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Release Blitz & Blog Tour: Hollywood Scandal by Louise Bay

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HE’S A HOLLYWOOD SUPERSTAR. SHE’S LITERALLY THE GIRL NEXT DOOR.
One of Hollywood’s A-listers, I have the movie industry in the palm of my hand. But if I’m going to stay at the top, my playboy image needs an overhaul. No more tabloid headlines. No more parties. And absolutely no more one night stands. Filming for my latest blockbuster takes place on the coast of Maine and I’m determined to stay out of trouble. But trouble finds me when I run into Lana Kelly.

She doesn’t recognize me, she’s never heard of Matt Easton and my million dollar smile doesn’t work on her. Ego shredded, I know I should keep my distance, but when I realize she’s my neighbor I know I’m toast. There’s no way I can resist temptation when it’s ten yards away.

She has a mouth designed for pleasure and legs that will wrap perfectly around my waist. She’s movie star beautiful and her body is made to be mine.

Getting Lana Kelly into my bed is harder than I’m used to. She’s not interested in the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, but I’m determined to convince her the best place in the world is on the red carpet, holding my hand.

I could have any woman in the world, but all I want is the girl next door.

A sexy, standalone romance.

Excerpt:  Matt Easton: “You have a boyfriend?”

She took another sip of wine and set it back on the table before she replied. “You’ve half asked that before.”

I chuckled. True. Not that I was going to act differently if she told me—either way I needed to keep my distance. I just wanted to meet the man who had managed to land this woman. “And I’m still coming up empty.” I glanced at the rise and fall of her creamy breasts, only barely covered by her camisole, and swallowed. Hard. I really should leave.

“See that?” she asked, pointing up over the ocean. “Lightning. And again.”

“Wow, that nearly cut the sky in half.”

Our eyes locked first in excited, shared understanding and then the connection transformed into something that had nothing to do with the lightning. She looked away first. I would have stayed, my eyes fixed on hers the whole night, if she hadn’t. “The air feels charged with something.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she whispered.

It was an invitation, and not one I wanted to turn down. I wanted to touch her, see if her lips were as soft as they looked.

“I want to kiss you,” I said, shifting so that she, and not the storm, had all my attention.

The thunder rumbled again.

Despite the noise surrounding us, I could only focus on the sound of her breathing. My pulse jumped under my skin, at my neck, in my wrists, in my dick.

I really shouldn’t be doing this.

But it was just a kiss.

And she was so beautiful.

And then it would be over.

I slid my thumb over her bottom lip. “Look at me,” I said.

My gaze flickered down as her breasts rose with her breath. It took every ounce of control not to yank her cami down and put my mouth on that warm, soft, pliant flesh.

As I looked at her, our eyes locked, and this time heat passed back and forth between us, growing more scorching with each passing moment.

She wanted me to kiss her. Maybe even strip her naked on this deck and fuck her hard and long until I knew every part of her.

I groaned, blood rushing to my dick, and leaned in to press my lips softly on the corner of her mouth. Her breath was hot and heavy against my cheek. I dropped my hand to her ass and slid her onto my lap.

Wrapping my hands around her silky hair that smelled of the ocean, I pulled, tilting her head back and exposing her neck.

I’d been kidding myself to think this was just a kiss. I wasn’t sure if it was because it had been so long since I’d fucked someone new or whether it was the storm or just the way Lana looked at me, but my whole body reverberated with lust. I wanted to touch, hold, possess her.

I trailed my teeth along her jaw and she squirmed in my lap. I slid my palms up her thighs and lifted her so she was straddling me.

Just a kiss. Right.

I wanted her closer, so I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and brought her mouth to mine in a fractured, desperate connection. With my other hand, I pushed her ass against me. The heat of her covered pussy against my erection made me groan. Sliding my tongue against the seam of her lips, I delved deeper. Fuck, I’d forgotten how hot making out could be. The stuff before the fucking. Before my reform, it had been all about release. All about seeing how fast I could have a woman’s mouth wrapped around my cock after making eye contact with her.

But not now. Not out here on the porch with Lana. All I could think about was how I couldn’t fuck her, how I’d never make it that far.

She smelled so damn good. Tasted even better.

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Read Today!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2g0dHAN
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2v0oBgx
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2ws7YL8
Paperback: http://amzn.to/2wQ37A2
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Kobo: http://bit.ly/2xkaYpd
Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/Stv8Cv

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About the AuthorUSA Today bestselling author, Louise Bay writes sexy, contemporary romance novels – the kind she likes to read. Her books include the novels Faithful and Hopeful and the novella series’ The Empire State Series, What the Lightning Sees and Calling Me. The novels and together the series are stand-alone although there are some overlapping characters.

Ruined by romantic mini-series of the eighties, Louise loves all things romantic. There’s not enough of it in real life so she disappears into the fictional worlds in books and films. Louise loves the rain, the West Wing, London, days when she doesn’t have to wear make-up, being on her own, being with friends, elephants and champagne. She loves to hear from readers so get in touch!

Connect with Louise:
Faceboook: https://www.facebook.com/authorlouisebay/

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/louisesbay
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8056592.Louise_Bay  
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1WqwGAf  
Website: http://www.louisebay.com

blog tour · excerpt · release blitz

Release Blitz, Blog Tour & Excerpt: Twisted Twosome by Meghan Quinn

Twisted Twosome, an all new sexy, laugh out loud romantic comedy from Meghan Quinn is LIVE!

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Twisted Twosome by Meghan Quinn
Publication Date: August 3, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Blurb: Racer McKay is a broody bastard. From the moment I met him, he’s been rude, irritable, and unbearable.

A contractor working to remodel my parents pool house for extra cash, he stomps around in those clunky construction boots with his tool belt wrapped around his narrow waist, and a chip on his shoulder. Racer McKay is also infuriatingly . . . sexy as hell. I want to take that pencil tucked behind his ear, and draw lazy lines slowly up and down his body all the while wanting to strangle him at the same time.

We try to stay out of each other’s way . . . that is until I have no other option but to ask for his help. But what I don’t realize is he needs me just as much as I need him. I have money he’s desperate for, and he holds the key to making my dreams come true.

Our pranks turn from sarcastic banter, to sexual tension and lust-filled glances. Bickering matches quickly morph into slow burn moments. We’re hot, we’re cold. We push and pull. I need him, I don’t want him. We’re on the verge of combusting with an agreement dangling dangerously between us. Neither one of us can afford to lose one another and yet, we’re finding it quite hard to decipher the line that rests between love and hate.

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Excerpt: Why is it so goddamn drafty in here? I grip my hammer in my hand, my tool belt riding low on my hips, and my stereotypical construction hat rests on my head as I finish up the project I was hired to do.

Taking a quick look around, I search the bedroom looking for an open window or AC vent that’s blowing a cold breeze right against my dick and sac, making it almost impossible to look semi-decent in this scrap of fabric.

“Mmm, I think you forgot a nail on the ground over there,” says the throaty, smoke-filled voice of Mrs. Sage, who is lying across her chase lounge wearing a silky pink robe that is barely tied around her waist. She makes it her mission to show me as much skin as possible, and as we’re talking about skin showing . . .

I bend down to pick up the nail she’s pointing at as the thin strip of man thong material rides higher up my ass crack than I care to admit.

Let’s pause for a second. Are you wondering to yourself, is Racer really wearing a man-thong as he finishes building a solid oak shelf? The answer is yes. Yes, I am. I’m Racer McKay and I wear man thongs for older, rich women while I work on simple projects around their houses. Excuse me, I mean mansions.

Don’t worry. Yes, I’m also very much ashamed to admit the level I’ve stooped to in order to make some cash. I have my pride, but right now, when I’m offered three hundred dollars more to build a shelf in a man thong, I’m choosing to seize the opportunity.

Self-respect was thrown out the window two years ago when a pile of bills and responsibilities were thrust in my direction without any preparation or warning. Making money is as vital as breathing to me, so I will take it any way I can get it.

Cue the man thong.

“Oh, you’re right. Here it is,” I say, holding up the nail. “Thanks for the help, Mrs. Sage. I would hate to see you hurt yourself from my lack of attention to detail.”

She waves me off and puffs her chest toward me, her robe slipping farther apart, showing the cleavage of a very saggy pair of breasts. I’ve seen my fair share of boobs and even though I don’t mingle sex with work, I can’t help but want Mrs. Sage to remove the robe just so I can see what she has hidden under the silky fabric.

How saggy are we talking here? I’m interested for exploratory reasons, for knowledge of every kind of breast out there. Because right now, Mrs. Sage looks like she’s rocking a pair of pancakes that have been flattened by a steamroller.

“You would just have to nurse me back to health if that happened.” Her finger trails up her varicose vein-covered leg to her geriatric hip. I hold back the shiver that wants to spin up my spine.

All I can say is . . . can’t unsee that. I nervously laugh and tuck my hammer into its holster. “Not much of a nurse, Mrs. Sage. I might hurt you even more.”

“I don’t mind getting hurt.” She starts to spread her legs and that’s when I call it a day.

I turn around quickly, snag my jeans and slip them up and over my legs, struggling with my tool belt getting in the way. Once things are in place, I remove my hat, put on my shirt, and then cover my hair with a backwards baseball cap. The peep show is over.

Once dressed, I gather my tools, tuck my construction hat under my arm, and turn to Mrs. Sage. This is my least favorite part, getting the old bird to pay up.

“Leaving already?” She pouts, lipstick on her teeth.

“Unfortunately, I have another engagement I’m running late for.” A lie, but it’s the only way I know to get out of here.

“That’s a shame. I really should book you for a whole day. That way you can’t skirt out of here earlier than I’m ready for.”

She walks out of the den and into the entryway where she opens her purse and pulls out a wad of one-hundred-dollar bills. My brain explodes from the amount of cash in her purse, as if it’s chump change she’s ready to throw around at a parade dedicated to her and her riches.

“What do I owe you? Six hundred?”

Fuck, it’s five hundred and if I wasn’t a nice guy, I wouldn’t correct her, but I believe in good karma. Especially considering where my bad luck has gotten me—trying to climb my way out of a large debt. I try to put as many good vibes out in the world as possible.

“We actually agreed upon five hundred, Mrs. Sage.”

“Such a bargain.” She flips through her cash, pulls out five bills—damn—and hands them over to me. “Shall I call for my next project?”

I pocket the cash. “Email is best, Mrs. Sage. I always feel awkward taking phone calls at work.”

“Such a hard worker.” She pats my face and leans forward, lips puckered, but I step to the side avoiding an attack from her old-lady lips.

As I depart, I wave my hand in the air and say, “Thanks, Mrs. Sage. I look forward to your next email.”

Out of her reach, I toss my tools in the back of my truck, enter the cab, and place my hands on the steering wheel as I exhale a long pent-up breath.

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Read Today!
Amazon Universal: http://hyperurl.co/99udeh
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MeghanQuinn
About Meghan Quinn
A BLONDE AT HEART

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

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

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

Connect with Meghan:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pg/meghanquinnauthor 

Instagram: authormeghanquinn
Website: http://www.authormeghanquinn.com/
Sign Up for Meghan’s Newsletter: http://bit.ly/MQWrapUp   

Twisted

blog tour

Blog Tour: Enrage by Rachel Van Dyken

Enrage, an all-new sexy standalone from #1 New York Times Bestseller Rachel Van Dyken is available NOW!!

Enrage by Rachel Van Dyken
Release Date: July 31st
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Enrage is the next standalone in the international best selling mafia series, Eagle Elite.

Blurb: Part of a world I loathe. Part of a family who hates me more than I hate myself. Living with a girl who reminds me of my darkness. I’m. In. Hell.
Also known as the Cosa Nostra.
My life was over the minute I stepped off that plane.
Son to a murdered mob boss.
Heir to a throne of murder and lies.
My name is Dante Nicolasi.
And there will be blood.

Blog tour

Excerpt: Dante slammed his hand into the tree, his jaw popped as he gritted his teeth together and then calm washed over him as he whispered near my ear, “Want me to kill him?”

A few people walked by and stared at us, it looked like he was kissing my neck, like we were normal college students sharing a moment.

Nope. Wrong story, kiddos.

He just offered to kill someone for offending me, run along, nothing to see here.

“After,” I said. “Kill him after he stops being useful to you, to the bosses.” I couldn’t believe what was coming out of my mouth, what I was agreeing to. “Yes.”

Dante pulled back, his face broke out into a smile. “How messed up is it that I’m actually looking forward to that moment?”

I gulped. “It’s in your blood.”

“I wish it wasn’t,” he said gruffly. “I wish I didn’t crave it — dream about it — almost as much as I wish I didn’t feel guilt every day because of it.”

I sighed and put my hands on his chest, then ran them up around his neck, he didn’t move, or flinch, so maybe we were having a moment as our mouths almost touched. “The only shame in life, is not being who you were truly born to be. If that means you kill the bad guys — kill the bad, guys Dante. Just don’t lose your soul in the process.”

“And if it’s already gone?” He croaked his eyes darkening as he slowly leaned in until his forehead touched mine.

Days ago I would have been terrified that his body was this close.

Days ago, I would have shoved him away and run.

Days ago, I would have shuddered that his bloodstained hands were running up and down my skin.

But today.

Today was different.

Today I closed my eyes and drank in the wicked scent of Dante Nicolasi, the cologne mixed with soap. I inhaled.

And opened my eyes again.

Yesterday I was angry. I was afraid.

Today. Against the tree.

Pinned by Dante’s arms.

I was safe.

“I’ll help you find it,” I whispered.

“Just don’t damn yourself in the process, El.” He cupped my face with his right hand, his eyes fell to my mouth, his half-lidded seductive look could stop a girl dead in her tracks.

The wives always talked about how attractive his father was, even at an older age.

Almost like he’d aged backward.

Dante was no different.

If it was possible for a human to get more attractive by the day — he’d be the one to prove you right.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” I asked hopefully.

“No.” He pulled away.

My heart sank into my stomach.

“Because I don’t want to start something I have no intention of stopping.”

My head jerked, our eyes locked, and I saw it. The honesty.

“Told you I’d never lie to you, El.” His voice had a warning edge to it, like I shouldn’t push him, push whatever invisible boundaries he’d mentally set up between us. His eyes never left mine.

And I knew, this was what he looked like when he was telling the truth.

His eyes pierced through my defenses in an unapologetic search for my heart, my soul.

And I let them.

“We should get to class.” I finally found my voice and started walking, he fell into step beside me.

And I spent the rest of the day thinking about the non-kiss.

And the promise that came with it.

Read Today:
Amazon US:  http://amzn.to/2hePKGc
Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/TukJN6
iBooks: http://apple.co/2smGTUi
iBooks: http://apple.co/2smGTUi
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2uLx9WO
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2hdSLqh
Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/b5mMmt

Blood in.. No Out…Catch up with the rest of the Eagle Elite Series Here: http://bit.ly/RVDEagleElite

RachelVanDyken

Meet the Author: Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!

Connect with Rachel Van Dyken:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RachelVanDyken
Website: http://rachelvandykenauthor.com
Newsletter: http://bit.ly/RVDNewsletter
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rachvd
Twitter: https://twitter.com/RachVD
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2cNVwL9
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/RVDGR
Rachel’s Rockin’ Readers: http://bit.ly/RachelsRockinReaders

 

blog tour

Blog Tour: Bombshell by CD Reiss

Bombshell, an all-new sexy and swoony standalone from CD Reiss is available now! 

Bombshell by CD Reiss
Publication Date: May 1st, 2017
Publisher: Montlake
Genre: Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis: Hollywood bad boy Brad Sinclair always gets his way, whether it’s the role he wants or the bikini-clad model he has to have. But when a bombshell gets dropped in his lap in the form of a dimpled five-year-old from a forgotten relationship, he knows his life is about to change forever.

Cara DuMont isn’t exactly thrilled when she gets assigned to be the nanny for the latest box-office king. She has one rule: no celebrity fathers, especially single ones with devilish good looks and rock-hard abs.

But as soon as Cara meets Brad and his adorable little girl, she knows she’s in for a world of trouble. Because there’s something about the way Brad looks at her that makes her believe that some rules are meant to be broken…

Excerpt: The front door opened. I expected a housekeeper or butler, but it was the actor himself.

I hadn’t forgotten how beautiful he was; I’d just chosen not to think about it.

“Ma’am,” he said. Southern boy. Parents together. Christian elementary. Public secondary. Two years at USC Drama. Dates his costars for a month after the wrap party, then moves on. Poring through the trades and making calls, I’d discovered he’d spend at least eight of the next twelve months overseas doing action movies, but most had postproduction in town.

“Mr. Sinclair,” I said, holding my hand out. “Nice to see you outside a bathroom.”

He shook my hand.

I’d shaken plenty of famous hands attached to gorgeous men, but my imagination was sparked by the way his fingers slid against mine to grasp them and the way our palms pressed together. My mind clouded over with ripped sheets, hard muscles, and soft skin.

“Pleasure’s mine,” he said and my brain skipped like a trip on a cracked sidewalk over the word pleasure.

He didn’t give me the oversincere hand-over-clasp to show me how damn happy he was to see me, but there was something intimate about that half a second.

Just a consultation.

I followed him into the house. Dora Donovan had designed it. Looked like her with her faux-midcentury white couch and shag rug. That wasn’t going to work with playdates unless he wanted to keep an upholsterer on staff.

We went through the living room to a smaller room with a pool table smack in the middle. It had a stained glass Budweiser lamp over it and was racked for nine-ball. Dora Donovan had nothing to do with this room, for sure.

“Wanna sit?” He held a chair out for me. The glass-topped table was just inside the open patio doors and was set with iced tea.

I sat.

“I’m not a date,” I said kindly, indicating the iced tea setup. “Just so you know. You don’t have to do things like hold the chair for me.”

“Habit, I guess.”

He sat opposite me.

“Chivalry is nice. But with the nanny, whomever you hire, it can be misconstrued.”

He smirked a little, as if misconstruing his own thoughts. I cleared my throat and pulled my jacket closed.

Read Today!

(Free in Kindle Unlimited)
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2oyQhoz
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Audio: http://amzn.to/2oblJVI

Add to Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/zhgfx32

About CD Reiss: CD Reiss is a New York Times bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up she’s at the well hauling buckets.

Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere but it did give her a big enough ego to write novels.

She’s frequently referred to as the Shakespeare of Smut which is flattering but hasn’t ever gotten her out of chopping that cord of wood.

If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.

Connect with CD Reiss: Amazon: http://amzn.to/2iwpkPQ 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CDReiss.writer/ 
Twitter: https://twitter.com/cdreisswriter 
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