Happy Release Day & Review – Crushing on the Cop by Piper Rayne

See My Review Below!!!

 

Cristian Bianco has two things against him—he’s a police officer and he’s a police officer in the 18th District…meaning my dad is his boss.

Growing up as the Commander’s daughter and having his magnifying glass focused on everything I did was more than I could handle.

Now, I’m out on my own, living by my own rules. Well, mostly. The ‘job’ I created for myself has me in some hot water and my exit strategy isn’t exactly working out how I’d hoped.

Which is why when my best friend bids on Cristian for me at a charity bachelor auction, I’m not having it. A man in blue is only going to be one thing for me—a problem.

Except after his brother starts dating my best friend he becomes harder to ignore. The eight-pack abs. The sense of style only a girl like me can appreciate. The way he puts his family first. It all adds up to make him one irresistible prospect and has me wondering if he knows how to use those handcuffs the right way—by locking my wrists to his headboard.

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“Not on duty tonight, officer?” I insert sarcasm into my tone because being a bitch will make it easier for him to keep his distance.

“Well, Miss Flanagan, I’m off for two days if you’re wondering.”

I step away from the keg allowing the lingering guys who are talking about hockey a chance to fill their cups.

“That leaves me open for that date.” He cocks an eyebrow.

My head falls back in defeat. “There is no date. You have a pass. Most guys would love the chance to get out of a date with the person who wins them at an auction.”

He sips his beer. “I’m not most guys.”

I sip my beer and don’t respond. He’s right. He’s not most guys. Most guys don’t look like he does. That or I’ve been hanging around the wrong places.

“Some might say that most women would love to go on a date with a police officer.”

“I’m not most women.”

He laughs. One that heats my insides and makes him even more attractive. I know I’m going to be visualizing him the next time I pull out my Unicorn Cock vibrator, but I’ll deal like I always do.

“I agree,” he says when he finishes laughing.

“Perfect. Then it’s a deal. No date.” I smile and turn on my heel heading toward the bonfire.

“Whoa.” His hand gently grabs my arm.

I spin back around.

“You know that’s not what I was saying. Come on, Vanessa. I need your dad off my back. One date. It’s not going to kill anyone.”

I purse my lips, trying to figure out how I’m going to get him to let this topic go. I’ve had one police officer dictating my entire life already, I don’t need another.

“Just lie,” I say with a shrug.

His strong shoulders sag a bit and he shoots me a look like ‘give me a break.’ His eyes are those of an innocent man who probably always does the right thing. I’m doing him a favor keeping him at arm’s length.

“Fine,” I say when the silence stretches out.

He smiles.

I hold a finger up into the air. “You do one thing tonight that you’d never normally do and I’ll go out with you.” I smirk. Let’s see Mr. Squeaky Clean take me up on that offer. I’m picturing my victory already.

“What?” He screws his face up then sips his beer.

I cross my arms around my middle, waiting for him to say no way so that I can move on. “You heard me. One spontaneous thing. Here. Tonight.”

“Like what?” he asks, his eyes scanning the area around us that I now realize is quickly emptying out. Half these people probably have babysitters to get home to.

I shrug. “That’s for you to decide.”

His forehead bunches. “What do you want me to do? Jump over the fire or some shit like that?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t end up in the emergency room, so no, I don’t expect you to jump over a roaring fire. That would ruin Maddie and Mauro’s night.”

A pissed off look crosses his face and he downs most of his beer.

“That’s it, let’s go, Cris. It’s two against two and I need a guy.” Luca, Cristian’s little brother, twirls a soccer ball on his finger as he steps up to us. Lauren follows behind with a girl I don’t recognize.

“What?” Cristian glares over at his brother. “I’m not playing soccer tonight in the pitch dark.”

He has a point.

“Come on Cris. Lauren says she can score five goals on me.” Luca glances over to Lauren who has a shit-eating grin on her face, and he rolls his eyes.

Cristian blows out a breath. Lauren saddles up to my side, kicking the soccer ball from Luca’s hands. She does some fancy footwork then kicks the ball in the air before catching it. That girl has coordination I do not.

“The answer is no. Find Bentley, he’s over there.” He points toward the bonfire.

Luca must know his brother never does something he doesn’t want to do because he barrels away from us without a word.

“What’s going on over here?” Lauren asks, walking backward, twirling the soccer ball on one finger like Luca was moments ago.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Lauren, what’s the craziest thing I can do tonight?” Cristian hollers out and Lauren’s feet stop, staring at me over his shoulder.

She knows this game. We play it often. Well, not since college when guys tend to think they can say hello and you’ll be falling all over them. There’s nothing wrong with making them work to impress you a little. It builds character. LOL.

Lauren being Lauren pretends to think about it. In the past, we’ve had guys shave their heads or their eyebrows, dress in girl’s clothing, striptease with a pair of girl’s panties on. God knows what Lauren’s going to recommend.

“You’re a smart boy, Bianco. Turn the tables,” she says. “What’s the worst thing you could do to Vanessa tonight?”

I flip her off. Nice friend I got there. Who wants her?

A devilish smile creeps onto Cristian’s lips. “Anyone tell you, you’re a fucking genius, Lauren?”

She laughs. “All the time. Tell your brother for me though.”

Luca comes over, stealing the soccer ball from her hands, while a guy tripping over his own feet follows behind. The girl and guy standing on the sidelines watching Lauren and Luca argue about who goes first.

“So, Officer Bianco, what will it be?” I cock a hip and a brow.

“Maybe a date with you isn’t worth the embarrassment?” He steps closer and I back up an inch, unease setting in as his demeanor grows more confident and sure.

I shrug. “That’s fine. I’m happy to split ways now.”

He takes another giant step forward and sips the remaining beer from his cup, tossing it down to the grass, his gaze intense and set on whatever he’s about to do.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice weaker than I’d prefer.

We’re chest to chest now because he’s taken me by surprise and I forgot to flee with his approach. Okay and maybe his eyes mesmerized me. A little. Not much.

“I’m going to do the one thing I didn’t think I’d do tonight.” His voice has dropped an octave and we’re alone in the darkness of the forest now where the warmth of the bonfire has disappeared. A cold chill runs across my cheeks until Cristian’s hands land on either side of my face. “I’m going to kiss you.”

His lips fall to mine. Did I say it was cold? It’s not. It’s warm. Cristian’s mouth on mine steals the chill from my body. I should knee him in the balls or at least push him away, but I don’t. Instead, my lips betray me and move in time with his. I wrap my arms around his neck and I rise to my tiptoes, kissing him back.

His arms cradle me flush against his body, his tongue exploring mine and under the canopy of the forest, away from any prying eyes, Cristian Bianco sets my body on fire.

I love breaking other people’s rules, but I’m not sure about breaking my own.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

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My Review…

Blue Collar Brothers

Another fantastic book, another hot Bianco brother to drool over!

Crushing on the Cop is Cristian and Vanessa story.

I really admired Cristian’s fight, his tenacity and his swooniness…he is all that and a bag of kale chips (his choice, not mine!!)

And I wanted to smack Vanessa! First for her love of pumpkin spice, then for her reluctance in letting Cris in….I loved to hate her for a bit, then she brought me over to her side by the end of the story!

That’s the magic that is Piper and Rayne, they can take a character that you wouldn’t necessarily like and make her into someone, you can slightly understand and empathize with.  She has some scars and is afraid to show her vulnerability, but when she finally gives in, she does so wholeheartedly.

Crushing on the Cop is a another delightful and fast paced read! I couldn’t put it down until the end! And what a heck of an ending it was!  I cannot wait for Luca and Lauren’s story next!

If you are looking for a light hearted, smexy hot read, get your hands on this!

Cover Reveal!! Heartbreak Warfare by Heather M. Orgeron & Kate Stewart

Check out this fabulous cover!!

 

Title: Heartbreak Warfare
Authors: Heather M. Orgeron & Kate Stewart
Genre: Contemporary Military Romance

Cover Design: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs

Photo: David Wagner

Model: David John Craig

Release Date: November 8, 2018
Blurb
Briggs:

Remember when I said we couldn’t speak after parting ways in Germany? It was the day I broke your heart. What you didn’t know was that I was breaking mine too.

I thought they’d be enough–my husband and my son. That I’d get home and everything would go back to the way it was . . .

Before the war.

Before the ambush.

Before you.

But, no matter how hard I try, I can’t erase the trauma we shared. I can’t seem to forget the way my heart beat in time with yours.

The truth is I’m lost without you.

I thought the nightmare was over when they pulled us from that hole in the ground, but nothing could have prepared me for the war I’d face at home.

I know it’s selfish of me to ask, but, please, I have to see you one last time.
. .

All my love,

Scottie

TEXT ALERT FOR RELEASE 
TEXT HMO TO 797979 (US ONLY)
Excerpt
“I need you to break my heart,” she declares, wringing her hands nervously. “Give me a reason to hate you, because wanting you this way is…it’s ruining me. It’s ruining my life.”
She is dead serious.
Lifting her chin, as if ready to take a blow, her turbulent eyes implore mine. “Tell me
about them. Tell me about all of the women you’ve been with since Germany.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Hell no.”
“Oh, please, Briggs. How long did you wait? A few days?” She laughs sarcastically. “I bet you didn’t even make it a day.”
She’s coming out guns blazing, and I can see it’s physically killing her to do it.
“Are we playing the guessing game? Do I get to ask how many times you’ve fucked your husband?”
“Sure,” she says with a shrug. “We’ll trade. You go first.”
She’s bluffing, and I’m calling her on it.
“Don’t do this, Scottie. You don’t really want to hear about that.”
“Humor me, Briggs.” Her eyes plead with mine. “I need to hear this.”
“Fine. You want the truth?”
She nods.
“Complete honesty?”
Again, she bobs her head.
She stands stock-still as I pace the small room, feeling the blood begin to boil beneath my overheated skin.
Fuck it.
I stalk back toward her, stopping inches away. “You really want to know that there have been so many that I’ve lost count? How they’re all blondes with blue eyes? But
the blue, it’s never right, and their smiles—all wrong.”
She swats at the fresh tears that trail down her cheeks as her lips begin to tremble. Reaching out, she places a hand on my chest, and I know that she must feel the way my heart is pounding against my rib cage, reaching for her. Always reaching
for her.
I jerk myself away and brand that touch to memory.
In about forty-five seconds, my heart is going to implode. I start ticking them down.
“You want me to tell you all about how I have to drink myself stupid, till their faces blur enough that I can pretend…” I pause running a hand down my face. “So that I can pretend they’re you? You want to know how fucking miserable I am? How when I slide between their legs, I close my eyes, and it’s your face I see? How I’m always careful not to kiss them because their lips are all wrong. How every time I finish I want to fucking kill myself, because I can’t stand the pain of wanting the one woman I can never have.”
Thirty seconds.
 “Is that enough?” Her eyes snap to mine. “Hate me yet?”
Face crumbling, she gasps out a sob, wrapping her arms around her shoulders.
“Come on, Scottie. Let’s not kid ourselves. I’m still the same prick you hated when we met. Nothing’s changed. I think we’ve romanticized this situation long enough,  don’t you?”
Taking another step away from her, I tilt my head. “You’re a housewife,” I say snidely. “Someone else’s wife and I’m a career soldier. This isn’t exactly ideal.”
She flinches visibly, and my heart bottoms out.
Fifteen.
I cut my hand through the air. “At the end of the day, this was nothing but a big  mistake. And we never would have happened if—”
“Stop,” she cries out painfully, “stop, I’m good,” she whispers before rocketing toward the door just as I reach for her, my fingers curling in the space she just left. Handle in hand, she looks back at me with the sweep of her eyes until they meet mine. That’s how we started, and it’s only fitting it’s how we should end. For the moment, we’re right back there in the place we created, where we are perfect. Where our souls line up without any visible smudge on the seams. In a place where there is still so much love, so much that I can’t stop the tear that slides out before batting it away with the back of my hand.
An identical tear runs down her cheek. “Thank you.”
Three. Two. One.
Heather M. Orgeron

 

Heather M. Orgeron is a Cajun girl with a big heart and a passion for romance. She married her high school sweetheart two months after graduation and her life has been a fairytale ever since. She’s the queen of her castle, reigning over five sons and one bossy little princess who has made it her mission in life to steal her Momma’s throne. When she’s not writing, you will find her hidden beneath mounds of laundry and piles of dirty dishes or locked in her tower(aka the bathroom) soaking in the tub with a good book. She’s always been an avid reader and has recently discovered a love for cultivating romantic stories of her own.
Kate Stewart
A Texas native, Kate Stewart lives in North Carolina with her husband, Nick, and her naughty beagle, Sadie. She pens messy, sexy, angst-filled contemporary romance, as well as romantic comedy and erotic suspense because it’s what she loves as a reader.
 
Kate is a lover of all things ’80s and ’90s, especially John Hughes films and rap. She dabbles a little in photography, can knit a simple stitch scarf for necessity, and on occasion, does very well at whiskey.

 

Oh my me!! Excerpt Reveal – Heath by K. Webster & Nikki Ash

Heath

by K Webster and Nikki Ash
Publication Date: October 25, 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

This isn’t a typical love story. This a story of what happens when love is so powerful and all-consuming that it has the ability to destroy everyone involved. It’s definitely not pretty and it’s certainly not a fairytale, but it’s their story and it couldn’t be told any other way.

Read an Excerpt

“Heath…”

My name is called out sweetly from somewhere nearby. Just down the hallway outside my room. I quickly tug off my tie and pull it from my neck. She calls for me again and I all but rip my dress shirt off me. I kick off my shoes and crack my neck.

I’m coming, Catrina.

I leave my undershirt and slacks on as I slip out of the room on a hunt for her. In just my socks, I creep down the hallways quiet as the mouse she claims I am. Floorboards creak nearby and I pause mid-step. Listening. Inhaling the air. I catch whiff of her lingering scent. Some sweet-smelling lotion that I love to lick straight from her skin. My mouth salivates for a taste. Salty and sweet. Mine.

“Achoo!” A sniffle and then, “Shit!”

I rush into the room across from hers. Hunter’s old room. It’s long been stripped to a regular guest room.

“I know you’re in here, my love,” I say lowly from the doorway.

Now she’s quiet as a mouse. But I can practically feel her breathing. I can practically taste her arousal.

“When I find you, I’m going to suck on your throat until you scream,” I taunt.

“You can’t do that. Then Daddy will know.” The closet. I step over that way.

“He already knows,” I counter.

“You told him?”

“I don’t have to. Crenshaw’s smart.”

The hangers in the closet clatter together. I twist my fingers around the knob and wrench the door open. It’s pitch black in the long walk-in closet. Shuffling can be heard as she retreats deeper inside. I close the door behind me.

“Why do you always hide from me?” I ask as I run my palm along the empty hangers, letting them clack together. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“No,” she grumbles, a little defensively I might add.

Irritation blooms inside of me. One day I’ll prove my worth to her. I’m so close I can taste it. To all the outsiders, I’m an orphan who somehow caught the eye of a rich businessman. Unworthy. A thorn in the side of a perfect family. I don’t belong. I’ve been told that before at church. Sanctimonious bastards. And in town, I see it in their eyes. I don’t belong in their world.

Soon, though, this fucking world will be mine.

“We’re in the dark, sweet Catrina. You can let your dirty little secret defile you and nobody will ever know,” I growl.

She squeaks and I pounce. My palms find the silky material of her nightgown as I tackle her, and together, we fall to the carpeted closet floor landing on a pile of old, unused pillows. She claws at my shirt, not because she wants to get away, but because she wants it off.

Little Crenshaw likes to get caught.

I nip at her jaw and her breath hitches. My cock is hard and I grind it against her thigh, reminding her just how good we are together. She moans, her fingers sliding to my gelled hair and rumpling it. Her grip tightens on my locks as she draws me to her lips.

I can’t see her in the darkness but I don’t need to.

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

She’s the most beautiful thing I can’t see.

(Copyright Nikki Ash and K Webster)

 

About K. Webster

K Webster is the author of dozens romance books in many different genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. When not spending time with her husband of twelve years and two adorable children, she’s active on social media connecting with her readers.

Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen.

About Nikki Ash

Nikki Ash resides in South Florida where she is an English teacher and mom by day and a writer by night. When she’s not writing, you can find her with a book in her hand. From the Boxcar Children to Wuthering Heights to the latest Single Parent Romance, she has lived and breathed every type of book.

Reading is like breathing in, writing is like breathing out. – Pam Allyn

While reading and writing are her passions, her two children are her entire world. You can probably find them at a Disney park before you would find them at home on the weekends!

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Excerpt Reveal: Muffin Top by Avery Flynn

I cannot wait for this!!!

 

 

“Avery Flynn knocks it out of the park again!”

– Tawna Fenske, USA Today bestselling author

Muffin Top, a hot romantic comedy from USA Today bestselling author Avery Flynn is coming October 29th!

Muffin Top 1600px.jpg

The only thing about me that’s a size zero is the filter on my mouth. I’ve got a big personality, a big rack, and a big number on the scale. And I’m perfectly fine with that.

But when some random guy suggests I might not be eating alone if I’d ordered a salad instead of a hamburger I’m shocked silent, which is a feat, trust me.

That brings us to one sexy fireman named Frankie Hartigan. He’s hot. He’s funny… And he’s just apologized for being late for our “date” then glared at the fat-shaming jerk. Next thing I know, he’s sitting down and ordering himself dinner.

I have no problem telling him I don’t need a pity date . . . unless of course it’s to my high school reunion next week. Oops where did that last bit come from? And what do I do now that he’s said yes?!

Because this is no make-over story, and I think Frankie is using me for something. I just have to figure out what…

muffintop preorder.jpg

Pre-order your copy today!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2CG0Oqm

iBooks: https://apple.co/2Qm9apZ

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

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

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Excerpt:

The temptation to say “Yes, Frankie, please squash him like a bug while I clap and watch” was so, so strong—like, the guys who pull semi trucks with their teeth strong. Instead, Lucy played along with her best friend’s fiancé’s brother— OMG, that was now the name of her imaginary all-girl ska band—and smiled sweetly up at him.

“He was bothered by my dinner order, honey.”

“Really?” Frankie looked down at her plate, over to the dipshit, and then right at her. There was no missing the devil in his eyes right before he turned his attention back to the other man. “What’s wrong with what my girl’s eating?”

Mr. In Her Business blanched. Literally. The color drained out of his face so fast that he resembled one of those swipe right before and after photos on makeover blogs. How in the hell she managed to not laugh out loud she had no frickin’ clue.

“N-n-nothing,” the man stuttered.

Nope. He was not getting off that easily.

She looked up at Frankie, still standing next to her chair, his big hand braced on the back of it, and said in the clueless voice that anyone with a brain would know meant there was danger ahead, “He said I should have ordered a salad, then I might have a chance to move from a five to an eight. I’m a five because I have great tits.”

Thunderous didn’t begin to describe the dark look of pure vengeance that crossed Frankie’s face, making even the freckles that crossed over the bridge of his nose look scary. Mr. Buttinsky made a little squeaking noise that reminded Lucy of the sound of air coming out of a balloon when someone pulled the tip taut as it was deflating. Frankie took a step forward, menace vibrating off of him in waves. The other guy didn’t bother to say a word, he just took off, weaving his way at a fast clip through the crowded bar and out the front door. Lucy liked to imagine that he peed his pants a little as he did so.

“Thanks, Frankie,” she said to the man still staring at the departing figure of Mr. Peed His Pants. “I owe you one.”

Her ginger knight in well-fitting jeans and a T-shirt made some kind of noise that maybe was a response in the affirmative. It sounded kinda like “no problem.” Whatever. She was used to that from guys. She was only of interest until a hotter, skinnier, or prettier woman came along. It was the universal fat chick cloaking device.

Determined not to let it annoy her as much as it usually would, she turned back to her jalapeño cheeseburger, spicy fries, and soda. Now she could finally enjoy her dinner in peace.

Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Frankie clunked down a three-fourths filled mug of beer on the other side of her table, pulled out the chair across from her, and sat down. Before she could even ask what he was doing, he waved the waitress over and told her he wanted whatever Lucy was eating, plus an extra order of fries and another beer. Once she’d left, he turned his attention to Lucy and gave her what could only be described as a vibrator smile. She named it that in her head—thankfully only in her head—because she now had a desperate need for her vibrator and maybe a fresh pack of batteries.

“You’re not gonna make me eat alone now that we’re on a date, are you?” he asked, swiping one of her fries.

About Avery

USA Today bestselling romance author Avery Flynn has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip.

She fell in love with romance while reading Johanna Lindsey’s Mallory books. It wasn’t long before Avery had read through all the romance offerings at her local library. Needing a romance fix, she turned to Harlequin’s four books a month home delivery service to ease the withdrawal symptoms. That worked for a short time, but it wasn’t long before the local book stores’ staffs knew her by name.

Avery was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.

AveryFlynn.jpg

Connect with Avery

Instagram: @AveryFlynn

https://www.instagram.com/averyflynn/

Website: http://averyflynn.com

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/avery-flynn

Mailing List: http://averyflynn.com/newsletter/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AveryFlynnAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/averyflynn

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Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/averyflynnbooks/

Join the Flynnbots: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Flynnbots/

 

Release Boost!! Fragments of Ash by Katy Regnery

See My Review For This Fantastic Story Here!!

Title: Fragments of Ash

(Inspired by “Cinderella”)

Collection: A Modern Fairytale
Author: Katy Regnery
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 1, 2018

 

Blurb
From New York Times bestselling author Katy Regnery comes a dark and twisted retelling of the beloved fairytale, Cinderella!
My name is Ashley Ellis…
I was thirteen years old when my mother – retired supermodel, Tig – married Mosier
Răumann, who was twice her age and the head of the Răumann crime family.
When I turned eighteen, my mother mysteriously died. Only then did I discover the dark plans my stepfather had in store for me all along; the debauched “work” he
expected me to do.
With the help of my godfather, Gus, I have escaped from Mosier’s clutches, but his twin sons and henchmen have been tasked with hunting me down. And they will stop at nothing to return my virgin body to their father
…dead or alive.
**
Contemporary Romance. Due to profanity and very strong sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18.**
 

Fragments of Ash is part of the ~a modern fairytale~ collection:
contemporary, standalone romances inspired by beloved fairy tales.

The Vixen and the Vet (Beauty & the Beast) – available now
Never Let You Go (Hansel & Gretel) – available now
Ginger’s Heart (Little Red Riding Hood) – available now
Dark Sexy Knight (Camelot) – available now
Don’t Speak (The Little Mermaid) – available now
Sheer Heaven (Rapunzel) – available now
Fragments of Ash (Cinderella) – available now
Swan Song (The Ugly Duckling) – coming soon

 

 

Purchase Links
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Excerpt
All rights reserved. Used with permission.



Instead of going inside, I walk around the house, to the backyard, to see if I can help bring in any dirty dishes, but the picnic table is empty. All traces of our dinner party have already been cleaned up by the Ducharmes siblings.

 
I look up at the midnight sky, at the dozens and dozens of stars, and I wonder if Gus is right. What he says feels right, but I feel very young and very small as I stare up at the universe. It’s not wrong to give yourself over to loving if the chance arises.
 
“We get amazing night skies up here.”
 
I look over my shoulder and find Julian, tall, barefoot, and beautiful, walking toward me.
 
“Yes, you do,” I answer, giving him a shy and tentative smile before I turn my attention back upward.
 
My skin prickles with awareness. My lips tingle, remembering the insistent pressure of his. And elsewhere in my body, I clench hard, willing those deep-set tremors not to start up again right now. I want to believe what Gus has told me—that liking and wanting a man isn’t wrong—but it’s new to me, and I need a little time to reconcile my desire and conscience together.
 
“When I lived in DC, it was what I missed the most, besides Noelle. More than the cheese. More than the beer. More than the skiing.” He stops, standing beside me, staring up at the firmament. “I missed Vermont’s night skies. And the millions of stars.”
 
“I can see why,” I say. “When I lived in LA, I never saw stars.” I giggle. “I mean, I saw the people kind, but not the sky kind.”
 
“Who’s the most famous person you ever met?”
 
“Hmm. Maybe . . . Gigi Hadid . . . or Bella? Hmm . . . Or Cara Delevingne? Kate Moss mentored my m—Tig for a while, um, and she knew Gisele, of course. Also—”
 
“Wait a second! Gisele? Did you ever meet Tom Brady?” he asks, his voice eager.
 
“Let me guess.” I glance at his face. “Patriots fan?”
 
“The biggest.”
 
“Tig went to their wedding, but I never met him. Sorry,” I say, giggling as he lays a hand over his heart and pretends to cry. “Speaking of the rich and famous, Noelle tells me you met the vice president while you worked in Washington.”
 
“She did?” His teasing expression disappears quickly as he straightens, dropping his hand. “Uh, yeah. Long time ago.”
 
“Not so long,” I say. 
 
“Yeah, well . . . I guess it just feels like a while ago.” I wait for him to say more, hoping to learn why he left Washington so abruptly, but he stretches his arms over his head and yawns. “I’m tired. You must be exhausted.”
 
“At school I was on the dining hall rotation, which meant cooking for one hundred souls regularly. Tonight was a breeze.”
 
“Your soup was amazing.”

“Thank you.”

“The steak too.”

“Thank you again.”

“And the tart.”

“That was your sister. Let her know you thought so.”

“And the kiss.”

 
“Thank—” I’m grinning at him, but my eyes widen at his unexpected compliment, and I immediately look back up at the sky. It’s dark out so he can’t see my blush.
 
His chuckle is soft and low beside me, and maybe I’m wicked for not feeling more guilty, but I feel my smile grow as I trace Orion’s belt. I don’t dare look at him, but I feel him step closer to me, the warmth of his chest radiating against my back. If I moved slightly, one step even, his body would be flush against mine, and the shiver down my arms has nothing to do with the night chill. I want him to touch me, but I know he won’t.
 
As though he can read my mind, he whispers, close to my ear, “Not unless you ask.”
 
I close my eyes and say a prayer for strength and virtue, which, sadly, works, because the next thing I hear is his footsteps receding.
 
“Good night, sweet Ashley,” he says to my back, his voice a low rumble.
 
My eyes open slowly to the glittering heavens.
 
“Good night, sweet prince,” I whisper to Julian’s stars.

 

Also Available
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Author Bio
New
York Times
and USA Today bestselling author Katy Regnery started her writing career by enrolling in a short story class in January 2012. One year later, she signed her first contract, and Katy’s first novel was published in September 2013.
Forty books later, Katy claims authorship of the multititled New York Times and USA Today bestselling Blueberry Lane Series, which follows the English, Winslow, Rousseau, Story, and Ambler families of Philadelphia; the six-book, bestselling ~a modern fairytale series; and several other stand-alone novels and novellas, including the critically-acclaimed, 2018 RITA© nominated, USA Today bestselling
contemporary romance, Unloved, a love story.
Katy’s first modern fairytale romance, The Vixen and the Vet, was nominated for a RITA® in 2015 and won the 2015 Kindle Book Award for romance. Katy’s boxed set, The English Brothers Boxed Set, Books #1–4, hit the USA Today bestseller list in 2015, and her Christmas story, Marrying Mr. English, appeared on the list a week
later. In May 2016, Katy’s Blueberry Lane collection, The Winslow Brothers Boxed Set, Books #1–4, became a New York Times e-book bestseller.
Katy’s books are available in English, French, German, Italian, Portuguese and Turkish.
Katy lives in the relative wilds of northern Fairfield County, Connecticut, where her writing room looks out at the woods, and her husband, two young children, two dogs, and one Blue Tonkinese kitten create just enough cheerful chaos to remind her that the very best love stories begin at home.

 

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Excerpt Reveal!! Dream by Carly Phillips Coming Soon!!

 

She was his best friend, his first love. And she broke his heart. Now she’s back. Will they find a second chance?

Dream an all-new emotional and romantic standalone from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Carly Phillips is coming October 16th!

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As a little girl, Andrea Harmon wanted to marry a prince, and Kyle Davenport hoped it would be him. But he never told her how he felt, and lost her as a result. Because sometimes the bad guy gets the girl. And Kyle left town to get over her.

Andi made the wrong choice years ago, choosing the bad boy over the best friend she trusted and she paid for it every day since.

Coming face to face with his former best friend was bound to happen once he moved back to Rosewood Bay, but for Kyle, becoming her son’s new teacher is a painful reminder of what they never had. But this time around, Kyle is determined to change their ending. Prince Charming is determined to break down her walls.

Except that no happily-ever-after is won without a fight—and her ex-husband doesn’t like to lose.

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Excerpt:

“I didn’t mean to drag you away from Kimberly. You two seemed to be hitting it off.”

He didn’t pull his hand away from her face, struck by the tinge of something in her voice. Jealousy? And if so, why did it please him that she cared?

“Kimberly was like a leech who wouldn’t let go. She even used her sick brother’s story to hang on to me. I wasn’t doing anything more than offering sympathy,” he said, opting for the truth.

Andi blinked, unmistakable relief in her pretty brown eyes. “Really?”

“Did it bother you when you thought I was into her?” he heard himself asking, knowing he hadn’t planned to go down this road, but the attraction between them was a real, tangible thing.

His fingers itched to run through her thick, wavy hair, and he couldn’t tear his gaze from her glossed lips as she ran her tongue nervously over them. Not to mention the energy it took not to look down at her full breasts beneath the jersey.

“Would it upset you if I said it did? That watching you with her stirred up feelings that took me by surprise?”

“I shouldn’t want you, Andi. You hurt me. Took a fucking knife to my heart. But that was in the past. And what’s going on now between us is the present.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the past alive despite them both wanting to put it behind them. But everything inside him was pulled toward her now, drawn to her fragile strength and beauty.

He dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers. Warm and giving, her soft lips moved beneath his. His hand slid around her jaw, tilting her head, giving him better access as his tongue delved into her mouth and tangled with hers. Finally, finally, finally, finally. His heart beat out the word in rapid rhythm, a long-held desire coming true as her kiss turned him inside out.

He explored the deep recesses of her mouth, tasting her essence, aware of his body’s reaction, the swell of his cock behind his jeans, the spike in adrenaline, the racing of his pulse.

Despite the pain, the anger, the hurt, this was the girl of his dreams and she was in his arms, eagerly accepting his kiss. He slid his hand into her hair, grasping the thick strands between his fingers and tugging as the kiss turned hotter and he backed her against the vanity, his waist flush against hers, his hard erection cradled between her thighs. His cock throbbed with unappeased need, desire flowing between them.

Until a hard knock sounded on the door, startling them into breaking apart. She looked at him, wide-eyed, the surprise etched in her face as strong as the shock rippling through him.

“Be right out,” he called to the person on the other side of the door.

He glanced at Andi, her face now flushed a bright red. “There’s no way to avoid walking out together, is there?” she asked.

“Whether you go first or last, whoever it is heard my voice.” Her blush deepened.

“Well, then here’s to giving them something more to talk about.”

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Fearless

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Meet Carly Phillips:

Carly Phillips is the N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of over 50 sexy contemporary romance novels, including the Indie published, Dare to Love Series. She is happily married to her college sweetheart, the mother of two nearly adult daughters and three crazy dogs. Carly loves social media and is always around to interact with her readers.

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Excerpt Reveal!! Perversion by T.M. Frazier

 

𝙐𝙎𝘼 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝙏.𝙈. 𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙯𝙞𝙚𝙧, 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞-𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙨 𝙪𝙥 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙫𝙚.

PERVERSION, book one in the all-new Perversion Trilogy is coming September 25th and we have the first sneak peek for you!

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Synopsis

Love is supposed to be magical.

Ours is suicidal.

The first time I met Emma Jean Parish,

she conned me into taking her p*ssy.

Her 𝑐𝑎𝑡

When she was sixteen,

she manipulated me into giving her

her very first kiss.

At eighteen she gave me 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.

She’s a con artist.

I’m a criminal.

I use her.

She manipulates me.

The attraction between us is explosive.

When it detonates

we could both wind up dead.

PERVERSION IS BOOK ONE IN THE PERVERSION TRILOGY

BOOK TWO: POSSESSION

BOOK THREE: PERMISSION

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Excerpt:

Emma Jean

When I was younger, I fell in love with magic. I learned every card trick there was from library books and unmasking magic TV specials. I used to put on shows for Gabby that included escaping from complicated knots and trick handcuffs. But what’s magic besides a sleight of hand?

It’s a lie.

And lying is what I’m damn good at.

My ability to spin a tall tale or two lead to stealing wallets and conning people into taking stray pets for the thrill of it. Now, I’m using it to earn for Marco. The thrill is there, but it’s muted, hindered, lost under his pile of mounting threats.

The inside of the casino smells like stale cigarettes, spilled beer, and burnt coffee. We’re not supposed to be in here. It’s Bedlam territory. But that’s also why it’s perfect.

It isn’t like anyone would recognize us here.

We’ve made friends with a few of the cocktail waitresses by giving them a small cut, and they don’t ask questions or ring any alarms when they see us working. I’ve also been straightening my hair over the last few years since my crazy curls stand out like a reflector on a dark highway. I’ve dyed it a few shades darker than my normal honey blonde to help blend in.

Tonight is starting off well. Gabby and I are working a con we’ve run a few times before.

Gabby walks away, her long dark hair swooshing behind her. She gives me a nod as she passes me by on the slot machine I’m pretending to play. She’s just faked losing an expensive engagement ring at another slot machine. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she frantically looked around for it, then loudly announced a thousand-dollar reward would be waiting at the casino cage for whoever returned it.

She is flawless. She should be an actress. And in another life, she would be.

But we don’t live in another life.

We live in Lacking and belong to Los Muertos.

Our lives are not our own.

A few people casually look around the area, then return to their machines when they don’t find the ring Gabby was ranting about. They won’t either. Because it’s not there.

Yet.

It’s go time.

I strut over to the area Gabby just left and put a dollar in the machine. While the wheels spin, I pretend to pick up the dime store ring I already have in my hand. By the time the machine dings to tell me I’ve lost my dollar, I’m turning the ring over, inspecting it like I don’t have half a dozen more just like it in my drawer back at the apartment.

“Would you look at that?” I mutter to myself loud enough so others around me can hear.

A man in an Adidas jumpsuit with a potbelly taps me on the shoulder. “I’ll take that. I saw the woman who dropped it. I’ll go return it to her.”

Liar. You just want the reward.

“That’s so nice of you,” I say. I hold it out, about to drop it into his hand when I pull it back. “I bet there’s a reward for something this valuable.” I start to walk around the man. “I’ll take it up to management. Maybe, they know…”

“Here,” the man says, holding up a hundred-dollar bill. “Take this. I’ll take it to her. I just…you know, as I said, I want to make sure it gets back to the right person.”

You’re not even a good liar.

Sometimes, it’s just too freaking easy. And this scam wasn’t even an Emma Jean and Gabby original. We saw it a long time ago in a movie starring Jennifer Love Hewitt. Doesn’t anyone else watch movies?

I shrug and pass him the ring. Plucking the bill from his hand, I tuck it into my bra. “Thanks,” I say before quickly making my way toward the large glass front doors. It’s Thursday. Marco’s money is due in two days, and we’re short this week.

Really short.

I walk slowly and wave goodbye to the valets with a smile on my face. “Any luck, tonight?” One asks me.

“I think so,” I answer with a smile. Once I’m down the sidewalk and out of view, I scramble to the side of the casino where I kick off my heels and change from the sequined dress I’d stolen from a dry-cleaner into a pair of cut-off shorts and my yellow Keds.

Now, all I have to do is wait for Gabby.

I don’t have to wait long.

“Run!” Gabby yells, darting from the doors of the casino with two large men wearing tight black security t-shirts close behind. Running from security is terrifying enough, knowing that we’re running from members of the Bedlam Brotherhood kicks it up a notch.

I grab my backpack and sling it across my shoulders. I move as fast as I can until I’m running right alongside her. We race through the gates, cross the street, narrowly avoiding being hit by two cars. We duck into a hole in a fence and run through one backyard after the other.

“One of those cunt waitresses must have tipped them off!” Gabby says, through shallow breaths. She’s barefoot in a black mini-dress hiked up to her ass to give her long legs room to run. Her long thick hair is wrapped around her face, sticking to her mouth.

We hit the sixth backyard. Without another word, we separate behind a clothesline. We’ve mapped out this escape plan a thousand times, but this is the first time we’ve ever had to use it.

When I make it into the central part of town, to the Los Muertos/Bedlam border, I can no longer hear the shouts of the security guards. I lost them.

Hopefully, Gabby did, too.

I use a tower of stacked-up wooden pallets on the sidewalk like a ladder to scale a concrete wall, then drop down into the alley.

I grow more panic-stricken the longer I wait for Gabby. I bite the inside of my lip, pacing back and forth along the high wall. The Bedlam Brotherhood runs the security at the casino. If they catch her and find out who she is? Or worse? Who her brother is? They’ll… I shake the thought from my mind. She’ll be fine.

She HAS to be fine.

Please be okay, Gabby. Please.

I’m trying to catch my breath and pull myself together when I hear a clink echo through the alley as if someone dropped some spare change, followed by the sound of something heavy dropping to the asphalt.

“Gabby?” I ask into the darkness. Thinking it’s her, relief washes over me like rain on a barren desert.

My only answer is the flickering of a fluorescent light mounted high on the roof’s edge of the adjoining building. And the hiss of what sounds like a cat behind a dumpster.

I walk over and peer around it. “Gabby? Are you hurt? Say something!” I whisper-shout.

Someone moves from within the shadow. “Get out here, Gabby. We’ve got to go before Mar…”

The light flickers again, for just a second. That second is all I need to see that the someone slowly stalking toward me is not Gabby.

It’s a man…twice my size.

“Who are you?” I ask, shuffling backward as the man cloaked in a black leather hood emerges from the shadows. The front of his jacket is open. Underneath, he’s shirtless, covered in a sheen of sweat, and more tattoos than visible skin all the way up the front of his throat. His muscled chest and abs flex with each step he takes. The hood shadows most of his face, but when the lights flicker again, yellow eyes glow from within.

And they’re locked on me.

My ‘save your ass’ mode kicks in.

The man is blocking the only exit. My only other chance of escape is to scale the same wall I used to drop into the alley.

I keep moving backward as he approaches until my back hits the wall. I look left and right for something to use to climb on.

There’s nothing but emptiness.

My stomach sinks, but surrender is not an option.

I swallow hard as the alarm bells scream in my head for me to run. Somewhere. Anywhere.

There’s nowhere to go!

My legs tremble. Fear crawls like a million spiders along the backs of my legs. I push myself further against the wall as if I can squish the feeling away, but it’s useless.

Fear consumes me. Swallows me whole.

He continues toward me. As he gets closer, I realize it’s not just sweat glistening on his skin. There’s something else splattered across the tattoos on his chest and on his stubbled jaw.

It almost looks like wet paint.

My breathing stops when he’s close enough that I can make out the tattoo on the front of his throat.

A bleeding black rose.

The symbol of the Bedlam Brotherhood.

I’ve heard stories about Grim. The man in the hood. The executioner for Bedlam. They were all terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as the reality of coming face to face with the man himself.

“We didn’t do anything,” I blurt. “I mean, we did, but it wasn’t a big deal. I’ll…I’ll give the money back. Just tell your men not to hurt my friend. It was all my idea. Let her go, and you can take me.”

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks. His voice is so thick and deep I feel it more than hear it. Shivers erupt all over my body.

He raises his arm, revealing a long curved blade.

For the first time in my life, I can’t seem to be able to hide my fear with my wit or sarcasm. My throat tightens. I can’t swallow, never mind speak. I’ve lost my words completely, along with my nerve.

The man’s blade drips red onto the pavement from the serrated tip.

Every fear response I didn’t even know I had runs rampant. I’m holding my breath. My muscles tense as if running was still an option. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck prickle my skin as they stand on end. I raise up to my tip-toes and push back, trying to make myself disappear into the wall.

I glance from the knife back to his chest, then back again. The splatters across his skin?

It’s not fucking paint.

Before I can process what the hell is happening, he switches from slow-stalking mode into hyper-speed, pinning my wrists above my head. His hard, bloodied chest pushes against me, smearing blood across my white tank top, forcing the back of my head to connect roughly with the wall.

“I’ll only ask you this one more time. Who the fuck are you?” His low guttural growl rattles my bones.

His unblinking, angry, golden eyes lock onto mine. Without the fluorescent light, they’re more golden brown than a glowing yellow. As much as I want to, I can’t look away. He could be the last person I ever see.

The thought is just the spike of adrenaline I need.

“Let me go,” I say, finally finding my words. I try and jerk my wrists from his grip with no luck. I’m trapped. My fear and anger rise to the surface, but I shove it back down. Fear won’t get me out of this situation, so it will have to wait for its damned turn.

He digs his rough fingers into my skin. “Answer me. Who the fuck are you?”

The bite of pain only makes me angrier. I throw his question back at him. “Who the fuck are you?”

He glances down at my rapidly rising and falling chest before pinning me with his stare. The corner of his mouth tugs up in a half-smirk.

“So much confidence for someone who’s trembling,” he says with an amused glint shining in his demonic eyes.

I shrug. “Maybe, I’m just not a fan of enclosed spaces,” I say through gritted teeth.

“You didn’t answer me,” he says.

“Why do you have blood all over you?” I answer him with yet another question. “You know, if you were committing some kind of crime back there, you should be more careful. I recommend a bleach bath and death by fire for your clothes the first chance you get. If it’s self-harm, I’m sure there’s a helpline you can call.”

He cocks his head to the side. His nostrils flare. His face is only inches away. I can feel the heat from his body against mine. His cool breath flutters against my neck.

I’ve never been this close to a man before. My trembling grows. My inner thighs shake sending a rippling wave of something very unfamiliar coursing through the center my body. I try and press my legs together to stop it from happening again, but when he uses his knee to wedge my legs apart, caging me in even further, it only grows, uncoiling from within like a slinky being pulled apart at the ends.

I swallow hard as the stubble of his jaw presses against my neck.

“Name,” he demands, his voice raspier than before.

I shut my eyes tight for a beat, trying to gain composure, control, something that will help me as I try and reason my way out of this. “Listen, I didn’t see anything,” I blurt. “That is if you did anything. I’m not going to call the police if that’s what you’re worried about. I wouldn’t anyway, even if I saw something, which I didn’t.”

His brows knit together in a harsh line. “Why?”

His question confuses me.

“Why what?”

“Why wouldn’t you tell the police?”

Because Marco owns them.

“Let’s just say that I haven’t exactly been a model citizen myself tonight. Let’s face it. If the police around here weren’t being paid not to do their jobs, half this town would be locked up.” I take a deep, shaky breath. “Especially people like us.”

He stills. There’s no more talking. Only heavy breathing and a battle of wills. He releases one of my hands. I think he’s reaching for his knife. My blood turns cold. I can feel my face pale as my heart starts beating as faster and faster as if it wants to get in as many as possible before the end.

I’m surprised when he doesn’t go for his knife. Instead, his hand travels slowly down my chest into my cleavage.

“No, don’t!” I say, but it’s too late, he’s already yanked on my locket.

“Please just give it back, and let me go,” I plead. Feeling like it’s my real heart he’s torn from my chest. “It’s the only thing in this world that means anything to me. Besides my best friend, it’s all I have.”

I hate the desperation in my voice, but it’s the truth.

He’s silent for a moment. He raises his arms. I flinch, raising my arms over my face defensively. But when nothing happens, I lower them, just in time to see him push back his hood, revealing his face.

“Why?” I ask, closing my eyes knowing full well that the only time a criminal reveals himself to a witness is right before they take them out.

“Look at me,” he demands, holding my face in his hand.

“No!” I say, shutting my eyes tighter.

“Look at me!” he bellows. He’s on me again. This time, he holds my head in his large rough hands. “Open your fucking eyes so you can see me.”

With no other choice than to get my head squished like a turtle under a car tire, I do as he demands. Opening my eyes, I blink through the haze, and when it clears, I’m met with tousled, medium-length, light brown hair, slicked back on the top, shorn close to head on the sides. His nose is slightly crooked like it’s been broken a few times before. The stubble on his square, defined jaw is a few days over needing a shave. A jagged scar runs through his chin like an angry white lightning bolt.

He’s the most fucking beautifully terrifying man I’ve ever seen.

He’s searching my eyes for something, but I don’t know what.

“Why?” I ask in a whisper.

His hands release mine, but he doesn’t step back. He leans in closer, speaking against my cheek in a rumble of a whisper. The strange feeling from earlier comes back as a zap of electricity bouncing around my insides looking for somewhere to ground.

I’m breathing heavy. Our lips are so close, almost touching. He slides one hand off my face, snaking it around my neck, pulling me closer. He starts to answer in a rumble of a whisper, causing goosebumps to rise on my already prickled skin. “Because I want you to see the face of the man who’s just—”

“Where the fuck are you?” calls Gabby from the other side of the wall. “I lost them!”

The moment, whatever it is, is now broken. The man releases me so suddenly I brace myself against the wall to keep from falling. I turn my head toward her voice.

“Gabby!” I shout back.

My heart is beating out of control. Out of habit, I raise my hand to my chest, seeking familiar comfort.

I look up. The man in the hood is gone.

And so is my locket.

About the Author

T.M. (Tracey Marie) Frazier never dreamed that a single person would ever read a word she wrote when she published her first book. Now, she is a five-time USA Today bestselling author and her books have been translated into numerous languages and published all around the world.

T.M. enjoys writing what she calls sexy‘wrongside of the tracks romance’ with morally corrupt anti-heroes and ballsy heroines.

Her books have been described as raw, dark and gritty. Basically, what that means, is while some authors are great at describing a flower as it blooms, T.M. is better at describing it in the final stages of decay.

She loves meeting her readers, but if you see her at an event please don’t pinch her because she’s not ready to wake up from this amazing dream.

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