans the author did such an excellent job because i could feel it through the pages. .. Will their friendship truly breach into the next stage or will Avery hard headedness keep her from her happy ever after and affect their friendship! I loved the bantor and hot scenes mixed in with the emotional touches that is described in this novel. It was a perfect blend!! It can be read as a standalone but is part of a series.  I am anxious to read the last one and see what else this amazing author has in store!

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Katee Robert

New York Times & USA TODAY Bestselling Author

Katee Robert learned to tell stories at her grandpa’s knee. Her favorites then were the rather epic adventures of The Three Bears, but at age twelve she discovered romance novels and never looked back.

Though she dabbled in writing, life got in the way—as it often does—and she spent a few years traveling, living in both Philadelphia and Germany. In between traveling and raising her two wee ones, she had the crazy idea that she’d like to write a book and try to get published.

Her first novel was an epic fantasy that, God willing, will never see the light of day. From there, she dabbled in YA and horror, before finally finding speculative romance. Because, really, who wouldn’t want to write entire books about the smoking-hot relationships between two people?

She now spends her time—when not lost in Far Reach worlds—playing imaginary games with her wee ones, writing, ogling men, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

Stalk Her:  Website | Facebook |Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram |Goodreads

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Release Day Blitz for Desire’s Deception by Author K. J. Coakley

Life is a series of chances and regrets. The weak falter, leaving the strong to suffer the wicked and depraved. Cole Stockton was a lion among lambs seeking penance for his dark past, and I was only too eager to escape my own.

It starts with a flicker in the distance. A slow burn that radiates a tireless beckoning. No matter how hard you fight to resist the allure, you succumb. Drawn in like a moth to a flame, only to watch your precious wings scorch and fade to dust.

I had thought there were only two lessons in life needed to survive.

One: Love, with everything you are.

Two: Live, for everything you dream.

But there was a third, and that was perhaps the toughest of all.

“Three.” His warm breath fans across my cheek as his fingers dig into my bare hips. “Fight, with everything you have.” The whip sails through the air and cracks across my sensitive flesh.

And fight I do, with everything I have

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Author Bio:

Author K. J. Coakley lives a life where she plays many roles…as most women do when they are a wife, mother, and caretaker of two rowdy dogs. But when she’s not working her nine to five gig, or spending time with her family, she can be found glued to her laptop where she loves to create worlds with sexy alpha males and brazen heroines. She is also an avid fan of heavy metal and rock music, and regularly attends music festivals.

Coakley received an Associate degree in Business Administration from Walters State Community College, and a Bachelor of Business Management degree from East Tennessee State University. Her debut novel Kairos is the inaugural installment of a new paranormal romance series.

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Shards Of Hope ~ Nalini Singh ~ Review ~ June 2, 2015

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Book 14: the Psy/Changeling series


The “smoldering heat, epic romance, and awesome action”* of Nalini Singh’s New York Times bestselling series continues as two Arrows find themselves caught in a chilling conspiracy that spans all three races…

Awakening wounded in a darkened cell, their psychic abilities blocked, Aden and Zaira know they must escape. But when the lethal soldiers break free from their mysterious prison, they find themselves in a harsh, inhospitable landscape far from civilization. Their only hope for survival is to make it to the hidden home of a predatory changeling pack that doesn’t welcome outsiders.

And they must survive. A shadowy enemy has put a target on the back of the Arrow squad, an enemy that cannot be permitted to succeed in its deadly campaign. Aden will cross any line to keep his people safe for this new future, where even an assassin might have hope of a life beyond blood and death and pain. Zaira has no such hope. She knows she’s too damaged to return from the abyss. Her driving goal is to protect Aden, protect the only person who has ever come back for her no matter what.

This time, even Aden’s passionate determination may not be enough—because the emotionless chill of Silence existed for a reason. For the violent, and the insane, and the irreparably broken…like Zaira.

*Jaci Burton, New York Times bestselling author

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This book turned me inside out! Nalini Singh is unsurpassed in her story telling and the unique world she has created is one of a kind. It is filled with so much action it will keep you reading late into the night. After all that Aden and Zaira have endured, this is their time. To see the beauty of their love unfold and all the firsts that come with it was just heart melting.
We also meet some new characters that I am dying to know more about! I love how this series keeps getting better and hotter!

Aden is the chosen leader of the lethal Arrow squad. A force to be reckoned with, but many doubt his strength and ability to lead. Aden has always worked in the shadows and earned the loyalty of his team mates. After the fall of Silence and the former leader of the Arrows that prided himself on his cruelty, the world as the Psy know it has changed. As Arrows they were tortured and trained to be cold and emotionless assassins. For the first time in their lives they can be more. Aden believes in a better future for his people. One where their young are brought up nurtured and for them to know that there is more to life than the endless pain of their conditioning. Unfortunately, there are some that are set in the old ways and wants the world to believe the Arrows are the monsters they all fear and that they can not adapt into society.
Zaira has always known Aden was special. That he was destined to do great things. He is the future and her horrid past would just hold him back. She believes herself damaged … Broken.
With her shields weakening since the fall of Silence, Aden unleashes all these deadly desires and emotions in her, she never knew she could feel.
Aden has always made a place for Zaira at his side. Zaria knows one thing that is certain. She will protect him from harm and give her life for his, but she must also protect him from herself. If she takes what Aden has freely offered like she longs to do, with her dangerously possessive ways she knows she will never let him go. Her tragic and tortured past holds so much rage she fears what could happen if she was to ever truly embrace emotion. She fears becoming one of the psychopathic killers that she herself has hunted for years. Aden refuses to let go of Zaria and is determined to fight for his chance at a normal life with the women that he loves.
Captured and on the run from a deadly enemy that is seeking to destroy the already fragile alliances between the Human, Psy and Changeling Packs. Aden is determined to prove to his people and to the world that they are more than the brutal killers they were bred to be.
The journey may be hard and long but he knows if he can have Zaira by his side it will finally be possible.

It was heart wrenching to see the Arrows come together for the future of their children. To step out of their comfort zone and embrace life for the first time. This spellbinding book will capture your heart and leave you counting down the days until the next one!

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Advance Excerpt
CHAPTER 1

Aden woke on a cold, hard floor, his head throbbing. Another man might have hissed out a breath, might have groaned, but Aden’s training was so ingrained that his sole response was to lift his lashes a bare sliver, only fully opening his eyes once he realized he was surrounded by darkness. He wasn’t, however, alone. He could hear breathing—quiet but jagged. As if the other person was trying to maintain silence, was unable to do so for reasons Aden couldn’t yet identify.

Remaining exactly where he was, he scanned outward with his telepathic senses . . . and had to capture a scream before it traveled to his vocal cords. The pain was blinding, the agony leaving his vision white. Controlling his breathing and his body through sheer strength of will, he fisted his hand, gritted his teeth, and made a second attempt, this time to reach the PsyNet, the sprawling psychic network that connected all Psy in the world but for the renegades. A Net connection would give him a viable way to alert the squad about his capture.

The backlash of pain almost led to a blackout.

Quietly lifting his arm when he could function again, white spots burning in his vision, he reached to the back of his head and the center of the starburst of pain. He expected to find blood-matted hair that denoted a cracked skull. What he discovered instead was a raised bump close to the lowest part of his skull, near the area that housed the cerebellum and beyond it, the brain stem. No, it wasn’t a bump but a scar—it shouldn’t have been there and it still felt tender.

That wasn’t the only anomaly. From the dryness in his throat and the stiffness of his limbs, Aden calculated that he must’ve been unconscious for hours. Long enough for the squad to realize he was missing and to locate him. Vasic alone should’ve been able to accomplish that. Except it appeared even the best teleporter in the Net hadn’t been able to lock on to his face, using it as an anchor to get to him.

The only other times Vasic had failed to lock on to people was when those individuals had created complex shields designed specifically to thwart teleporters capable of locking on to people rather than simply places, or if the individual concerned didn’t know his or her own identity—such as those whose minds were broken.

Aden’s mind was whole, but whatever it was that had been done to his brain via the barely healed incision he’d discovered, it had screwed up his psychic wiring. Vasic’s absence told Aden his psychic signature must’ve also been affected on a deep level. He knew of no surgical technique—or technology—that could achieve that aim without a full psychic brainwipe, but he didn’t make the mistake of thinking he knew everything.

He ran a mental checklist of his body and the items on it. All his weapons were gone, as were his belt and his boots. Whoever was behind this had been thorough.

Having maintained an ear on the other person breathing in the room, he crawled silently toward the rasp of sound. His cellmate hadn’t moved the entire time, and there was something in the unsteady rhythm of the breathing that had him certain the individual was hurt. With his eyes having adapted to darkness ameliorated only by a thin edge of light that came in under what must be a door, he could see that his cellmate’s body lay in a corner of the windowless room—as if it had been thrown there. That body was small and with the wrong proportions to be a man. Either a child or a woman.

Close enough now to see the curve of her hip, the fine line of her jaw, he realized it was a woman. A woman who smelled of blood. He moved his hand to her face, brushed away the dark curls that were impossibly soft . . . and found his wrist gripped in a punishing hold. “Move and I’ll rip out your throat.”

“Zaira,” he said in the same low whisper she’d used. “It’s—”

“Aden.” She released his wrist. “I’m injured.”

“How bad?”

“I was shot.” Taking his hand, she placed it on the viscous stickiness above her stomach, her thin but should-have-been-bulletproof top soaked with blood and her lightweight body armor missing. “It passed through the left side of my abdomen.”

Aden might not have any equipment or supplies, but he was still a trained field medic. “Do you have any source of light on you?” It was possible their captors had overlooked something.

“Negative. No tools or weapons. They even took my boots.”

He shifted so close to Zaira that, under any normal circumstances, he would’ve been invading her personal space. When he pushed up the long-sleeved black top that hugged her body, she didn’t protest. Her skin was clammy under his touch, and though he felt the edges of a bandage, it had clearly been an inexpert job—blood had soaked through, was continuing to do so. “I need to touch your skull.”

“No need. I’ve been cut, something done to my brain. I’m psychically blind. Any attempt to use those abilities results in extreme pain.” She took a shallow breath. “Since rescue hasn’t arrived, I’m assuming you’re in the same position.”

“Yes.” He checked her head wound to make certain it wasn’t bleeding, too, discovered a roughly sealed incision identical to his own. Their unknown captors had the technology to do brain surgery advanced enough to block psychic abilities, yet they’d left Zaira badly hurt and in pain? “They want you weak.”

“Yes.” Her next words were so quiet he heard them only because he was close enough to feel the soft warmth of her exhale. “I didn’t know it was you, but now that I do, I think our captors plan to use me to break you. One entered the room earlier, said, ‘He’ll talk or we hurt her,’ to another individual.”

“Arrows aren’t so easy to break.”

“And you aren’t fully Silent, Aden. You never have been.” Another strained breath. “Everyone in the squad knows that—now someone outside the squad has figured it out.”

Aden decided he would correct her about his Silence later. “Conserve your strength. I need to be able to count on you when we escape.” There was no “if.” They would escape.

“If you can get me a weapon,” Zaira said, “I’ll cover you as you go. I’m weak, will slow you down. You’ll do better on your own.” She said that as if it was a simple fact, as if she wasn’t talking about the end of her own life.

Leaning in until their noses almost touched, until she could see his eyes as he could see the jet-black darkness of hers, he said, “I don’t leave my people behind.” He knew what it was to be left behind, and though it had been done for the best of reasons it had marked him on a primal level. “We’ll go together.”

“You’re being irrational.”

It was a complaint he’d heard multiple times from her. And not because her own Silence was flawless.

The truth was that Zaira had never needed Silence. What had been done to her in childhood had caused her to retreat deep into her psyche, shoving her emotions into a dark hole in a bid to survive. In their place had grown an iron will and a harshly practical mind. Silence had only ever been a tool she used to create a civilized shell.

Without it, she was close to feral but no less ruthless, her brain having learned long ago to put survival above all else.

It made her the perfect soldier.

Some would say it also made her a psychopath, but they didn’t understand—unlike a psychopath, Zaira had the capacity to feel the full range of emotions. That capacity was in permanent cold storage, but it gave her a conscience regardless. It also gave her the capacity for unflinching loyalty: because Zaira’s violent survival instincts didn’t always equal her own survival. She’d already walked into the path of a hail of bullets aimed at him during an operation three years before, had barely survived her injuries. He wasn’t about to allow her to sacrifice herself for him again.

“You should’ve toppled me from the leadership years ago,” he said as he moved to lift up the bandage, see what he could make out of the wound. “My irrationality where my people are concerned is apt to continue.”

“I thought about it, but I don’t have the patience for politics.”

He knew that despite her icy words, Zaira would take down anyone who challenged his right to lead the squad. For him to lose her loyalty, he’d have to do something so horrific, he couldn’t even imagine what it might be. “How were you shot?” he asked, wiping away the memories of how close to death she’d come the last time. “How many hits?”

“One,” Zaira replied. “They came for me while I was some distance from the Venice compound. Five men. I blasted a telepathic request for assistance but no one made it to me in time.”

“How many did you kill?”

“Three. Fourth injured. Fifth would be dead, too, if he hadn’t made the shot.”

Five men against a very small woman and she’d nearly defeated them. Deadly and smart, she was one of Aden’s top people for a reason. Now her breathing grew harsher as he checked the edges of her wound by touch. “Must be a new bullet designed to penetrate our armor,” she said through what sounded like gritted teeth.

“Is this top made of the new material developed by Krychek’s company?” The thin and fabriclike innovation was meant to be as effective as much heavier body armor.

“No. I put myself low on the priority list—others on the frontline needed it more.”

Pressing the pads of his fingers on different parts of her abdomen, he asked her to tell him what hurt and what didn’t, and stumbled upon an unbandaged wound on her side. “I’m fairly certain the abdomen wound is the exit site,” he said after investigating it as carefully as he could, “but there are signs the bullet ricocheted inside you before it left your body.” Causing internal damage he couldn’t determine without a scanner. “Are you coughing up blood?”

“No.”

“That’s good.” Her abdomen was also not swollen or tense. “If there is internal bleeding, it’s not severe yet.” Pressing the bandage back into place, he pulled down her top, then shrugged off the leather jacket he was still wearing and got her into it. It was too big on her, and he rolled up the sleeves before she could ask him—Zaira would not want her hands hindered in case of a fight.

That done, he stripped off his T-shirt and, tearing it using brute force, managed to make wadding for the entry wound on her side. If he’d been wearing his uniform top, this would’ve been impossible, that material designed not to tear. It was as well he’d been in civilian dress except for his combat pants. Knotting together strips of fabric, he got it around her waist and tied the wadding into place. It’d provide some pressure at least, help stem the bleeding. “Too tight?”

A shake of her head.

“I’m going to try to stop the bleeding.” He had minor M abilities that meant he could seal some wounds, though he had no capacity to see inside a body to gauge injury.

“No,” Zaira said when he would’ve touched his hands to her skin. “That sucks energy. Save it. We’ll need it to get out of here.”

He didn’t like leaving her hurting and in pain, but she was right: he was a trained field surgeon and medic because his ability was so limited. It was useful when he had healthy backup, but it became a liability in a combat situation. Far better for him to rely on his skills. “Warn me if you’re about to lose consciousness,” he said before he realized a grim truth. “I need to test if my M abilities even work.” No matter if it was about healing the body, not the mind, it still required a psychic energy burn.

Pain was a hot poker down his spine, his vision blurred for over a half minute.

“No?” Zaira said softly.

“No,” he confirmed. All their psychic abilities were out of reach.

Tugging her top back down again over the makeshift bandage he’d created, he put his lips right against her ear, one of her curls brushing his nose. “How long will you last?” He was well aware that though her injury was bad, she wasn’t as frail as she’d made herself appear.

“Seven minutes at full capacity, but that capacity has been halved by the wound and the shock from the blood loss.”

That still made her a hundred times deadlier than most people on the planet. “We wait for a chance. My signal.”

“Agreed,” she said, just as there was a rattling sound.

Leaving Zaira on the floor in her guise of a small, weak, wounded creature, he rose to his feet. The light that poured into the room was dim, but it told him multiple things.

This room had no other exits and was created of hard plascrete.

There was a corridor outside, but no sounds of machinery—even the hum of background technology or traffic—invaded the room.

Either they were far from civilization or the plascrete was well insulated.

The heavily muscled man in the doorway was dressed in camouflage pants, a jacket of the same mottled shade, and black combat boots. He stood like a special ops soldier . . . stood like an Arrow.

Aden ignored the male’s masked face and took in his height, his body weight, his musculature, ran it against his mental database of Arrows. No match. He and Zaira hadn’t been betrayed from the inside, but this man was a high-level soldier. Black ops most likely.

He carried a weapon.

That was his weakness. He thought the weapon made him invulnerable.

Pointing that weapon at Aden, the male said, “Sit.”

Aden had noted the dented metal chair in the center of the cell at the same time that he noted the plascrete; he’d also weighed up its value as a weapon. Still calculating his options, he walked to the chair, took the seat. “If you’re intending to interrogate me,” he said, confirming the presence of another guard outside when that guard’s shadow hit the opposite wall, “you should know Arrows are trained to die rather than break.”

“Oh, you’ll talk. I have plenty of time and everyone has a breaking point.” Cold words. “From what I hear, Arrows are nothing if not loyal. This one—she means something to you.” Having walked into the room, he kicked Zaira’s body.

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nalini-singh-author

I was born in Fiji and raised in New Zealand. I also spent three years living and working in Japan, during which time I took the chance to travel around Asia. I’m back in New Zealand now, but I’m always plotting new trips. If you’d like to see some of my travel snapshots, have a look at the Travel Diary page (updated frequently).

So far, I’ve worked as a lawyer, a librarian, a candy factory general hand, a bank temp and an English teacher and not necessarily in that order. Some might call that inconsistency but I call it grist for the writer’s mill.

I’ve been writing as long as I can remember and all of my stories always held a thread of romance (even when I was writing about a prince who could shoot lasers out of his eyes). I love creating unique characters, love giving them happy endings and I even love the voices in my head. There’s no other job I would rather be doing. In September 2002, when I got the call that Silhouette Desire wanted to buy my first book, Desert Warrior, it was a dream come true. I hope to continue living the dream until I keel over of old age on my keyboard.

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🎉🎈🎊Happy Release ~The Vampire’s Penance by Jordan K. Rose🎉🎈🎊

The Vampire’s Penance (Romance In Central City Book 5)  Jordan K. Rose Author

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Exposure to sunlight, silver binds and colloidal silver can make any vampire’s existence worst than miserable. Not to mention photographic evidence of Rafe Valentino’s weakest moment is now being shared with every member of The Vampire Guard. In barely a few hours Rafe went from being one of the most terrifying creatures to walk the earth to requiring round the clock nursing care. Now, forced to rely on the company nurse he can’t avoid the feelings he’s denied. But simply because they exist, doesn’t make them right, and if she knew the truth about his past, she’d throw out her nursing pledge and put a stake through his cold heart.

Maddie Van Kool never wanted anything bad to happen to any member of The Vampire Guard, not at all. She’s a nurse. She wants them all healthy. But if one does become injured it’s her job to care for him. Even if he’s the man she’s been pining over for ten years, the same one who’s avoided her as if she were made of silver and sunlight.

Is two hundred fifty years of solitude punishment enough for his sins? Can Rafe forgive himself enough to love Maddie?

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This certainly was not the first time Maddie Van Kool had seen a naked man. On the contrary. As a nurse at Golden Pastures Nursing Home, she’d seen plenty of naked men. Of course, they’d all been damn close to 100 years old and wrinkly and dangly, but they were men, and she’d had the obligatory peek at their naked bodies while bathing them. You had to look if you were completing a skin assessment.

In nursing school there’d been other male patients who’d been on her assignments as she learned the proper care of catheters and surgical preparation and other such procedures that would leave a patient exposed.

However, there had not been one, not one that came even remotely close to competing with Raffaele Valentino. Not one. Ever.

The mold had certainly been broken when he was made. Six-two, dark hair, gray eyes. Broad shoulders and chest and nice everything else. He was, generally speaking, a sight of true perfection. Though, tonight was clearly not one of those nights.

She donned her rubber gloves, ensuring they came up and over the sleeves of her gown, which hung long enough to touch the tops of her rubber boots. Then she checked the gauge on the shower nozzle.

“I think it’s ready,” she said from behind her face shield. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Rafe growled then let out an annoyed sounding sigh. “Let’s get this done.”

Seated on the shower chair in the infirmary’s fifteen-foot shower he looked enormous. His muscular frame dwarfed the little plastic seat. Beneath the angry red and festering sores his shoulder muscles rippled. He’d insisted on using the shower chair instead of lying on the specially built table that would allow her to rinse him and turn him without disrupting him too much. He held on to the chair for dear life.

Maddie was certain if she bumped him, she’d knock him right out of the seat.

Stubborn. That was the second word that came to mind whenever she thought of Rafe. The first word was, of course, drop-dead-gorgeous, which, although technically three words always sounded like one when she thought of Rafe.

For as long as she’d known him, he’d been stubborn. Maddie wondered what he’d been like as a human. She’d never dared to ask, too afraid he’d tell her to mind her own business.

He wasn’t a man of many words, especially not with her.

She brought the shower hose up to the back of his head and let the delicate lukewarm water spray his hair.

Rafe hissed and jerked away. “Damn it woman! What’s the sprayer set on? Needle pricks?”

Turning the nozzle away, she apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s only set to mist. It doesn’t get any lighter than this.”

The arm rests creaked under his hands, yet, he sat up straight. “Turn it to an even flow. A full flush of water is better than thousands of tiny stings.” He faced forward, head angled down at his feet. “Didn’t they teach you that in nursing school?”

“No. We never covered the care of vampires.”

“You must have been absent that day.”

“I never missed a day.” She switched the nozzle to a full flow of water and checked the temperature once more. “And as I recall the class on post-mortem care did not even hint of vampires. We were trained to expect the dead to remain dead.”

His head bobbed. “Hhmmf.”

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Jordan loves vampires. But if you know anything about Jordan, you already knew that detail. What you didn’t know was it wasn’t long ago that she began writing about them.

A few years back Jordan received a copy of a popular vampire story from her husband as part of an anniversary gift. Eight weeks and eighteen vampire books later the idea for her first book, Perpetual Light came to her followed very quickly by Eva Prim.

Jordan is a member of the national Romance Writers of America organization and several chapters.

When she’s not writing about one vampire or another Jordan enjoys spending time with her husband, Ken and their lovable Labrador, Dino on the beautiful beaches of New England.

Sign up for my newsletter at http://www.jordankrose.com/

Follow her tweets. https://twitter.com/#!/jordankrose

Like her on Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jordan-K-Rose-Author/307285709309992

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Connect on Google + – https://plus.google.com/u/0/109182255192009311324/posts

Join Eva’s Snack of the Week Club for updates on coming events and sneak peeks at Book Two of The Eva Prim Series. http://evaprim.com/snackofWeek.html

Prim & Proper April 2014

Book 2 of The Alliance coming late 2014

✴🔹✴Lip Service by Adele Downs✴🔹✴

Lip Service - Banner

BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – LIP SERVICE

AUTHOR – Adele Downs

GENRE – Contemporary Romance

PUBLICATION DATE – April 28, 2015

LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – Short Novel 40,550

PUBLISHER – Boroughs Publishing Group

 

Lip Service - Book Cover
BOOK SYNOPSIS

Some ghosts won’t take “yes” for an answer.

Jack Harris has loved Legs Anderson since they were kids. Now that he has her in his bed, he has no intention of letting her go. Aunt Ada has other ideas, even from the grave.

GETTING BETWEEN JACK…

Orphaned at a young age, Legs Anderson owes her Aunt Ada everything. The stoic old lady raised her, and Ada’s warnings about men—and the Harris boys in particular—have stuck, even after her death. Of course, that could be because Ada stuck around, too.

…AND HIS LEGS

Patience is not one of Jack Harris’s virtues, and he’s waited too long to start a life with the woman he’s loved since childhood instead of them just knocking boots. Now Ada is interfering from beyond the grave, haunting the old Victorian house she bequeathed to her niece and reinforcing Legs’s fears of commitment. But Jack won’t give up. No matter what trouble may follow, the house will be renovated, Ada will learn to let go, Legs will put her money where her mouth is…and then Jack’ll put his lips everywhere else.

 

BUY & TBR LINKS

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EXCERPT

The roar of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle on Rachel’s block and the rev of a throttle in her driveway announced Jack’s arrival. Legs tried to appear nonchalant when he walked through the poolside gate, but the sight of his sun-streaked hair and tanned, muscular good looks nearly knocked her off her seat. She eased her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to get a better look.

When he stepped into the pool area dressed in black jeans, black biker boots, and a white muscle shirt that framed his pumped-up shoulders and biceps, she caught her breath. Everyone in the group said “hey” and Rachel offered him a cold drink, but his focus had remained on her. He slid his sunglasses on top of his head and nodded in her direction.

Legs remembered his gaze meeting hers before his attention strayed to her gold and black bikini then savored every inch of her skin. An appreciative smirk curled his lips and desire flashed in his beautiful blue eyes. He took a long pull of the soft drink someone handed him and then set the can down on the patio table. He looked her way and said, “Want to go for a ride?” The invitation came out like a dare.

AdeleDownsPublicityPhoto (2)

AUTHOR BIO

Adele Downs writes contemporary romance novels, some with a touch of magic, inside the office of her rural Pennsylvania home. She is a former journalist, published in newspapers and magazines inside the USA, UK, and Caribbean.

Adele is an active member of Romance Writers of America and her local RWA chapter where she serves as a past-president. She has written several articles for RWR magazine (Romance Writers Report) and has presented workshops for writers.

When Adele isn’t working on her current project, she can be found riding in her convertible or reading a book on the nearest beach.

 

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

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✴🔹✴Liberty by Kim Iverson Headlee ✴🔹✴

liberty

BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – Liberty, second edition

AUTHOR – Kim Iverson Headlee

GENRE – Historical Romance (ancient Rome)

PUBLICATION DATE – Dec. 2014

LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 462 pages/118K words

PUBLISHER – Pendragon Cove Press

COVER ARTIST – Natasha Brown

BOOK INFOhttp://kimiversonheadlee.blogspot.com/p/liberty.html

 

BOOK SYNOPSIS

They hailed her “Liberty,” but she was free only to obey—or die.

Betrayed by her father and sold as payment of a Roman tax debt to fight in Londinium’s arena, gladiatrix-slave Rhyddes feels like a wild beast in a gilded cage. Celtic warrior blood flows in her veins, but Roman masters own her body. She clings to her vow that no man shall claim her soul, though Marcus Calpurnius Aquila, son of the Roman governor, makes her yearn for a love she believes impossible.

Groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps and trapped in a politically advantageous betrothal, Aquila prefers the purity of combat on the amphitheater sands to the sinister intrigues of imperial politics, and the raw power and athletic grace of the flame-haired Libertas to the adoring deference of Rome’s noblewomen.

When a plot to overthrow Caesar ensnares them as pawns in the dark design, Aquila must choose between the Celtic slave who has won his heart and the empire to which they both owe allegiance. Knowing the opposite of obedience is death, the only liberty offered to any slave, Rhyddes must embrace her arena name—and the love of a man willing to sacrifice everything to forge a future with her.

 

BUY & TBR LINKS

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Liberty - Book CoverEXCERPT

FINGERS CRAMPING AND shoulders aching from having wielded the pitchfork all day, Rhyddes ferch Rudd tossed another load of hay onto the wagon. Sweat trickled down her back, making the lash marks sting. Marks inflicted by her father, Rudd, the day before because eighteen summers of anguish had goaded her into speaking her mind.

Physical pain couldn’t compare with the ache wringing her heart.

She slid a glance toward the author of her mood. He stood a few paces away, leaning upon his pitchfork’s handle in the loaded wagon’s shade to escape the July heat as he conversed with her oldest brother, Eoghan. She couldn’t discern their words, but their camaraderie spoke volumes her envy didn’t want to hear.

Her father’s gaze met hers, and he lowered his eyebrows. “Back to work, Rhyddes!” On Rudd’s lips, her name sounded like an insult.

In a sense, it was.

Her name in the Celtic tongue meant “freedom,” but the horse hitched to the hay wagon enjoyed more freedom than she did. Her tribe, the Votadini, had been conquered by the thieving Romans, who demanded provisions for their troops, fodder for their mounts, women for their beds, and coin to fill the purses of every Roman who wasn’t a soldier.

If those conditions weren’t bad enough, for all the kindness her father had demonstrated during her first two decades, Rhyddes may as well have been born a slave.

She scooped up more hay. Resentment-fired anger sent wisps flying everywhere, much of it sailing over the wagon rather than landing upon it.

“Hey, mind what you’re doing!”

Owen, her closest brother in age and in spirit, emerged from the wagon’s far side, hay prickling his hair and tunic like a porcupine. Rhyddes couldn’t suppress her laugh. “’Tis an improvement. Just wait till the village lasses see you.”

“Village lasses, hah!” Sporting a wicked grin, Owen snatched up a golden fistful, flung it at her, and dived for her legs.

They landed in the fragrant hay and began vying for the upper hand, cackling like a pair of witless hens. When Owen thought he’d prevailed, Rhyddes twisted and rolled from underneath him. Her fresh welts stung, but she refused to let that deter her. He lost his balance and fell backward. She pounced, planting a knee on his chest and pinning his wrists to the ground over his head.

Victory’s sweetness lasted but a moment. Fingers dug into her shoulders, and she felt herself hauled to her feet and spun around. Owen’s face contorted to chagrin as he scrambled up.

“Didn’t get enough of the lash yestermorn, eh, girl?” Rudd, his broad hands clamped around her upper arms, gave her a teeth-rattling shake.

When she didn’t respond, he released her and rounded on Owen. “As for you—”

“Da, please, no!” Rhyddes stopped herself. Well she knew the futility of pleading with Rudd. Still, for Owen’s sake, she had to try. Her father’s scowl dared her to continue. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “’Twas not Owen’s fault. I—” Sweat freshened the sting on her back, and she winced. “The fault is naught but mine.”

“Aye, that I can well believe.” Rudd grasped each sibling by an arm and strode across the hayfield toward the family’s lodge. “Owen can watch you take his lashes as well as yours. We’ll see if that won’t mend his ways.” The thin linen of her ankle-length tunic failed to shield her from his fingers, which had to be leaving bruises. Rhyddes gritted her teeth. Rudd seemed disappointed. “I doubt anything in this world or the next will make you mend yours.”

“You don’t want me to change. You’d lose your excuse to beat me.” Sheer impertinence, she knew, but she no longer cared.

“I need no excuses, girl.”

The back of his hand collided with her cheek. Pain splintered into a thousand needles across her face. She reeled and dropped to her hands and knees, her hair obscuring her vision in a copper cascade. Hay pricked her palms. Owen would have helped her rise, but their father restrained him. Owen blistered the ground with his glare, not daring to direct it at Rudd for fear of earning the same punishment.

Not that Rhyddes could blame him.

Rudd yanked her up, cocked a fist… and froze. “Raiders!”

Rhyddes whirled about. Picts were charging from the north to converge upon their settlement, the battle cries growing louder under the merciless afternoon sun. One of the storage buildings had already been set ablaze, its roof thatch marring the sky with thick black smoke.

Rudd shed his shock and sprinted for the living compound, calling his children by name to help him defend their home: Eoghan, Ian, Bloeddwyn, Arden, Dinas, Gwydion, Owen.

Every child except Rhyddes.

She ran to the wagon, unhitched the horse, found her pitchfork, scrambled onto the animal’s back, and kicked him into a jolting canter. The stench of smoke strengthened with each stride. Her mount pinned back his ears and wrestled her for control of the bit, but she bent the frightened horse to her will. She understood how he felt.

As they loped past the cow byre, a Pict leaped at them, knocking Rhyddes from the horse’s back. The ground jarred the pitchfork from her grasp. The horse galloped toward the pastures as Rhyddes fumbled for her dagger. Although her brothers had taught her how to wield it in a fight, until now she’d used it only to ease dying animals from this world.

But the accursed blade wouldn’t come free of the hilt.

Sword aloft, the Pict closed on her.

Time distorted, assaulting Rhyddes with her attacker’s every detail: lime-spiked hair, weird blue symbols smothering the face and arms, long sharp sword, ebony leather boots and leggings, breastplate tooled to fit female curves . . .

Female?

The warrior-woman’s sword began its descent.

From the corner of her eye Rhyddes saw her pitchfork. Grunting, she rolled toward it, praying to avoid her attacker’s blow.

Her left arm stung where the sword grazed it, but she snagged her pitchfork and scrambled to her feet. Unexpected eagerness flooded her veins.

As the Pict freed her weapon from where it had embedded in the ground, Rhyddes aimed the pitchfork and lunged. The tines hooked the warrior-woman’s sword, and Rhyddes twisted with all her strength. The Pict yelped as the sword ripped from her hand to go flying over the sty’s fence. Squealing in alarm, the sow lumbered for cover, trying to wedge her bulk under the trough.

With a savage scream, the warrior-woman whipped out a dagger and charged. Rhyddes reversed the pitchfork and jammed its butt into the Pict’s gut, under the breastplate’s bottom edge, robbing her of breath. She reversed it again and caught the raider under the chin with the pitchfork’s tines. As the woman staggered backward, flailing her arms and flashing the red punctures that marred her white neck, Rhyddes struck hard and knocked her down.

The warrior-woman looked heavier by at least two stone, but Rhyddes pinned her chest with her knee. She dropped the pitchfork and grasped her dagger, yanking it free. Grabbing a fistful of limed hair, she wrestled the woman’s head to one side to expose her neck.

The Pict bucked and twisted, trying to break Rhyddes’s grip. ’Twas not much different than wrestling a fever-mad calf.

Rhyddes’s deft slice ended the threat.

Blood spurted from the woman’s neck in sickening pulses.

Rhyddes stood, panting, her stomach churning with the magnitude of what she’d done. ’Twas no suffering animal she’d killed—and it could have been her lying there, pumping her lifeblood into the mud.

Bile seared her throat, making her gag. Pain lanced her stomach. Bent double, she retched out the remains of her morning meal, spattering the corpse.

After spitting out the last bitter mouthful and wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she drew a deep breath and straightened. As she turned a slow circle, her senses taking in the sights and sounds and stench of the devastation surrounding her, she wished she had not prevailed.

The news grew worse as she sprinted toward the lodge.

Of her seven brothers, the Picts had left Ian and Gwydion dead, her father and Owen wounded, the lodge and three outbuildings torched. She ran a fingertip over the crusted blood of her scratch, and she couldn’t suppress a surge of guilt.

Mayhap, she thought through the blinding tears as she ran to help what was left of her family, ’twould have been better had she died in the Pict’s stead.

The surviving raiders were galloping toward the tree line with half the cattle. The remaining stock lay stiffening in the fields, already attracting carrion birds.

Three days later, the disaster attracted scavengers of an altogether different sort.

 

 

CHARACTER BIOS

I am Rhyddes ferch Rudd, which in your tongue means Freedom daughter of Red. The blood of ancient Celtic warriors flows in my veins, though I am a farmer’s daughter by the circumstance of my birth. My life spans much of the reign of the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius, one of a very few men ever to claim that title who did not abuse his power for personal gain—but I care not who rules and who dies in this gods-cursed empire.

More than anything—even more than my freedom—I yearn to be my lover Aquila’s equal. As a foreign slave in an empire where citizenship stands paramount, where an arena fighter such as I can only be considered the equal of other gladiators, actors, undertakers, and whores, this goal seems impossibly remote. Although Aquila is the son of a powerful Roman, he has declared that he would renounce his aristocratic status, wealth, and power for me, but I cannot in good conscience allow him to destroy himself on my account.

And yet the gods have granted the impossible to other mortals. I pray that I am worthy to receive such a boon from them, for surely divine assistance is the only way for Aquila and I to bridge the vast social chasm that separates us from enjoying a future together.

 
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I loved how the author takes names that are unique for her stories. She takes a tale and gives it a fresh new meaning and adds her own special touches to make it more exiting and must read.
The story of Rhyddes is one of a strong and courageous woman. She was enslaved and endured things no one should however throughout the story we see how she rises into a warrior! Aquila loves to be that which he is not. He is a political being because his father;however, his love is that of a gladiator! Can a Celtic and Roman find love within a story through time that has been nothing but cruel to Rhyddes? This all happens during the Celtics/Roman battles. I loved how the author has taken this historic events to create a master piece. It is filled with romance, intensive suspense, and action! The story enraptured me immediately from the beginning, the author waste no time to show you her passion through her words. The novel in my opinion is unlike others because it has the fact and fiction aspect but the novel was finely tuned to where you couldn’t tell if it was fact or fiction. The characters almost come to life. The plot is exceptional with lots of body and description. I LOVED this book and look forward to seeing more from this author. If you like gladiator type novels with a touch of romance hurry and grab this you will not be disappointed! !

Mornings Journey - Author Photo AUTHOR BIO

Kim Headlee lives on a farm in southwestern Virginia with her family, cats, goats, and assorted wildlife. People & creatures come and go, but the cave and the 250-year-old house ruins—the latter having been occupied as recently as the mid-20th century—seem to be sticking around for a while yet.

Kim is a Seattle native (when she used to live in the Metro DC area, she loved telling people she was from “the other Washington”) and a direct descendent of twentieth-century Russian nobility. Her grandmother was a childhood friend of the doomed Grand Duchess Anastasia, and the romantic yet tragic story of how Lydia escaped Communist Russia with the aid of her American husband will most certainly one day fuel one of Kim’s novels. Another novel in the queue will involve her husband’s ancestor, the seventh-century proto-Viking king of the Swedish colony in Russia.

For the time being, however, Kim has plenty of work to do in creating her projected 8-book Arthurian series, The Dragon’s Dove Chronicles, and other novels under her new imprint, Pendragon Cove Press.

 

 

FOLLOW KIM

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– 5 e-copies of Liberty

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☆☆☆Teaser & Excerpt ~ Lori King’s Fetish and Fantasy Tour ☆☆☆

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Watching Sin Fetish Fantasy 1 Cover Image

Synopsis

After fifteen years as a bland housewife, Alana is ready to shake up her life by fulfilling her darkest fantasy. She wants to be watched. Her exhibitionist streak is ready to break free, and she knows exactly whom she wants for her voyeur.

Doug would give his wife, Alana, the moon if she asked, so he’s more than willing to participate in a public threesome at a fetish party if it makes her kinky wishes come true. His business partner and best friend, Killian is the wild card in their plan.

A businessman first, and a trained Dominant second, Killian never gets tied down to one submissive. He’s a lover with commitment issues, but he doesn’t hesitate to help fulfill Doug and Alana’s fantasies. Once the fantasy is set in motion, the three players must decide if watching sin is enough…

 

Warning: Adult Themes-For Mature Audiences. Sexually explicit content. M/M/F, graphic language, consensual BDSM, public sex, HFN.

 

Series Page: http://lorikingbooks.com/series.php?series-id=35 

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Mothers Day Sale

Message from Lori King!!

Happy Mother’s Day!

I don’t know any mother who doesn’t deserve to indulge themselves on Mother’s Day. From the biological to the adopted to the temporary, anyone who’s ever taken a child under their wing deserves something special. So I’ve discounted my entire Fetish & Fantasy book series. Each story is only .99 right now!

This series is a delightfully wicked foray into the world of private fetish parties and lusty adventures. I hope you’ll treat yourself or another mother by picking up these three tales, and spending the day pampering yourself.


Excerpt

Alana stood beside him, asking his permission to put on a show. She wanted him to strip her down, and fuck her in front of the other partygoers. His eyes met hers and he could see the fire burning in their sapphire-colored depths.

What had changed her mind? What had her so turned on tonight that she couldn’t deny her own need anymore?

The brush of a hand over his shoulder drew his attention, and he instantly understood. The man standing at his elbow was his best friend and business partner, Killian Whitfield. In his black and white tuxedo he looked more like a Hollywood movie star walking the red carpet than a businessman still trying to crack the million-dollar mark.

“Doug, Alana. How are you both this evening? Enjoying the…festivities I hope.”

Killian stood too close to Alana for propriety, yet Doug wasn’t put off. He was surprised to find that he wanted to put on a show for his friend. If Alana was willing to fuck in front of Killian, what else would she be willing to do with him present? He felt his dick thicken a little at the image of his wife on her knees sucking Killian’s cock in the middle of the living room. Never before had he fantasized about his wife with another man, but he could picture it with Killian. In his mind’s eye, he could see his friend’s long lean body, flexing and rippling with desire as his wife sucked him dry. That would be incredible to watch, and by the look on Alana’s face, she could picture such an event too. What a surprise this evening was turning out to be.

Submission Dance Fetish Fantasy 2 Cover Image

Synopsis

Marley Saltzman has a secret fantasy. She wants to let go of everything, and submit to a Dominant. Intrigued by her friends BDSM lifestyle, she convinces him to put her on the guest list for his monthly fetish party. She had no idea how far out of her element she would be until she came face to face with an experienced Dom.

Lex Gregory has been nursing heartache and raising his daughter alone for so long he barely remembers what a submissive feels like at his feet. When he meets Marley, he can’t believe that the naïve woman ever thought she could handle kink. All too quickly his need for her refreshing innocence and lack of preconceived notions grows, and he has to have her.

The two begin a subtle dance of sexual submission and wit that leads to a night of passion and unanswered questions. Will this dance end in heartache, or will they both find their darkest fantasies fulfilled?

Warning: Adult Themes-For Mature Audiences.  Sexually explicit content. M/F, graphic language, consensual BDSM, spanking, public sex, HEA.

One-click this read while it is $.99 cents for a limited time

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Excerpt

There was a wicked glint in his eyes that did strange things to her body. Her heart was racing and her palms were as damp as her panties. She was almost afraid to stand up from her seat again for fear she might now have a damp spot on the back of her skirt.

“Would you like to dance, Marley?” Lex asked, rising from the low slung chair. The height of her own seat put her face almost dead even with his crotch, and there was a distinct bulge under his zipper that she found very intriguing, but he didn’t seem to notice her predicament.

“I’m really not much of a dancer…” She stammered for an excuse not to get closer to him. He was too magnetic and charming for her. She was almost afraid that if she let him pull her onto the sparsely populated dance floor, she would turn into putty in his hands and never find herself again.

“The music is slow, and I know what I’m doing. Trust me to lead, and you’ll be fine.” She wasn’t sure if he intended the double meaning behind his words or not, but her clit certainly heard it.

Holding out his hand, he waited for her to lay her palm against his and then he tugged her to her feet. She swayed slightly, and he steadied her with a hand on her lower back just above the curve of her ass. Immediately, she had to fight the urge to press herself against his long muscular body. Certainly he already thought her an easy mark after that steaming kiss; rubbing against him like a cat in heat wouldn’t help her circumstance.

He led her onto the dance floor without another word, and before she could turn to face him, he spun her around once, and then twice, so that her balance was off and she fell into him.
 
With an arrogant grin on his face, he wrapped his arms around her back, and steadied them on the curve of her spine, but within proper distance from her ass. “Better, now just relax and let me guide you.  That’s right, sway with me. Dancing is like making love. It’s sensual, and there’s an exchange of power between every couple. You trust me to lead you in the right movements, and I trust you to follow me, but at any point you can walk away.” His hot breath whispered over her ear from above, and her cheek brushed the smooth silk of his shirt. “You have all the control, Marley.”

Lex continued to murmur instructions to her, softly seducing her with his body and his innuendos. Her breasts grew heavy and achy, and her nipples were diamond hard points that she knew were probably poking through the thin material covering them. She tipped her head back to look up into his deep blue eyes, and her knees grew weak at the intense lust burning there.

“Careful. If you slip I get to carry you off and say I swept you off your feet. That would make you my rightful prize to do with as I pleased for the night,” he whispered.

Marley snorted out a laugh, “Is that a party rule?”

“No, but everyone knows the black knight steals away the princess at her first ball and seduces her.”

Mistress Hedonism Fetish Fantasy 3 Cover Image

Synopsis

Ana Gregory and her submissive Foster Craft are happy together. They enjoy a relationship that indulges their hedonistic desires, as well as gives them the security of a partner in real life. Until another submissive shines a light on the cracks in their foundation by asking to join their pairing.

 

Foster’s in love with Ana, and he would do anything to please her, but sleeping with a man who hurt them both is a huge test of trust; even if he wants the man in question, with every fiber of his being.

 

Four months ago Wyatt Marks made a huge mistake, but it brought him to some life-changing realizations. Now he has the opportunity to right his wrongs with Ana and Foster, as well as indulge the secret fantasies he’s hidden from himself all his life.

 

When the triad comes together the fires are hot, but will they all get burned in the process? Or will this one night of pleasure, fulfill a lifetime of fantasies for all of them?

 

Warning: Adult Themes-For Mature Audiences. Sexually explicit content. F/M/M, graphic language, consensual BDSM, spanking, public sex, HEA.

 

One-click this read while it is $.99 cents for a limited time

 

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Excerpt

“Say it. And be clear about what you’re saying because I’m walking a tight rope here between punching you in the face before walking out that door, and…” Foster’s voice drifted off, but Wyatt could see the spark of desire in his glare. The fire of hope lit in his chest, and he stepped closer to the other man, their bodies nearly touching.

 

“I want you. I fucked up, because I was scared of the fact that I wanted to fuck you, and be fucked by you.” Wyatt murmured. His mouth was so close to Foster’s that he knew the other man could feel the heat of his breath against his lips, and he watched with glee as Foster’s tongue darted out to lick his lips.

 

The temperature in the small room spiked, and Wyatt’s heart raced in his chest while he waited for Foster to respond. They exchanged breaths before their lips met as though magnets drawn by a force of nature. It was his first time kissing a man, and he was pleasantly surprised to find it was no different than kissing a woman. Harder, and more passionate perhaps, but the mechanics were the same.

 

From the moment they made contact, Wyatt took control of their lip lock, pressing Foster backward until his ass hit the counter again. Once he could go no further, Wyatt added his hands into the mix, gripping Foster’s face in his big palms, and holding him in place while their tongues danced sensually. Exploring each other, and finding a new sexy way of speaking without a word.

 

Behind the zipper of his jeans, his cock was hard as stone, and his balls were burning. He could feel the long length of Foster’s erection pressed against his abdomen, and when Foster’s hands came up to explore the bare skin of his chest, he groaned his approval. Before he could duplicate the gesture, a soft knock on the door startled them both and they jerked apart, panting for air.

 

lori

 

Author Bio

 

Best-selling author, Lori King, is also a full-time wife and mother of three boys. Although she rarely has time to just enjoy feminine pursuits; at heart she is a hopeless romantic. She spends her days dreaming up Alpha men, and her nights telling their stories. An admitted TV and book junkie, she can be found relaxing with a steamy story, or binging in an entire season of some show online. She gives her parents all the credit for her unique sense of humor and acceptance of all forms of love. There are no two loves alike, but you can love more than one with your whole heart.

 

With the motto: Live, Laugh, and Love like today is your only chance, she will continue to write as long as you continue to read. Thank you for taking the time to indulge in a good Happily Ever After with her. Find out more about her current projects at http://lorikingbooks.com, or look her up on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/LoriKingBooks or Twitter: https://twitter.com/LoriKingBooks.

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