Cover Reveal!! Playing for Keeps by Kendall Ryan

 

PlayingforKeeps-Apple3

 

Playing For Keeps Title

Hot Jocks, Book 1

By Kendall Ryan

Release Day: August 13th

About the Book

 

I’ve never been so stupid in my entire life. 

Elise Parrish, my teammate’s incredibly sweet and gorgeous younger sister, should have been off-limits, but my hockey stick didn’t get the memo. 

After our team won the championship, our flirting turned physical, and I took her to bed. Then shame sent her running the next morning from our catastrophic mistake. 

She thinks I don’t remember that night – but every detail is burned into my brain so deeply, I’ll never forget. The feel of her in my arms, the soft whimpers of pleasure I coaxed from her perfect lips….

And now I’ve spent three months trying to get her out of my head, but I’m starting to understand she’s the only girl I’ll ever want.  

I have one shot to show her I can be exactly what she needs, but Elise won’t be easily convinced.  

That’s okay, because I’m good under pressure, and this time, I’m playing for keeps.

Get ready to meet your new favorite hot jocks in an all new series of stand-alone novels. If you like sexy, confident men who know how to handle a stick (on and off the ice), and smart women who are strong enough to keep all those big egos in check, this series of athlete romances is perfect for you!

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Paperback https://amzn.to/2XURaWx 

About Kendall Ryan

 

A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than three dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 2.5 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world.
Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than 70 times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine.

She lives in Texas with her husband and two sons.

Visit her at: www.kendallryanbooks.com for the latest book news, and fun extras.

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Excerpt Reveal!! He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not by Iris Morland

helovesme_ebook3 (1)

Title: He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not: A Steamy Romantic Comedy (The Flower Shop Sisters)

Author: Iris Morland

Genre: Romantic comedy

Release date: July 16, 2019

 

Blurb:

 

I’m a good girl—until I got drunk in Vegas and married a panties-flaming-hot Irishman. 

Oops.

I’ve always lived my life by the rules. Unlike my two sisters, I’m the good one. The responsible one. Going outside my comfort zone is when I wear red lipstick before five PM.

That comfort zone of mine? It’s smashed to smithereens on a wild night in Las Vegas when I met—and married—Liam Gallagher.

After one shot of tequila, then two, then too many to count, a good girl’s rules tend to disappear. And so do her panties, and her bra, and various other articles of clothing when she’s with an Irishman who knows his way around a woman’s body.

Now my husband wants us to stay married. For six months. He says it’ll be worth my while. Considering our chemistry underneath the sheets, I can’t say that he’s wrong.

Liam isn’t safe, though. Liam definitely isn’t comfortable. He’s like the male equivalent of wearing red lipstick in the daytime all wrapped up in an irresistible, dangerous package.

Yet this stubborn Irishman isn’t about to let me go, drunken Princess Bride-themed Vegas wedding or no.

Now I have to decide if I’m brave enough to break the rules for love.

  

Goodreads:

http://irismorland.com/loves-goodreads

 

Preorder links:

Amazon: http://irismorland.com/loves-amazon

Apple: http://irismorland.com/loves-apple

Barnes & Noble: http://irismorland.com/loves-bn

Kobo: http://irismorland.com/loves-kobo

Google Play: http://irismorland.com/loves-gp  

About the author:

iris morland headshot

A coffee addict and cat lover, Iris Morland is the author of over a dozen sexy, small-town romances and romantic comedies. If she’s not reading or writing, she enjoys binging on Netflix shows and cooking something delicious.

 

Connect with Iris

Newsletter: http://irismorland.com/newsletter

Reader group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/irismorlandsmermaids/

 

Other links:

Website: http://irismorland.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/irismorlandbooks

Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/iris_morland

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/irismorland

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/iris-morland

Excerpt

 

 

Mari

The moment I woke up after my best friend’s raucous bachelorette party in Las Vegas, I realized two things in quick succession:

  1. I was spooning with a man who was very, very naked.
  2. And I had no idea who he was.

To my horror, the man had his arm slung across me, and it weighed at least a thousand pounds, I was sure. My bladder yelled profanities at me as I pushed at the ridiculously heavy arm trapping me against the bed.

Finally, he turned over, taking his arm with him. I shuffled to the bathroom and didn’t feel the panic hit me until after I’d peed and saw the ring on my left hand.

Ring. Left hand. I didn’t wear a ring there anymore since I’d caught my ex-fiancé cheating on me. I’d thrown the ring David had bought me in his face.

This ring wasn’t that diamond David had gotten me. I peered more closely at it. It was—plastic? Was it from a ring pop?

Did I call the police? No, that was stupid. 911, I got married last night to a stranger. Yeah, that’d go over well. I was sure the Vegas police would just laugh and tell us to get a lawyer.

I heard movement in the room. I froze. Glancing in the mirror, I saw a wild-eyed woman with bedhead, smeared lipstick, raccoon eyes from melted mascara, and a whole bunch of hickeys across my collarbone.

I very rarely swore, but at that moment I wanted to swear until I was blue in the face.

What had I done last night? And who was in my bed with me?

I wasn’t that kind of girl—you know, the wild girl. The girl who had one-night stands in Vegas. The girl who threw caution to the wind.

I’d been about to get married to a man who drove a Prius and was an accountant. I always got the perfect attendance certificate in elementary school. I’d been one of the valedictorians at my high school; I’d gotten an A- oncebecause my teacher had dared to think my essay on fashion in The Great Gatsbywas “insipid, at best.” (She’d been wrong, by the way.)

I was Marigold Wright, and I was a good girl.

I prided myself on my good girl-ness. Where my sisters were either oddballs or outright deviants (at least in my mind), I never crossed lines. I liked lines. Lines were comforting. They existed for a reason; otherwise the world would be in utter chaos.

My one real indulgence in life was my makeup obsession. My collection was scattered across the bathroom counter—an excessive amount of products for one person on a brief trip—and strangely enough, having this man see it all seemed like a violation of my privacy. Even more than being in bed with me and him being naked. I began to put my makeup away, knowing in my haste I’d have to go through it and reorganize it when I got home.

“Are you done in there?” a growling male voice said through the bathroom door. “I’m fuckin’ dying out here.” An accent tinged his speech, but I was too tired to try to place it.

I tossed the last products into my makeup bag and scrubbed at my face. Realizing it didn’t matter, I opened the door with a frigid expression.

The man—who wore only a sheet draped around his hips—smiled down at me. No, he didn’t smile; he smirked. I’d never been the recipient of a true smirk before, but this man clearly had perfected the look.

He was tall, so tall I had to tilt my head back. He had to be at least six-five; I was five-ten, so it was rare that men were tall enough that I felt short in comparison. But what arrested me most was how dark his eyes were. Oh, and the fact that he was jacked. Muscles for days, his chest covered in dark hair that matched the beard shadowing his cheeks and jaw.

“Are you done or can I take a piss now?” he said.

I blushed to the roots of my hair. Being a redhead, my blushes tended to be bright and extremely obvious, and this man in front of me seemed very amused with my red cheeks. I wanted to ask him if he remembered what had happened last night, but it was as if the words had dried up in my throat.

Or maybe it was because I had a large male glaring down at me because I wouldn’t let him pee.

“Be my guest,” I said, ducking under his arm. I tried to look as prim as I could, but it was difficult when I looked like a total wreck and didn’t even know this man’s name.

He shut the door with an ironic bow, giving me some time to collect my thoughts. Actually, I didn’t need to collect my thoughts: I needed to run. But as I got dressed and began to toss things into my suitcase, I realized he was the one who needed to leave. This was myroom.

I stopped packing when memories started to surface, like images from a movie. I remembered stumbling down the Las Vegas strip, and I could remember this man’s voice beside me. Then the bachelorette party where the bride-to-be, Jenna, kept shoving tequila shots in front of me. Or had that happened before we’d stumbled down the strip?

Worst of all, I remembered the touch of a man—this man—who made heat lick through my veins.

But he wasn’t just any man. He had a name. I remembered that now, because we’d met the day prior to the bachelorette party.

Liam. His name was Liam, but his last name eluded me at the moment. He’d sat next to me at the rehearsal dinner, and then at the hotel pool after that—

Oh God, had I slept with him last night? Based on the hickeys, it certainly seemed plausible. But I couldn’t remember, and that made my stomach curdle.

I needed a bottle of water, ibuprofen, and some explanations. I scrambled around in my suitcase, only to find a gift bag from the bachelorette party the night before. Right as I pulled out a pink dildo that said Pleasure for yourpinkon the base, Liam emerged from the bathroom.

“I’m flattered, love, but pink isn’t really my color,” he said over my shoulder. “Besides the fact that I’m always the one who does the penetrating,” he added with a wry chuckle.

I tried to stuff the dildo back into the bag, but I only proceeded to empty the rest of its contents, which included: a handful of condoms—ribbed for her pleasure, so obviously there was a theme here; a butt plug with a diamond handle; and a bullet vibe that started buzzing way too enthusiastically for my pounding head.

I could’ve cheerfully strangled Jenna for giving us these party favors last night. Whatever happened to a piece of jewelry or a gift certificate from Starbucks? Something benign, something that didn’t involve things that went up your butt. Although anything could become a butt plug if you really tried, I reasoned.

“Oh my God,” I groaned. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening—”

I turned to face Liam, only to see that he was naked.

Cover Reveal!!! Operation Bailey Wedding by Piper Rayne

 

No one could have guessed a marriage could sprout from a one-night stand, but Holly Radcliffe and Austin Bailey appear to be written in the stars. From the backseat of Austin’s Jeep to the altar they come. The town of Lake Starlight along with the Bailey’s are prepping for the event of the year, but as usual things never go smoothly with these nine siblings and let’s not forget Grandma Dori! 

This is a novella in the Bailey series!

 
 
 
 
PRE-ORDER NOW
 
AMAZON CA | APPLE | B&N | KOBO
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two USA Today Bestselling authors for the price of one.
Our goal is to bring you romance stories that have “Heartwarming Humor With a Side of Sizzle” (okay…you caught us, that’s our tagline). A little about us… We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We’re both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We’re both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.

 

 

Cover Reveal!! Wild Steamy Hook-Up by Piper Rayne

 

He’s the quiet brooding guy who’s owned my heart since I was sixteen but has refused to claim it.
I’m the naïve woman who believes that someday our time will come.
I just didn’t realize that someday would include waking up in Vegas with a raging hangover and a ring on my finger.
If we believed in fate, maybe one of us would’ve trusted that something more powerful than ourselves interceded because our love is one of tangled vines. As twisted and frayed as they’ve become over the years, they’ve never broken.
An annulment seemed like the easy way out. We should’ve known it wouldn’t be fate that intervened, but our Italian Mamas. They can deliver Oscar-worthy performances when heaping on the guilt.
We thought it’d be easy to pretend to be a happily married couple in front of our families for three months and then say we gave it our best shot and go our separate ways.
But nothing is easy when it comes to Dominic Mancini and me.
Nothing.

 

 
PREORDER TODAY!
 
 AMAZON CA | APPLE | B&N | KOBO

 

Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two USA Today Bestselling authors for the price of one.
Our goal is to bring you romance stories that have “Heartwarming Humor With a Side of Sizzle” (okay…you caught us, that’s our tagline). A little about us… We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We’re both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We’re both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.

 

Cover Reveal!! Six Weeks of Loving You by Karli Perrin!!

Today I have an exciting cover reveal for Six Weeks of Loving You by Karli Perrin! It will be released on September 17th so make sure you mark your calendars! This is an epic tale of love, friendship and second chances.

 

Six-Weeks-Of-Loving-You-Ebook

Add it to your Goodreads TBR here – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/46416823-six-weeks-of-loving-you

 

 

BLURB –

The news reporters called it a disaster.

The doctors called it a miracle.

I could still walk. I could still talk. I could still remember every little detail about the train crash.

Until I couldn’t.

Six weeks later, I lost my memory.

I woke up believing that it was the morning of the accident.

Six weeks after that, it happened again.

I have retrograde amnesia. I’ve damaged a part of my brain which allows me to recall the recent past. In other words, I have an extremely limited short-term memory – six weeks to be exact.

The train derailed eighteen months ago.

I’ve relived that morning twelve times.

When I meet Spencer Hale, I put up a huge fight.

I won’t let him in. I can’t let him in. But with each day that passes, my walls begin to come down.

I get one step closer to loving him.

And one step closer to losing him.

Welcome to the train wreck that is my life.

Chapter Reveal!! Handle With Care by Helena Hunting

Handle With Care, an all-new romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting is coming August 27th, and we have a sneak peek!

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HE WANTS TO LOSE CONTROL.

Between his parents’ messed up marriage and his narcissistic younger brother, Lincoln Moorehead has spent the majority of his life avoiding his family. After the death of his father, Lincoln finds himself in the middle of the drama. To top it all off, he’s been named CEO of Moorehead Media, much to his brother’s chagrin. But Lincoln’s bad attitude softens when he meets the no-nonsense, gorgeous woman who has been given the task of transforming him from the gruff, wilderness guy to a suave businessman

SHE’S TRYING TO HOLD IT TOGETHER.

Wren Sterling has been working double time to keep the indiscretions at Moorehead Media at bay, so when she’s presented with a new contract, with new responsibilities and additional incentives, she agrees. Working with the reclusive oldest son of a ridiculously entitled family is worth the hassle if it means she’s that much closer to pursuing her own dreams. What Wren doesn’t expect is to find herself attracted to him, or for it to be mutual. And she certainly doesn’t expect to fall for Lincoln. But when a shocking new Moorehead scandal comes to light, she’s forced to choose between her own family and the broody, cynical CEO.

HWC - PO.jpg

Pre-order your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2VGJ83p

AppleBooks: https://apple.co/2VXTyvK

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/HandleWithCare

Nook: http://bit.ly/2FmIv9x

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2M09aKC

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2RRkyh8

Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2C9AeCB

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2FgCXxX

Excerpt from Chapter One

Chapter One

What Have I Gotten Myself into?

Wren

I slip onto the empty bar stool beside the lumberjack mountain man who looks like he tried to squeeze himself into a suit two sizes too small. He’s intimidatingly broad and thick, with long dark hair that’s been pulled up into a haphazard man bun thing. His beard is a hipster’s wet dream. His scowl, however, makes him about as approachable as a rabid porcupine. And yet, here I am, sidling up next to him.

He glances at me, eyes bleary and not really tracking. He quickly focuses on his half-empty glass again. Based on the slump of his shoulders and the uncoordinated way he picks up his glass and tips it toward his mouth, I’m guessing he’s pretty hammered. I order a sparkling water with a dash of cranberry juice and a lime.

What I could really use is a cup of lavender-mint tea and my bed, but instead, I’m sitting next to a drunk man in his thirties. My life is extra glamorous, obviously. And no, I’m not an escort, but at the moment I feel like my morals are on the same kind of slippery slope.

“Rough day?” I ask, nodding to the bottle that’s missing more than half its contents. It was full when he sat down at the bar an hour ago. Yes, I’ve been watching him the entire time, waiting for an opportunity to make my move. While he’s been sitting here, he’s turned down two women, one in a dress that could’ve doubled as a disco ball and the other in a top so low-cut, I could almost see her navel.

“You could say that,” he slurs. He props his cheek on his fist, eyes almost slits. I can still make out the vibrant blue hue despite them being nearly closed. They move over me, assessing. I’m wearing a conservative black dress with a high neckline and a hem that falls below my knees. Definitely not nearly as provocative as Disco Ball or Navel Lady.

“That solving your problems?” I give him a wry grin and tip my chin in the direction of his bottle of Johnnie.

His gaze swings slowly to the bottle. It gives me a chance to really look at him. Or what I can see of his face under his beard, anyway.

“Nah, but it helps quiet down all the noise up here.” He taps his temple and blurts, “My dad died.”

I put a hand on his forearm. It feels awkward, and creepy on my part since its half-genuine, half-contrived comfort. “I’m so sorry.”

He glances at my hand, which I quickly remove, and refocuses on his drink. “I should be sorry too, but I think he was mostly an asshole, so the world might be better off without him.” He attempts to fill his glass again, but his aim is off, and he pours it on the bar instead. I rush to lift my purse and grab a handful of napkins to mop up the mess.

“I’m drunk,” he mumbles.

“Well, I’m thinking that might’ve been the plan, considering the way you’re sucking that bottle back. I’m actually surprised you didn’t ask for a straw in the first place. Might be a good idea to throw a spacer [CD3] in there if you want tomorrow morning to suck less.” I push my drink toward him, hoping he doesn’t send me packing like he did the other women who approached him earlier.

He narrows his eyes at my glass, suspicious, maybe. “What is that?”

“Cranberry and soda.”

“No booze?”

“No booze. Go ahead. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He picks up the glass and pauses when it’s an inch from his mouth. His eyes crinkle, telling me he’s smiling under that beard. “Does that mean Imma wake up with you beside me?”

I cock a brow. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Shit, sorry.” He chugs the contents of my glass. “I was joking. Besides, I’m so wasted, I can barely remember my name. Pretty sure I’d be useless in bed tonight. I should stop talkin’.” He scrubs a hand over his face and then motions to me. “I wouldn’t proposition you.”

I’m not sure how to respond. I go with semi-affronted, since it seems like somewhat of an insult. “Good to know.”

“Dammit. I mean, I think you might be hot. You look hot. I mean attractive. I think you’re pretty.” He tips his head to the side and blinks a few times. “You have nice eyes, all four of them are lovely.”

This time I laugh—for real—and point to the bottle. “I think you might want to tell your date you’re done for the night.”

He blows out a breath and nods. “You might be right.” He makes an attempt to stand, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, he stumbles into me and grabs my shoulders to steady himself. “Whoa. Sorry. Yup, I’m definitely drunk.” His face is inches from mine, breath smelling strongly of alcohol. Beyond that, I get a whiff of fresh soap and a hint of aftershave. He lets go of my shoulders and takes an unsteady step back. “I don’t usually do this.” He motions sloppily to the bottle. “Mostly I’m a three drink max guy.”

“I think losing your father makes this condonable.” I slide off my stool. Despite being tall for a woman, and wearing heels, he still manages to be close to a head taller than me.

“Yeah, maybe, but I still think I might regret it tomorrow.” He’s incredibly unsteady, swaying while standing in place. I take the opportunity for what it is and thread my arm through his, leading him away from the bar. “Come on, let’s get you to the elevator before you pass out right here.”

He nods, then wobbles a bit, like moving his head has set him off balance. “That’s probably a good idea.”

He leans into me as we weave through the bar and stumbles on the two stairs leading to the foyer. There’s no way I’ll be able to stop him if he goes down, but I drape one of his huge arms over my shoulder anyway, and slip my own around his waist, guiding him in a mostly straight line to the elevators.

“Which floor are you on?” I ask.

“Penthouse.” He drops his arm from my shoulder and flings it out, pointing to the black doors at the end of the hall. “Jesus, I feel like I’m on a boat.”

“It’s probably all the alcohol sloshing around in your brain.” I take his elbow again, helping him stagger the last twenty feet to the dedicated penthouse elevator.

He stares at the keypad for a few seconds, brow pulling into a furrow. “I can’t remember the code. It’s thumbprint activated though too.” He stumbles forward and presses his forehead against the wall, then tries to line up his thumb with the sensor, but his aim is horrendous and he keeps missing.

I settle a hand on his very firm forearm. This man is built like a tank. Or a superhero. For a moment, I reconsider what I’m about to do, but he seems pretty harmless and ridiculously hammered, so he shouldn’t pose a threat. I’m also trained in self-defense, which would fall under the by any means necessary umbrella. “Can I help?”

Read the rest of Chapter One: http://bit.ly/2ZBt0RL

About the Author:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She’s writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

 

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Website: http://www.helenahunting.com/
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Cover Reveal!! He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not by Iris Moreland

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not: A Steamy Romantic Comedy (The Flower Shop Sisters)

Author: Iris Morland

Genre: Romantic comedy

Release date: July 16, 2019

helovesme_ebook3 (1).jpg

 

 

Blurb:

 

I’m a good girl—until I got drunk in Vegas and married a panties-flaming-hot Irishman.

Oops.

I’ve always lived my life by the rules. Unlike my two sisters, I’m the good one. The responsible one. Going outside my comfort zone is when I wear red lipstick before five PM.

That comfort zone of mine? It’s smashed to smithereens on a wild night in Las Vegas when I met—and married—Liam Gallagher.

After one shot of tequila, then two, then too many to count, a good girl’s rules tend to disappear. And so do her panties, and her bra, and various other articles of clothing when she’s with an Irishman who knows his way around a woman’s body.

Now my husband wants us to stay married. For six months. He says it’ll be worth my while. Considering our chemistry underneath the sheets, I can’t say that he’s wrong.

Liam isn’t safe, though. Liam definitely isn’t comfortable. He’s like the male equivalent of wearing red lipstick in the daytime all wrapped up in an irresistible, dangerous package.

Yet this stubborn Irishman isn’t about to let me go, drunken Princess Bride-themed Vegas wedding or no.

Now I have to decide if I’m brave enough to break the rules for love.

 

 

Goodreads:

http://irismorland.com/loves-goodreads

 

Preorder links:

Amazon: http://irismorland.com/loves-amazon

Apple: http://irismorland.com/loves-apple

Barnes & Noble: http://irismorland.com/loves-bn

Kobo: http://irismorland.com/loves-kobo

Google Play: http://irismorland.com/loves-gp

 

 

About the author:

iris morland headshot

A coffee addict and cat lover, Iris Morland is the author of over a dozen sexy, small-town romances and romantic comedies. If she’s not reading or writing, she enjoys binging on Netflix shows and cooking something delicious.

 

 

 

Connect with Iris

Newsletter: http://irismorland.com/newsletter

Reader group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/irismorlandsmermaids/

 

Other links:

Website: http://irismorland.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/irismorlandbooks

Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/iris_morland

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/irismorland

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/iris-morland