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Excerpt Reveal: The Debt Duet by Molly O'Keefe – NOW LIVE & FREE!


The Debt by Molly O’Keefe is NOW LIVE and TOTALLY FREE!
Grab the prologue to The Debt Duet now & keep reading for an excerpt!



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For the five kids who live at St. Jude’s Home for Court Placed Juveniles, life is a nightmare.
Carissa, the youngest, has been there the longest. And barely speaks.
Rosa is sixteen and pregnant.
Simon keeps his head down and studies, hoping to get back the life he lost.
Beth and Tommy, in the middle of the darkness, have found each other, and all they want is to be together. But when they get caught making out at school, it puts everyone in danger. Tommy is used to the beatings from their foster father, but when Beth is singled out for punishment, Tommy can’t sit back and let it happen.
What happens that night rips apart the lives of the five teenagers forever.
After the blood has been spilled, a bargain is made. A deal with the devil that should have solved things. It should have fixed everything.
But nothing is free – not love, not innocence, and certainly not freedom. And sooner or later, all debts must be paid…


“What do you want, Tommy?” she breathed. So close. So beautiful. With her free hand she took off her glasses and tossed them on the ground. Her eyes, lined in black liner raked over me.
    And mine raked over her.
    “You,” I said, so raw I was practically inside out. “Just once.”
    She laughed low in her throat. “You have a few questions you want answered, do you?” she asked.
    “Don’t you?”
    “God yes.”
    She stepped forward until she was nearly touching me. It took my inhale for my chest to brush hers. I exhaled and our bodies retreated. She inhaled and we touched. Exhaled and retreated.
    We each did it again. And then again. Breathing each other in, in turns. Finally it wasn’t enough and I stepped toward her, and my cock pressed against her stomach and she pushed against me. Her breasts and belly imprinted on my skin.
    “One time,” she said. “One time and we go back to our lives and get on with things. I’m going to forget you, Tommy. And you’re going to forget me.”
    I doubted it, but I wasn’t going to argue. Not with my dick pushed up against the tight muscles of her stomach. Not with her breath, sweet from the pop and the candy she’d eaten, making me crazy.
    “I’m serious, Tommy,” she said as if she could read my mind. “I don’t want to be hurt anymore, and I really, really don’t want to hurt you anymore. Promise you’ll forget me.”
    “I promise,” I said, because when threatened with the idea of hurting her, I’d agree to anything to stop that. “I’ll forget you, right after I fuck you.”


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WHERE I BELONG – June 26th
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iBooks ➤ http://apple.co/2qh6gbc


About the Author:

Molly O’Keefe is an award-winning author of over 30 romance novels. She lives in Toronto, Canada with her family and the largest heap of dirty laundry in North America. Sign up for her newsletter to get release day news, exclusive excerpts, sale announcements and in-depth author interviews!
Connect with Molly:

Website: www.molly-okeefe.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MollyOKeefeBooks/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MollyOKwrites
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2rxwgRj
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/MollyOKeefe

Excerpt Reveal: Trashy Foreplay by Gemma James


Trashy Foreplay by Gemma James releases on June 22nd!
Keep reading for an excerpt!


Preorder on:

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Never flirt with temptation.
Never lust after what I can’t have.
And never, under any circumstances, screw a married man again.
By the time this story is told, I’ll have failed at all three…
With my heart and reputation in ruins, I can’t afford to make another mistake. Boarding a flight to Seattle is supposed to give me a clean slate, but from the moment Cash Montgomery slides into the seat next to mine, I’m captivated by his steel eyes that see too much. I ache for this stranger in a way I’ve never ached for anyone.
But I didn’t know he was married, and I sure as hell didn’t see the curveball fate had in store. My clean slate in Seattle isn’t so clean after all because my new boss is the man forbidden to me.
And the only man I want.
The only man I’ll do anything for, even if it means breaking the promise I made to myself when I fled my old life in shame.
I wasn’t supposed to fall for a married man, but I did.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Though the subject matter deals with cheating, there are no innocent parties here. Book 1 in the Trashy Affair series.


I go perfectly still as his arm snakes around me from behind. A warm palm flattens against my stomach, and the tips of his fingers inch beneath the waistband of my jeans. Everything south of that tempting hand flares to life, setting off a deep ache I know only he can fix.
Pulling me against his body, he leans down and whispers into my ear. “Watching him touch you is killing me.”
“Knowing you’re married is killing me.”
He curses under his breath. A hint of his woodsy cologne, along with the sweet aroma of bourbon fills my nostrils.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Maybe a little.” He whirls me around until we’re face-to-face, and my heart flutters in my throat as he tightens his arms around me. “Come upstairs with me.”
His proximity riots through me, the heat of his body sizzling all the way to my fucking toes. We fall into a lazy sway, dancing but not quite, and for a crazy second, I consider following him to the VIP area in the loft. As far as I can tell it’s empty unless a stray couple is hiding in the shadows in the very back. I doubt it though. The club is vibrating with restless energy as everyone crowds the first floor in anticipation of the concert.
“Look at me, Jules.”
His words jolt me to awareness, and I realize I’m staring at his chest. I curl my hands into fists at my sides, too tempted to run my palms down that broad expanse hiding underneath cotton. I bet it’s the softest material on the planet, but I won’t find out because I’m not going there.
Not. Gonna. Do. It.
Because I have zero control right now, and we’re standing in the middle of a busy club with God-knows-who watching. And if I do touch him…I might not stop.
“Jules,” he murmurs. “Bring those gorgeous eyes up here.”
I lift my chin and dive headfirst into the fire of his gaze. His eyes are a smoldering, liquid steel. “Cash…please…”
“Please what?”
“Don’t make me want to give in. You’re married.” My voice cracks on that ugly word.
“My marriage is a sham.”
“Your marriage is your business.” I grip his arms, intending to push him away. But somewhere along the way, my brain gets its wires crossed, and I end up curling my fingers around his biceps. God, he’s built—solid man through and through.
“I disagree,” he says, dipping his head until our mouths linger a hairsbreadth from each other. “Everything about me is very much your business.”
“Because I can’t feel this way about you without it being your business.”


About the Author:
Gemma James is a USA Today and Amazon bestselling author of a blend of genres, from new adult suspense to dark erotic romance. She loves to explore the darker side of human nature in her fiction, and she’s morbidly curious about anything dark and edgy, from deviant sex to serial killers. Readers have described her stories as being “not for the faint of heart.”
She warns you to heed their words! Her playground isn’t full of rainbows and kittens, though she likes both. She lives in Oregon with her husband and their four children–three rambunctious UFC/wrestling-loving boys and one girl who steals everyone’s attention.
Connect with Gemma:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorgemmajames/
Twitter: www.twitter.com/gemmajames80
Website: www.authorgemmajames.com
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2eW8W5X
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/gemmajames
Newsletter: http://authorgemmajames.com/newsletter/

Excerpt Reveal: Oliver by FG Adams


Oliver by FG Adams releases on APRIL 6th!
Keep reading for an excerpt now!




Soulmates destined to collide.
Six years after surviving a tragic loss, a photograph of a young woman turns Oliver Bishop’s world upside down. He’s on a mission, tracking her from state to state. Each stop bringing him closer to finding her. Will his search find the ghost vixen, or will the madman stalking her get to her first?
After fourteen years of running from a nightmare, Fallyn Blackwood barely escaped her stalker’s clutches in Washington. When a sexy stranger walks into Ray’s Diner, her entire world shifts on its axis. Scared and determined, she finds herself fighting his protective nature—and her desire. The problem is, she’s not looking to be saved.
He’s come too far to back down. He found her, and he won’t let go. Freedom from the past is within his grasp, and he’ll fight for her love.
Portrait of a man with naked torso and tattooes. Dark and deep shadows.


By the time I’ve showered and changed, the delectable aroma of pizza permeates the room. Oliver is perched on the bed, taking up most of the space, with a piece of mouth-watering heaven in his hands. His hair is wet and he has a new change of clothes on. Where did he shower? Do I really care? He looks good enough to eat.
Just then my tummy grumbles, reminding me of another hunger. I lift the box. When I notice what he’s ordered, I freeze in my tracks.
“You don’t like chicken and jalapeño pizza? Ever since trying it in Texas, I don’t want another flavor. I’m obsessed.”
He snorts, takes a bite, and points to a corner desk.
“I ordered a salad and chicken tenders if you would rather have that.”
“It’s not that. It’s my go-to pizza of choice. Harper devours mine at least once a week.”
He stops chewing and stares quizzically my way.
“You don’t say?”
I wonder what else we have in common. Is he the yin to my yang, the Tom to my Jerry, the warmth needed to melt the ice in my heart?
Before I have time to respond, he asks, “Beer or wine?”
“Beer, of course,” I answer immediately.
“Football or baseball?”
“Football. You know I’m from the south. We love our teams.”
“Gator or Nole?”
“Florida Gator all the way, baby. Before all this happened, I planned on going to college in Gainesville.”
I shrug, push the haunting memories back, and focus on enjoying the game we are playing.
“Chocolate or vanilla?”
“Neither. Chunky Monkey.”
“Really? Okay. What about river or beach?”
“Depends. Do we fish or swim?”
“Then river. Okay, stud, my turn.”
From out of nowhere, a devilish grin appears. He inclines his chin then sinks his teeth into the steaming pie.
“Sunrise or sunset?”
I chew a jalapeño and wait.
“Ford or Chevy?”
“Country or rock ’n roll?”
His forehead crinkles deep in thought before he answers.
“Nope can’t choose. Love ‘em both.”
Mouth full of yumminess, I reply, “Fair enough, Ollie. I totally agree with you. Spring or fall?”
“Well, since that’s when I kissed you, fall is my preference, baby.”
I stutter, shocked by his answer, and whisper, “Hipster or bikini?”
He smirks.

“Then I won’t tell you what I’m wearing under these clothes,” I playfully banter.

Oliver Background_TEASER1

About the Authors:

F.G. Adams writes contemporary and paranormal romance about sexy alpha heroes and feisty-mouthed heroines. The wonder twins forming F.G. enjoy a healthy obsession of reading that started at a young age. Their books reflect an avid imagination that was cultivated by their grandmother who taught them the mind has no limits and to use both hands when reaching for the stars. Partners in writing, they both thrive on creating unique storylines for you, the reader to enjoy.
When not writing, you can find them on a beach with their significant other enjoying the waves or riding a Harley on a country road somewhere in the USA.

Author Links:
Website: https://www.authorfgadams.com
Email: fgadams@authorfgadams.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorFGAdams/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorfgadams
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Excerpt Reveal: Grip by Kennedy Ryan


“I can’t stop thinking about this book…One of my favorite reads this year. Maybe ever. Kennedy Ryan took some of the most complex issues of our time and made them poetic, insightful, and deliciously sexy…5 massive, gripping stars!” – USA TODAY Bestselling Author, Adriana Locke

Keep reading for an EXCERPT of Grip by Kennedy Ryan
FLOW releases on February 25 and will be totally FREE!
GRIP releases on March 2nd straight to #KindleUnlimited!

➡Add GRIP on GR: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31207572-grip
➡Get #GRIPPED  (Be notified by email about cover reveal & release):
➡Check out more information here: http://kennedyryanwrites.com/grip/


GRIP Synopsis:

Resisting an irresistible force wears you down and turns you out.
I know.
I’ve been doing it for years.
I may not have a musical gift of my own, but I’ve got a nose for talent and an eye for the extraordinary.
And Marlon James – Grip to his fans – is nothing short of extraordinary.
Years ago, we strung together a few magical nights, but I keep those memories in a locked drawer and I’ve thrown away the key.
All that’s left is friendship and work.
He’s on the verge of unimaginable fame, all his dreams poised to come true.
I manage his career, but I can’t seem to manage my heart.
It’s wild, reckless, disobedient.
And it remembers all the things I want to forget.




FLOW  (The GRIP Prequel) – Releasing FREE a few days before GRIP!

In 8 years, Marlon James will be one of the brightest rising stars in the music industry.
Bristol Gray will be his tough, no-nonsense manager.
But when they first meet, she’s a college student finding her way in the world,
and he’s an artist determined to make his way in it.
From completely different worlds,
all the things that should separate them only draw them closer.
It’s a beautiful beginning, but where will the story end?
FLOW is the prequel chronicling the week of magical days and nights that will haunt Grip & Bristol for years to come.
GRIP is the full-length conclusion of their story.



I wanted to keep this pain locked away, private. Until now. Until Grip. His eyes rest on my face. I feel his compassion, and it weighs so much I want out from under it. I turn my head to escape the honesty between us for a few seconds. Just for a reprieve. As soon as I look over the side, I realize my mistake.
“Oh, God. We’re so high.”
Breath charges up my throat, panic pushing out the last few minutes of peace. My heart jackhammers. Blood rushes to my head, and the world spins. I grip my head to make it stop.
“Hey, hey.” Grip scoots closer, eliminating the distance between us. “Put your head down as far as you can.”
The safety bar keeps me from putting my head between my knees, but I don’t think it would help anyway. Nothing helps. It’s irrational. I know I’m safe, but fear mocks me and makes me its bitch. I hate it, but I can’t stop it.
“My mom used to tell me to recite things,” Grip says from above me. “Like to distract myself when I was scared. To give me something else to focus on.”
It only makes me more anxious that I have nothing I can recite. Fear jumbles all my thoughts together, so discombobulated that I can’t even assemble the digits of my phone number.
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Okay. Hold up.” He rubs my back in soothing strokes that don’t soothe. “I’ll do it. Just listen to my voice. Focus on what I’m saying.”
I can’t focus. I can’t stop the encroaching darkness, blurring my edges and knotting my interior. It’s never been this bad, and it would happen right in front of Grip.
“I’ll recite “Poetry” by Pablo Neruda. My favorite actually.” Grip’s voice is warm but disembodied as I press my eyes closed. “It feels like he was writing my life story. Like he knew there would be this kid who needed something bigger than himself, and he wrote this to guide that kid to a different path. This has always felt like more than a poem. It’s personal. It feels like my prophecy.”
The emotion, the honesty in his voice compels me to hazard a glance at him. In the faint light of the moon and the bright lights of the carnival, I see his face. Beautiful and bronzed, a sculpture of bold bones and full lips. His eyes are intent, never looking away from mine as he begins.
    His deep voice caresses Neruda’s sentiments of how poetry called him from the street and away from violence. Of how writing saved him from a certain fate and opened up a world he’d never imagined. And Grip’s right. The poem could have been written for him . . . could have foretold the story of a boy called, not from the streets of a Chilean city, but from the streets of Compton.
    Passion weaves between his words and conviction laces every line. He means these words. He loves these words. Amazingly, as he’s reciting a poem I’ve never heard before, someone else’s words illuminate Grip to me. I see him clearly. A man deeply committed to his craft and who views his gift as a miracle of circumstance. As cocky as he is, I see him humbled by the means to escape a path so many others never leave. And if the poem tells his story, his eyes are a confession, never straying from mine, holding mine in the moonlight, his voice liquid poured over something sweet. As he approaches the end, my fears are forgotten, but I’m still stuck on a Ferris wheel under a darkened sky, and nothing has ever been more fitting than the final words, in which the poet says he wheeled with the stars and his heart broke loose on the wind.
There are too few perfect moments in this life. Far too few of us get them, but I am privileged to have this one with this man. When he empties his chest of his heart and empties his body of his soul for me under a starry sky on a Ferris wheel. And I know. In this moment, I know that I’m lost to him. It has been a matter of days. It has been a string of moments. It has not been long enough to tell him, but in my heart, I know I am lost.
“Did that help?” he asks.
He searches through the dim light for my fear or my panic, but they aren’t there anymore. He leans closer, so close his breath whispers over my face. I don’t know when he realizes that fear has gone and that something else has come, but I see the change in his eyes.
I think he might be lost in me, too.
The inches between our lips disappear. At the first brush of his mouth on mine, I know this kiss will never end. It will live on in my memory for the rest of my life. His lips beg entry, a tentative touch that blazes through my defenses and hastens the rhythm of my heart. I clutch his arm, skin and muscle, satin over steel. A thousand textures collide. The hot silk of his mouth. The sharp, straight edge of his teeth. The firm curve of his lips. The taste of him. God, the taste of him makes me moan. He cups my face, fingers spearing into my hair. I press so close the heat of his body burns through the thin fabric of our shirts.
“Bris.” He says it against my lips before trailing kisses down my chin. His mouth opens over my neck, hot and wet, and I arch into him, the pleasure like a train in my veins. Rushing. Vaulting. Exploding.
“Oh, God.” I’m a panting mess. My hands venture under his shirt, desperate, nails scraping at his back. “Keep kissing me.”
He’s back at my lips, devouring, our tongues dueling, dancing. This kiss has a cadence, his head moving to the left and then right, on beat, a syncopation, a simultaneity of lips and tongues. His mouth slants over mine, hot and zealous, and I link my fingers behind his head, clinging, afraid this will end. Afraid to lose the enormity of this moment. At the top of the world, so close we could almost touch the sky and with only the stars watching, I found out what a kiss should be.

About the Author:

Kennedy loves to write about herself in third person. She loves Diet Coke…though she’s always trying to quit. She adores her husband…who she’ll never quit. She loves her son, who is the most special boy on the planet. And she’s devoted to supporting and serving families living with Autism.

And she writes love stories!
For updates, new releases, giveaways and other adventures, subscribe to her newsletter: https://app.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/j9u8i3

You can learn more at:
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Excerpt Reveal: Last Kiss by Laurelin Paige

Last Kiss ER Banner.jpg

Last Kiss by Laurelin Paige

Series: First and Last #2
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press
Genre: Romantic Suspense/ Contemporary Romance

“Visceral, enticing, shining with white lies and dark truths, seductive twists and turns, and a love that takes your breath away.” – Katy Evans, New York Times bestselling author

last kiss cover



Emily Wayborn has made a decision.

She might not fully trust handsome and deadly Reeve Sallis, but he is the one person that gives her what she needs. With Reeve she can finally be herself. Submitting to him is the only thing keeping her grounded as the rest of her life falls apart. But the hotelier is a master at keeping secrets and as she continues her quest for answers someone is making sure she doesn’t find them.

Time is running out and she is questioning everything she thought she knew about friendship and love. She must now make an impossible choice that will determine if she will survive with her heart…or at all.


What he really wanted to hear were the other words, the words I couldn’t give. He’d danced around it, too, though. He’d suggested he loved me, but he’d never told me outright. Those words stood so prominently that they’d become a barrier between us. Either they’d been a lie, a cruel response to my scheming, or they’d been truthful—a possible doorway leading to something else. Something more.

Damn, how I wanted the more. Wanted it enough to brave broaching the subject. “You said things the other night, Reeve—”

He jumped in, turning his head to meet my eyes straight on. “I meant them.”



There was so much to say in response and yet nothing at all came to mind. And as wary as I was to fully trust him, I believed him. Many men had proclaimed their love for me—usually when I had my mouth around their dick—but it had never been sincere. The plethora of false variations had been enough to teach me that this version was the real thing.

But Reeve had said he’d loved Amber that night as well. And I believed that too.

“I want you sleeping in my bed, Emily.”

Or perhaps I was wrong about everything, and his devotion was tied up in sex like all the other men I’d known.

I considered retorting back something sassy about not always being able to get what you want. But I wasn’t quite sure that was an adage that Reeve understood. Besides, I wanted to be sleeping in his bed as well, and maybe I would be eventually. If it was really where he wanted me. If I was really the one he wanted there.

I knew I should just ask—how do you feel about Amber now? What happens next between us? It was on the tip of my tongue, the questions preformed in my mouth when I decided to swallow them instead. Because I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear those answers—whatever they may be—and, in this moment, at least, I was what he desired. And maybe it was just an excuse to not have to think about her for a minute, to not worry about feeling guilty or like I’d betrayed her. As long as I didn’t know, I could blame my behavior on ignorance, and I could please him too.

The swing rocked as I shifted to my knees. Ignoring the chill of the seat against my bare shins, I leaned forward and unfastened Reeve’s jeans.

“This isn’t my bed,” he said, not moving to either help me or stop me.

“It’s the best I can do right now.”

He’d gone commando, a sign that he’d likely tried to sleep as well, then had thrown his clothing on when he found the effort futile. I rubbed my hands together, heating them with friction before I reached in for his cock.

Just as I lowered my lips to his tip, he said, “That ‘right now’ insinuates that there will be a time that you can do more.”

I didn’t want to answer, afraid of giving too much of myself away. Afraid that he wouldn’t like my reasons for not being with him fully or that he’d try to talk me out of worrying about Amber’s place in all of this.

So I occupied my mouth in other ways that prevented talking.


Add to your TBR on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1OYml8h

Pre-Order Links:
Amazon / Amazon UK / iBooks / Barnes and Noble / Google / Kobo

About Laurelin:

NY Times & USA Today Bestselling author Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones and the Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender.

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Excerpt Reveal – Paradise Found: Cain by LB Dunbar




“I hate that I love you,” she said. “You left me.”

“I lost you, there’s a difference. Now that I found you, I intend to keep you.”


I’d tasted the sweetest fruit of temptation, and I wanted another bite. I had promised myself before, but once wasn’t enough. The savory flavor of her lingered long after I’d lost her. Contending with the pressure to return to the fight, in order to prove myself to my father and the world, I had to let her go.


It has been a year. Sofie Vincentia and I had played a dangerous game. For one night, we pretended, only to discover our farce was real. I’d lost her, but I hadn’t stopped searching, hoping for her return. I was used to getting what I wanted, so when she didn’t come to me, I had to go after her. This would be the greatest fight of my life.




US: http://amzn.to/1Tgy1Ya
iTunes: http://apple.co/1RKTyrd
B&N: http://bit.ly/1RPexMP
KOBO: http://bit.ly/1Y1mL2J



Post – Fight


The sound of her heels, retreating from me, echoed down the hallway in the opposite direction of the gathered crowd. I was still dressed for the fight. I’d rubbed a towel down my body, as I didn’t care to change or shower yet. I needed to get to her before she escaped me again. Following behind the click of her heels, I called her name a second time, commanding her to stop. She didn’t listen. For the slightest second, it sounded like the tapping on the tile increased. I sped up my pace, determined to catch her.

“Sofie,” I called out. The tension built. She was going to run. My hand reached out for her, as I drew closer. My stride lengthened. Her tight skirt curved over her hips, holding her snug ass, and trapping her steps. High heels prevented her from moving any faster, despite her determined hustle. This wasn’t how I remembered her dressing. She wore loose skirts and fitted t-shirts, except on the second night. An image of a black dress being removed from delicate shoulders flitted through my memory. My eyes fell to her ass again, recalling what was under that shapely skirt. I’d seen it, felt it, tasted it, and I wanted it again.

“Sofie,” I demanded. Her name was more than a plea; it was a command to stop. We were headed in a circle. The sound of the gathered crowd was echoing back toward us. She was trapped. If she kept going, she’d lead us directly into the paparazzi pit. Cameras would capture her and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to explain who she was to the public. Not yet. I needed a private reunion first.

Her pace slowed. My outstretched fingers captured her upper arm and tugged her to a halt. Her body was gently slammed against the cement block wall behind her, and my arms caged her in.

“Sofie.” My breath caught as I scanned her face. Bright blue eyes under a pinched brow looked briefly at me, then avoided my gaze. Her face was flushed. I remembered that pink skin. Another vision flashed in my memory of her questioning me over a wooden wine bar. She was interested in my anatomy at that moment. I wanted her to be interested in my anatomy again. A certain part of me definitely had her attention, if she wished for it. I wasn’t only hard; I was towering straight out for her. My dick knew what it wanted. It was drawn to the lyrical whispers of what I assumed would be wet folds beneath black panties.

Another vision flashed through my mind. This included stripping her of black lingerie: simple, satin, and molded to the shape of her. I’d never seen anything so tempting, until she was removed of it. White skin, pink nipples, and a dark mound pointing to a treasure were the most beautiful colors I’d ever seen, next to her eyes, which were glaring at me as I assessed her face.

“Cain,” she said sharply. Her head lifted, holding it high; she was pissed. There was no other way to describe her expression. She hated me. I couldn’t exactly blame her, but it wasn’t the reunion I anticipated. It wasn’t the reunion I expected. It wasn’t the reunion I was going to accept.

“My sweet temptation,” I hissed to her. My tongue licked my lips, eager to taste hers. She swallowed, and my eyes widened at the smooth roll of her skin against her throat. My hand slipped up to her shoulder and my pelvis fell forward, instinct drawing my dick to her. I flinched uncontrollably as it hit her lower abdomen. It craved some place lower on her body.

She didn’t push me away. In fact, her hands were splayed against the cool cement behind her. Her eyes shone bright beyond those tempting red glasses, and bright red lips matched, sucking in air at the invasion of my body against hers. I wanted those lips to suck somewhere else. She’d done it before. I knew how sweet she could be, but her eyes were harder now. Those lips wanted nothing to do with any part of my body.

My hand continued to travel up the tender skin of her throat, and she swallowed hard again, trembling beneath my touch. She wasn’t repulsed by me, but she was frightened. I didn’t want her to be afraid of me, but she needed to be concerned. If my father found her, there would be trouble like she’d never known before. Her sweetness did not understand the depths of evil associated with me.

“Don’t touch me,” she growled.

On second thought, perhaps she did.

My hand slipped into her chestnut locks and tugged gently, but enough to remind her that I was a strong man. I wouldn’t hurt her. In fact, I was certain I hadn’t hurt her in the past. I was the one that suffered.

“One night, you longed for my touch,” I whispered harshly, drawing my mouth closer to hers. “In fact, I remember someone sweetly asking for it.”

My hands slithered in opposite directions. One surveyed the hilly swells of side breast while the other travelled the valley of her abdomen until it rose over curvy hips. I gripped a fist full of material and tugged it upward, jostling her body with the rough hitch of her skirt.

“If I remember correctly, you wanted me,” I purred against her moist skin. Her fear produced a sheen of sweat that covered her face. My nose dragged along her jaw, then dipped down her neck. Holding herself still, her hands remained flat against the wall to her sides. My hips pinned her in place as the skirt rose.

My fingers graced the soft skin of her thigh. She flinched and I pressed firmly forward. There was no doubt of my excitement. Dressed only in my fighting shorts, my bare chest brushed close to her generous breasts, which had been covered with my hands and mouth in the past. I wanted to reenact those memories, but my fingers had other intentions. In a jagged drag of skin against skin, I gripped her thigh, climbing upward, heading for the fruit of my desire.

“Do you still want me?” I whispered into her neck. “Do you remember?” I groaned as a thick digit delved through the warm moisture of folded skin, ripe for what I intended. I wanted inside her. Damp with desire, I slipped aggressively into her. I demanded she remember as I added a second finger. Her breath hitched as she moaned and heavy lids closed.

“Look at me,” I commanded. My forehead almost rested on hers, but I held back enough to stare into her eyes. I wanted her to see me, remember me, remember what I’d done to her. How she felt under me, wrapped within her. I grunted as my dick flinched, my skin too tight. This temptress had to recall what she had done to me, as well. I was going to come undone being this close to her, and yet she was so far away.

Blue eyes pierced mine, but they still contained a softness within them. I didn’t want to believe my sweet temptation could rot. She was spoiled by me, but she wasn’t ruined. She was stronger than that.

“Do you remember?” My fingers increased their exploration. It was a renewed excavation. They rediscovered what they missed. Sliding in and out, she joined my pace. Her hips moved slowly, then increased, matching the beat inside her.

“That’s it, my sweet.” I pulled back to watch her lids droop, then fight to open wide. “Good girl,” I rasped, as I brushed back a stray hair but didn’t falter in my rhythm between her legs. Her hands released from the wall. Palms flattened against my shoulders then wrapped around them as best they could. She had delicate hands. Tender and gentle. They had teased as she had tugged me and stroked me the first time. I jolted and my hips pressed toward her, but my hand was the focus. Her fingers dug into bare skin covered in tattoos of the snake I was. Sharp, blunt nails soon pinched into me as her hips rolled and her luscious center rocked.

“I want you to remember,” I commanded. “Remember where I’ve been. Who I am.” My fingers took on a life of their own, and they worked hard, digging deeper into the tender cavern of warmth, wet and ready for me. My thumb flicked over the sensitive pearl outside of her. Her breath hitched. Nails gripped into hard skin. She didn’t have claws, not my girl, but she was latching onto me. That’s exactly what I wanted.

“Tell me you didn’t forget,” I whispered, my voice dropping as my pace continued. She didn’t answer me and I stopped. The blue rivers turned to ice as she glared at me. I was the devil. And I would break this reunion, if she didn’t play my game.

She shook her head, refusing to speak. I pulled out of her quickly, feeling the release of her juices as they slid down her leg. Her eyes narrowed only slightly. Then she said my name. It was hardly more than a squeak, a meek plea, an unanswered question. Her nails slowly released me. Fingers peeled upward from my skin. I was going to lose her.

Fingers slammed into her and her head gently fell back. She sucked in a harsh breath, as I demanded her recollection without words. I wanted her to relive the memory of what I had done to her. Only me.

I worked fast and her fingers lay back against my warm skin. Nails made tender impressions on my shoulder. She could mark me. I wouldn’t care. She’d already scarred my heart.

“Cain?” she questioned, but I knew the answer. She was ready to burst. Her tender fruit had been plucked and she craved what came next. That first bite. The sound of my name almost undid me, but it would take more than that for me to be satisfied. For her, the flick of my thumb unleashed her. Nails burrowed deep, her eyes shuddered closed, and her head tipped back. She clenched hard, squeezing my hand between her thighs. My dick practically danced, but I had been the king of denial. I would not have her yet. This was only a reminder.

As my attention slowed, and I spread fingers through folds so wet they wept, my forehead came to hers.

“Tell me you remember?” I pleaded. My heart fell to my stomach as I held my breath.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”

I pulled back in surprise, my eyes widened. My expression had to betray a strange sense of glee.

“I’ll never forget,” she whispered, averting her eyes as she looked down at her raised skirt and my retreating hand. She pushed the material downward hastily then shoved my wrist away from her.

“I’ll never forget…that you’re an asshole.” Propelled backward as she braced against my chest, I stumbled in surprise at her use of profanity. My girl didn’t swear, but the venom in her voice proved she’d changed. My sweet temptation was tainted by the poison of me. What I’d done to her. I let her escape as her words sliced through me. I was an asshole.


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I’d love to say I’ve written for 10,000 hours, and that makes me a pro. But I can’t say that. What I can say is I had a story in my head that wouldn’t go away. I thought typing it in my computer would be the end of things, but it only led to another story and another. I love reading, so characters in my head isn’t something new. What is new is my creation of them. Hope you enjoy my favorites as much as I do. Happy reading!

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Chapter Reveal: The Panty Whisperer by Sloane Howell

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Releasing May 19th

Add to your Goodreads shelf now


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I love women. I’m not ashamed to admit that making a beautiful woman come is my main goal in life—one that I accomplish night after night. Women are as drawn to me as I am to them. I don’t get turned down. It’s not a brag, just a fact. At least it was a fact. Until I met Quinn—the one woman who didn’t fall for my easy charm. Now, I have to have her. She may not want to get close, may not want to admit that I turn her on and can give her a night that she’ll never forget, but she was mine the first moment I saw her. Eventually, I’ll have her beneath me, my hands in her hair, and my name on her lips. It’s what I do. I’m the Panty Whisperer.

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THE MAJORITY OF men want sex just to get off. They blow their load, roll over, and fall asleep. That’s not my style. I want you to remember my face. I want you to remember every inch of me. And you will. I want to watch your eyes roll up in your head, your toes cramp up while curling under your feet, your thighs trembling around my face, begging for my stiff cock inside your hot, wet pussy. Every time you tease your clit, longing for your hair to be pulled, while squeezing those quivering pussy walls around your slippery fingers, you’ll be wishing it was me inside of you, drilling balls deep into that aching cunt while you dig your nails into the sheets. I want to own your mind for the rest of your life. The thought of me will be a thirst you can’t quench, a drug you can’t have, an itch that can’t be scratched, no matter how hard you try. Nobody will send a shock of neural ecstasy from your pulsating little cunt to the tips of your toes the way I will. Care to bet me?


Jessica Moore


MOST PEOPLE HAVE something they’re good at: math, sports, music, art. I wasn’t born with some common talent. I’m a master of making women come. I don’t know why, or how it happened, it’s just built into my DNA. I’ve always been able to talk to women and get them to do whatever I want. Ever since I was a teenager, if there was a girl nobody could bed, I got there first.

My name is Joel Hannover. Well, actually, that’s a bit of a lie. Joel is my middle name. My first name is Herbert. I hate that name. It’s like my parents were trying to cock block me from conception.

I work as an accounting software consultant. It sounds fancy like I should be good with math or computers. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’m a salesman. My job, however, is perfect for my hobby. Most accounting departments are comprised of women. Women that most people think are boring or uneventful.

I meet these women every day. Insecure, dressed conservatively, hiding their beautiful bodies behind layers of clothing, afraid a few pounds of baby weight might still show. They’re ladies who work crossword puzzles, and process numbers and transactions. It’s all a façade though. These women are just like any others. Sexual creatures who want to have all of their desires met and all of their needs fulfilled.

They’re practically begging for someone to explore them, to bring them out of their shell, and release the sexual tension that has saturated their entire being, afraid to break free. They get their rocks off reading erotica, watching porn, or using the shower head in a manner it was not intended for. I can’t allow this. They need someone to open their mind, and release their fantasies into the wild. Someone to spread their thighs and take them to places they never knew possible, where all of their darkest fantasies reside. This is the environment where I thrive.

Meet Jessica Moore: mid-thirties, married with two kids, unhappy.

Fucking hot.

She’s a senior fixed asset analyst at a company that’s implementing my firm’s new software. She is amazingly sexy and wasting away in a bad marriage that is held together solely for the kids. We’ve been working together on this project for about two weeks now and have grown somewhat close.

She cracks a smile as I walk through the door to her office. “Good morning.”

“Jessica—” I pause for a moment and eye her curvy hips and round breasts. “—you look nice.” She looks hot as fuck, if I’m being honest.

Jessica bites her lip and smiles. I want to put my cock in that beautiful mouth so badly. I have to have her. I’ve been observing her for the last two weeks, processing every bit of information she provides. She loves Starbucks, romantic comedies, and has an adventurous side to her that she’s afraid to act on. Well, she didn’t exactly say that, but like I said before, I can sense these things. It’s an innate ability. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Completely boring, didn’t do much of anything. Philip went hunting and left me with the kids. So we had a movie night on Saturday. You?”

I can’t really tell her I filmed myself banging two twenty-year-old co-eds, and then watched it while going a second round with them. “Oh, I had a movie night myself. New indie film, you wouldn’t have heard of it.”

Hey, you didn’t lie to her.

I can’t stop staring at her black, mid-length skirt hugging tight around her hips. I get the slightest peek at her tanned cleavage protruding through her low-cut red top as she reaches into the bottom of a file cabinet. She’s dressed up today, and it’s for me; we both know it. The first day I was here she wore mom jeans and a sweater.

Her wavy brunette hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her bright-blue eyes send my stomach churning in knots every time I catch a glimpse of them. It’s obvious that she works out and watches her figure, but she’s got these curves that send blood straight to my dick. I have to fuck this woman. No, I want to make this woman come harder than she ever has in her life, if she ever has at all. She deserves it. She works hard and is a good mother.

I’m going to plow her so hard she wants to scream but the words won’t come out. I can tell she wants it, constantly eyeing my six-foot-two frame, wondering what I’m packing in my slacks. It’s not ten inches, but it gets the job done. A massive cock is overrated anyway. I’m not trying to scar her for life.

I pull a caramel macchiato with no whipped cream out from behind my back and set it down on the desk in front of her. It’s all about paying attention to details.

“Oh my god. You’re my hero. Seriously.” She takes a sip. “I’m a slave to caffeine.”

“I know how it goes.”

Only my drug of choice is that yearning pussy that’s heating up for me in your panties while you eye fuck the shit out of me.


“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” She walks back behind her desk.

“Just a follow up consult, half a day. Make sure all the modules are functioning the way you like, and then I’m out of your hair.”

Her head drops a little and she stares down at the desk for a moment before looking back up at me. “Well, I’m taking you to lunch before you leave. On the company, if that’s okay?”

“I can’t say no to a free meal.” I laugh, knowing what I’ll be dining on. It’s under that skirt of hers. Today is a day she’ll remember for the rest of her life. She just doesn’t know it yet.

Most of the morning is uneventful, working out kinks in the software. Lunch can’t get here fast enough.

“Hey, can you take a look at this? I’m not sure this menu is exactly how we’d like it.” She turns back to me, then back to her screen.

I lean over her shoulder, perching up near her ear. God, she smells amazing. I try to look at the screen, but all I can focus on is a black lace bra corralling a pair of 38D breasts. She knows exactly what she’s doing, breaking out the sexy underwear for my last day here, longing for them to end up on the floor. “I think we should switch options three and four on this window.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” I don’t even look at the fucking screen. My eyes are busy, working down those creamy thighs with her knees pressed together, calves running down to a pair of black heels, legs crossed at the ankles.

I look up at the screen and try to buy myself some extra time. “Well, wait, what if we moved option two, and had a separate pop-up option for four?” I don’t even know if my words made sense or not, and I can tell she doesn’t care. She starts to speak and I exhale lightly across her neck.

“Hmm, I—” Her voice cracks a little as her eyes close, the tiny hairs on her neck standing at attention from my warm breath.

I interrupt her. “No, never mind. I think I like your idea better.” I breathe into her ear as I raise my head up.

I spy her brushing her hands across her legs and onto her knees as I walk away. She doesn’t think I notice, but I do. I can’t stop thinking about how wet her cunt is right now, her lips begging for my cock to drive into them. It’s going to be a long lunch.


I ride with her to the restaurant, but don’t make any moves. I want to tease her as long as possible. It’s a long-term investment for the eruption that will take place between her legs later, when I press the buttons in every erogenous zone in her brain. The clacking of her heels on the tile floor of the restaurant and her ass swaying back and forth in that skirt have my cock rock hard against the zipper of my pants. She knows she’s driving me crazy too. Jessica thinks she might know what’s coming, but there’s enough uncertainty to keep her wondering if she’ll merely be dreaming about fucking me when she rubs one out later.

I pull her chair out for her, to her surprise. “Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. My mom drilled the behavior into me since I was a boy.”

“Aww. A mama’s boy? I think it’s sweet that she taught you to be a gentleman.” She blushes.

“Yeah, she’s old school. Guys sometimes look at me funny, but it always seems to work in my favor with the ladies.” I flash her a devilish grin as I sit down.

The sexual tension is building, and for some reason seeing her wedding ring makes me want her more, as if it makes the game more of a challenge. I mean, I don’t go out seeking married women, but I don’t turn them down either. I didn’t make any promises to anyone to remain faithful, that’s their issue.

She’s staring at me with those seductive blue eyes again. Goddamn they drive me crazy. I’m a sucker for beautiful eyes. Her hair pulled back makes them pop even more. I want that red lipstick smeared all over my cock while I stare into them.

“So, what are you having?” she asks.

Definitely not the salad you will order. I can tell she’ll order one before the words leave her mouth. It’s a funny thing. Honestly, if she ordered a cheeseburger or steak it’d probably turn me on even more. I’ll order something decent, but not something that will make her feel bad for ordering salad. Grilled chicken or salmon is usually the go to.

“Oh, I think I’ll have the lemon pepper chicken.” I look over to see a guy tearing into a cheeseburger. Fucker. But it’s a price I’m willing to pay to get inside Jessica.

We laugh for a while, trading war stories about work, bad relationships, all the while flirting. Instinctively, I reach for the check when it comes.

“I told you it’s on the company.” She shoves my hand away, but not before holding on to it an extra split second.

“Sorry, it’s a force of habit.” Yeah right. I know exactly what I’m doing. She’s sharp, so I’m sure she’s caught on to some of the bullshit. It’s still worth it, as long as I don’t overdo it.

The drive back is the longest of my life. I can see her subtly squirming in her seat, anticipating what will come next, afraid that it’s going to end, and she’s going to be left with nothing but her hand and a cold shower. A memory of what might have been. I smile at the thought and glance over at her.

Don’t worry, Jessica. You’re going to get everything you want and then some. Just wait. Tension is building in my balls already as we pull into the parking garage. I’m on the verge of exploding in my pants. This is what I live for, the moments right before. All the anticipation, the sweaty palms, the stomach butterflies, my prick growing hard in my slacks, the animalistic instincts of wanting to drill the woman sitting two feet away, separated only by a console and some cup holders.

Finally, we pull into the parking space, staring at each other momentarily before opening our doors. I pretend to be a little upset that she opened the door for herself. “I’m so sorry. I’m not used to the royal treatment. My husband would have been inside the building by now.”

“Well, why don’t you make up for it and walk me to my car?”

That gets a giggle out of her. It’s cheesy as fuck, but she eats it up. Jessica holds out her arm to escort me, and I take it. I feel my forearm rub against her tight hard nipple and soft breast. It sends a warm sensation straight to my cock. The sound of her heels clacking on the concrete as we near my car has my pulse racing. I can see her biting her lip, knowing this is the moment for her. I can practically see everything she is thinking.

Is he really going to fuck me in his car, or in the dark corner of this busy parking garage? Why did he park all the way back here anyway? Did he plan this out?

You’re goddamn right I did, Jessica.

We approach my ’67 Fastback in the corner and she gasps. I’ve had it since I was 17 and restored it myself. Classic muscle cars are an aphrodisiac if there ever was one. She releases my arm to walk in front of me. Her ass is driving me wild in that skirt, I want to bite it and hear her squeal.

“Is that a ’67?”

Jesus Christ, she knows her cars. I’m now rock hard.

“Sure is.”

She’s walking faster, and I match her pace as she turns to the driver’s side door.

I have to check this out.” She runs her hand down the sleek metal in the sexiest way possible.

It’s time.

I walk up behind her and press my palm to the small of her back before smoothing it down to her ass. Her eyes close as she presses her tits up against the window, hands resting at the top of the car. I lean in close, next to her ear. “I have to check you out.” My voice is a whisper as I watch people get in and out of their cars, nothing between us and them but my Mustang. “I know you want this.” I whisper in her ear as I dig my fingers into her ass.

“But, I’m married.” Her words are a muttered gasp. She moans lightly as I run my hand up her skirt. She’s trying to tease me. She’ll find out who’s in control momentarily. “You sure? Last chance?” I exhale in her ear, and walk my fingers up her inner-thigh.

She won’t resist anymore. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

I rub my fingers back and forth on her hot, wet panties, circling around her clit. A shudder rips through her shoulders. I whisper in her ear again while breathing down her neck. “This is what you’ve wanted all week, isn’t it? Me, behind you, my hand up your skirt, playing with this pussy? Look at all these people. They have no idea I’m about to shove my fingers inside you.”

I lean forward and watch as she opens her eyes to see all the people in front of us who have no idea what we’re doing. I can see the spark in her eyes as the heat rushes through her veins like a strong narcotic. “You’ve been dreaming about my fingers inside this tight little cunt, knowing you could lose your job if you get caught. But you don’t care, do you? You want it too bad. You need me finger fucking this needy pussy, don’t you?”

I slip my thumb inside of her, two fingers swirling on her clit.

“Oh my fucking god, yes.” She coos, and spreads her thighs, giving me more access.

I roll one of her tight nipples between my fingers before running my hand over her breast. I can feel Jessica’s heartbeat on my thumb inside of her, panties cocked to the side. I focus on her clit, still running my fingers over it in small circles.

“Keep an eye out.” I drop to my knees slowly.

“What?” She glances back and down to me as I raise her skirt up, releasing her beautiful peach-shaped ass with black lace panties covering the upper half. She looks back up immediately before closing her eyes, finally giving in to the possibility of being discovered.

I massage her ass cheeks over her panties—I know she wore them specifically for this moment—before pulling them down around her knees, revealing her swollen, pink entrance, already wet and glistening between her thighs. I take my time, working up the back of her tan legs, teasing her slit with the tip of my tongue, before burying my nose in her ass, and darting my tongue into her.

Jessica lets out a slight squeal, and then covers her mouth, looking around to see if anyone noticed. A family of four is walking through the parking lot, oblivious to me tasting her sweet pussy a few cars down. I pick up the pace, flicking my tongue on her clit and probing her while she squirms against the car door, wanting to shout but knowing she can’t.

I grip her ass, and turn her around to face me, staring eye-level at her pink, freshly shaved cunt. I can see the lust in her eyes, and it fills me with a sense of power and satisfaction, knowing that she is going to finally open her mind and release all of the tension that’s been building for years in every bone in her body. I yank her pussy to my mouth, which sends her bending over me in surprise.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” Her words are jumbled under her breath.

I start working my fingers up her inner thigh while teasing her bump with my tongue, licking her wetness that flows down onto my face. The closer my fingers get, the tighter she squeezes her legs together. I lean back and look up to her eyes. “Relax. You’re about to experience something you’ve never felt before.”

She loosens, and her legs slowly spread as I work my fingers in, still teasing my tongue on her clit and watching her paw at her breasts. Neither of us give a fuck about getting caught at this point. The attraction is too strong. Her eyes roll back as I take my two fingers to the hilt, curling them up to the ridge I find deep inside. Her walls squeeze tight around my fingers, and I imagine what they’ll feel like around my cock later.

Wow, this pussy is tight. She definitely hasn’t had it in a while.

The suctioning noise of my fingers pumping in and out of her echoes off the concrete walls surrounding us. My fingers are drenched as she grips the back of my scalp, the insides of her arms pressing those beautiful tits together. I snake my tongue over her and work it in circles as my fingers hammer away deep inside of her.

“Goddamn it, Joel, fuck!” Her words are a little too loud for comfort, but it doesn’t slow me down. She’s on the edge and doesn’t realize what’s on the other side. She’s always been too afraid to let go and take the plunge. I’m about to take her there.

I lift up my pinky finger. My entire hand and her thighs are shimmering, and covered in Jessica’s wetness. I slide my pinky finger between the crack of her ass with each thrust of my fingers, before teasing her tight little puckered asshole with it.

“Holy. Fuck.” She’s panting, barely able to breathe. Her hips fly back and try to push her ass through the car door, barely able to handle the intense nerve firings ripping to her core. I keep my head buried into her, my mouth latched onto her pussy, increasing the tempo of my tongue and fingers. I remove my head from between her legs for a brief second.

“Just let it happen,” I whisper, before diving back in, lashing my tongue across her pussy.

“Okay, okay. Oh my fucking god!” She covers her mouth, trying not to scream as my pinky slides slightly inside of her asshole, and I start rubbing over her g-spot in small circles, my fingers fully plunged into the depths of her.

She’s now bucking her hips into my face, fully engrossed in her fantasy. A shudder starts in her legs and shoots through her. Her entire body tenses as her thighs squeeze around my face, her nails digging into my scalp. Her pussy clamps around my fingers like a vise and she convulses against my face, before letting go and coming all over my lips, unable to make a sound. I savor every drop as time freezes for her, all of her sexual energy channeled into her pulsating clit, then shooting to her extremities. She finally relaxes a little, her beautiful breasts rising and falling with each deep breath.

I stand up slowly to meet her with a smile, running my fingers across her tight nipples just to see a shiver jolt through her torso. “You are a genius.” A huge smile spreads across her face. “Holy fuck!”

I’ve unleashed the beast. It’s inside of every woman, she just doesn’t know it.

She throws me up against the car, and my cock immediately rises to attention as she rubs her palm over it. Her eyes widen as she feels my length in her hand, growing more and more the tighter she squeezes. “I have a few things I want to do to you.”

“Do it then.”

I grin. She drops to her knees and unbuckles my belt, then pulls it apart with her teeth, one of my weaknesses that I find ridiculously hot. Her bright, blue eyes staring up at me have my balls roiling with tension, and I haven’t even been inside her yet.

She unzips my pants and pulls my briefs down with them in one quick motion, releasing my cock like a spring-loaded weapon. “Oh my.” She strokes the length of my prick slowly with one hand, the other rubbing on her beautiful tits over her shirt.

She teases my tip with her tongue. A tingling sensation shoots through my legs as soon as her warm tongue curls around the head of my cock. “You’ve wanted to suck that dick, haven’t you?” I stare down at her skirt that’s hiked up over her beautiful ass.

She nods, taking me a little farther into her mouth, those blue eyes locked on mine, logging away every reaction in her memory. The inside of her cheeks closing around the head of my cock sends my head flying backward. She’s surprisingly better than I thought she’d be. Accountants, they have a wild side to them.

She’s now hit her groove, stroking and sucking in one smooth, rhythmic motion. It feels amazing. I can’t stop staring at those ruby-red lips spread tight around my stiff prick, smearing her lipstick on the length of it. Suddenly, she lifts my cock and presses it to my stomach, before diving onto my balls and sucking on one and then the other, all the while stroking my cock with her palm.

“You like that, don’t you?” She pauses for a moment. I’m not going to lie; it feels fucking amazing. Apparently, I don’t answer her fast enough as she spits all over my balls, and takes one in her mouth, sucking forcefully on it.

Goddamn. I’m contemplating letting her have control of this whole ordeal. She might fuck even better than I thought.

“Hell yes, just like that.”

“I saw you staring at my tits in the office. You’ve been teasing me with this dick all week. You want to fuck them. Don’t you?”

I grin. What have I created? This woman is incredible, radiating sexual confidence. I’m going to change her life. “Thought you’d never ask.”

She looks around as if she’s suddenly worried about someone seeing her pull her tits out. Never mind the fact that she just smothered her face with my balls. Before I know it, she has her bra pulled out through her sleeve, and she’s lifted her shirt up, releasing a beautiful pair of natural tits that bounce slightly. I want to bury my face between them and never come out.

She squeezes them together and lets her spit slowly fall into her cleavage. “You like these?”

“They’re fucking perfect.”

“I can’t wait to watch you fuck them.” She spits on my cock, then scoops under her tits with one arm, her free hand palming my shaft. She slaps the head of my dick on each one, then teases at her nipples with it. I’m about to explode every time her tight pearls rub against my swollen head.

“You like it when I slap your cock on these big fucking tits?”

“Hell yes.”

Then she slaps it on her cheek and her tongue a few times, sucking the tip for a moment. Before I know it, she has those gorgeous breasts wrapped around the length of me, bobbing up and down.

God I love my dick between her tits.

She slides me back and forth between them, increasing and decreasing the tempo at will. I fist her ponytail in one hand, and cage her throat with the other. Her eyes grow wide as I thrust my cock back and forth between her tits.

I have to get inside of her. It’s uncontrollable.

I grab her under her arms and yank her to her feet. She lets out a slight squeal that turns to a moan as I flip her around and shove her up against the side of the car. Her legs spread, offering her ass to me. “You want my cock inside you?” I smack her ass and dig in with my fingers, as I lean in next to her ear.


I slap my dick on her ass from the side, watching the unsuspecting people come in and out of the building. “You’ve been dreaming about this all week haven’t you? This big fucking dick in your tight cunt. It’s been driving you crazy. Hasn’t it?”

“Mmhmm.” She nods.

“Ask me for it.”

“Can I have your cock?”

“How bad do you want it?” I grip her by the hair and she moans.

I rub my dick underneath her, back and forth between her soaking wet lips, coating it with her wetness.

“Give it to me. Please. I want to come on your cock.”

I pull back on her hair and her face tilts toward the ceiling. Her tits press against the car window as I tease my head around the edge of her pussy. I slowly push into her, watching my cock disappear an inch at a time.

Goddamn. She’s so fucking tight and wet.

She’s moaning and I haven’t even given it all to her yet. I can’t wait for her hot walls to spasm around me.

I work about three quarters into her and I start to speed up. Surprisingly, nobody has even turned a head in our direction. I lean in next to her ear. “You ready for me to fuck this pussy?”

“God yes!”

I grip her around the waist and go into jackhammer mode. She starts to scream and bites down on her forearm that is resting on the car. My pelvis is ramming into her ass cheeks, smacking into her as I plunge balls deep. Her tits shake against the glass.

“You like that shit?”

She can’t even respond. I grab her ponytail and smack her ass with my free hand, leaving a red hand print.

“You like that? You like being fucked like a naughty little slut?”

“Jesus, I’m going to come again.”

“Yeah, come all over this fucking dick you’ve been craving.”

Her hot cunt closes in on me. Her eager pussy clenching for more. She’s going to make me blow my load. I reach around and play with her clit, working tiny circles around it while ramming her full speed. Her thighs start to tremble. It’s all too familiar now. She knows what she’s capable of, and she needs it. I push her past the breaking point and her pussy clamps down on me, her ass and hips vibrating out of control as she bucks back into my cock.

I hear a moan and she pauses, unable to speak. Number two is a success. Her mouth opens to scream but no words come out, just a slight squeal and heavy, deep breaths. I flip her around and lift her against the car, working my cock back inside of her. The car is supporting most of her weight as her tits smash against me.

“Are you going to come for me?” She grips my tie in her right hand.


“I want it on my face.” She yanks me closer by the tie, those blue eyes locked on mine. I picture her on her knees, looking at me with those eyes, while I blast her face with my warm load. It sends me into a frenzy. I start pounding into her. The smacking sounds of me ramming her, coupled with my balls slapping up against her tight little asshole, have me in another world.

Tension builds inside me as I continue to fuck her as fast and as hard as possible. I can feel my load inching its way up my shaft as she starts convulsing on my prick with orgasm number three. When she squeezes that slick little cunt around me, it’s all over. “Get on your knees.” I slip my prick out into my palm and start stroking it furiously.

She kneels down and looks up at me, her mouth open wide with her tongue sticking out, those gorgeous blue eyes locked back on mine once more, begging for every ounce.

The head of my cock is expanding like a balloon. I can’t speak. I can only nod to give her a warning before thrusting and letting loose. I spray across her nose and up under one of her eyes, grunting with each thrust. Her eyes close as I explode all over her. Each stroke of my cock sends a new stream into her mouth and onto her forehead, some of it dripping down to her tits. The sight of her face covered in my hot come makes my balls ache as my pelvis and thighs quiver. Finally, I finish, releasing the last of it onto her soft, pink tongue.

I grab a tee shirt from inside the car. She cleans up the tip of my cock and shaft, before wiping the rest from her face and tits.

I can’t lie. I fuck all the time, but it never gets old. Every unique conquest is etched into my mind, a memory I’ll keep forever. Each orgasm is like a symphony, in a different location, with different instruments. I look back down into those huge, satisfied blue eyes. A huge grin spreads across her face.

“That was amazing.” My breath is labored as I admire her beautiful face.

“You think?” She giggles. “I didn’t even know that was fucking possible. Who are you?” The panty whisperer.  

AP new -about the author.jpg

Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

Visit his web page www.sloanehowell.com to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.


Author Links

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Excerpt Reveal: Marry Screw Kill by Liv Morris

marry screw kill excerpt


“When drowning, one grabs the first lifeline thrown without regard to

who holds the rope.”

James silences his blaring alarm clock in the early morning darkness of our

bedroom. He falls back on the bed with a sigh as I face the wall, feigning sleep.

Not moving a muscle, I wait for what comes next. He’ll either get out of bed or

climb on top of me. When I sense a slight movement from his side of the bed, I

hold my breath.

“Come here, Harlow.” His hand curls around my waist and he rolls my body

over to face him. Morning sex it is. He pushes away the tangled bed hair covering

my eyes as I blink the sleep from them. “There’s my beautiful girl.” He kisses my

forehead with a soft brush of his lips.

“Morning,” I reply in a sleepy, hoarse voice. He pulls down the twisted covers

and exposes our naked bodies. His gaze travels over me, lingering on his favorite

spots—ones he knows very well.

“What a sight to wake up to.” He hovers above my body and looks down at

me with hooded eyes. “My day is always better when I start it inside you. Now,

spread those long legs so I can fuck you.”

I part my legs and my day begins…
marry screw kill preorder


**Release date April 25th**

iBooks: http://apple.co/1VPdFqS

Nook: hyperurl.co/NookMSK

Kobo: hyperurl.co/KoboMSK

Sign up here to be notified as soon as MSK is live on Amazon: hyperurl.co/MSK-LIVE

marry screw kill cover


There are two men in my life. I’m marrying one, want to screw the brains out of another, and by the time this story is over you may want to kill someone.

The choices are still pending…

A NO CHEATING standalone you need to read sitting down.

marry screw kill teaser 1

About the Author:

USA Today bestselling author, Liv Morris, was raised in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri. She now resides on the rock known as St. Croix, USVI with her first and hopefully last husband. After relocating twelve times during his corporate career, she qualifies as a professional mover. Learning to bloom where she’s planted, Liv brings her moving and life experience to her writing.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

marry screw kill excerpt use

Excerpt Reveal: Dirty by Kylie Scott

dirty excerpt reveal


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

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

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

Awesome. Just plain awesome.

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

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

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

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

Then the shower curtain flew back.

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

Good question.

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

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

And I should stop ogling him. Right.

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

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

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

“You what?”

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

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

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

But back to my explanations.

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

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

Shit. I really should have chosen another house.

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

“That so?”

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

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


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

“No, I swear.”

“Nothing to drink?”

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

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


A pause.

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

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Oh, god. “I’m not. I’m sane.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn right, I do.”

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

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

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

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

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

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

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

“Look at me.”

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

“I’m Vaughan,” he said.


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

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

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

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

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

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

I knew that feeling.

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

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

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

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

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

“The big house at the back.”

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


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

“It was a disaster.”

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

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

“No. I’m not.”

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

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


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

“Agreed,” I said, voice lightening.

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

“I know,” I said sadly.

“I’ll leave you to get changed.”

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

More frowning.

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

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

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


“But I broke into your house.”

“Window was open.”

“I still trespassed.”

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

That shut me up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you ready to get Dirty?  

Dirty is Book One in Kylie Scott’s Dive Bar Series.  

Meet Vaughn & Lydia on April 19th!

dirty preorder

Pre-order your copy of DIRTY here:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Q7LCyb

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1OYc53N

iBooks: http://apple.co/1TOAhIG

Barnes & Noble:  http://bit.ly/1MetF1F

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1Mez6t6

dirty teaser 330


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

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

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

After all, what’s wrong with getting dirty?

dirty teaser 323

About the Author:

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

Kylie is represented by Amy Tannenbaum at the Jane Rotrosen Agency, New York.
Stalk Kylie Scott: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

dirty teaser 316

Excerpt Reveal: Stuck Up Suit by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward

stuck up suit excerpt reveal


It felt like we were the only two people in the world, instead of inside a busy, posh restaurant.  

“This is beautiful.  But odd,” I said.

Graham took off his jacket and settled into his side of the table with one arm casually slung over the top of the booth.  “Fitting.”

“Are you saying I’m odd?”

“Are we going to fight about it if I say yes?”


“Then, yes.”

My brow furrowed.  “You want to fight with me?”

Graham tugged at his tie, loosening it.  “I find it turns me on.”

I laughed.  “I think you need counseling.”

“After the last few days, I believe you may be right.”

The waitress returned with our drinks.  She set a highball glass down in front of him and a wine glass in front of me.

Graham had ordered Hendrick’s and tonic.  “That’s an old man’s drink, gin and tonic,” I said as I sipped my wine.

He swirled the ice around in his glass, then brought it to his lips and looked at me over the rim before drinking.  ”Remember what arguing with me does.  You might want to look under the table.”

My eyes widened.  “You aren’t.”

He smirked and cocked an eyebrow.  “Go ahead.  Put your head under.  I know you’re dying to take a peek anyway.”

After we both finished our drinks, and some of my nerves had started to calm, we finally had our first real conversation.  One that wasn’t about sex or tongue rings.  

“So how many hours do you work a day in that big fancy office of yours?”

“I usually go in by eight and try to leave by eight.”

“Twelve hours a day?  That’s sixty hours a week.”

“Not counting weekends.”

“You work weekends, too?”


“So your only day off is Sunday?”

“I actually sometimes work in the evening on Sunday, too.”

“That’s nuts.  When do you find time to enjoy yourself?”

“I enjoy my work.”

I scoffed.  “Didn’t sound that way when I stopped in the other day.  Everyone there seems afraid of you, and you refused to open the door.”

“I was busy.”  He folded his arms over his chest.  

I did the same.  “So was I.  I took two trains to personally deliver that phone, you know.  And you didn’t have the decency to even come out and say thank you.”

“I didn’t know what was behind the door waiting for me, or I would have come out.”

“A person.  A person was behind the door.  One who went out of her way for you.  If I were a sixty-year-old married woman with blue hair, you should have come out to thank me.”

He sighed.  “I’m a busy man, Soraya.”

“Yet here you are on a weeknight at only 7PM.  Shouldn’t you be working until eight if you’re so busy?”

“I make exceptions when warranted.”

“How big of you.”

He arched an eyebrow.  “You want to look under the table, don’t you?”
coming soon stuck up

Are you ready to meet the STUCK UP SUIT?
Coming to an e-reader near you on April 11th!

Pre-order on iBooks: http://apple.co/25CPvEL

Pre-order paperback: http://amzn.to/1RTGBYV

Add Stuck-Up Suit to your TBR list on Goodreads!


Sign up for Penelope & Vi’s mailing list now and be the first one notified of releases! http://eepurl.com/brAPo9

stuck - up suit cover


It started out like any other morning on the train.

Until I became mesmerized by the guy sitting across the aisle.

He was barking at someone on his phone like he ruled the world.

Who did the stuck-up suit think he was…God?

Actually, he looked like a God. That was about it.

When his stop came, he got up suddenly and left.  So suddenly, he dropped his phone on the way out.

I might have picked it up.

I might have gone through all of his photos and called some of the numbers.

I might have held onto the mystery man’s phone for days—until I finally conjured up the courage to return it.

When I traipsed my ass across town to his fancy company, he refused to see me.

So, I left the phone on the empty desk outside the arrogant jerk’s office.

I might have also left behind a dirty picture on it first though.

I didn’t expect him to text back.

I didn’t expect our exchanges to be hot as hell.

I didn’t expect to fall for him—all before we even met.

The two of us couldn’t have been any more different.

Yet, you know what they say about opposites.

When we finally came face to face, we found out opposites sometimes do more than attract—we consumed each other.

Nothing could have prepared me for the ride he took me on. And I certainly wasn’t prepared for where I’d wind up when the ride was over.

All good things must come to an end, right?

Except our ending was one I didn’t see coming.

stuck up suit teaser 1

Other books from Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward

Cocky Bastard

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1DW9XpB

Amazon UK:  http://amzn.to/1WwPzkC

iBooks: http://apple.co/1J7vbN0

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1UxCSUO

B&N: http://bit.ly/1EjxNpY

stuck up suit teaser 2

Meet Penelope Ward

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Penelope lives for reading books in the new adult/contemporary romance genre, coffee and hanging out with her friends and family on weekends. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 11-year-old girl with autism (the inspiration for the character Callie in Gemini) and a 9-year-old boy, both of whom are the lights of her life. Penelope, her husband and kids reside in Rhode Island. She is the author of RoomHate, which hit #2 on the New York Times Bestseller list and #1 on the Wall Street Journal Bestseller list. Her novel, Stepbrother Dearest, also spent four consecutive weeks on the New York Times Bestseller list. Other works include the New York Times bestseller Cocky Bastard (co-written with Vi Keeland), Sins of Sevin, My Skylar, Jake Undone, Jake Understood and Gemini.

Stalk Her: Facebook | Website | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | Goodreads | Private Fan Group

Meet Vi Keeland

Vi Keeland is a native New Yorker with three children that occupy most of her free time, which she complains about often, but wouldn’t change for the world. She is an attorney and a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, & USA Today Bestselling author. Over the last three years, ten of her titles have appeared on the USA Today Bestseller lists and three on the New York Times Bestseller lists.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | Pinterest

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