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Hostage Book Blitz

Hostage
Annika Martin & Skye Warren
Publication date: January 30th 2018
Genres: New Adult, Romance

I NEVER KNEW WHEN HE’D COME TO ME. ONLY THAT HE WOULD.

I’d never even kissed a boy the night I met Stone. The night I saw him kill. The night he spared my life. That was only the beginning.

He turns up in my car again and again, dangerous and full of raw power. “Drive,” he tells me, and I have no choice. He’s a criminal with burning green eyes, invading my life and my dreams.

The police say he’s dangerously obsessed with me, but I’m the one who can’t stop thinking about him. Maybe it’s wrong to let him touch me. Maybe it’s wrong to touch him back. Maybe these twisted dates need to stop. Except he feels like the only real thing in my world of designer labels and mansions.

So I drive us under threat, until it’s hard to remember I don’t want to be there.

Until it’s too late to turn back.

HOSTAGE is a dangerous standalone romance by New York Times bestselling authors Skye Warren and Annika Martin. It’s set in the same world as PRISONER, but can read separately!

Goodreads / iBooks

EXCERPT:

A calm comes over me. “Are you going to kill me, too?”

“So far, you haven’t shown you can follow orders very well, have you?”

“I won’t tell on you,” I blurt out.

He snorts.

We’re heading west, out of the city. The party seems like a million years ago. They’ll be sitting down for dinner now. Wondering where I am. Will they think I left?

The man’s face is in shadows. Streetlamps flash over his face as the van moves along, revealing a nose carved out of granite and a strong jaw. I wouldn’t call him handsome. He’s too rough-hewn for that, like someone forgot to sand over the angles.

“Please—”

“Be quiet.” His soft menace is directed at me this time. I shrink in my seat.

We’re going into a run-down suburb, Westdale or Ferndale or something, a place with a lot of little tiny box homes. It’s a place I never go. We wind through the streets, deeper and deeper.

It’s hard to even look at him. That means acknowledging what’s happening to me. This is real. I may never make it out of this alive. That’s what I think when I turn my head to the side, glance at him from beneath low lashes. Which makes his gray Henley and dark-wash jeans seem way too ordinary. If this were the day I was going to die, wouldn’t he be wearing something more dramatic?

But that’s just wishful thinking from my panicked mind. He can hurt me wearing anything. I’m so deep in danger it’s hard to breathe.

He slows on a far block and turns. The van headlights hit overgrown weeds and the charred remains of a house. The place burned at one time, long ago.

He circles around and goes into the alley behind it. He shoves it into park and does something to the wires that make it shut off. He turns to me. “I’m gonna get out and deal with this guy. If you move out of this seat, I’ll kill you. And if, by some miracle, you manage to get away, I’m going to kill everybody you called on this phone in the last month. Can you guess how? I’ll give you a hint. A meat hook is involved.”

I suck in a breath. He doesn’t bother to wait for my answer. He gets out, yanks open the back door, and drags the man out—I can tell by the thuds. More punching sounds come from behind the van. The groans and garbled pleas sound worse and worse.

I huddle in my seat, listening to a man get beaten to death.

Bile rises up in my throat. I have only a few seconds to decide what to do—throw up in the van or throw up outside. He’s told me not to leave. He’s threatened my life, threatened to snap my neck. But I have an entire lifetime of my mother’s voice in my head. I have sixteen years of decorum forcing me to fumble for the door handle and push my way out.

I make it two feet away before dropping to my hands and knees and throwing up in the weeds behind the place. For all I know, he’ll kill me for this. For all I know, he’d have killed me for doing this in the van. He’s insane.

There’s not much that lands on the ground. A bottle of smartwater and some strawberries don’t leave a lot to vomit, but my stomach still heaves again and again until I’m sore, until I’m choking on bile, wrung dry.

I sit back on my feet, wiping my face, panting, one hand on the rough concrete, head down. The sounds back there have changed. There’s this grunting and a grinding sound, then a crack. It makes me want to throw up all over again.

If he’s going to kill me, I’d rather not see it coming. I guess I hope he does it fast. That’s what they always say in movies.

I hear a thump in the back of the van and then the sound of the door shutting. Footsteps coming toward me.

I force my breathing to slow. He’s behind me. I stay still.

“You’ve never seen shit like this, have you?” he asks, his voice almost conversational.

It makes me shiver, how he can sound so normal after killing a man.

My voice is low. “No.”

“You’ve only seen—what? Parties? Fancy shit?”

There’s judgment in his voice and something else. Curiosity? I can use that. I have to use that, because it’s the only tool I have. I sit back on my knees, brushing my hands against each other to wipe off the gravel. My white and pink dress is stained with blood and dirt. My cell phone is in his pocket. If I want to survive this, I need to persuade him to let me go.

“Parties,” I force myself to say in agreement. Make him see you as a person. “Tonight was my birthday party.”

He doesn’t say anything.

I look up at him. His face is cast in shadows by the moon. Demonic. Unforgiving. I wonder how I look to him, down on the ground in a dirty alley.

“Please just let me go back there,” I whisper. “Nobody has to know.”

He lowers to his haunches and brushes a strand of slick hair from my face. His thumb lingers on my cheek, brushing over my skin. “You’re right,” he says, voice musing. “No one saw me take you. No one even knew I was there. No one has to know.”

“What does that mean?” I whisper.

He stands, sucking in a ragged breath. My heart pounds as his eyes move over me.

I’ve never felt so helpless, so alone. I’m a sacrifice, kneeling at the feet of a beautiful, brutal demon.

Author Bio:

Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance. For those new to her work, consider the following bestselling series…

★ Experience the dark glamour and forbidden love of the Stripped series. The mafia romance prequel TOUGH LOVE is free!

★ Meet the gritty and dangerous men of Chicago Underground… start reading for free with book one, ROUGH.

★ Fall in love with the sexy modern fairy tale the Beauty series, starting with Beauty Touched the Beast.

“This is the story I’ve been dying for, and it’s a story I never expected. Beautifully layered, romantic and sexy, Skye Warren delivers a complex story of fierce loyalty, absolution, and endless love. The writing in this book is as breathtaking as the story is unforgettable. I absolutely loved it. ” – Angie and Jessica’s Dreamy Reads

Don’t miss a release! Sign up for the newsletter to find out about new releases and sales:

http://www.skyewarren.com/newsletter

Annika Martin:

I’m a NYT bestselling author, lover of sexy stories, hot heroes, and big drama. I live in Minnesota with my husband and two cats. I’ve been writing all my life while working various jobs, from waitress at a zillion different restaurants to advertising writer. I’m into running and yoga and helping animals, and coveting other people’s gardens. I also write as RITA award-winning author Carolyn Crane.

Newsletter: http://www.annikamartinbooks.com/newsletter

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Total Exposure (Book Blitz)

Total Exposure
J.A. Huss
(Jordan’s Game #1)
Publication date: January 16th 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

Not everyone needs a master.

Not everyone needs to really live, either.

Some people are content to be a participant in the game of life.

Others want to play for real.

If you want to play for real, come to me, lovely.

I’ll give you that little push you need.

I’ll open your mind, and your world, and soul.

Lay you bare. Let you feel the heat of my stare.

Take you places you’ve never been before.

Your body is my chessboard, sweets.

And if you give in to me, and you play, you might even win.

It’s just… your prize might not be what you went looking for.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Jordan says, eyeing my leathers.

“What every goddamned biker wears,” I snap. He’s wearing a goddamned suit that looks like it costs as much as that car I left back at Rachel’s sister’s house.

“You rode your bike down here?”

“Long. Story.” I close my eyes to signal that I’m not in the mood to tell said story, and he takes the hint. Because he knows me just as well as I know him. “Why the hell am I here?”

He stares at me. Looks me up and down. A whole scenario flashes in my mind in the time it takes him to reach down to pick something up off his desk, where he says, I found her. Or, She found me. Or, You wanna go to dinner with us? Because we’ve got reservations at the Grant. And he means her and him, as in the whole thing about us that made us an us in the first place.

But of course, he doesn’t say anything like that. He says, “Here’s the job,” waving a large yellow envelope, handing it to me. “Everything’s in there. Just…” He sighs and pinches the space between his eyes—stupid fucking Jordan gesture—like I’m the one on his last nerve, and not the other way around. “Just do it, OK? And be super fucking discreet. This is all anonymous. You do not show your face. You do not make any sort of contact. It’s strictly surveillance. Got it?”

I rip the envelope open and take a peek. Two keys, two bound stacks of hundred-dollar bills, which should be twenty thousand dollars, and some paperwork. “Is it legal?” I ask, taking out the stack of papers.

It’s a dossier—female. Mid-twenties. Dark hair and gray eyes—for one Evangeline Rolaine.

“Of course it’s legal. Why does everybody always ask me that? I’m a goddamned lawyer, everything I do is legal.”

“Yeah.” I laugh, reading the woman’s short bio on the top page. “You’re a goddamned lawyer, all right. Why does this name sound familiar?”

Jordan eyes me, waiting to see if I’ll take that first comment any further, and decides I won’t—and he’s right. Because after the morning I’ve had, I can’t think of a single reason I need to rehash the past too. “She was famous once upon a time.”

“Child prodigy,” I say slowly, reading her bio at the same time. “Yeah, I remember this chick. She was all over the TV when she was a kid.”

“Right. And then she wasn’t. It’s your job to watch her. That’s it. Just watch her. You got it?”

“Watch her do what?” I ask, flipping through the pictures.

“Just… everything. Nothing specific.”

Why am I watching her? Someone after her or something?”

“You don’t need to know why. You just need to take that money, buy the fucking equipment, go to that address, put up the fucking cameras, and then when she gets there, you watch her.”

“So I’m spying on her and she doesn’t know it?” My laugh is loud. Because… “That’s some creepy shit, dude.”

Jordan sucks in a breath of air. It’s cautious, that inhale. It’s long too. And it’s filled with all the things that we left unsaid between us after college. “She knows,” Jordan finally says. Carefully. Like he’s picking his way through a minefield. “Just… just fucking do what I tell you. You’ve got a week to get set up and then a few weeks of surveillance, tops. Then I’ll pay you.”

“I don’t need the money, asshole. You know that’s not why I’m here.”

I hear the unasked question. He hears it too. Then why are you here?

But he knows why.

Author Bio:

JA Huss is the USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty romances. She likes stories about family, loyalty, and extraordinary characters who struggle with basic human emotions while dealing with bigger than life problems. JA loves writing heroes who make you swoon, heroines who makes you jealous, and the perfect Happily Ever After ending.

You can chat with her on Facebook (www.facebook.com/AuthorJAHuss), Twitter (@jahuss), and her blog, New Adult Addiction (www.jahuss.com).

If you’re interested in getting your hands on an advanced release copy of her upcoming books, sneak peek teasers, or information on her upcoming personal appearances, you can join her newsletter list (http://eepurl.com/JVhAr) and get those details delivered right to your inbox.

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The Other Brother

I got the call. The dreaded call every child fears. My dad wasn’t well, and the man who had always been my everything needed me.

There was only one thing to do; pack up and head back to my hometown. I had finally made my dream life in the city with the great job and loving boyfriend. But was there really a choice not to go?

I found a wonderful job, a quaint house to rent, my boyfriend was working on joining me in Binghamton, and my favorite pizza place was only miles away. Life was good.

Until I met my neighbor.

It’s been three years since I’d seen Aaron Walters, and my God is he all kinds of sexy gorgeous. Figures. He was supposed to be my forever, the man I grew old with, but he had different plans. How can a man who ripped my heart apart still trip me up? How can he make me still want him now more than ever?

I’m tempted, I’m drawn toward him, I’m completely and utterly unaware that I’m dating his biological brother.

Now two men own my heart. The question is, which brother will I choose?

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ENJOY THIS EXCERPT FROM THE OTHER BROTHER

Right on time, I’m impressed.

She doesn’t get out of her car right away, so I give her a second but then realize maybe she’s not exiting the vehicle because I have the key to the house and she has nowhere to go.

Wanting to make a good impression and seem approachable since I’m the property manager, I run my hand through my hair and adjust my jeans. I’m not wearing any fancy shit, but at least I don’t have holes in or paint stains on my clothes. I hop off my front porch and make my way toward her car, slowly, not wanting to scare her.

There is muffling coming from her car, voices I can’t quite hear, but I get the idea she’s finishing up a conversation, so I slow my pace drastically. That’s when I see her tilt her head down and look at me. From the reflection of the light off her windows, I can’t make out her features. I can only see a silhouette.

I lift a friendly hand in her direction to let her know I come in peace and make my way to her driveway. There is no wave back, but I do hear the telltale sound of her opening her car door. She steps out and when I round the vehicle, I catch the sun off her driver’s side window, temporarily blinding me.

Blinking my eyes a few times to calm my retinas, I bring her into focus.

“Aaron . . .”

Every hair on my body sticks straight up and my body goes still from that voice, that unmistakably sultry voice.

When she finally comes into view, I am met with a pair of hazel eyes I haven’t been able to get out of my head since the day she left town for bigger and better things.

“Amelia.” I clear my throat and take a step forward. “Wow, I uh . . .” Tongue-tied, that’s exactly what I am right now. “Didn’t expect to see you get out of that car.” I laugh nervously while I pull on the back of my neck, trying to comprehend what’s going on. I point with my thumb toward the house and ask, “You’re the new tenant?”

She nods and looks me over, taking her time with her perusal, her eyes burning a hole right through my clothes like they used to. When her eyes meet mine again, she asks, “You’re the property manager?”

I nod and swallow hard. “And neighbor.”

She presses her lips together, thinning them out. “What are the chances?” She laughs nervously.

“Yeah, especially since I thought your life was in the city.” I didn’t mean for that to come out rude, but it did. Gentling my voice, I ask, “What brings you back home?”

Staring at the ground, clutching her purse to her side, she says, “My dad. He’s, uh, not doing well.” Duh, Mrs. Ferguson mentioned something like that. I’m so damn overwhelmed and shocked right now though, that entire conversation I had with Mrs. Ferguson is not registering in my mind.

“Oh no.” My brow pinches together in concern. “What happened?”

She waves me off. “Nothing you need to worry about.” And just like that she shuts me down. Honestly, I’m surprised she said that much to me after how we ended things between us.

Yes, there was an us, a perfectly beautiful, love-filled us. Amelia Santos was the best thing to ever happen to me, and yet, she was also the worst. During a time where my heart broke from every uncaring glance from my mom, Amelia resurrected me from the ashes I would have otherwise drowned in. She was my rock, the one solid feature in my life.

She was also my downfall.

She was going places, and I wasn’t. She had opportunity, and I had none. She wanted me to move with her, and I couldn’t, but no way in hell would I hold her back. I barely made it out of my mom’s house. There were many days when I tried hard to earn a buck so I could find a place to live other than the homeless shelter where I spent many lonely nights. Amelia deserved better than that, so I pushed her away to achieve her dreams. Little did I know, breaking up with her would send me in the biggest downward spiral of my life. The only reason I’m the man I am today is because after hitting rock bottom, I knew things needed to change, and it was up to me to make something of myself. So I worked my ass off. And now at thirty, I can say proudly that I’m a co-owner of an up-and-coming construction company as well as the proud owner of a house in the heart of Hillcrest, a beautiful two-story house. I’m doing well for myself . . . at least that’s what I thought until Amelia stepped out of her car.

Now I’m questioning every little thing about my life leading to this point.

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

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Scoring with Santa

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(There goes a sexy Xmas cover)

Scoring with Santa 

Theresa Roemer
Publication date: December 20th 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance, Sports

A career-driven mom. Houston’s most eligible heartthrob. The irresistible attraction could destroy both their careers.

Rick Morehouse doesn’t date single moms. As the former quarterback for the Houston Texans, he’s Houston’s most eligible bachelor. But after the heartache of abandonment by his own mother’s string of boyfriends, he never wants to hurt anyone’s kids that way. When he meets Brandy Love, the drop-dead gorgeous owner of Phenomenal Physiques, he’s totally taken by the confident career woman. It’s too bad she has kids.

Brandy Love doesn’t have room in her life for a relationship. Opening a chain of gyms and parenting her kids already takes more time than she has. But when Coach Charming drops in on her gym, she’s sorely tempted.

When vengeful columnist roasts Rick to bring down his team at the playoffs, Brandy must decide if he’s worth fighting for. But even if she can save him, will he accept her and her kids in his life?

Devour this sexy and sweet holiday page-turner today!

“Flaming hot sports romance with a dash of Desperate Housewives–Roemer and Rose truly delight!” ~USA Today Bestselling Author Lee Savino

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

EXCERPT:

He caught her wrist as she moved out of his personal space. He had fast reflexes for a guy who had just been struggling to keep his hands interlaced behind his back. “Don’t stop,” he murmured, flashing that megawatt smile again.

She forced a chuckle. “Hey, I charge a lot for private lessons. That’s all you get for a freebie.”

He threw his head back and laughed, a deep rumbling sound that warmed her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “Well, how can I go about scheduling one of those privates?”

She looked away, stepping toward the door and forcing him to drop her wrist. “Ah, you know, check with the front desk,” she said vaguely with a laugh.

“Actually, I was hoping for your number.”

“I’m sure you were,” she said over her shoulder.

“Really? You’re just blowing me off, huh?”

She stopped and pivoted. He sounded dead sincere now, which surprised her. “Wow, yeah. About that…I’m, uh, not exactly dating right now.”

Even if I were, I’d stay way the hell away from a player like you.

Her smile wobbled. This shouldn’t be so hard.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his gym shorts, which few men could pull off and still look manly. He nailed it. She realized with a stab of guilt he was trying to hide the bulge of his erection. “Sure, I get it. No problem.”

Had she actually hurt his feelings? Impossible. He was a player.

She hadn’t meant to be a tease. She ought to be spanked.

By him. Just before he took her hard from behind…


Author Bio:

USA Today Bestselling Author Renee Rose is a naughty wordsmith who writes kinky BDSM and spanking romance novels. Named Eroticon USA’s Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, she has also won The Romance Reviews Best Historical, Sci-Fi and BDSM awards, Spanking Romance Reviews‘ Best Historical, Erotic, Ageplay and favorite author, and was a finalist for The BDSM Writer’s Con Golden Flogger award. She’s hit #1 on Amazon in multiple categories in the U.S. and U.K., is often found on the list of Amazon’s Top 100 Erotic Authors and has been a regular columnist for Write Sex Right. She also pens BDSM stories under the name Darling Adams. To receive four free books from Renee, sign up for her mailing list here.

Author links:

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Pinterest / Amazon / Instagram

Beauty and fitness pioneer Theresa Roemer is proof that women can have it all! A successful entrepreneur with more than 30 years experience, Theresa continues to think outside the box and has an impressive list of accomplishments to prove it. Her insights in the fitness industry make Theresa a highly sought-after personal trainer. She has previously owned and operated her own health club and mentored young girls on fitness and nutrition through the highly acclaimed Barbizon Modeling Schools. Additionally, her fitness talents have been utilized by one of the Top 2 fitness chains in America.

As well as holding the title of Mrs. Texas United America 2010, and recently winning First Runner Up at the Mrs. United America 2010 pageant, Theresa also won Most Photogenic, People’s Vote Online and People’s Vote Audience in both of these pageants. She placed in various fitness and bodybuilding competitions between 1990 and 1999, and holds the bodybuilding titles of Miss Wyoming 1999 and Miss U.S. Open 1999. She is co-owner of an energy company, a certified personal trainer, a certified sport nutritionist, a licensed real estate agent, and serves on the board of directors for several entities. She also is an active spokesperson for the American Lung Cancer Association, Texas Children’s Hospital, and various other associations and organizations nationwide.

Theresa relentlessly donates her time to various committees and charities at the local, national and international level and truly believes that the biggest thrill and reward in life is to GIVE. One platform very dear to Theresa is Child Legacy International, a non-profit relief organization that seeks to change the face of Africa from despair to destiny by increasing the quality of life and self-sufficiency through the development of sustainable programs.

Theresa is married to Houston businessman Dr. Lamar Roemer, and together they have six children and four grandchildren.

Author links:

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Perfect Sense by Amanda Cowen


Perfect Sense
Amanda Cowen
(Perfect Series #1)
Publication date: March 22nd 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Sports

He’s gorgeous.

He’s reckless.

And he’s every woman’s dirty fantasy in the state of California.., except one… Quinn Ashby.

Recent graduate of Penn and top of her class, Quinn is whip smart, ambitious and interning as the new marketing coordinator for the Bexley Bruisers American Hockey League team. The last thing she needs is to waste her time on guys…especially one as lethal to her focus as Cash Brooks.

But once the bad boy hockey star tempts her into his world, threatening her professional future, she’s forced to decide whether to let him into her heart…or to leave him behind forever.

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EXCERPT:

Walking up the twisting staircase, we head into Coach Bartley’s home full of men accompanied by beautiful women drinking and talking over loud music. Theo’s hand finds the small of my back as he weaves us under the dim lighting through the foyer and into the kitchen.

“You look great tonight, Quinn.” His words are soft and warm as he brushes past me, leading the way. “That purple dress you have on really makes your eyes pop.”

“Thanks,” I reply.

I glance at my reflection in the floor to ceiling windows and admire my strappy nude heels and purple bustier dress. I love the way the padded bust and structured silhouette flatters my body in all the right places.

My entire body stiffens, when his familiar warmth surrounds me, his hands finding my hips. “Nice dress.”

Theo turns around with a scowl on his face and stares Cash up and down. He holds out his hand and they embrace in a firm shake. “Great game tonight, Brooks. Can I get you something? Like a drink?”

“Soda water and lime,” Cash says, his finger creeping along the back of my thigh and up to the hem of my dress. “Would you like anything, Quinn?” The calm possession in his voice alarms the hell out of me. I can barely let out a breath, never mind speak with his hand cupped around my ass.

Theo locks eyes with me and waits for my response, oblivious to Cash’s wandering hands.

“Sure,” I say, letting out the breath I’ve been holding.

“Tell him what you want,” Cash whispers against my ear.

My body trembles from the warmth of his breath. “A water, please.”

Theo nods. “Quinn, come with me to get the drinks?” But his tone is all off. It’s not really a question, it more like he’s insisting.

“No, she’ll stay here, with me.” Cash is insisting too.

“Quinn?” Theo repeats.

“I’m fine, Theo. I’ll wait here.”

Theo looks at me one last time, lets out a deep breath, and then heads over to the makeshift bar set up in the great room.

When he is out of sight, I whip around. “Are you crazy? This place is crawling with my colleagues.”

“You like it and you know it,” Cash says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

I whack his hand away. “You’re unbelievable.”

A flicker of intensity flashes in his eyes, nostrils flaring. Moving closer, his scent—honey and cinnamon—washes over me. “Don’t pretend you didn’t feel something in that locker room, Mittens.”

“Yeah, I felt my dignity being ripped right out of me. And I don’t understand why you even care? I can already see that you’re onto the next,” I nod over at a group of girls staring us down from the corner.

“Would that bother you?” He glances at the blonde girl he bench-pressed earlier today. “If I fucked her tonight instead of you?”

We stand there, eyeing each other up as I try not to let my real feelings for this arrogant son-of-a–bitch seep in.

My chest twists tightly, painfully. “Alright, Brooks, I see what you’re trying to do here. But here’s the thing, I don’t give a shit what you do. Women throw themselves at you constantly and you gladly fuck them. Good for you. I bet you’ve already nailed a whole bunch since the locker room, so what’s another?”

He shakes his head and loosens his tie. “Nope. Not one.”

“Aw, how sweet. I must have made quite the impression”


Author Bio:

Amanda Cowen can be found eating cupcakes, singing off-key, or watching a good RomCom when she isn’t trapped on her computer writing stories and delighting her imagination. She has been writing since the ripe age of twelve about ponies and princesses in brightly colored duo-tangs with metallic pens. Thankfully, she now has a Mac with a keyboard where she can write about love, sex and relationships. She is an “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” fanatic, a hater of roller-coasters and a country music junkie. She lives in Thunder Bay, ON where the summers are short and the winters are long.

Her next Contemporary Romance/New Adult Fiction novel TAINTED (The Wyatt Series #1) will be available in Summer 2014.

Amanda would love to hear from her readers. Contact her via her website, www. amandacowen.com, become a fan on Facebook, follow her on Goodreads, or visit her blog.

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