excerpt · new release

Excerpt Reveal: Filthy Player by Stacey Lynn

Filthy Player by Stacey Lynn
Release Date: October 9th
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Synopsis: 
The Raleigh Rough Riders are back, and this time Super Bowl Quarterback Beaux Hale finds himself playing the most important game of his life.

Every woman knows Beaux Hale is nothing but a player. Yet the first time he walks into Paige Halloway’s restaurant and flashes his sexy grin, she feels a heat between them spark. Too bad he opens his mouth and ruins it.

He may think his money, fame, and sexy looks will attract any woman—but he’s wrong.

Paige doesn’t have time for a man. She’s too busy keeping a roof over her head and taking care of her father to care about relationships.

Lucky for Beaux, he’s a man who’s ready to use all the plays at his disposal. He didn’t bring his team a Super Bowl victory by giving up at the first block in his path—and Paige Halloway has just become his new long-game.

Beaux also knows that sometimes, in order to win and claim your prize, you have to get a little bit filthy.

Pre-order today!
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2wI4Y8Y /
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2yrl8Wn 
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Kobo: http://bit.ly/2xZn9vj
Add to Goodreads:
http://bit.ly/2yVDxuL

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Excerpt: “You know, you’re not anything like I really imagined you were.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“I suppose it might be.” Her lips twisted like she didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t stop from chuckling. Why did this woman dislike me? Instead of it turning me off, I was curious.

“Okay, then, how about this. You take care of my truck, I’ll do your favor, and then tonight, you let me take you out for dinner.”

“You don’t even know what the favor is.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll still do it, and I still want you across the table from me so I can keep proving how much of a non-asshole I am.”

“You’re sort of pushy, you know that?”

“I prefer ‘determined’ when I see something I want.” I flicked my hand out. “What’s the favor?”

“She glanced toward the door to the garage and sighed again. “My dad’s a fan—”

“Just your dad?” I teased.

She huffed, lips pressed into a pout and continued, ignoring me. “It’s just, I was wondering, it doesn’t have to be much, nothing big at all…but could you autograph—”

“Done.” We had boatloads of crap in the marketing department I could grab. I’d take care of it and blow her mind with my generosity. And it wasn’t just because I tried to do everything I could for fans, but because she was pretty when she blushed.

Even prettier as her eyes went soft when she mentioned her dad. 

Spectacular as she gritted out her favor like asking for something from someone was worse than getting teeth pulled without Novocain.

“Yeah?” she asked. “That’d be really great. But dinner, I don’t know.”

The pretty little liar. Her blush told me she wanted it. “Tonight, whenever. You make the call, and it’s not payback for the favor or you fixing my truck. I just want to share a meal with you.”

“Why? Because you want in my pants?”

Her tone was snippy and her shoulders tightened. She’d handed me a loaded gun and hell if I was going to shoot myself with it.

I closed the five feet of space between us, making her step backward until she was almost plastered to my truck. 

“I do want in your pants, Paige. Any American male who watches you for longer than two seconds probably wants the same. And I’ll take my time getting there if I have to, so I’m not going to be a dick and lie, and I’m not being a dick by being honest. I’m just honest. But dinner is because you’re pretty, and for some reason I can’t explain, I want to know why you look so damn exhausted, why you just asking me for help made you look like you want to puke, and why you did it anyway. So basically, I just want to talk to you. Get to know you. I’m interested and I’m not going to hide that either. It’s not my style.”

“Wow.” Her cheeks had turned pink while I was talking and by the time I was done, her lips were parted. “That’s a lot to discuss at dinner.”

“Then we’ll tack on drinks and dessert at the end.”

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About the Author: Stacey Lynn currently lives in Minnesota with her husband and four children. When she’s not conquering mountains of laundry and fighting a war against dust bunnies and cracker crumbs, you can find her playing with her children, curled up on the couch with a good book, or on the boat with her family enjoying Minnesota’s beautiful, yet too short, summer.

She lives off her daily pot of coffee, can only write with a bowlful of Skittles nearby, and has been in love with romance novels since before she could drive herself to the library.

If you would like to know more about Stacey Lynn, follow her here:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/staceylynnbooks
Twitter: @staceylynnbooks
Website: http://www.staceylynnbooks.com
Stay up to date on Stacey’s latest news! Subscribe to her Newsletter today! http://www.staceylynnbooks.com/contact

blog tour · excerpt

Blog Tour & Excerpt: Scandalous by LJ Shen

Scandalous, the highly anticipated next standalone in the Sinners of Saint Series by LJ Shen is available NOW!

Scandalous by LJ Shen
Publishing Date:  September 29th, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance

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Blurb: They call him The Mute for a reason.
Hard, cold and calculated, he rarely speaks.

When he does, it’s with disdain.
When he does, his words aren’t meant for me.
When he does, my stomach flips and my world tilts on its axis.
He is thirty-three. I am eighteen.
He’s a single dad and my father’s business partner.
I’m just a kid to him and his enemy’s daughter.
He’s emotionally unavailable. And I am…feeling. Feeling things I shouldn’t feel for him.
Trent Rexroth is going to break my heart. The writing isn’t just on the wall, it’s inked on my soul.

And yet, I can’t stay away.
A scandal is the last thing my family needs. But a scandal is what we’re going to give them. And oh, what a beautiful chaos it will be.

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Excerpt: Trent’s gaze cut to mine and stopped when his grays met my blues. The fading noise of Vicious barking at people to move along, and my father finally letting go of my arm to move toward Jaime and Dean—probably trying to gain both allies and sympathy—died down.

“I don’t like you,” Rexroth whispered under his breath, his voice harsh.

“I never asked you to.” I shrugged.

“You won’t be working here.” His arm brushed my shoulder, but I didn’t think it was by accident. I let loose a sugary smile, scanning his face and torso for no other reason other than to taunt him. “Good, you’ll be doing me a favor. My father is the one forcing me to work here. He’s pissed I turned down five Ivy League colleges. Remind me, Mr. Rexroth—which top tier university did you attend for your degree?”

The low blow was supposed to retrieve some of my lost dignity, but bile burned my throat, shotgunned from my stomach. Trent Rexroth was known in Todos Santos as an exhilarating success story, rising from the gutters of San Diego. He went to a shitty state college that accepted even the illiterate, working as a janitor on campus after hours. Those were given facts he’d recited himself in an interview for Forbes.

Had I really just tried to make him feel less worthy because he wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth? It made me sicker than wearing my mother’s designer garbs.

Trent smiled, leaning into my body, into my soul. His smirk was more frightening than any scowl, frown, or grimace I’d ever seen. It threatened to tear me apart and sew me back together however he pleased.

“Edie.” His lips were dangerously close to my ear. A delicious shiver moved down my spine. Something warm rolled inside of me, begging to unknot and flower into an orgasm. What was happening, and why the hell was it happening? “If you know what’s best for you, you will turn around and leave right now.”

I elevated my head to meet his gaze and showed him my version of a grin. I was born and raised in a world of intimidating rich men, and I’d be damned if I go down like my mother—addicted to xanax, Gucci, and a man who paraded her on his arm for a short, glorious decade before keeping her solely for public appearances.

“I think I’m going to go find my desk now. I’d wish you a good day, Mr. Rexroth, but I think that ship has sailed. You’re a miserable man. Oh, and one for the road.” I fished for a Nature Valley bar in my mother’s purse and plastered it to his hard, muscled chest. My heart slammed into my neck, fluttering like a caged bird.

I hurried after my father as he glided down the vast, golden-hued hallway, not daring to look back. Knowing I’d started a war and arrived unequipped. But I also knew something else that gave me a surfer’s rush—if I could slam the final nail in my employment coffin and make Rexroth vote against me, I’d be off the hook.

I had just the plan for it. All I had to do was act like a brat. Game on.

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Read Today! (Free in Kindle Unlimited)
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Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/rBwXhs

Start the Series of Standalones Today!
(Free in Kindle Unlimited)
Vicious
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2xdCsQ6
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Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2hUo31f

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About the Author: L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.

Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets peoples’ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards.

She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.

Connect with LJ Shen:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorljshen/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/lj_shen
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authorljshen/
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Stay up to date with LJ Shen by signing up for her mailing list:

http://bit.ly/2umcYPg
http://www.authorljshen.com/

blog tour · excerpt · pre-order

Blog Tour & Excerpt: Racer by Katy Evans

Racer, an all-new standalone in the Real Series from New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans is coming September 28th!!!

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A bad boy with something to prove.
A woman with a mission.
The race of their lives.
The love of a lifetime.

I don’t think his parents expected him to live up to his name—Racer Tate—but once he felt the adrenaline rush behind the wheel, he was addicted.

He’s the fastest, fiercest driver around.
Scouting new talent brings me to his doorstep… but his smile sends me to my knees.

The sexy, mysterious Racer Tate is not the kind of man a girl like me falls for. He’s secretive, reckless, elusive. But his proximity pushes me beyond reason, and his kiss….

This is our last chance to win, and he is our only hope. I’m supposed to watch him—make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. But it’s an impossible task. And now the one in heart wrenching, toe-curling, soul-crushing trouble is me. Because when your heart belongs to someone, their truths become your own, and their secrets become your salvation…or your curse. 

He says he wants me. He says I’m the One. But he also thinks he’ll break my heart, one piece at a time until it’s gone.

September 20th teaser

Excerpt: I’m still reeling. While people approach him, he cuts a path straight to me, his gaze penetrating and target-like; making me want to bolt.

His lips do that little upward tilt they do that seems so sexy, and for a second, I feel like I’m lightheaded.

I gulp, and then feel mad at myself for acting like some idiot as fucking devil-Racer Tate reaches me, throws himself into a seat next to me, and turns to look at me expectantly with the most gorgeous grin on his face.

I don’t know what to say.

This guy has left me sort of speechless.

“So … ” I say, staring in the distance at his beat-up mustang, then at him.

“So … ” he says too, in his deep voice, his smile a little more wicked than it was two seconds ago. He glances at my mouth.

Oh god.

Why am I licking my lips?

It only made his eyes narrow and darken.

        I open my mouth to speak, failing to find words. He smells like sweat and soap and shampoo, and I feel my traitorous nipples push up to my top again. Why do they do that when he’s around?

“This is illegal,” I state.

His voice is husky from exertion, and his eyes glint with laughter. “That’s why it’s fun.”

I look away from his eyes, trying to focus and clear my head. He leans over and peers into my face, his face shadowed by the moonlight and his jaw now carrying a little scruff. “Are we in agreement?” he presses.

“No.” I glare and shake my head, meeting his cocky gaze. “You’re reckless, Racer.”

“So are you, Alana.”

“It’s just … Lana.”

His brows fly up in surprise. “And a bit of a liar too.”

I purse my lips, still glaring as my gaze goes back to his car. Girls are rubbing against it as if it were him, and I find it disgusting. Why are women always acting so slutty around race car drivers and bad boys?

“You crashed your car,” I say flippantly.

“You crashed my car,” he contradicts, amused.

I laugh, then scowl in his direction. “You crashed it more. I can’t believe you were making such a fuss about me crashing into you when it was just a little kiss—”

He leans in to peck my lips—fast but firmly. “That’s a kiss.”

I lose my breath.

My eyes wide.

He eases back, lips smiling as he comes to his feet and stretches his hand out to take me by the elbow and help me to my feet.

“Let’s get out of here.” He starts walking, leading the way.

“And go where?”

“Anywhere I can get my hands on you.”

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Pre-order Today!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2vdmnsx
Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/u6Afj4
iBooks: https://goo.gl/s1EHS7
Nook: https://goo.gl/zoTe8X
Kobo: https://goo.gl/WgX9oJ
Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/JFvQ6D

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About the Author: Katy Evans is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her debut REAL shot to the top of the bestselling lists in 2013 and since then 9 of her titles have been New York Times bestsellers. Her books have been translated into nearly a dozen languages across the world.

Connect with the Author:
Email: katyevansauthor@gmail.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorKatyEvans
Twitter @authorkatyevans

September 14th teaser

 

excerpt · pre-order

Excerpt: Mr. Big by Delancey Stewart

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ABOUT MR. BIG: Once upon a time, I had everything: money, power, a multimillion-dollar company, a loving family. Well, at least I thought I had everything. Then my parents died, and I found out my whole life was based on a lie. That’s pretty much the moment when I went numb. Told the world to f*** off and went on a bender of epic proportion, just to see how far I could fall before I hit rock-bottom.

Now I’m back and all I want in this world is my morning—okay, afternoon—coffee. Then one of my employees has the nerve to call me out for cutting the line at the coffeehouse at the company I own. Sure, I’m a little scruffier than usual, but come on, bitching out the CEO? Not a smart career move. Just who does this smart-mouthed ball-buster think she is? And more important, what do I have to do to get her number?

Holland O’Dell may be uptight, but I wouldn’t mind taking her back to my place and ripping off that business-casual blouse/skirt combo and burying myself in her curves. She pushes my buttons, but at least I’m feeling something. And whatever it is, I won’t stop until I get more.

Excerpt: “Where did you come from, Holland?”

“That’s a good question.” I wasn’t trying to dodge, but I didn’t have an answer. Plus, I wasn’t sure he was speaking geographically.

“Were you born and raised in Los Angeles?”

So he was speaking geographically. “Maybe,” I said. “I was raised here. I don’t know where I was born, actually.”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

I took a deep breath. “I was abandoned. They found me in a cardboard box at a hospital in Long Beach when I was a couple weeks old.”

I watched his eyes, waiting for the predictable sorrow, the sympathy most people offered when they heard about my inauspicious beginnings. Hale’s eyes reflected something else, though—they flashed with anger.

“I grew up in foster homes.” I shrugged.

“You were adopted?” He whispered the words, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

I shook my head, a little confused at his reaction. For a moment I wondered if the revelation made him think less of me. It had certainly made me think less of myself for a lot of years. “Nope. Never adopted. Just fostered.” My salad came and I was thankful for the distraction.

Hale watched me intently, a crease between his dark eyes. He seemed about to say something, but then turned his head and stared out at the ocean instead. The sun was flashing on its surface, glittering like cellophane ribbons. I waited for him to ask more questions, but he seemed lost in thought.

We ate in relative silence, me enjoying the sunlight and warmth, and the entire avocado I’d convinced the waitress to bring me. Hale appeared to be focused on something inside his mind, something he didn’t seem apt to share. I decided to push. “What about you?”

His eyes snapped back to mine and then he shook his head, saying nothing.

“Seriously? I share but you don’t?” After spending most of the morning being thoughtful and kind, Mr. Big Dick was back. His face was closed and anger bubbled in his eyes as he turned his focus to his burger. “I see how it is,” I pressed.

He paused, a fry partway to his mouth, and then his hand lowered again, his shoulder slumping. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you.”

“Okay . . .”

He dropped the fry and leaned back in his chair, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “It’s more that I don’t really know.” He stared down at his plate as he said, “I was adopted, actually. But I’ve only found that out recently.” His voice was cold, almost clinical, like this was a distant fact to be examined, not something integral to who he was.

“And you’re upset?” It was a stupid question. A dark frown had crept over his face and he looked much more like the broody asshole I’d met at Cody Tech than like the almost sweet man who’d been helping me since then. He was clearly upset.

A smile flickered over those incredible lips, but it did nothing to tamp down the sadness in his eyes. “I don’t know. Yes. It’s complicated.”

Without stopping myself this time, I reached for his hand, my own fingers covering the long square tips of his where they rested on the table. He started slightly, as if I’d shocked him, and then relaxed, his thumb reaching around to rub a line across the top of my fingertips. I suppressed the shiver that ran through me. The pain in his eyes had ebbed, and he looked up at me with something that felt a bit like wonder.

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Advance praise for Mr. Big: Mr. Big is the kind of smart, sexy delight that every woman deserves to read! [Delancey] Stewart will make you believe in true love in this steamy, heart-wrenching tale.”USA Today bestselling author Sierra Simone

Pre-order your copy of MR. BIG now:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Mr-Big-Delancey-Stewart-ebook/dp/B01MZ17Z9I/
iBooks: https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/mr-big/id1187675898?mt=11
Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mr-big-delancey-stewart/1125362417?ean=9780399181801
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/mr-big-5

About Delancey Stewart: Delancey Stewart has lived on both coasts, in big cities and small towns. She’s been a pharmaceutical rep, a personal trainer and a wine seller. Despite lots of other interests, she has always been a writer.

A military spouse and the mother of two small boys, her current job titles include pirate captain, monster hunter, Lego assembler, story reader, and tech writer. She tackles all these efforts from her current home outside Washington DC.

Follow Delancey Stewart:
Website: http://www.delanceystewart.com/
FB: www.facebook.com/delanceywrites
Twitter: @DelanceyStewart

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/delanceystewart/

excerpt

Excerpt: Come Back To Me by Kathy Coopmans

COME BACK TO ME By KATHY COOPMANS

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From USA Today Bestselling Author Kathy Coopmans comes a soul crushing story of second chance love. 

Blurb:
Come Back To Me.
What does one do when everyone you love dies?
How much is a woman supposed to take before she crumbles?
How much?
Adriana Jensen is the woman to ask.
She’s lost too many people to count.
The one death that destroyed her the most
was her husbands.
Only… he didn’t die.
What does one do when forced to walk away from his wife?
How much will it take to win her back?
How much?
Blake Jensen, Adriana’s estranged husband, is the man to ask.
He has one question to ask himself.
How much will it take for her to come back to me?

RELEASING AUGUST 23, 2017 // Goodreads Link: http://bit.ly/2scjCom

Pre-Order Links:
Amazon- http://amzn.to/2eKUq5I
Amazon UK- http://amzn.to/2uW2eI3
Amazon AU- http://amzn.to/2tGo7f0
Amazon CA- http://amzn.to/2uWaeIW
B&N- http://bit.ly/2vxTntQ
iTunes- http://apple.co/2tFnQ6T
Kobo- http://bit.ly/2vhZUZF

CBTM Teaser Failed

Excerpt: I sat in my office for the better part of the morning yesterday, staring at a long list of things to do now that winter is upon us. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to look it over if I didn’t pull my head out of my ass. I have always taken every job I’ve had seriously. Pushed myself to the limit. But when the woman you love is mere feet away from you after years of you not being able to touch her, then your job goes down with it. At least it has for me.

I’m anything but calm. I’m fucking seething.

I came home from seeing her in that window and beat the hell out of my punching bag until my knuckles were raw. I thought about moving so I would never have to see her again. Then quickly changed my mind because the thought of her eventually finding someone else, another man touching what belongs to me, made me want to put a bullet through my head. I’ll die if I find out someone has. I had to call Hunter to calm me down. He laughed for all of ten seconds. Then he sobered right up and started paddling in the opposite direction. “You man the hell up, boy. Right your wrongs and fight for that girl. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. Can you?” he said. My jaw dropped. His words punched me in the gut. But to hear him say the words that have been rotting away in my stomach had me falling back in a chair. My legs were no longer able to hold me.

I wasn’t about to argue with him when what he said was right. Not to mention, I respected the man. Adriana has and still is living in hell. We both have.

Then I drank. My mind kept fading back to last night, how she went from her playful, seductive way to a traumatized victim of life’s cruelty. It was written all over her face, her body. She’s on the verge of falling apart, and even though she held herself together well, when she turned around her face gave it all away.mMy beautiful Adriana is barely keeping it together. I could see right through her. She’s lost.

My mind goes back to this same day years ago. Burning blue orbs watched my every move, sending blood straight to my dick. Those eyes needed to be staring down at me while she rode him. I lifted my hand to reveal a sexy-as-hell corset. My own blues traveled up and down her body. Fuck, this would look good on her. It was purple. My favorite color next to the nude of her creamy-white skin. She immediately looked away when her sister strolled in dressed in clothes that looked like she’d slept in them. Hair a mess and eyes so red you would have to get up close to see their true color. I went from being turned the fuck on to royally fucking pissed. On our anniversary, no less.

I did my best to pay attention to what was happening between the two of them as my fingers flexed around the silky material in anger. Adriana loved the feel of silk. I loved the feel of her. But the sight of Alexis being here was enough to make me sick. My ears were hurting as I tried to pay attention to what they were saying.

“What on earth is she doing here looking like that, damn her?” I grumbled. I knew what she was doing, and I hated her all the more for it. She was trying to save her ass before I had the chance to try and set her straight. To backpaddle. And the part of her that wasn’t high on whatever her choice of the day was, was eating away at her. She knew she fucked up in the worst possible way. Stupid bitch. I didn’t like her before. I hated her now, and I had every reason to.

Adriana and Alexis argued for minutes. I knew Adriana wasn’t buying her excuses. She had heard them all. All except the one I threatened Alexis to keep hidden. I was ready to break the two of them apart when her sister stormed out of the store and those once burning eyes quickly smoldered out with tears. With the garment still in my hands, I made it to her just before her legs gave out. I took her in my arms, cradled her to my chest, and held on tight while she let it all out. All the time knowing this was our last anniversary to be together and it was fucking ruined.

Everything about Adriana mirrors the same as that incident years ago. She’s barely holding herself together. The sadness, the shame, the guilt. Not a one of them is her fault. It’s fucking fate. The word so many people in this fucked-up world we live in believe in.

“I don’t know what to do. I had every intention of telling her everything last night. Fuck, I even brought the file with me so she could read it, because I wasn’t sure I had it in me to tell her how my greed in trying to give her the world nearly cost her life. She’s so fucking broken over everything that has happened to her that I’m afraid she won’t be able to handle this.” I’ve never believed in fate. Not until she moved here. What I used to believe in was a love so powerful it can’t be stopped no matter how much a person tries. No matter how many unmovable obstructions are thrown in its path. Love always finds a way. I’m just not so sure of it anymore. This whole thing is a riddle full of confusing. I just need to get her back.

About Kathy Coopmans: USA Today Best Selling Author Kathy Coopmans is a Michigan native where she lives with her husband, Tony. They have two son’s Aaron and Shane.

She is a sports nut. Her favorite sports include NASCAR, Baseball, and Football.
She has recently retired from her day job to become a full-time writer. 

She has always been an avid reader and at the young age of 50 decided she wanted to write. She claims she can do several things at once and still stay on task. Her favorite quote is “I got this.”

Follow Kathy Coopmans:
Website: http://www.authorkathycoopmans.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKathyCoopmans/
Instagram: @authorkathycoopmans
Twitter: @authorkcoopmans
Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1664134137240180/
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/y3l8t6

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.

Untitled

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.

Tingle.jpg

Read Today!
Amazon Universal: http://hyperurl.co/99udeh
Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/TFxJ7s

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

excerpt

Excerpt Reveal: Twisted Twosome by Meghan Quinn

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Twisted Twosome, an all new sexy, laugh out loud romantic comedy from Meghan Quinn is coming August 3rd!

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.

Twisted.jpg

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.

Untitled.png

Pre-order Today!
Amazon Universal: http://hyperurl.co/99udeh
Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/TFxJ7s

MeghanQuinn.jpg

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   

Preorder (2) (2)

excerpt

Excerpt: The Bars Between Us by A.S. Teague

Today we have the blog tour for The Bars Between Us by A.S. Teague!! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today!!

Title: The Bars Between Us
Author: A.S. Teague
Genre: Contemporary Romance

About The Bars Between Us:
I don’t have a damn thing in common with the beautiful rich girl who walks in to my bar. She’s southern class, fancy cars, and designer shoes.

I’ve got a drunk for a mother, a cheater for a father, and a reputation for trouble I’ve more than earned.

I look the other way, pretending I don’t notice how perfect she is. She wouldn’t give me the time of day anyway. Until she shatters that first impression and shows me she’s so much more––everything I never thought I deserved.

After a lifetime of being a disappointment, I want to prove to her that I’m better than my past. We have one tragic thing in common, and the thread that binds us together will tear us apart as it unravels.

Are we strong enough to break through the Bars Between Us?

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Excerpt: 

Grace: I let out a frustrated sigh and turn the engine back on.  After putting the car in reverse, I begin backing out of the space, my gaze still glued to the river in front of me. I should focus on work, on my new beginning, on anything except a man that had been short and snappy with me the day before.
A sharp banging pulls me back to reality and I slam on the brake, my eyes darting to the rearview mirror.
My stomach drops when I realize there’s someone behind my car.
I almost hit a person!
I throw the car in park and jump out.
“I’m so sorry!” I shout as I fight off a wave of nausea.
The man’s brows are drawn together, his mouth twisted in a scowl. But the moment our eyes meet, his face relaxes.
It’s Bronn, the bartender.
“Oh my God! I am so so sorry,” I sputter, rushing over to him. “Did I hit you?”
My stomach is still threatening to revolt, but instinct takes over. I run my hands over his arms, looking for any signs of injury.  His low chuckle causes me to pause, my arms lingering on his muscular biceps.
“I’m fine. You didn’t hit me.” His voice is filled with humor, and I look up to see that he’s no longer glowering at me.  
When I realize that I’m still touching him, my relief flips to embarrassment, and I snatch my hands away.  Unsure of what to do with them, I shove my hands into the pockets of my shorts and rock back on my heels.
His face that was so serious yesterday is lit with a smile, and my breath catches at the brilliance of it.
Dear Lord, he’s beautiful.
He’d probably lament the fact that I use that word, but there’s just no other way to describe him.  If I thought he was attractive yesterday, then today, with the wide smile that’s still gracing his face, he’s almost entering god-like status.
My belly somersaults as he continues to smile at me, and I fight to keep my voice steady. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He crosses his arms over his broad chest and my eyes are once again drawn to the colorful markings that cover them. “So, where ya headed in such a hurry this afternoon?”
Unable to drag my gaze away, I stumble over my words. “Oh, well, uh, I spent the morning unpacking and realized I hadn’t eaten much.  Thought I’d find somewhere for a late lunch.”
I’m nervous and can barely think. It makes no sense.  It’s not like I’ve never been in the presence of an attractive man before. Maybe it’s the fact that I nearly ran him over, but whatever it is, I can’t stop the squeak in my voice and the shake of my hand as I answer his questions.
His eyebrows rise. “You already eat?”
I shake my head. “No.” I’m not even hungry anymore.
He pulls a toothpick out of his pocket and sticks it between his teeth, his lips still slightly tipped up in a smile.
“Well, I’m on my way into the bar, but I was gonna stop and grab some food first.  I wouldn’t be opposed to some company.”
Is he asking me to eat with him?
“Oh, no. I couldn’t impose.” I mean, I want to, but I know that I shouldn’t.
Looking me over, he insists. “A meal with you would not be a hardship, I assure you.”
Suddenly the hunger returns. Stronger than ever.
 
Lunch with him wouldn’t be a hardship either. He’s easy on the eyes, and surely the conversation can’t be any more awkward than it was yesterday. Besides, I need a way to make up for almost killing him with my car. “Well, buying you lunch would be the least I could do after almost running you over.”
About A.S. Teague:
A.S. Teague enjoys the warmth of South Carolina with her husband and two daughters. The stereotypes about peach cobbler and sweet tea are not overstated. After years in the medical field, she is now enjoying every minute of being a stay-at-home mom. She loves wine, the beach, wine on the beach, and crying at Disney movies. When she doesn’t have a book in her hand, she can be found pestering her husband with pictures of animals she wants to rescue, as well as debating whether to exercise or take a nap.
Follow A.S. Teague on social media:
on twitter: @authorasteague
on Instagram: @authorasteague
Join her mailing list here: http://eepurl.com/crfehH