The Dance

Photographer:  Abigail Marie, Non Pa’Reil Photography


Cover Design: Murphy Hopkins, Indie Solutions
 
 
The Dance is the story of what happens after the happily ever.
 
Bryson Walker stumbled heart first into the steady rhythm of her
life, never questioning whether other possibilities existed. She had been
Will’s girl since their junior year in high school, followed him to college,
and married him soon after graduation.
 
In every respect, they were a loving and successful couple,
until a series of missteps shattered all of Bryson’s truths. Maybe their life
was nothing more than smoke and mirrors. A performance that was never based in
reality.
 
Hart was barely an acquaintance. He and Bryson shared one brief
moment during senior prom, full of friction and heat that ignited a spark. But
that night Bryson walked away and Hart let her go.
 
Years later, twisted fate brings Bryson and Hart together again,
causing her to wonder if this is her second chance at once in a lifetime.
 
 

Prologue

the Dance

Prologue
I stood in front of the glass wall, mesmerized. The fake sunlight shimmered down through the water, bouncing off the yellow, green, and pink coral. The blue glow of the tank gave the dimly lit nook a mystical dreamy feel.
The prom committee had pulled off an epic feat this year. Instead of having the dance in our gross school gym it was being held at the new state-of-the-art aquarium downtown. Once the student committee agreed, Megan Sims, head cheerleader and overly developed youth, was given the task of presenting the new location idea to the faculty advisor, Mr. Hall. During the meeting, as Megan waxed poetic about riding the waves of hope out into the ocean of the future, she hoisted her massive boobs up to meet Mr. Hall’s sightline. Three seconds into Megan’s spiel the dude was so titnotized that he would have offered up his first born in order to pay the rental fee.
At first, I had my doubts about spending my final prom at the aquarium. The fishy décor didn’t exactly scream romance, but I had to admit, it was pretty cool. The dance was in Ballroom A, which opened up onto a huge deck facing the Charleston harbor. Inside three giant purple octopus chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, casting cool shadows on the walls covered in varying shades of blue. Big white coral sculptures were at the four corners of the room. Tables draped in white linen with candles and seashell centerpieces outlined the room, leaving a huge space in the middle for dancing.
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About Alison G. Bailey

I was born and raised in Charleston, SC. I attended Winthrop University and graduated with a major in Theater. While at school I began writing one-act plays, which I later produced. My debut novel, Present Perfect, landed on Amazon’s Best Seller List and appeared on many “Best Reads of 2013” Book Blogs. The novel won Best Book at the 2014 Indie Romance Convention Awards. My second novel, Past Imperfect, was published in February of 2014 and appeared on several best books of 2014 lists as well. Presently Perfect, the third and final book in The “Perfect” series was released in Dec 2014 to rave reviews. In March 2015 all the love, swoon, heat, and angst were combined into the Perfect Series Box Set. My fourth novel, Stop!, released in June 2015, becoming a bestseller in YA/Teen category.

Follow Alison G. Bailey
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The Dance

Photographer:  Abigail Marie, Non Pa’Reil Photography
 
 
The Dance is the story of what happens after the happily ever.
 
Bryson Walker stumbled heart first into the steady rhythm of her
life, never questioning whether other possibilities existed. She had been
Will’s girl since their junior year in high school, followed him to college,
and married him soon after graduation.
 
In every respect, they were a loving and successful couple,
until a series of missteps shattered all of Bryson’s truths. Maybe their life
was nothing more than smoke and mirrors. A performance that was never based in
reality.
 
Hart was barely an acquaintance. He and Bryson shared one brief
moment during senior prom, full of friction and heat that ignited a spark. But
that night Bryson walked away and Hart let her go.
 
Years later, twisted fate brings Bryson and Hart together again,
causing her to wonder if this is her second chance at once in a lifetime.
 
Releasing
May 11th
Special Pre-Order sale price
at .99 Cents. Will go up to 4.99 after Release.
 
 

 

Prologue

the Dance

Prologue
I stood in front of the glass wall, mesmerized. The fake sunlight shimmered down through the water, bouncing off the yellow, green, and pink coral. The blue glow of the tank gave the dimly lit nook a mystical dreamy feel.
The prom committee had pulled off an epic feat this year. Instead of having the dance in our gross school gym it was being held at the new state-of-the-art aquarium downtown. Once the student committee agreed, Megan Sims, head cheerleader and overly developed youth, was given the task of presenting the new location idea to the faculty advisor, Mr. Hall. During the meeting, as Megan waxed poetic about riding the waves of hope out into the ocean of the future, she hoisted her massive boobs up to meet Mr. Hall’s sightline. Three seconds into Megan’s spiel the dude was so titnotized that he would have offered up his first born in order to pay the rental fee.
At first, I had my doubts about spending my final prom at the aquarium. The fishy décor didn’t exactly scream romance, but I had to admit, it was pretty cool. The dance was in Ballroom A, which opened up onto a huge deck facing the Charleston harbor. Inside three giant purple octopus chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, casting cool shadows on the walls covered in varying shades of blue. Big white coral sculptures were at the four corners of the room. Tables draped in white linen with candles and seashell centerpieces outlined the room, leaving a huge space in the middle for dancing.
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Winners, 2 Prizes:
A $50
Amazon gift card.
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Apron gift card worth $60
 
 
 
About Alison G. Bailey

I was born and raised in Charleston, SC. I attended Winthrop University and graduated with a major in Theater. While at school I began writing one-act plays, which I later produced. My debut novel, Present Perfect, landed on Amazon’s Best Seller List and appeared on many “Best Reads of 2013” Book Blogs. The novel won Best Book at the 2014 Indie Romance Convention Awards. My second novel, Past Imperfect, was published in February of 2014 and appeared on several best books of 2014 lists as well. Presently Perfect, the third and final book in The “Perfect” series was released in Dec 2014 to rave reviews. In March 2015 all the love, swoon, heat, and angst were combined into the Perfect Series Box Set. My fourth novel, Stop!, released in June 2015, becoming a bestseller in YA/Teen category.

Follow Alison G. Bailey

Clouded Hell

I survive on avoidance. Physical pain to avoid the mental. Disposable flesh to avoid relationships. Work to avoid attachment. My club became my empire of avoidance. Inside the ring millions are won and lost. The fight is confined to breaths, actions and reactions, fists and pain. Rules don’t exist. Only my opponent exists.
I’d been avoiding my needs for far too long when Remi stumbles into the Inferno and I’m hungry. The promise of a submissive with no attachment is far too tempting. I can’t resist him. He was only supposed to be a distraction, but I know I’ll never get over him. There isn’t a chance in this clouded hell.
 
 
Excerpt
It’s fucking hell being with you. Has anyone ever told you that?”
His grin broadened. “The whole world is hell, doll. At least with me you get a reprieve from the sun.”  
“So this is hell at night?”
“I like to think of it as Clouded Hell. One of the rare cool days you’ve got to hold on to when everything else won’t quit.”
He lifted his hand again, and instead of smacking me like I expected, he cupped my cheek and brought his forehead to mine. I fucking melted, right there in his inner circle of hell, and I wouldn’t have changed it.
 
About J.R. Gray
When not staying up all night writing, J.R. Gray can be found at the gym where it’s half assumed he is a permanent resident to fulfill his self-inflicted
masochism. A dominant and a pilot, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger
seat of any car. He frequently interrupts real life, including normal sleep
patterns and conversations, to jot down notes or plot bunnies. Commas are the
bane of his existence even though it’s been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder. If Gray wasn’t writing…well, that’s not possible. The buildup of untold stories would haunt Gray into an early grave, insanity or both. The idea of haunting has always appealed to him. J.R. Gray is genderqueer and prefers he/him pronouns.
Connect with J.R. Gray:
 Website JRGrayBooks.com

Undone Volume 3

It’s on, the storm of the century, trapping Ana and Ash up in a mountain cabin. The snowplows don’t need to worry about their road. They melt
the snow all on their own. But after the storm ends, can this “fake” romance survive reality, the harshest test of all?
Ash
The world already hates me for being a player. Now I’m a kidnapper, too.
I drove off with Ana while she was drunk as a skunk after a New Year’s party in Vegas. She didn’t exactly say she wanted to go away with me. In fact, when we last spoke she seemed pretty interested in quitting me. Then she passed out.
But that’s exactly why I need to get her away from it all, the celebrities and
parties and cameras always flashing at us from all angles. I need to get her up into the mountains where I have a private cabin. Very private.
It’s just my dumb luck that we got snowed in. For days.
You remember show and tell in school? I’m not so good at the tell. But the
show? That’s all me.
Now I have Ana all to myself, shielded from prying eyes, in our own private
world. I can show her pleasure she’s never known before. She can let go of all of her inhibitions. No one will ever know.
I have days on end to show Ana exactly what she means to me, how I feel about her, and I won’t stop until she believes me. Or she’s melted into a puddle of orgasms. Or both. I’m starting to like the sound of both.
Ana
New Year’s Day I woke up in a mountain cabin with Ash Black, nothing but the sound of the wind and snow falling thick all around us. There’s nothing I’ve been more afraid of than this. Just us, no distractions, no paparazzi, no
interfering agents or crazed fans. All that noise made it easier to hide from
the feelings building up inside of me. I’m terrified of the way he makes me
feel, the way I’m falling for him so hard. But now he has me alone, snowed in, at his amazing mountain cabin. He’s all muscle and sex. His voice alone makes me wet. One touch sends me reeling, and he seems to sense and want to unlock all of my most secret fantasies, the ones I haven’t even admitted to myself I want.
This romance is fake. I keep telling myself that. I can’t really trust him.
This is all pretend.
But then he pulls me close, presses a hand to the small of my back, kisses my throat and whispers low and wicked in my ear, “Let yourself go.” How am I supposed to say no to that?
 
 

Excerpt

 One Month From Now
Ana
I pulled against my wrist restraints, panting as his tongue trailed a slow, teasing path down my stomach. A moan escaped my lips. I needed to touch him, fist my fingers in his thick, jet-black hair and dig my nails into his broad, muscular shoulders. But I couldn’t even see him. He’d blindfolded me. Twisting my head to the side, I could still picture him, tattoos licking along his bicep. The ridges of his abs, the start of his V.
“Please!” I couldn’t help but cry out. I needed more, needed his tongue lower, needed to be set free so I could at least touch myself if not him. He’d worked me up into such a frenzy. With a low, satisfied growl deep in
his chest, he dipped his tongue in a lazy circle around my belly button. He
insisted on having me his way, tormenting every inch of me until I begged for it.
“Ash!” I strained against my ties, spread-eagle on the king-size bed, but he’d fastened them well. All I succeeded in doing was arching up my back, further offering my naked breasts up for his pleasure. 
He chuckled, deep and wicked, tracing my curves with his hand. “You like being tied up, don’t you, my Anika?” His fingers melted me as he stroked my limbs, up my side, along the swell of my breast. He paused and I held my breath, wondering what he might do next, feeling a throb deep in my pussy, drawing more slick, sweetness from my core. The anticipation, the submission, it made me crazy. But he kept on going, up past my breast, along my collarbone, up
my arm to circle my restraints. He drew my attention to his control, how he had me tied up, exactly where he wanted me.
“I knew you’d like it,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful, laid out here for me.”
I panted like an animal and swallowed hard. A sliver of my mind still reared up in shock at what I was doing, what I was letting him do to me.
Willingly turning myself over to him in complete submission. I’d never done anything like it before, letting someone tie me up. I’d thought about it, even touched myself fantasizing about it late at night. But never in my bland, boring, good girl what-passed-for-a-sex-life had I ever done anything like it.
Turned out that getting snowed in at a cabin in the mountains with Ash Black, the sexiest, hottest rock god on the planet brought out the naughty side in me.
A month ago, I never would have believed any of this would happen. Sure, I’d fantasized about the lead singer of my favorite band. Plenty of times. But I wasn’t alone in that. Ash Black had been on the cover of People magazine as sexiest man alive the last two years in a row. I think he’d starred in more than a few late-night fantasies.
But even my fantasies hadn’t taken me this far. A month ago, I never could have imagined this scene. I wouldn’t have recognized the naked woman, bound and blindfolded on the bed, writhing and whimpering beneath Ash’s
large, powerful body.
Suddenly, I felt wet heat on my aching, erect nipple. I cried out as he sucked me, licked me, pleasure rocketing directly to my sex.
“You need this, Ana. Don’t you?” he whispered, husky. I could feel his stubble, rough along my soft breast as he circled my nipple, slowly, teasing me again.
“Yes!” I cried out. “Please!” I begged for release, not from bondage, but from the intensity of the building, cresting orgasm I could feel quivering up inside of me. I needed to let it out, and I needed him to free it from me.
“Oh! Please!” I begged, shameless.
“I knew you had this in you,” Ash whispered, up at my neck, licking, sucking me there at my sensitive flesh. Moaning, I tossed my head back, baring my skin, giving him full access. “From the second I met you, all
buttoned up in that library, I knew.”
“You couldn’t have.” Even in my frenzied state, I knew it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. I hadn’t even known I’d had this wild, wanton sex goddess within my prim and proper exterior. A children’s librarian, I was the daughter of a strict, older couple of Russian immigrants, raised through generations of sacrifice and hardship to work and then work some more. I’d never cut loose before, not once. My largest act of rebellion had been to move to Brooklyn, an hour and a half from my childhood home in upstate New York. And listen to Ash Black’s pure, driven rock music late at night.
Now I had the man himself, the literal poster boy for bad boy rock stars. Or more accurately, he had me. All alone. In a cabin shut off from the world in the epic storm draught-stricken California had been waiting for for years.
“You can scream, Ana.” Ash licked at my collarbone, trailing fingers along my outstretched arms. “You can yell at the top of your lungs. No one will hear you.”
“Ash!” I cried out as he sank down once again, capturing my erect, aroused nipple between his teeth. He bit down just enough to make it burn so good. He palmed my breast, feasting on me, sucking hard, then light, just a whisper of a lick around my nipple as I panted and quivered. All the rumors about this man were true, every single one of them. He was an arrogant, rich playboy, a heartthrob and a heartbreaker, a panty-melting bad boy who had dozens upon hundreds of women throwing themselves at him night after night.
But he’d chosen me. It was me he’d tied down to his bed, me he had nasty, dirty plans for all night long. Me, alone with him, snowed in and at his mercy.
“You can scream when you come, Ana,” he whispered, trailing his
tongue down my stomach. Slowly, so slowly. I moaned, wishing I could move, wishing I could bring my sex up to him and make things happen faster. I’d never felt so desperate, so crazed. Sex before Ash had always been blah, mostly forgettable, slightly regrettable. It had never felt anything like this rush of a roller coaster ride, this wild, heady plunge straight into the unknown.
“It will be our little secret,” he continued, down now at my hips. Large fingers over my smooth skin, he worshipped my curves, feathering
kisses down the insides of my thighs. My ankles were bound at either side to the bedpost. Suddenly shy at my complete and total exposure, I held my breath. I couldn’t move. I had nowhere to go, no way to hide my arousal. With his face down now at my pussy, he could see me dripping for him, my swollen clit aching with need, throbbing and begging for his attention.
“Here in this cabin, you can let yourself go, Ana.” His words worked a dark, wicked spell around me, relaxing and surrendering me into the
intensity of my pleasure. “Here, you can let me do all the things you’ve always wanted. Everything you’ve fantasized about.” He brought his fingers up, up my thighs, to finally, tormentingly, lightly graze my slick slit.
I gasped at the contact, so eager, so close. “That’s it, Ana,” he coaxed me with his words and his fingers. “Show me how much you need it. It’s just you and me here. No one will ever know. You can be my little slut.
You can scream and come and show me how much you want it, how much you’ll beg for it. No one will ever know.”
“Yes,” I panted, beyond reason, almost beyond words. “Yes, please.” His lips were so close now, inches away from my sex. His tongue, so
hot, so wicked, so near I could almost feel it, could imagine how good it would feel when he finally feasted on me.
“Ana,” he exhaled in satisfaction, that gravelly voice that drove women wild caressing me intimately. “So wet.” Reverently, he swept his fingers down my slick sex, lightly sliding them along, exploring where I was spread for him, aching and ready. “Surrender to me, Ana. The way you know you
want to.”
 
 
 
Buy the Series
 

About Callie Harper

Callie Harper writes contemporary romances so hot they may melt your ebook. You’ve been warned. She is powered by coffee, wickedly sexy bad boys, and all things funny, intentional or otherwise. She is the author of OFF LIMITS to be released 12/15 and the BEG FOR IT series which will start being released in January 2016.She lives in the gorgeous Bay Area with her family.
Connect with Callie at:
Twitter: @CallieHarperBks

A MESS of a MAN

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A MESS OF A MAN EBOOK cover

From USA TODAY BESTSELLING authors of Cruel and Beautiful, A.M. Hargrove and Terri E. Laine bring a new full-length standalone New Adult Contemporary Romance. This novel includes mature content, not suitable for younger readers. (Rated R)

Womanizer, Man Whore, Player, Heartbreaker are all familiar names to Ben Rhoades. He prefers Money Man or Sex God, but he doesn’t let other people’s opinions rule him. And he’s only gotten worse without his compass, his best friend, whose devastating death at a young age has taught him a valuable lesson about not getting too close to anyone … ever. Until one smart and stubborn woman with eye-catching curves throws him for a loop and refuses to be tamed.

Samantha Calhoun has her life on track even after the shattering break-up with the guy she’d thought she’d wanted to marry. With her chin held high, she focuses on her career, building her business and making a success of it all. Only a chance meeting has her lost in a set of alluring steel gray eyes that have her steps faltering and her heart leaping out of her chest. Forewarned by not-so-flattering rumors plus his no-holds-bar rules, she tries desperately to play his game while guarding her heart.

Only they have no idea of the journey they’re about to undertake when their lives collide. Ultimately they’ll tackle the biggest test of their lives because she is his game changer. The one, who through the ensuing wreckage, can domesticate the mess of a man that he is.

Goodreads

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a mess of a man couple in bed


A-Mess-of-a-Man-Excerpt

There is finality to the sound of the door closing behind her. A sort of tormenting peace knowing the end has come. It’s not like I should have expected things to go on this way for long. How could they?

I stare holes in the walls as if I can still see her, the one woman I let in.

Sweeter than peach cobbler, she hardly has a bad thing to say about anybody—until now. Her parting description of me, beginning with ass and ending with hole, reverberates through my hollow heart, as I stand here rooted to my spot. I’m not even shocked, as this isn’t the first time I’ve been on the receiving end of that sentiment. I’m only surprised because I don’t think I’ve ever heard her so much as mutter a single curse word before. And the first time I do, it’s aimed squarely at me.

My hands tighten around a tumbler filled with amber liquid before I toss back its contents hoping for oblivion or something close to it. This road is so familiar. Only this time is different. I never cared like I do now. She means more to me than a quick fuck. Hadn’t I been about to tell her just that? How could things have gone wrong so fast?

Don’t be a dumbass. You can still fix this.

Instead, I stubbornly stay embedded to my spot because nothing can change the outcome. It’s a truth she and I know will haunt me until my last breath. And it’s created a wall between us I’m unable to climb … even if you gave me a damn ladder.

I’ve never been much of a risk-taker when it comes to matters of the heart. I can fill a bank account with a number having many zeros behind it from my astute choices in the market. But I can’t be a man a woman stays with. Hadn’t I warned her about that too?

Unable to see past my own shitty existence, I long for her to come back. I want to believe it’s all been some kind of mistake and I can forget what I know to be true. As the seconds continue to tick by, the inevitability that things are really over sinks in. My window of opportunity quickly closes as fast as her car door slams and the engine fires to life.

She’s so close, yet miles away. The longer I let the minutes expand between us I know distance won’t make the heart grow fonder. But maybe it’s for the best. Love, or whatever masquerades as it, just isn’t enough for the dirty, fucked up truth. Right when things were better than I ever expected, facts messed it up.

Groaning, I launch the crystal glass worth a small fortune at the door I can’t seem to force myself towards. A beautiful show of light plays off the shards as they cascade down in an explosion of fireworks. Visually, it’s what I feel inside as desolation constricts and then obliterates my chest because the best thing I ever had is gone … leaving me with only the certainty I’m meant to be with her.

I love you, I whisper for the first time and in place of goodbye. She left me and will never hear it. I can only pray we both survive what’s to come.


A-Mess-of-a-Man-about-the-authors

A.M. Hargrove:

One day, on her way home from work as a sales manager, USA Today bestselling author, A. M. Hargrove, realized her life was on fast forward and if she didn’t do something soon, it would be too late to write that work of fiction she had been dreaming of her whole life. So she made a quick decision to quit her job and reinvented herself as a Naughty and Nice Romance Author.

She fancies herself all of the following: Reader, Writer, Dark Chocolate Lover, Ice Cream Worshipper, Coffee Drinker (swears the coffee, chocolate, and ice cream should be added as part of the USDA food groups), Lover of Grey Goose (and an extra dirty martini), #WalterThePuppy Lover, and if you’re ever around her for more than five minutes, you’ll find out she’s a non-stop talker.

Terri E. Laine:

Terri E. Laine, USA Today bestselling author, left a lucrative career as a CPA to pursue her love for writing. Outside of her roles as a wife and mother of three, she’s always been a dreamer and as such became an avid reader at a young age.

In her early years, she and her best friend would tell each other stories over the phone when they were bored. They called them their “soap operas” and generally revolved around whatever boy they liked at the time.

Many years later, she got a crazy idea to write a novel and set out to try to publish it. With over a dozen titles published under various pen names, the rest is history. Her journey has been a blessing, and a dream realized. She looks forward to many more memories to come.

Connect with A.M. Hargrove:

Website: http://www.amhargrove.com

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Amhargrove1

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

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/A.M.-Hargrove/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5338829.A_M_Hargrove

Connect with Terri:

Website: www.terrielaine.com

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

Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/TerriELaineAuthor

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

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14299771.Terri_E_Laine

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Terri-E.-Laine/

FACADE

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A Modern Romance Inspired by The Phantom of The Opera

The world is nothing but one big façade. You have to be special to see the behind the mask.

Erik Renevant once lived in the spotlight. As lead singer for the wildly successful group, Specter the world revered him. When an accident destroyed his band and his face, he chose to live his life in the darkness, hiding away from the shadows of his former self and refusing to be seen again.

Christine Day longs to have her chance in the spotlight. Living her life flitting from one thing to the other and currently without a permanent residence, she sees her big break in becoming the backup singer for an unknown band and entering the Stage of Stars, the latest hit reality competition.

When Christine wanders into Erik’s perfectly controlled world and he hears her voice, he knows she is destined for super stardom. However, he never dreamed she would be the one to help him shatter his own façade and lead him into the light.

Façade is inspired by the beloved story of the Phantom of the Opera and is a combination of all the different incarnations.

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Excerpt

Beyond her control, she made her way up on the stage and over to his side as he went into the second verse. All she wanted to do was touch him, make sure he was real and not something she conjured the last few days.

After singing the chorus, he motioned to her and pointed at the music.

He wanted her to sing? Interrupt the perfection? She wanted to listen to him and shook her head.

Again, he pointed to the music.

Powerless to do anything less than what he asked, she got the feel for the tune, waited for the right moment and sang the third verse.

Though she didn’t think she did the song anywhere near the justice Erik did, he must have been pleased by the way he smiled. His song spoke of love, longing and those things unattainable, the perfect message for both of them in many ways.

Yes, he had given her a few lessons, but this was the first time she felt like they were creating art, connected on a deeper level, him on the piano, her with her voice, both working toward the same goal of creating the perfect song. When they reached the chorus, his voice joined hers.

Christine fought not to stumble on the words. She didn’t want to break the magic of the way their two voices melded together, his supporting hers, taking her to new heights. It was an experience unlike any other she’d ever experienced.

They repeated the chorus and the music ended. Erik’s last note hung in the air and Christine wished she could reach out, grab it and hold it in her heart forever.

Panting, they turned to each other.

He stared into her face, then he reached forward.

Her breath hitched. Now he should kiss her. They both felt it, right?

Rather than take her into his arms, his fingertip grazed her cheek and wiped a tear she didn’t even know she’d shed.

His eyes firmly affixed on hers, he put his fingertip to his mouth.

“Erik?” She didn’t really know what question she wanted to ask.

“Beautiful.” He grazed the back of his hand along her cheek, down to her jaw and her neck.

The way he touched her roused every nerve ending in her body. She had to have him. He found her, they belonged together. “Erik.” This time she gasped his name.

“You should rest your voice.” He slid his hand down her shoulder, bowed and walked away.

Again, she was left standing on the stage alone.


Books by Kim Carmichael

On the Dotted Line

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Typecast Cover

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Pieces of Three Kindle Cover

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About Kim Carmichael

Kim Carmichael began writing eight years ago when her need for graphic sex scenes and love of happy endings inspired her to create her own. She has a weakness for bad boys and techno geeks, and married her own computer whiz after he proved he could keep her all her gadgets running. When not writing, she can usually be found slathered in sunscreen trolling Los Angeles and helping top doctors build their practices.

Goodreads / Facebook / Website / Twitter

Dirty Girl

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Dirty Girl Synopsis:

DirtyGirl2

Angus Boone is the devil.

He lured me in, but not with candy or treats. And like the devil, he saw what no one else did.

All of my sins…all of the stains on my soul.

And then he smiled.

I should have run…far far away.

Instead I made a deal that changed us both forever.

***This is part one of a three-part serial***

Warning: This is non-traditional romance,with adult content, sexual situations and a non-traditional ending.

Dreamcast

tom-hardy

BOONE – Tom Hardy — This needs no explanation. He’s rough, he’s tough, he’s sexy.

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CHARITY – Amanda Seyfried – she’s got just the right mix of wholesome and sexy.

ODB-JR

JEFF – Odell Beckham Jr – His smile…it reaches his eyes. Plus he looks like the type of guy who would call a friend on their shit. LOL

go-soo2

JAKE – Go Soo – He’s a Korean actor. I’m a sucker for expressive eyes and his make me think of Jake, who’s just a good guy (but the wrong guy for Charity).

AntoniaThomas

Nosy Gena – Antonia Thomas – because she looks likes the type of person not afraid to call someone on shenanigans. She’s got a very direct gaze—kind of like how I imagine Nosy Gena!

Allie Cooke Bio:

Indie author and die-hard Southern girl, Allie Cooke has been reading and writing romance since she was old enough to hold a crayon, so a future as a romance writer wasn’t very farfetched for her. From billionaires to blue collar, from CEO to sexy entrepreneur, whether they’re wearing jeans or suits, Allie’s always had a thing for hot, hunky Alphas who need to be saved from themselves…Usually with the help of the right woman.

When she’s not writing, editing, or reading. Allie can be found cooking up mayhem in the kitchen or catching up on the latest and greatest TV shows with her favorite man.

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UNDONE

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Undone Vol. 1

Take one bad boy rock god. Mix slowly with one wholesome librarian. Add a dash of paparazzi, a twist of scandal, and you won’t believe how good this dish tastes.

Ash
It’s pretty easy being a rock god. Party. Perform. P*ssy. Repeat. I’m 26 and it’s worked for me for years. Until I was caught ripping out the heart of America’s Sweetheart in a video gone viral. Now #HatePlayerAsh is trending on Twitter, she’s writing a song about how much I suck and I’m in desperate need image rehab, fast.
Good thing paparazzi chased me into that library. Had I not ducked under that desk I never would have found myself next to the long, sexy legs and disapproving gaze of Anika Ivanov. In my world of use and get used, she’s a unicorn. A kind, 24-year-old, hard-working, family-oriented children’s librarian. My agent agrees, she’s the one to set everything right. All she needs to do is fake a month-long public romance, let the world see me fall hard for her, then dump me in a brutal, public display. It’s genius.
Now I just have to convince her to agree. And convince myself that the only reason I want to spend the month with her is to improve my image. It’s not her full, luscious lips or her soft, seductive laugh or those fantasies I keep having of tying her down to my bed as I make her quiver and pant and call out my name.

Ana
Ash Black. In my library. Under my desk. It’s hard to believe it happened. I’ve listened to his voice so many times, my favorite soundtrack as I walk the streets of New York. My secret bad boy crush, the smoldering, shirtless star of the tabloids, all muscles and tattoos. Then one day he shows up and kisses me in my break room.
What’s even crazier is how he wants me to spend the next month. At his shows in L.A., San Francisco and Vegas, candlelight dinners in New York and Paris. He wants the world to believe he’s fallen in love. With me.
I’ve got to say no. He’s a walking disaster with a dirty mouth and wicked hands that melt my panties right off of me. This month would take everything in my well-ordered, neat little life and shake it up like a snowglobe.
Then why am I so tempted to say yes?

NOTE: Undone is a three-volume hot adult romance. It’s the second story in the Beg for It series about the dominant, alpha males in Ash’s family and the strong, sexy women who make them finally meet their match.

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Undone Teaser 2

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Excerpt

Aw, fuck. My head hurt like someone had cut it open with a broken bottle. Maybe someone had? I brought my hand up, tentative. Nope, everything intact. Just my skull in the grips of a massive, relentless hangover. Nothing new. Then why did I feel like something new had happened?

With a groan, I shifted my weight on the bed and swung my legs over the side. Slow and steady, that’s how you won the race. Or moved your aching, hard-partying body the morning after an epic night of tearing through Vegas. Much like the night before and the night before that. People expected nothing less from hotter-than-hell rock god Ash Black. Trashed hotel rooms, run-ins with paparazzi, X-rated scenes with starlets, I did it all while strutting around in leather pants and no shirt, my world-famous muscles and tats on full display. I always delivered.

But something else had happened last night. My mouth tasted like soot and my head felt stuffed with cotton balls, the scratchy, cheap kind. I couldn’t remember. What was it?

Behind me, a feminine grunt emerged beneath wrinkled sheets. Strands of dark hair splayed across a pillow. Mandy Monroe, America’s sweetheart aka my plaything at the moment, had blonde hair. Huh. I thought we’d been hanging out last night.

Like a goddamned chainsaw, my goddamned phone buzzed with an incoming call. All the goddamned way across the hotel room. No way was I going to make it that far.

Down on the floor between my feet I spotted a tied-off used condom. So there was that. Wasted as I got, I used protection on autopilot. The world already had its hands full with just one Ash Black. No one needed any little Ashes running around. My cock got out and played each and every night, but procreation? Not going to happen.

The mystery woman next to me snorted in her sleep. What was she doing still in my bed? I liked my fun over and out—as in out of the room by the time I woke up. I pulled the sheet down.

Ah, yes, I remembered those tits, as big and gorgeous as only a plastic surgeon could shape them. I remembered them bouncing up and down as she rode me last night. I usually liked to dominate, play games of control, but last night I’d been too wasted to do more than let her climb on and ride me like a rodeo bull.

Tugging the sheet down some more, I swatted her lightly on the ass. “Up and out, Buttercup.”

Groaning, she opened her eyes. Her mascara had smeared down like a Halloween costume of a zombie prom queen. “You got to get going.” I pointed toward the door. I didn’t even try to make up an excuse, something lame about needing to take care of something. I didn’t ask for her phone number as she fumbled around and found her skimpy dress, pulling it on and zipping into her thigh-high boots. I was Ash Fucking Black. I didn’t give out my digits.

“So, thanks,” she mumbled. “If you ever want to, you know—”

“Yeah.” I gave her my signature wink. Class dismissed. And what did she do when I was such an asshole? She giggled and blushed, like they all did.

I could get away with anything. And I took full advantage of it. I was 26 now, but I’d been famous since I was 19 and my band charted its first number one hit. People called us the harder-driving, U.S. version of Coldplay. We had some Green Day in us, some Fun once you cranked them up. Some compared us to the Sex Pistols or Guns ‘n’ Roses. Whatever you called it or compared it to, we made music that made you jump up, dance your ass off and bang your head against the wall. No ballads, no whining, we made screw-the-consequences, fuck-it-all-I’m-going-for-it RAWCK.

There were lots of benefits to my status. Touring the world, VIP access to anything anytime, but at the top of my list had to be the constant supply of pussy. It wasn’t as if I’d been hard-up before I’d gotten famous. My father was Richard Kavanaugh, billionaire real estate mogul and investor. I’d learned early that being rich and handsome opened up all kinds of doors and legs. But it was when I picked up a guitar as a teenager that girls really started getting crazy. Waiting for me naked in my bed. Texting me videos of them making out with their girlfriends or playing with themselves as they thought of me.

By now, I’d gotten so used to the whole sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll routine it was almost boring. I was almost tired of it. Almost. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t playing a tiny violin of pity for myself. I was having the time of my life. Every night.

That was it, though. With the exact same shit every different day, every now and then in the midst of the wild and crazy carnival I’d have a whisper of a doubt. I’d look around and think, is that all there is? Then I’d do a show and get wasted and fuck groupies and nothing would matter all over again.

I’d been the bad boy for a long time now, my whole life really. I’d started off the black sheep in my family, doing nothing right in my father’s eyes, dark in my perfect older brother’s chip-off-the-old-block’s shadow. Then as the rocker, I’d become the poster boy for devil-may-care defiance. I’d spent years riding that long wave of adolescent rebellion while I proudly held up my middle finger.

Sometimes I wondered what it would feel like to stop. Get off the crazy train. Be still and silent for even a moment.

When media darling Mandy Monroe and I first got together a couple months ago, I’ll admit it, I’d been curious about her. Everyone knew her story, the daughter of a coal miner from West Virginia discovered on American Idol. Seventeen years old and singing her heart out with those big, brown eyes and long blonde hair, the world had fallen in love with her. I’d wondered, maybe it would be different with her? She’d certainly grown up outside the bubbles I’d lived in my whole life. Maybe she’d be real?

I didn’t know what kind of person Mandy had been at 17. But at 22, the Mandy I got to know was as vicious and shrewd as they came, always angling for the right PR shot, constantly scheming about how to stay on top of the headlines. It hadn’t taken me long to realize her sugary image had nothing to do with her sour reality. The only reason things had dragged on as long as they had between us was we were never in the same place at the same time. Until last night. We’d gone out to dinner here in Vegas. Hadn’t we?

My phone buzzed again. With a deep down-to-the-bones groan, I stumbled across the room to retrieve it. I still didn’t get there in time to pick up. The screen announced that I had 15 missed calls, 10 from my agent, four from my PR firm, one from my older brother.

Uh-oh. My big brother never called unless it was to give me shit. I’d done something to screw up. What was it?

My phone rang again in my hand. My agent. With a sigh, I picked up.

“Yeah?” My voice creaked out, gravelly and hung-over.

If words came across visually, his would be bright red and all caps. “WHAT THE FUCK? YOU’VE FUCKED UP ROYALLY THIS TIME!”


Books by Callie Harper
Off Limits GR Cover

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Unleashed Volume 1 Cover

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About Callie Harper

Callie Harper writes contemporary romances so hot they may melt your ebook. You’ve been warned.

She is powered by coffee, wickedly sexy bad boys, and all things funny, intentional or otherwise. She is the author of OFF LIMITS to be released 12/15 and the BEG FOR IT series which will start being released in January 2016.

She lives in the gorgeous Bay Area with her family.

Connect with Callie at:

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

Twitter: @CallieHarperBks

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/callieharper

PHYSICAL DISTRACTION

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Sloane Fitzgerald was living the perfect, California-girl life. Engaged to her college boyfriend, working her dream job, and settling into her new home where she’d planned on living happily ever after. It was storybook perfect.

But life isn’t a fairytale.
Sloane’s world is suddenly rocked to the core with a devastating discovery. Needing both time away, and a distraction from her misery, Sloane heads to Boston to take over her late uncle’s failing bar.

Dylan Hemmons lives a charmed bachelor’s existence.
After serving in the Marines, Dylan returns home to the South Boston neighborhood where he grew up. While working for his father’s company has its perks, Dylan realizes his career passions lay elsewhere.

Dylan aspires for more.
He had no idea it would be in the form of a beauty from California. As their lives intersect, Sloane and Dylan find that the electricity between them is more than they can resist.

But Sloane’s past comes knocking on her door. If exposed, the secret she carries could destroy both her teaching career and what they have together.

Will Dylan believe in Sloane, and stand by her when the truth comes out? Or will this fling be over before it begins, and turn out to be just a physical distraction for them both?

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PD Teaser


Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00069]


Other Books by Sierra Hill

One More Minute Cover

Seattle is in the rearview mirror and Kenzie Daniels wants to start a new life to pursue her musical dreams in Nashville. But it’s harder than she thought trying to make it on her own with no one to rely on but herself. Until a handsome customer shows up at her table and changes the course of her future.
Remy Martins wasn’t looking for anything but a good time and a creative outlet when he stumbled upon Hank’s Diner and discovered his muse. The moment he laid eyes on Kenzie, the beautiful waitress with a chip on her shoulder, he knew his luck had turned around. He’d been in a writing slump for months and she was the spark he needed, breathing new life into his lyrics. Now Remy is determined to have Kenzie and keep her in his life.

When a chance run-in at one of his gigs has Kenzie leaning on him for support, Remy is given the opportunity to make her an offer she’d be a fool to refuse.

Just as their relationship morphs into something more, fueling a deep physical need that neither of them can deny, Kenzie’s and Remy’s pasts collide – threatening to destroy their bond along the dreams they’d hoped to fulfill.

Can Kenzie rely on Remy to be there when she needs him the most? Will both their dark pasts ruin their chances at a bright future?

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Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00072]

Fight-or-flight has never been a question for feisty Boston physical therapist Rylie Hemmons, until she met the man whose touch made her reconsider everything she’d worked so hard to create.

When Rylie takes on new patient Mitch Camden after his ski-accident, she is overwhelmed by a physical attraction she’s never before experienced.

Conflicted over her desire for Mitch and maintaining her professional oath, she works to keep the personal boundaries, just as Mitch is equally determined to close the distance.

At the risk of jeopardizing her career and reputation, Rylie is forced to make a life-altering decision that may have her running from what she needs most.

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More Than Physical Cover

Love makes you crazy. It warps your sense of direction, causing your world to shift and turn on its axis. Love is an anchor that wraps its steely chains around your heart and crushes the ever-loving life out of you.

Sasha Lee won’t suffer fools again. She’d been there, done that, and has the internal injuries to prove it. As a renowned Boston orthopedic surgeon and clinic owner, she’s worked relentlessly to help others recover from their own injuries, because she knows pain, if left unattended, will eat you alive.

Jackson “Jax” Koda loves a good challenge, because anything that comes too easy just isn’t worth it. A corporate lawyer by day, he’s one half of the esteemed Camden Ventures dynamic duo, vetting crazy deals and capitalizing on their business success. But when the work is done, his interests lie elsewhere. Music and women – both incredible elixirs for his soul and body. And his newest challenge is finding a way to get Sasha back in his bed.

When their engaged best friends call upon Sasha and Jackson to plan their joint bachelor-bachelorette party, the two find themselves at odds bickering over inconsequential details, all the while trying to figure out how to keep their fiery chemistry contained and their sexy secret under wraps.

Just one night together may not be enough to satisfy their curiosity. What started out as just physical, may just turn into something unexpectedly more

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The Reunion Cover

Ten years can be a long time. So much can happen in a decade after high school graduation. Dreams can be born. Careers built. Families made. Futures solidified. But for Delaney Cooper, those ten years were deplete of the love and friendship of her best friend, Evan Stansfield, whom she lost the night after graduation. That was the night she gave everything to be with Evan Stansfield and lost it all.

They were best friends. He was the charming, gorgeous bad boy and she the nerdy high school year book photographer. Despite their differences, they found a bond that made everything worthwhile. Their friendship built over time, but it took only one night to test their friendship, leaving two hearts shattered and withering for ten years – until their ten year reunion reminded them how to live again.

The question is – can they rekindle their love and allow forgiveness to forge their future together?

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About Sierra Hill

Sierra Hill wrote Physical Touch, her first full-length romance, after a corporate acquisition provided her some quality writing time during a stint of unemployment. She has always been an aspiring writer, and feels incredibly blessed to be living her dream.
When not working part-time or writing her hot, steamy novels, Sierra loves attending live concerts, and is a huge alternative music enthusiast. She and her husband even travel to various cities across North America whenever their favorite band, Pearl Jam, is on tour.
Sierra freely admits to being addicted to reading, all things chocolate, and too much coffee.

Sierra resides in the Seattle area with her husband of twenty years and her rescued (and certifiably crazy), German Shepherd dog.
She is currently busy working on her next book.

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Sierra Hill

Clouded Hell

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I survive on avoidance. Physical pain to avoid the mental. Disposable flesh to avoid relationships. Work to avoid attachment.

My club became my empire of avoidance. Inside the ring millions are won and lost. The fight is confined to breaths, actions and reactions, fists and pain. Rules don’t exist. Only my opponent exists.

I’d been avoiding my needs for far too long when Remi stumbles into the Inferno and I’m hungry. The promise of a submissive with no attachment is far too tempting. I can’t resist him.

He was only supposed to be a distraction, but I know I’ll never get over him. There isn’t a chance in this clouded hell.

Coming March 23, 2016

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Chapter One

Four hundred sweaty bodies packed into this room, and you could’ve heard a pin drop. My boots clicked on the concrete floor. It could have been a scene right out of a movie, the way the two shirtless guys circled each other, faces torn up and bleeding, hands in front of their faces, with scraps of wrapping covering swollen and bruised knuckles. I could smell the aggression.

It smelled like money.

I’d been gambling on anything and everything since I’d been given the run of the neighborhood at six. I’d grown up in Vegas, but it wasn’t silly cards I was interested in. I loved contests, where real skill was involved. I craved the tension a match brought to a room full of people. I could feed off the energy.

I watched the two thick men trade punches. One was a fair amount bigger than the other, muscled through his arms down to his massive hands. He brought a knee up just in time to block a quick kick from his opponent who I presumed to be the owner of the dive bar I stood in.

I’d had him described to me, dark hair, six feet four, and piercing blue eyes, but those details could have matched half the room. The harsh fake light defined the high arch of his cheekbones even under all the blood. I’d done my research, but there were no pictures of the guy. What told me it was Dante was the swath of planets tattooed across his left shoulder. It dripped down the back of his arm like a tragic afterthought. Everyone knew the tattoo. It was talked about, though no one knew what it symbolized. I studied anyone I planned to use. Information was gold in this business.

He was beautifully deadly, just my type. I’d been looking for him for a long time.

I took the long way around to the gambling window, keeping my eyes on the fight. Dante was quick, but I’d be surprised if he pulled off the win. It was well-known heavyweights tore up lighter guys for a reason. They could hit a lot harder and destroy even faster men. The line, at the window, had thinned when the fight got going, and I only had to wait a few moments to buy a ticket. The odds were in the opponent’s favor, so I put money on Dante.

I slipped into one of the rows and took a seat on the bleachers, kicking my feet out in front of me. It had been a long day, and my body was feeling it. I was almost thirty, and struggling with control was taxing.

Dante dodged a fist coming at his head and hit the other guy three times in the span of seconds. The crowd roared, surging like a massive organism with one mind. He didn’t pull back to avoid getting hit. He pushed the guy back with punch after punch, giving his opponent plenty of opportunity to hit him back. It was a—unique strategy. Ballsy even. Most boxers tried to avoid getting hit, unless they were masochists.

His opponent landed a right hook to Dante’s jaw causing him to stumble back a few paces. The guy charged Dante. My heart skipped a beat. I thought Dante was done for, but he regained his stance and fought off the attack.

“Fuck.” I sat forward, resting my elbows on my knees. The heat and tension in the room pressed in around me, collectively choking off all the oxygen.

Dante snarled, baring bloody teeth, and my cock twitched. I adjusted, eyes never leaving his sweat-soaked skin. All his muscle was on full display, the V of his hips cutting right down into his low-slung shorts. I wanted to be the one opposite him in the ring. I wanted him to hit me.

Dante’s body shuddered right before he attacked. He slammed his fist into the guy’s temple, and the big bloke went down hard, shaking the floor when he landed. It didn’t even need to be called. It was clear he was out cold.

Dante raised both hands in the air and growled. But he didn’t stay to celebrate. He ducked out of the ring and went right to a commanding woman who had legs a mile long that disappeared under a skirt that hugged her ass. She held a drink out to him, and I waited. Girlfriend? He was bisexual, or so I’d been told.

She didn’t touch him as they exchanged a few words. He turned and walked toward the employee door, and she followed. They disappeared, and as the crowd moved around me, getting more drinks, leaving, and cashing in tickets, I sat.

Now that I’d seen the operation, I was sure. I could be me here. If I played it right, I could steal away and hide, even if only for a short time. But he’d never know I’d been here already. It would give me the upper hand.

I could taste the freedom already.


About J.R. Gray

When not staying up all night writing, J.R. Gray can be found at the gym where it’s half assumed he is a permanent resident to fulfill his self-inflicted masochism. A dominant and a pilot, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. He frequently interrupts real life, including normal sleep patterns and conversations, to jot down notes or plot bunnies. Commas are the bane of his existence even though it’s been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder. If Gray wasn’t writing…well, that’s not possible. The buildup of untold stories would haunt Gray into an early grave, insanity or both. The idea of haunting has always appealed to him. J.R. Gray is genderqueer and prefers he/him pronouns.

Website JRGrayBooks.com

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