Release Blitz

Reuniting with the Billionaire by Lori Ryan




Title: Reuniting with the Billionaire
Series: Sutton Billionaires #2
Author: Lori Ryan
Genre: Billionaire Romance
Release Date: February 4, 2020



Blurb

A woman who doesn’t trust love, a man who doesn’t trust women.

Chief Financial Officer Andrew Weston and photographer Jill Walsh are the two most unlikely people to fall in love.

When Jill’s first husband left her, she knew she’d never again trust that love can last. The pain you go through when love dies isn’t something she’s willing to go through again.

After Andrew’s first love betrayed him in the most brutal way possible, he knows he might fall in love again someday, but there’s no way he’ll ever make himself vulnerable to another woman by confessing those feelings.

When Andrew discovers his love for Jill, he knows the only way to get her to stay with him forever is to offer her an iron clad penalty clause in a prenuptial agreement. He contracts to stay with her forever or he loses everything he owns. The millions he’s worked for, his property, his cars, everything. Now he just needs to hope that’s enough to hold onto Jill forever.

Steamy romance meets heart-stopping suspense in the Sutton Billionaires Series. This is the second book in the series but it can be read as a standalone story with no cliffhangers. If you’d rather start at book one, grab The Billionaire Deal by Lori Ryan. A shorter version of this book was previously released as part of the Sutton Capital Series.







Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU






Also Available


AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU






Coming Soon


Releasing March 3

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
B&N / KOBO / APPLE BOOKS



Author Bio


Lori Ryan is a NY Times and USA Today bestselling author who writes contemporary romance novels and romantic suspense novels. She lives with an extremely understanding husband, three wonderful children, and two mostly-well-behaved dogs in Austin, Texas. It’s a bit of a zoo, but she wouldn’t change a thing.

Lori published her first romance novel in April of 2013 and has loved every bit of the crazy adventure this career has taken her on since then. She is a hybrid author who loves to connect with her readers. Follow her on Facebook or Twitter or subscribe to her blog. Oh, and if you’ve read Lori’s romantic suspense books and thought it was one of the best romance novels you’ve read 😉, please consider leaving a review with the retailer of your choice to help other readers find her work as well! It’s a tremendous honor when someone recommends her books to others. Lori promises to do a happy dance around her office every time you write a review!


Author Links

Release Blitz

YOU’RE THE ONE by Layla Hagen


Very Irresistible Bachelors #1
Release Date: February 4

Hot. 
Flirty. 
Romantic.

It all started as pretend…

My best friend and one of the most powerful men in New York, needed my help.

Our first kiss was unexpected –but it still made my skin sizzle, my knees go weak.

The next one was in front of his tight-knit family. We had to be convincing. But it was so wicked hot, it almost convinced me too.

On our first night together, he told me that I had to keep us both in check, because he didn’t know how to keep the lines from blurring…

He touched me like I was precious, and held me close…barely stopping his fingers from pushing down the straps of my dress…

On our second night, our banter turned to flirting.
 Hunter –my best friend was now Hunter–the man.

Intense.
Alluring.
Sexy as hell.

Get Your Copy Here: 
Amazon | Apple | Nook | Kobo  

Meet Layla Hagen
Welcome! My name is Layla Hagen and I am a Contemporary Romance author.
I fell in love with books when I was nine years old, and my love affair with stories continues even now, many years later. I write romantic stories and can’t wait to share them with the world. And I drink coffee. Lots of it 😀

I am represented by Louise Fury (The Bent Agency)

Connect with Layla:


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Release Blitz

Hellsbreath Sector by Kira Nyte

Title: Hellsbreath Sector
Series: Zombie Year 2099
Author: Kira Nyte
Genre: Paranormal/Fantasy Romance (Dystopian)
Release Date: February 4, 2020 
Ysaria 
“One day, you’ll find your curiosity has deceived you, child.”
All my life, I’ve casted off my father’s warning. Curiosity brought me into this world of humans. 
And curiosity deceived me. 
Now, I’m trapped in a world of ruin and nightmares. Zombies have kidnapped my brother and my only way back to Brinspyre, and they’re not through yet. I’ve a target on my back and a bounty on my head. My fae blood is ancient and carries an antidote to reverse the virus that plagues these creatures.
They don’t want a cure. No.
They want me dead.
Liir
This world has gone to shit with no perceived hope of ever recovering. Hellsbreath has become a safe haven for those who managed to escape the destruction aboveground. Survivors have found a false sense of security with dragons as their guards. 
But we’re not immune. 
I have a team of dragons, witches, and humans working diligently to come up with something, anything, to slow down the virus progression among my kin.
I’m losing hope. I’ve prepared my closest friend in the steps to take should I succumb to the changes happening inside me.
That is, until I cross paths with a stunning fae woman fleeing in the night. 
Let’s just hope I’m not too far gone. The darkness inside me craves her demise, but the dragon craves so much more.
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Blurred Lines by Mackenzie Lane

Title: Blurred Lines
Series: Franksville University #1
Author: Mackenzie Lane
Genre: Sports/NA Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 4, 2020
Proceeds Donated to CFA
My life isn’t exactly easy. My dad has anger issues, and my mom drinks too much. When I’m at home, I spend most of my time locked in my room, trying to avoid the toxic environment.
I have two things that help me escape. My art, and Colt— our college basketball teams best shooting guard and my best friend with the emotional depth of a tree. He cares for nothing but basketball, his dad…and me.
We’ve been best friends for years. If he’s not climbing through my bedroom window at night, I’m climbing through his. It’s a habit that started the day his mom died, and we haven’t spent a night apart since.
But we’re just friends. Nothing more.
Our dating relationships are equally disastrous. Colt’s tendency to say inappropriate things, and my inability to trust makes dating other people hard and exhausting.
The truth is there’s only one person I trust, one person I’m comfortable with. And that’s Colt. No one else. He’s been my first everything.
My first friend. My first hug. My first date. My first kiss.
But then the lines blur and we become more than friends. Will I find my happily ever after…or will I lose my best friend?
Mackenzie Lane is a contemporary romance author who believes the world needs a little more love.
She enjoys long romantic walks down the wine aisle and watching Supernatural on repeat when she’s not busy writing swoon-worthy, damaged heroes to sweep you off your feet.
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A Thousand Cuts by Melissa Toppen

Title: A Thousand Cuts
Series: Cell Block C
Author: Melissa Toppen
Genre: Contemporary (ex-con) Romance
Release Date: February 4, 2020
I used to believe in fairy tales.
But then I grew up and I realized that life isn’t like the books I once loved so much.
There are no princes riding in on their white horses.
No magic wands or fairy god mothers.
And no happily ever afters.
Ryland Thorpe taught me the hard way that good doesn’t always win and sometimes the people we trust the most are the ones that can hurt us the deepest.
At fifteen, my world began and ended with him.
He was my older brother’s best friend.
He was my protector.
He was the boy I had loved since I was old enough to understand what loving someone meant.
And he was a liar…
It’s been five years since I’ve seen him.
Five long years and the memory of him still haunts me like it was yesterday.
Only he’s not just a memory anymore.
Prison has hardened him, changed him, altered him in ways I never expected. But beneath it all I can still see a glimmer of the boy I used to love.
When lies are exposed and secrets are revealed, I find myself questioning everything I thought I knew.
They say the first cut is the deepest.
They were wrong…
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Release Blitz

Blood of Angels by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

Title: Blood of Angels
Series: Halfway Between
Author: Kathryn Ann Kingsley
Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance
Release Date: February 4, 2020
When I learned the truth of what I was seventy years ago, let’s just say, I didn’t take it well. 
I’m not human. I never was. 
I’m a homunculus crafted by two creatures for their benefit. Azrael, the archangel of death, made me to be his daughter and Asmodeus, the archdemon of lust, created me to be his wife. 
That’s the simplest part of my life right now.
Now, there’s a murderous cult in the city of Boston who’s abducting angels and demons. I thought this had nothing to do with me, but Octavian, the cult’s leader, wants to show me how very wrong I was.
I’m trapped between my desire to fight the cult, and fighting my desire for Asmodeus. He loves me, and I loved him once. But in the face of all his lies, I’m not sure if I can—or should—love him again. 
With Octavian closing in, taking more and more of the archangels and archdemons for some mysterious purpose, I may never get the chance to decide how I feel.
I may not make it through this at all.
Chapter One

Boston 
April 1939

Selina stood and looked down into the open grave.
A coffin sat at the bottom of the deep trench, lowered there by the men with their ropes as they carefully set the polished wooden box into its final resting place. Atop it sat a wreath of flowers and several more single blooms added by the mourners who stood gathered…all of whom had already gone back to their motorcars or walked down the street from the graveyard.
Forest Hills was a beautiful cemetery, by all accounts, scattered here and there with monuments that were truly impressive and dominated by a large pond in the center. It was, in her opinion, exactly what all graveyards should be—part park for the living, and part a place for the dead to reside. Picnics here were neither uncommon nor discouraged in the large swaths of grass, even if the lawn was peppered with carvings to those who had passed.
It was long after the final words had been said. But he would not leave. Alistair stood at the edge of the grave, looking down upon the dark wood box and at the lacquered surface reflecting the warm glow of the sun overhead. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his long black coat.
If it weren’t for the tick in his jaw, she would have thought him a statue like those of granite and marble around them. He was handsome enough to be one.
The man in the grave had been one of Alistair’s own, a high-ranking, long-lived member of his association. Osmund Reinhardt had come from Europe when he was just a boy, many years back. A widower, he had died of an illness brought on by old age. It had happened fast. His children, grown adults now, had not made it from their respective homes around the country before he passed. But Osmund had not died alone. Alistair had sat at his side as it happened, for Osmund had been a dear friend.
Selina had known Osmund well. He had been a broad, stern man with a serious disposition. He talked with a thick German accent that had gone starkly out of favor in the past few years since the war began. She believed Germans always sounded angry, and therefore she didn’t hold his gruffness against him. Alistair and Osmund had argued frequently. Osmund served as one of the seniors of his society, and often had the gall to disagree with the archdemon he served.
“If I didn’t want to disagree with my leaders, I would have stayed in my homeland,” Osmund had told her when she pressed him on the curious behavior. She would never forget what else he had said that day. “Arguing with the men who control us is our right. Remember that.”
She had seen him briefly when he had been ill. Death did not scare her…but the moments before it did. For the broad, strong, mountain of a man who glared at Alistair like he was a petulant child had been reduced to a shadowy reflection of a man. A shallow, pale, and empty effigy that seemed less like the original and more like a mockery of what they were supposed to represent.
Walking up to Alistair, she forced her hand into one of his pockets. She fished his out and wove her fingers in between his and held it tightly. He squeezed back. It was the most she had gotten out of him in an hour.
She pressed herself close to his arm, resting her head on him. She shut her eyes and let the feeling of his presence sink into her. She would never get used to him. Never forget how it felt the first time she saw him and what raged within him. Like a thunderstorm in a glass jar. Every time she stood close enough to him to feel it crackle beneath her touch, she felt in awe of it. Of him.
Normally, she could break him out of his moods. Alistair wasn’t one for long bouts of sulking or brooding, but, from time to time, she would catch him lost in thought. Reliving his memories, as he would say. But one touch from her, and he would snap out of it. It was a heady kind of power she had over him, and it was addictive, to say the least.
But this time, it didn’t seem to work. Not at first. It took a few minutes of them standing there in silence before he finally broke it, his voice a quiet rumble. “I despise death.”
“That’s awfully rude of you. I thought you two were friends.” She looked up at him with a light smile. The sunlight caught the strands of his dark hair.
He chuckled once, nearly silently, and looked up at the sky and the clouds overhead. He was like a dark blot against the light blue sky. He didn’t fight the smile that came to him from her bad joke. “Well played.” He paused thoughtfully. “More accurately, I will say that I despise the emotion of grief.”
She leaned her cheek on his arm again and looked off into the graveyard. At the hundreds of tombstones, crypts, and monuments. “Everyone experiences grief. It’s much worse to live a life that no one is left to mourn, isn’t it?”
“It’s more humane, in a way, but I see your point.” Alistair shifted, freeing his arm from her grasp only to wrap it around her and hug her to his side. She nestled in against him and smiled at the scent of incense that seemed to follow him everywhere. “I have lost thousands of souls I have loved as family…and the burn never ceases to hurt me as fresh as the first. You will come to realize that immortality in a world of fragile humans is a cruel, sick, painful joke.”
“You could avoid them. Sit in hell and befriend nobody but demons and other fallen. Like the others.”
“That, then, is the same kind of man who lives the life no one will mourn. A life without the love of others is not one I am interested in living. I’ve tried. It doesn’t last long. I have miserable self-control.”
She laughed. That was true. He was like a kid with a candy jar. His restraint was a thing measured in seconds. She had experienced firsthand his extreme lack of self-control many times.
She furrowed her brow as she realized something and tipped her head to look up at him without lifting it from his chest. “It isn’t goodbye. He will go to serve you in Hell, though, won’t he?”
His expression grew tight. He looked down at her, emerald green eyes searching hers. There was pain there—sadness now tinged with regret. “No…he won’t.”
“He couldn’t possibly have been taken to Heaven. Not after spending his life serving an archdemon.” She grinned. “Unless they severely lowered the bar.”
His trademark lopsided twinge of the lips broke through his sadness, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. His mood simmered back down to a dour one. He pulled her around to stand in front of him, resting his hands on her hips. He filled her vision, standing this close to her, and she placed her hands upon his chest. She felt the strength there, hidden behind the layers of his formal clothing. She ran her fingers along the texture of his wool vest and let her gaze travel back up to his sharp features. He was so utterly beautiful, so perfect, it was hard for her to be distracted by his serious mood.
“I have a confession, my love. But you have to promise to keep it a secret.” He pulled in a breath and let it out. She felt his chest heave then sink again as he did.
His concern worried her. He was never afraid to tell her something. “Of course.”
“I have lied to you. It’s a lie I tell to all, even those who serve me. One that even some of those born from Heaven or Hell believe.” His eyes slipped shut. “You will find out on your own eventually. If I don’t tell you now, I know who will soon enough.” He paused again. “Human souls do not come to us.”
She blinked. She had heard him, but she couldn’t help it. “What?”
“There are no souls resting in Heaven or burning in Hell who were not created there. Osmund is gone to me now, for all eternity. This is my last goodbye to him.” Grief painted his features once more.
“Where…do they go, then?”
Alistair laughed, a dry, weak and humorless sound. “That is the best part of it all. We do not know. Azrael takes them to a…he describes it as a doorway or a gate. He takes them there, and they pass through it. After that? He knows not where they journey. But it is not to his realm or mine.”
“Why the lie, then? Why tell the humans otherwise?”
“If we were to let them sit in their ignorance, they would invent their own beliefs. That surrenders power. To control the narrative is to control faith. To control faith is to control the populace.” He let out a thoughtful hum. “It used to be, anyway. They’re catching on quicker as of late.”
“But why control them at all? If Heaven and Hell are not in a battle for souls, why does anybody care what humans do?”
Alistair smiled down at her. “You are always asking the correct questions. What a good student you have turned out to be.” His gaze darkened, and she felt the familiar nervous excitement as it turned distinctly predatory. His hand slipped under her chin, his thumb on one side, his fingers on the other, and tilted her head back further to face him. “I will have to reward you later.”
“You’re dodging the q—”
His lips crashed against hers. Like a roar of a fire consuming a home, he descended over her. The embrace was demanding, bruising, and shoved all thoughts of anything else to the back of her head. His hand slipped around behind her, and his arm now cinched her to him possessively.
She was helpless. She always was. He was a tiger in the darkness hunting his prey, and she would never win. She never wanted to win. When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathless. He was unfazed. The pad of his thumb rested lightly on her lower lip, swollen from his attentions. She felt his breath rush hot against her cheek as he leaned in to whisper to her.
“Heaven wishes to control all. Every variable must be inside their command. They cannot abide to let anyone, or anything, stray too far from their light. In their eyes, humans are sheep who must be herded, and they care as little for where the soul of a human goes as the shepherd does the souls of their livestock.” He let out a small, appreciative purr as she curled her fingers into the hem of his vest and pulled herself against him. She opened her eyes to meet his emerald gaze.
“What about us?”
“Wolves like me…we are a threat. We must be put down. And you? A doe who comes to sleep at the side of the beast?” His lips twisted up again in his lopsided and smug smile. “You are even worse. To them, you’re an abomination. No one should be able to love a creature like me, after all.”
***
Modern Day
“Michael…how good of you to come.” Alistair’s greeting was neither warm nor welcoming. 
Today had gone from awful, to fucking awful, to just-fuck-me-up-the-ass-with-a-baseball-bat-already awful.
Veil wasn’t afraid of dying. She had a very good reason to not be. She’d done it a few dozen times, and she would never get any farther than that cold and frozen lake in her mind that existed just before the door to true death.
But now, staring at the glowing, shining, metal-clad figure that took up the whole of the doorway into the church, she was starting to second-guess what she had previously accepted as fact. 
Michael. That was Michael.
If anyone in this universe could kill her, or at the very least make her wish she could die, it was going to be him. She wasn’t interested in finding out what the champion of the archangels was going to do to her. Veil shrank back from the two creatures standing at the threshold of the church and figured there had to be another way out of here out the rear.
Now, she realized, she was afraid of what was on the other side of the door she thought she’d never cross.
She hadn’t made it two feet in the opposite direction before she was forced to draw up short as something impacted the wood frame of the door in front of her face. It was one of Michael’s metal “feathers.” Really, it looked more like a razor-sharp blade. It stuck inches into the surface like a surgical knife. It didn’t even splinter the wood.
Yup. Today sucked.
“Stay,” the archangel commanded.
The blade yanked free of the wood from some invisible command and whipped past her face back the way it had come. She turned to follow its path back to the archangel and demon in the doorway. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Conrad and Gabe were both on their knees, struck with awe by something that looked that…well, holy. Gabe’s head was lowered in prayer, while the Irishman was staring, wide-eyed and gaping at the archangel.
The feather he had sent to intercept her rejoined his wing, spinning back in place where it had left with the sound of metal sliding against metal.
Asmodeus growled low, and the shadows that seemed to gather around him in this form darkened, coalescing like a living thing. It was only then that she realized she had never seen Asmodeus really fight. Not really. She couldn’t imagine the kind of damage the two of them were about to wreak on the building around them. If not the city itself. “Leave here, archangel,” the archdemon growled.
Michael jumped forward suddenly and without warning, shoulder-checking Asmodeus into the wall. Metal shards shot forward from his wings, pinning Asmodeus to the wood behind him. The metal stabbed through his wings, his legs, his arms, even his torso. The archdemon howled in pain but couldn’t move. He hadn’t been expecting an attack so suddenly from the warrior and was likely still working off the pain of having been trapped in the spirit realm for so long. 
Michael stepped back to observe his work, and seemingly content with it, he turned to walk toward Veil. Asmodeus howled and roared at him, yanking on his own limbs to try to free himself. Electricity arced from each of the metal shards, and the archdemon screamed in pain. The more he struggled, the worse it became. He went limp, slumping against the wall. Blood, black as pitch, ran from the wounds.
Veil was now backing away from Michael, retreating from his massive metal-clad form as he approached. The shards of his wings were constantly rotating and spinning on each axis. He would be beautiful if he weren’t so damn terrifying to her right now.
“Whatever you’re going to do, don’t. Just let me go,” she said to the creature in the shining armor. She raised her hands in front of herself in a useless attempt to show she meant no harm. She’d disappear into the spirit world or dash away through the wall, but she was too exhausted. After the events of today, she wouldn’t risk it. She’d make it ten feet before she wouldn’t be able to hold herself there, and then she’d probably wind up on the ground, passed out.
“You freed him.”
It was a statement, not a question. It was flat, emotionless, and even without an ounce of damnation in his tone, she couldn’t help but feel that she was on the stand. He was her proverbial judge, jury, and quite possibly her executioner. “I had to.”
“Oh?”
“This cult. Aren’t they after all of you? I know you don’t care about Mammon, but don’t they have Chamuel?”
He didn’t respond. Still, Michael kept walking toward her. Still, she retreated up the aisle toward the altar of the church. The flood of light through the entrance had faded, but the creature before her still glowed. Light glinted off his armor and his metal wings without any source that she could see.
She made more excuses. “They said he knew what they were after, that he had information on—”
“And you believed him?” He huffed a derisive, hollow, and metallic laugh. “After all the lies he’s told you?”
“Azrael said—”
“Azrael is adorably gullible. He agreed to help make you, didn’t he?” The tinny emptiness of his voice was worse than if he had just been outright judging her or had been angry. He was merely stating facts.
Veil’s foot caught the edge of the stairs to the altar as she continued to retreat from Michael. She yelped as she fell and landed hard on her ass on the stairs with a pained unf. Before she could react, he was standing at her feet. Towering over her.
She might be about to die for real.
Or dragged to Heaven and tortured.
Her mind raced with all the possible options of how this could go very poorly for her. He lifted his sword and hovered the point of it over her chest. Death by angel was something she hadn’t done before. Another one for the bingo card. “You freed him in hopes of stopping the cult that is hunting us.”
“Yeah…”
“Not because you’ve forgiven him for creating you?”
She shook her head.
“Not because you still love him?”
“Leave me alone, Michael.” It took her a second to realize she had clenched her fists. “I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“That wasn’t a no.” The tip of his sword moved closer to her, and she was forced to lean back to avoid letting it touch her. “Half-lies and partial statements don’t work on me. He has been my brother for much longer than you’ve been his student. I’ll ask it this way. Do you hate him?”
She glared up at him and remained silent. Screw him if he thought he would be able to back her into a corner. Screw him for asking questions she suddenly realized she didn’t have the answers to. She went to stand, but he pressed the tip of his sword against her throat. It felt impossibly sharp, razor-thin. The kind of knife that cut without pain. She leaned away from it. He’d called her bluff, and she had nothing in her hand.
“Don’t lie to me. I’ll know.” Electricity, yellow-gold and white, curled around his gauntlet and down his sword from hilt to tip. She drew back reflexively, worried they might ground out into her. “I’ll ask a third time. And it’ll be the last time.” Michael moved closer to her, his feet between hers, as he poised the sword over her throat, ready to drive down. “Do you hate Asmodeus?”
Once, the archdemon was her whole world. Once, she would have done everything and anything for him. She had. She had adored him and went every day wanting to be at his side. But then it all changed. She learned what he was capable of. The lengths to which he had gone to create her, to lie to her, to sculpt her into what he wanted her to be. A plaything and a permanent toy for his amusement.
She was furious at Alistair, yes.
But right now, she loathed herself more.
Because she wasn’t sure.
Tears stung her eyes, born out of frustration and hatred, not sadness. Born of how much she hated herself, and how Michael had very easily and very quickly dredged that to the surface. She didn’t know how to answer him. She didn’t know how she could. But she wasn’t eager to find out what that sword and his power were going to do to her. She fixed him with a glare, angry the archangel was dragging this out of her. 
“I don’t know.”
Kat has always been a storyteller. With ten years in script-writing for performances on both the stage and for tourism, she has always been writing in one form or another. When she isn’t penning down fiction, she works as Creative Director for a company that designs and builds large-scale interactive adventure games. There, she is the lead concept designer, handling everything from game and set design, to audio and lighting, to illustration and script writing. Also on her list of skills are artistic direction, scenic painting and props, special effects, and electronics. A graduate of Boston University with a BFA in Theatre Design, she has a passion for unique, creative, and unconventional experiences. In her spare time, she builds animatronics and takes trapeze classes.
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Then You Happened by K. Bromberg

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“Bromberg is the master of making hearts race and pulses pound.” -Jay Crownover, New York Times bestselling author

Then You Happened, an all-new small town stand-alone romance from New York Times bestselling author K. Bromberg, is available now!

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Jack Sutton was the man I didn’t want to need.

His know-it-all attitude. His annoying suggestions. His outlook on life.

He was determined to help me while I had resolved to figure it out on my own.

But he taught me things I’d forgotten.

How to trust. How to believe in myself. Who I was.

The problem?

I went and fell in love with him.

Tatum Knox was the disaster I should have walked away from.

Her ruined reputation. Her failing business. Her chaotic life.

She hated me at first sight and yet intrigued me all at the same time.

I was only supposed to be there six months.

I was supposed to use that time to make amends for things I’d done wrong.

Instead I fell in love with her.

They say it’s better to have loved and lost, then not to have loved at all. Does that hold true when the love is based on a lie to begin with?

(THEN YOU HAPPENED is a STANDALONE enemies to lovers, small town romance. Full-length at one hundred and seven thousand words)

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Excerpt

“Just face it, Knox. You’re head over heels in love with me.” Jack finally smiles, dimple winking and those eyes lighting up as he takes a step toward me, holding the scoop to his chest. “You can’t be near me because you want me, and you can’t talk to me because you get all flustered and tongue-tied.” “There is nothing about you I find attractive,” I lie. He places the scoop in my hand but doesn’t let it go when I try to take it. “It’d be much easier and a whole lot less distracting if I could say the same of you.” He lets go of the scoop and dips the tip of his hat in an aw-shucks kind of way. “But I’m not one to lie.” Our eyes hold across the short distance as his comment floats through the air and fades like the dust specks dancing in the sunlight. “That won’t work, you know?” I say. “What won’t?” “You trying to charm me every time you want something. I know your kind, Jack Sutton, and I’m not impressed by them.” “Is that so?” He shifts on his feet and adjusts his hat before re-crossing his arms over his chest. “And what kind is that?” “A man who uses his good looks and smooth words to get his way with people. A man who turns on the charm to disguise it.” His eyes darken and then narrow. “Just like you’re the woman who keeps living her privileged life . . . fiddling while Rome burns down around her?” he counters, making me want to scream that he knows nothing about me or how I live or what I’ve been through for the last year. A small part of me is shouting about how that was his point, but I tell the voice to shut up. “And if by good looks and smooth words, you’re implying I’m like Fletcher, I suggest you not infer that again.” That muscle in his jaw feathers in contempt. “I’m not the woman you think I am.” He twists his lips and stares at me in a way that feels like he is seeing right through me. It’s unnerving and unsettling, and I force myself not to look away because his silence is telling me that maybe he thinks I am. I’m not sure why that bugs me. Why I want him to see me as someone different. “I’m not even certain you know who that woman is either.”

K. Bromberg Author Photo

About K. Bromberg New York Times Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines, and damaged heroes who we love to hate and hate to love. A mom of three, she plots her novels in between school runs and soccer practices, more often than not with her laptop in tow. Since publishing her first book in 2013, Kristy has sold over one million copies of her books across sixteen different countries and has landed on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers lists over twenty-five times. Her Driven trilogy (Driven, Fueled, and Crashed) is currently being adapted for film by Passionflix with the first movie slated to release in the summer of 2018. She is currently working on her Everyday Heroes trilogy. This series consists of three complete standalone novels—Cuffed, Combust, and Cockpit (late spring 2018)—and is about three brothers who are emergency responders, the jobs that call to them, and the women who challenge them. She loves to hear from her readers so make sure you check her out on social media or sign up for her newsletter to stay up to date on all her latest releases and sales: http://bit.ly/254MWtI

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Blog Tour

Weekend Wife by Erin McCarthy

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“The perfect, irresistible romantic comedy!”

—Erin Nicholas, New York Times bestselling author

Weekend Wife, an all-new sassy and quirky stand-alone rom com from New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy, is available now!

WeekendWife FOR WEB

Billionaire businessman in need of a fake fiancée…

It should be the easiest job ever for an out-of-work actress, right?

All I have to do is pose as Grant Caldwell (the Third)’s fiancé for a fancy-pants weekend in the Hamptons. Easy. Wear designer clothing and sip champagne? Don’t mind if I do. Flirting with Grant? It’s so delicious I should be paying him.

Nothing can go wrong as long as I can just keep my hands off of him.

But that’s the hard part. And I do mean hard.

Because Grant is sexy.

And bossy.

And surprisingly sweet, a real rarity in his pretentious family.

Oops. I’m not as good at faking it as I thought. Or maybe they call this method acting. Because it’s getting harder to figure out where my character ends and I begin…

It just might be the role of a lifetime.

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Excerpt

I looked at Leah. “Sorry about that. I am not filthy rich.” I actually was, but I felt compelled to be modest. “I’m just rich.”

“Oh, yeah? Well… I think everyone’s definition of filthy is different.”

And just like that, Leah took an awkward moment and made it flirtatious. Her voice was low, breathy.

Green light. That’s what that was. And I was hitting the gas and plowing into the intersection.

I eyed her. “What do you know about filthy?”

I had leaned closer to her, turned slightly, my thigh brushing against the fabric of her skirt. Her lips were a ripe raspberry color and she had a divot in the base of her chin that made me want to kiss it. Her chest rose and fell beneath her tight sweater with a quick rhythm, like she was turned on. Intrigued. Contemplating her move. She opened her mouth, gaze sweeping over my lips, and for a second I thought she was going to move close enough that I could kiss her.

Instead, she held my gaze, all seduction and skill, while her hand shot out and tucked the cash into the breast pocket of my suit. She grinned and turned back to the front, smug.

Damn.

“Nice acting skills,” I told her dryly. Leah, starring in the role of femme fatale, and I’d fallen for it.

“Thanks. I’m working on eye contact.”

I was working on blue balls.

She was cute and clever. Fuck.

I knew a couple of women who wanted exactly what I did—no-strings-attached sex. No one got offended if months went by without contact and it was just as likely they would text me as I would text them. I didn’t get… ensnared. Leah could ensnare me. It might be time to send out a sexual SOS. I needed zero contact with Leah after today. She wasn’t good for my concentration. But I did admire both her boldness and her talent.

“That was savage,” I told her. “I love it.”

“I need a distraction from the fact that my ankle seems to have a heartbeat and half the ice has melted so now my sock is damp.”

Right. Her busted ankle. That was the relevant issue at hand, not my dick.

“You really should elevate your ankle. Turn a little.”

Surprisingly, she obeyed me. I dug my way through all that fabric and hauled her calf and ankle up onto my lap. I also tucked the hundred bucks back into her skirt pocket. She didn’t seem to notice and just cleared her throat.

Leah bit her bottom lip. “This is weird,” she said. “I don’t think you want my damp sock on your pants.”

There were so many things I wanted to say. All of them inappropriate as fuck.

What I settled for was, “Don’t assume what I want.”

Erin McCarthy

About Erin

USA Today and New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written over seventy-five novels and novellas in the romance and mystery genres. Erin has a special weakness for high-heeled boots, martinis, and Frank Sinatra. She lives with her renovation-addicted husband (he built her a bar, so it’s all good!) and their blended family of kids and rescue dogs.

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Website: https://erinmccarthy.net

Release Blitz

Battle Hearts


★★ NOW LIVE ★★

BRAND NEW STORM MC FROM NINA LEVINE!!

“Holy freaking hell this book! It has gutted me and put me back together. Nina Levine is not scared to unleash the hard stuff and boy does she do it masterfully. Amazing read!!” – 5 STARS Goodreads Reviewer

BLURB:

The harder the battle, the sweeter the victory.
I don’t believe that.
Not when we’ve lost almost everything

I married Winter knowing what I was walking into.
He married me knowing the same.
We started out full of hope.
Love, family, the club.
We would have it all.
We would do whatever it took to build our family.
We would stand together through everything.
But how does a couple do that when they’ve been ravaged by loss?
We’re about to find out, because the biggest battles we’ve ever faced are breathing down on us and if we don’t cling to each other, we may lose the one thing we swore we never would.
We may lose us.

“King has always been my favorite, but Winter…. WOW!! He is the man, he is the best of the best! Every woman wants a man like Winter to be hers!” – 5 STARS Goodreads Reviewer

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This is the fourth and final book in Nina’s Storm MC Reloaded series. A gritty and raw motorcycle club romance series.

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