SICKO by Amo Jones
Release Date: September 1st
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He was my foster brother.
He swore to protect me.
They all failed.
I’m an open box of passé photographs, snapped in chaste daylight, but filtered in sepia. I’m the past that he tried to forget, and he was the future I needed. When he left six years ago, I screamed for him every night. But then it all stopped. My screams were suddenly muffled by cruelty, and further coaxed by pain.
But he has come back. He’s not the cute big brother I had a furtive crush on, or the bad boy, rich brat that I hated to love.
He’s the ruthless vice president of Wolf Pack MC, and he doesn’t answer to Royce Kane anymore.
He answers to Sicko.
I weep loudly from the pain. His other hand comes to the back of my neck as he presses me further into the blankets. “Cross your fingers together at the back of your head.”
Oh god. I do as I’m told, mainly because I don’t think I want to fuck with this side of him, but another part of me wants to see just how far I can push him. He flicks on the bedside lamp, but it’s dim. Too dim. Offering a soft sepia shade to room.
“You let go, and you feel this?” Cold metal slides down the crack of my ass and I tense.
About the Author:
Amo Jones is a USA Today & Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author, totally winging this author thing (she’s probably doing it all wrong). She likes cake, loves wine, and her religion is magic (Slytherin). She’s a profound work-a-holic, but when she’s not writing, you can find her chilling with her kids & Husband at the nearest beach, with a cocktail in her hand.
New Zealand is not a state of Australia and rugby is the best sport ever played.
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/10114
Release Date: September 1, 2020
I push the button, and the music starts. The girls dance as they have been, in perfect sync. But this time, Darius is here. He changes everything. His muscles flex as he lifts Roshan, and she slides from his waist, downward, her body pressed against his until she’s on her knees before him. Suddenly, she pops up with the music, twirling as his hands move to her behind, sliding across her slim hips. His hands are so large that they surround her entire waist. Roshan spins around again and again before dropping down to the ground, this time into a perfect split.
I gasp because I can’t help it. Luckily, no one notices or hears. I’ve seen beautiful dancing. But this? This is something else entirely.
She rises, and their chests touch. His eyes stare directly at hers. I can’t help but touch my own chest with my hand. Darius and Roshan are mere inches apart, seemingly so entwined that even their breathing is in sync. I feel a pressure tugging into my soul. Watching this is … hurting me. Is there something between them? They are perfect together.
I look down at my own brown clothes, the sack for potatoes. Where I grew up, these differences between people were never possible. We all wore the same clothes. We slept in similar homes. We farmed. We worked. We helped each other. But here is a true hierarchy, like animals. And I’m at the lowest rung.
Darius is a man with power and control.
As a child in the Mumbai slums, living among lethal street gangs, all he cared about was his safety and where he would find his next meal.
That is, until the Madam of the most famed brothel in India finds him, offering him a life he can’t refuse.
As an intelligent, beautiful woman raised in a small mountain village, Gini never would have imagined a place like The Mansion exists.
Stolen by Darius into a dark underworld where the famed Mullah Omar arranges pleasure marriages to the highest bidder, Gini fights for survival.
At first frightened by the dangerous man who keeps her prisoner, Darius slowly becomes the one light in her dark world.
Who will win when money reigns supreme and power is everything?
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Two Years Before Present
Is there anything sadder than a daddy’s girl at her father’s funeral?
My mother’s quiet sniffs a few seats down give me the answer.
A grieving widow.
“He was a good man,” someone in the long line of mourners offering condolences whispers to her.
Mama’s head bobs with a tearful nod. In this day and age, she still wears a pillbox hat and veil. It’s black and chic like Mama, channeling tragic Jackie Kennedy or Coretta Scott King. My father was not just a good man. He was a great man, and everyone should know he leaves behind a widow, grieving deeply, but ever-fly. I squeeze the funeral program between my fingers, glaring at the printed words.
Joseph Allen leaves behind a wife, Janetta, three children, Kayla, Keith and Kimba, and six grandchildren.
He leaves behind.
Daddy’s gone, and I don’t know how to live in a world my father does not inhabit. The casket is draped with sweet-smelling flowers in the center of the funeral tent. When we leave the cemetery, it…he will be lowered into the ground with unfathomable finality, separated from us by white satin lining, six feet of dirt and eternity.
Kayla, my older sister, sobs softly at the end of our family’s row. Her four children watch her carefully, probably unused to seeing their unshakeable mother shaken and reduced to tears. Even I’d forgotten how she looks when she cries—like she’s mad at the wetness streaking her cheeks, resentful of any sign of weakness.
It’s not weak to cry, Daddy used to say. It’s human.
“But doesn’t the Bible say even the rocks will cry out?” I’d challenged him when I was young, loving that something from Sunday school took. “So maybe tears aren’t just for humans.”
“You’re getting too smart for your britches, little girl,” he’d said, but the deep affection in his eyes when he kissed me told me he was pleased. He liked that I asked questions and taught me to never accept bullshit at face value.
I miss you, Daddy.
Not even a week since his heart attack, and I already miss him so much.
Humanity blurs my vision, wet and hot and stinging my eyes. I want this to be over. The flowers, the well-dressed mourners, the news cameras stationed at a distance they probably deem respectful. I just want to go to the house where my parents raised us, retreat to Daddy’s study and find the stash of cigars that only he and I knew about.
Don’t tell your mother, he used to whisper conspiratorially. This will be our little secret.
Mama hated the smell of cigars in the house.
Who would call me by that name? Now, when the only people who use it, my family, are all preoccupied with their own pain? A tall man stands in front of me, his thick, dark brows bunched with sympathy. I don’t know him. I would remember a man like this, who stands strong like an oak tree. A well-tailored suit molds his powerful shoulders. Dark brown, not quite black, hair is cut ruthlessly short, but hints at waves if given the chance to grow. His prominent nose makes itself known above the full, finely sculpted lips below. His eyes are shockingly vivid—so deep a blue they’re almost the color of African violets against skin like bronze bathed in sunlight. No, a man like him you’d never forget. Something niggles at my memory, tugs at my senses. I’d never forget a man who looked like this, a man with eyes like that…but what about a boy?
“Ezra?” I croak, disbelief and uncertainty mingling in the name I haven’t uttered in years.
It can’t be.
But it is.
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The boy who always felt like mine is now the man I can’t have…
Dig a little and you’ll find photos of me in the bathtub with Ezra Stern.
Get your mind out of the gutter. We were six months old.
Pry and one of us might confess we saved our first kiss for each other.
The most clumsy, wet, sloppy . . . spectacular thirty seconds of my adolescence.
Get into our business and you’ll see two families, closer than blood, torn apart in an instant.
Twenty years later, my “awkward duckling” best friend from childhood,
the boy no one noticed, is a man no one can ignore.
Finer. Fiercer. Smarter.
Tell me it’s wrong.
Tell me the boy who always felt like mine is now the man I can’t have.
When we find each other again, everything stands in our way–secrets, lies, promises.
But we didn’t come this far to give up now.
And I know just the move to make if I want to make him mine.
About Kennedy Ryan
A RITA® Award Winner, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author, Kennedy Ryan writes for women from all walks of life, empowering them and placing them firmly at the center of each story and in charge of their own destinies. Her heroes respect, cherish and lose their minds for the women who capture their hearts.
Kennedy and her writings have been featured in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today, Entertainment Weekly, Glamour and many others. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but has a special passion for raising Autism awareness.The co-founder of LIFT 4 Autism, an annual charitable book auction, she has appeared on Headline News, The Montel Williams Show, NPR and other media outlets as an advocate for ASD families. She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son.
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Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, BLEEDING STARS, FIGHT FOR ME, CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART, and FALLING STARS novels. Watch out for her upcoming stand-alone, CATCH ME WHEN I FALL, releasing June 1st.
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MY FAVORITE SOUVENIR
Release date: 4/27/2020
A Contemporary Romance Novel
New York Times Bestselling Authors Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland
“Good afternoon. You’ve reached the Four Seasons Resort, Vail, Colorado. How
may I direct your call?”
I took a deep breath. “Hi. I checked out early this morning. My reservation was
for ten days, but I only wound up staying two nights. Is there any chance you might still
have my room available? Or any room, for that matter? My flight was canceled because
of the storm.”
“Let me take a look. What’s your last name?”
“Appleton.” I shook my head. “Actually, the reservation was under Ellis. My
fiancé’s last name.” Or ex-fiancé. But I’d let her call me Mrs. Ellis at this point if it
meant I could have a place to sleep tonight.
“Give me one moment and I’ll check.”
I sat down in the lobby of the Best Western, the third hotel I’d been to in the last
two hours. It was dumb of me to check out this morning. Though, at least I was
consistent. After making the bad decision to go on my previously planned honeymoon
alone, I’d brilliantly decided to check out only two days into the trip…without looking at
the weather report for Vail. When I arrived at the airport, I had no idea that a blizzard was
on the way. But the airline had assured me my flight was still scheduled as planned. And
they’d kept their word right up until five minutes before we were supposed to board,
when they announced a two-hour delay. Two hours turned into three, and three turned
into five, and when we hit six hours of sitting on uncomfortable plastic seats outside the
gate, they finally admitted it wasn’t going to happen. Every other flight had been
canceled by then. And now, every hotel seemed to be full.
“Hi, Mrs. Ellis?”
I cringed at being called that, but answered anyway. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry. After you checked out, your room was rebooked. We’re actually sold
out for the night because of the storm.”
I sighed. Of course you are. “Okay. Thank you.”
This was just my luck lately. I called four more hotels, until one said they might
have a few rooms available. Apparently they had guests that hadn’t checked in yet and
were in the process of making calls to confirm whether they would still be arriving today.
Rooms would be freed up on a first-come, first-served basis. So I decided to take a
chance and head on over. It was already seven o’clock at night, and there was no point in
sitting here anymore. Surprisingly, Uber was still running, even though the airport had
called it quits hours ago.
Out front, the snow was coming down hard. A giant SUV with snow chains on the
tires pulled up in front of the door. I couldn’t check the license plate or get a look at the
make and model of the vehicle since it was covered in snow, so I walked over to the car
and motioned for the driver to roll down the window.
“Are you Hazel?” the older woman behind the wheel asked.
I smiled. “Yes.”
“Heading over to the Snow Eagle Lodge?”
Even though the next hotel was only two miles away, it took fifteen minutes to get
there. By the time we pulled up, the conditions were almost white-out. It couldn’t be safe
driving in this anymore.
“God, it’s really terrible out here,” I said as I pulled up the hood of my jacket. “Be
careful driving tonight.”
“Oh, I will, honey. The next place I’m driving is home. I only picked you up
because you were on my way. Good thing you’re at your hotel now. No one is going to
be on the roads tonight anymore.”
Great. This place really better have a room for me.
As I climbed out of the SUV, a gust of snow smacked me in the face, despite the
fact that we were parked under the building’s overhang. The wind made it look like
someone had shaken a snow globe, hard. Inside the hotel, I wiped flakes from my
eyelashes and glanced around the lobby.
This didn’t look good. A line of at least thirty or forty people snaked five rows
deep, waiting to get to the reception desk. I sighed and wheeled my luggage to behind the
last person. More than half an hour later, I finally reached the front.
“Hi. I called earlier, and the person I spoke to said some rooms might become
available, that you were going to contact guests who hadn’t showed and see if they were
The woman nodded with a frown. “Yeah. I can put you on our waitlist. But we’re
still making calls, and to be honest, it’s not looking too good.”
My shoulders slumped. “Okay. Well, I guess please add me to your wait list.”
The woman lifted a clipboard and set it down on the counter. She thumbed
through a few pages and turned it to face me, pointing at the next available line, which
was two from the bottom of the page. “Just add your name and cell phone number.”
I scribbled both and let the pages above the one I’d been writing on fan back into
place. Noticing the sheet at the top looked just like the one I’d signed, five or six pages
down, I glanced through all the papers. There had to be at least a hundred names and
“Are these all on your waiting list?”
The hotel clerk nodded.
“How many people haven’t checked in?”
“I think about a dozen.”
Oh God. This really wasn’t good. But maybe people had just added their names
and left, like in a packed restaurant. Maybe the bulk of people ahead of me on the list had
found other hotels.
Turning around, whatever hope I’d talked myself into immediately deflated.
Every seat in the lobby area behind me was taken. Some were even sitting on the floor,
leaning against their luggage. With very few options, I wandered over and found an
empty space on a carpeted area of the floor, not too far from the concierge desk. Though I
knew it was futile, I took out my iPad and continued to search for a hotel with
availability. Even if I found one, getting there would be a miracle on its own at this point.
The nearby concierge desk had been empty while I scrolled and made calls, but
now two women walked over. One I recognized as the manager, since I’d spent a half
hour staring at the people behind the front desk while I’d waited in line. The other had on
a nametag and held a clipboard. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on their conversation from
where I sat.
“These seven we still haven’t reached,” the manager said. “All of the other rooms
have been checked in, or we’ve reallocated them to people from the waiting list.”
The employee flipped through the pages and looked around the full hotel lobby.
“Jeez. And this storm is supposed to stick around for days.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a guy standing on the other side of the
concierge desk. His back was to the ladies talking, but he craned his neck, and I thought
he, too, might be eavesdropping. Figuring he was probably just as bored as me, I went
back to my iPad search—until a few minutes later when I noticed him scribbling
something with a pen on the inside of his hand.
What the hell is he doing?
He wrote for a few seconds and then seemed to go back to eavesdropping. The
manager had walked away, leaving the employee to make her phone calls. She hung up
from one call and dialed again.
“Hi. This is Catherine from the Snow Eagle Lodge. I’m trying to reach Milo or
The minute she said the names, the eavesdropper scribbled on his hand again.
Catherine continued leaving her message. “I just wanted to confirm whether
you’d still be arriving this evening. Your reservation is guaranteed, so we’ll hold it as
long as you need. However, if the storm has perhaps caused a change in your travel plans,
we do have a long wait list of guests who could use the two rooms you have booked. My
number here is 970-555-4000, if you could please return my call at your earliest
convenience. Thank you.”
The same thing went on with the next two calls. Catherine left a message and the
eavesdropper scribbled. Curious about what he was up to, I kept my eye on him. After the
hotel clerk finished making her calls, she went back to the front desk. Eavesdropper
picked up his backpack and casually strolled down a nearby hallway. I leaned to watch
where he was going, and he eventually pulled up his hood and exited out a side door I
hadn’t even noticed was there.
I thought it was odd, but I figured the show was over.
But a few minutes later, a guy with the same ski jacket walked through the front
lobby door. He pulled his hood down, and I got a look at his face for the very first time.
Damn, he was handsome. Medium brown hair that was kind of shaggy and
needed a cut, full lips, hazel eyes, and tanned skin. His warm skin tone really stood out
against the pasty color of most people in Colorado this time of the year, including me. It
was a shame I loathed men right now, because he was seriously gorgeous. He dusted
some of the snow from the shoulders of his jacket and went to wait in line. It was much
shorter now, with only two men in front of him, mostly because people weren’t braving
the storm anymore. I had no idea what possessed me to do it, but I decided to get up and
wait behind the guy. Maybe I was imagining things to keep myself entertained, but I had
the distinct feeling he was up to something.
When it was his turn at the front desk, I moved as close as I could to listen
without seeming like a stalker.
“Hi. I’m checking in,” the man said.
“Great. What’s your last name, sir?”
He cleared his throat. “Hooker. Milo Hooker.”
I squinted. The guy was totally full of shit. I knew it!
The unsuspecting hotel clerk punched a bunch of keys on her keyboard and
smiled. “I have your reservation right here. Two rooms for two nights, breakfast
included. Is that right?”
“Uhhh…” The guy nodded. “Yeah. I booked two rooms. But it turns out I’m only
going to need the one.” He looked over his shoulder. “Looks like you won’t have a
problem filling the other one, though.”
She smiled. “No, we definitely won’t. I’ll just need a credit card and a picture ID
please, Mr. Hooker.”
I waited. This was the moment of truth. If he wasn’t actually Milo Hooker, he was
going to have to make up some excuse.
The guy reached into his front pocket like he was going to pull out his wallet. For
a second, I thought I might’ve been wrong, but then he pulled out a wad of cash.
“I lost my wallet on the slopes today. Luckily, I had some cash sent over through
Western Union before the storm got too bad. Can I just pay cash?”
The young woman hesitated. “You don’t have any ID at all? I’m not supposed to
check people in without photo identification.”
Fake Milo poured on the charm. He leaned forward and showed off a set of
cavernous dimples. “We could take a selfie together?”
The woman giggled. She actually giggled. “Let me just check with my manager.”
She disappeared into the back and returned with the manager a few minutes later.
A crazy idea popped into my head. She said there were two rooms… I made a
spur-of-the-moment decision and approached the counter.
“There you are, Milo.” I rested my hand on the guy’s shoulder. “My flight was
canceled. I hope they still have our rooms.”
Fake Milo turned and looked at me with his brows furrowed.
He was going to blow it if I didn’t do something, so I turned my attention to the
two hotel employees. “My brother and I booked rooms here for two nights, but I was
trying to get out before the storm. Obviously I had no luck. I spent the entire day in the
airport. Please tell me you still have my room? I’m dying for a hot bath.”
Milo looked at me, then the hotel employees, then back at me. I smiled and arched
a brow. For a second, I almost felt bad for the guy. He looked so bewildered. Since he
still seemed to be at a loss for words, I figured I should continue talking. “We went
skiing early this morning and had our backpacks stolen. Between that and the storm
coming, I figured it was a sign that I should get back home early. Apparently Mother
Nature had other plans. We should have two rooms—Milo and Madeline Hooker.
Someone actually just left me a message on my cell asking us to confirm. Her name was
Catherine, I believe.”
The desk clerk nodded. “That was me. The storm has a lot of people stranded here
unexpectedly without rooms, so we were checking in with guests that hadn’t arrived yet.”
The manager looked back and forth between Fake Milo and me. “We’ll have to
take a hundred-dollar deposit for incidentals on each room since you don’t have a credit
I smiled. “Of course.”
She nodded to her employee. “Check them in. It’s fine.”
The man next to me still had his mouth hanging open. So I dug into my purse,
being careful not to show my wallet, which was supposed to have been stolen, and
scooped out all of the cash.
“How much are the rooms?” I asked the clerk.
“Let’s see. With tax, they come to three-hundred-and-forty-two dollars each, for
the two nights, and then we have to collect the hundred-dollar deposit.”
<i?Shit. I didn’t think I had that much cash. I counted the money in my hand and slid
it over in front of Fake Milo. “Can you spot me forty dollars? You know I’m good for it,
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
After we paid and got the room keys, we walked side by side to the elevator bank
in silence. It wasn’t until we were alone and the elevator doors slid shut that Milo turned
to me. “What the hell just happened?”
I laughed. “We just got rooms, that’s what happened.”
He shook his head. “But who are you?”
“I noticed you standing near the concierge desk and eavesdropping while she
called the guests who hadn’t arrived yet.” I reached forward and took the man’s hand,
opening it to display blue ink. “You wrote down the names of the guests. I thought it was
odd, so I followed you to the front desk to see what you were up to. When you made up
that bogus story about losing your wallet so you could justify not having any ID, I knew
you were full of shit.” I shrugged. “When the woman said there were two rooms on the
reservation, I saw an opening and took it.”
“How did you know I’d go along with it?”
I smiled. “I didn’t. But that’s what made it so much fun!” I covered my chest with
my hand. “My heart feels like it’s trying to ricochet out of my ribcage at this moment. It’s
been a long time since I did anything risky like that.”
His eyes roamed my face. I got the feeling he still wasn’t sure what to make of
me, even though I’d just explained what I’d done. He looked down at my lips, which
were still curved in an excited smile.
“Why is that?”
My forehead wrinkled. “Why is what?”
“Why’s it been a long time since you’ve done anything risky? It looks to me like
you enjoyed it.”
I blinked a few times, not having expected a question that would tug at my
heartstrings, and my smile fell. “I don’t know. I guess I kind of turned into a different
person over the last few years.”
Fake Milo’s eyes locked with mine. We’d gone from pulling off a crazy stunt and
laughing, to an odd seriousness. His eyes flickered to my lips and back once again.
“That’s a shame. You have a great smile.”
Warmth spread through me, and I couldn’t seem to unlock my eyes from the
stranger’s—at least until the elevator dinged and the doors opened on the third floor.
“This is us,” he said. “Rooms 320 and 321.”
“Oh. Right. Okay.” I stepped out and followed the signs to our rooms. Since we
were, of course, family, they’d put us right next to each other. We stood a few feet apart
as we opened our respective doors. As my lock unlatched and I turned the handle to go
inside, something dawned on me.
“I almost forgot! I owe you forty dollars for the room.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, don’t be silly. I just didn’t have enough cash and didn’t want to hand the
woman a credit card when we weren’t supposed to have ID. I’ll just throw my bag in the
room and go downstairs to find an ATM. They must have one somewhere.”
“I thought you couldn’t wait to take a hot bath, or was that part of the act?”
I laughed. “No, it actually wasn’t. I wasn’t lying when I said I spent the entire day
at the airport. A hot bath sounds pretty amazing right about now. But I can grab your cash
first. It won’t take me long.”
Fake Milo scratched at the stubble on his chin. “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to
take a quick shower and then go downstairs to the bar for a drink. Take your bath. You
can find me there afterward to give me the money.”
We looked at each other for a moment.
“Alright, well, enjoy your soak, sis.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Milo. I’ll see you later.”
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My planned trip for two unexpectedly turned into a trip for one. Rather than let
my breakup get me down, I packed my bags and decided a week at a luxury
resort was just what I needed.
But one calamity after the next, and suddenly I was stuck without a hotel room,
along with a few hundred other people.
It looked like my fancy vacation was about to turn into me sleeping on the hotel
Until I overheard a gorgeous man pretending to be someone he wasn’t in order
to steal a reservation from a guest who hadn’t shown up yet.
When I realized there were two rooms, instead of calling him out, I pretended to
be his sister. That’s how the story of “Milo and Maddie Hooker” began.
We were the Hookers.
My depressing trip quickly made a U-turn into an adventure.
My fake brother spent the next few days showing me around his hometown.
When it was time to leave, neither of us really wanted to go yet.
So, instead of flying back to our respective homes, we ventured on a road trip.
At every stop, we’d pick up souvenirs.
But as hot as our chemistry was, we never crossed the line.
Milo knew I’d just come out of a tough relationship and didn’t want to mess with
a vulnerable woman.
So instead, at the end of our trip, we made a pact to meet again in three
It was always my intention to meet him.
But when I got back home, reality hit in a big way.
And I worried I may have lost my handsome stranger forever.
Was there a place for him in my future?
Or had the memory of him just become my favorite souvenir?
ABOUT THE AUTHORS:
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal
bestselling author of contemporary romance.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as
a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son,
and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and
the author of over twenty novels. Her books have been translated into over a
dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:
Facebook Private Fan Group:
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA
Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in
over a hundred Bestseller lists and are currently translated in twenty-five
languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children
where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:
Facebook Fan Group
OTHER BOOKS BY PENELOPE WARD AND VI KEELAND::
Park Avenue Player:
OTHER BOOKS BY PENELOPE WARD::
The Day He Came Back:
Amazon print: https://fave.co/2Zlbu86
Apple Books: https://fave.co/30tGO1S
Google Play: https://fave.co/2Z8eIwj
When August Ends:
Amazon Print: https://fave.co/2x37hWQ
Apple Books: https://fave.co/2KpxcAO
Google Play: https://fave.co/2xbd8tn
OTHER BOOKS BY VI KEELAND::
Google Play: https://fave.co/2tuihOm
All Grown Up:
Amazon eBook: https://fave.co/2Z3Hsq2
Google Play: https://fave.co/30nJQEJ
Amazon print: https://fave.co/2NmuDQD
Take a peek inside IOU by Kristy Marie! Don’t miss this sexy, new adult stand alone! Add it to your TBR today!
Designed by Letitia Hasser of RBA Designs
Take a card.
Owe him a favor.
I promise, you’ll regret it.
IOU, a sexy, new adult standalone from Kristy Marie is coming soon!
Add IOU to your tbr. → https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/49198704-i-o-u
I, Ainsley James, am crazy.
Desperate and crazy.
It’s the only explanation as to why I’m nauseous, standing outside Maverick Lexington’s door.
I mean, it’s possible the stories about his deck of playing cards—with the words IOU scrawled across the back—are just rumors of the ruthless quid pro quo deals he barters.
But the flutters in my stomach know better.
Maverick is as cold as they come.
But, I need one of those cards.
I NEED to owe Maverick Lexington a favor…
Whatever the terms, I’m willing to pay.
Because, at this point, I have nothing left to lose.
I step back just as the door swings open with force, and a rock hard body fills up the empty space. My gaze starts at the top, noting the firm grip he has on the molding. The muscles strain against his taut skin, flexing as he leans forward, cocking his head to the side. His face—
This is bad—really, really bad.
His scowl curves up into a lazy grin.
“Waitress,” he purrs. His voice has this melody of a luring song— one meant to pull you in and destroy your heart in a matter of seconds.
It doesn’t affect me, though.
“Dick at table forty-three, the princess who needed his steak warmed.”
Slap me with a stupid sticker because I have lost my damn mind. Why in the hell did I just say that? Yes, he was the rude-ass who insisted I warm up his food, and yes, he’s the one I dumped said food on, but that was yesterday, and I have moved on. Hopefully, so has he.
“Dick, huh?” He drops one of his massive arms and rubs a spot just above—ah damn, his nipple is pierced. Not to mention the whole right side of his ribs are covered in a massive tribal tattoo. Even on his left, a smaller tattoo wraps from his back and ends on his stomach, teasing me to gaze longingly at the ridiculous set of six-pack abs between them.
Why is life not fair?
I drag in a deep breath and try to let any animosity of yesterday go. “Can we start over?”
That lazy grin of his falls in an instant. “No.”
No. Okay. Well, that’s not good.
Sighing, I watch as his body goes rigid, and his arm goes back to the top of the door frame, blocking any view behind him. His icy blue eyes stare back at me unyielding and hard, not the same guy that grinned when he first saw me. “I’m sorry about last night.” Hopefully, my sincerity will soften him.
“What can I do for you?”
Okay, so we’re going with a hard no on being softened.
With no hint of emotion, other than the apparent tone of boredom, one can surmise that Maverick will not be bought with sweetness and apologies. I’m going with plan B, which I’m making up as I go.
“Are you Maverick?” I could have said that a little stronger and without the slight tremor.
He drops his hands and reaches into his back pocket, producing a handful of playing cards. Oh no. I’m not prepared for it to get real this fast. What if those two idiots in class were right? What if I’m never the same after this?
“How much is it worth to you?” He drawls, producing a marker.
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Teasers: April 7, 14, 21, 28
Release Day Blast: May 1
Review Tour: May 1-8
About the Author:
A self-proclaimed reader enthusiast, Kristy started her writing journey back in 2009, reading and writing when her daughter was napping. Establishing her place in Corporate America (because something had to pay the bills), writing became her dirty, late-night secret.
After eight long years, she released her debut novel, Commander in Briefs. It was a long road, but she can honestly say, the road less traveled had the most beautiful sights.
The only thing Kristy Marie loves as much as reading and writing is sports! Especially those that require muscles and a nice ass. Her favorite is, and always will be, baseball. She’s such a fan, that she even married her small town’s high school’s centerfielder where they still live with their three badass kids.
“Trilina Pucci gave me everything I wanted! It’s angsty goodness and I ate it up.”— Cassandra Robbins, USA Today bestselling author
Filthy Little Pretties, an all-new addictive and provocative standalone from Trilina Pucci is coming March 26th, and we have the first peek!
Liam steals the cup from me and takes a large gulp, then pulls it away from his lips to look at it before throwing the rest on the grass.
“That won’t do.”
“Liam,” I laugh. “That was my drink.”
He brings his face close to mine and growls, making me giggle and back up, as he stalks toward me.
I hold my hands out, “You better stop it. You’re drunk and can’t be trusted. Grey—a little help?”
But Grey doesn’t move a muscle as he swigs his own drink. Bastard. He’s enjoying this. Liam puts his arms behind his back and chuckles.
“He can’t help you. And you’re right. On both accounts—I am drunk and shouldn’t be trusted.”
Liam lunges for me, wrapping an arm around my stomach and swinging me around. I scream, laughing until he pulls me to his chest and stares down at me. The specks of yellow in his eyes almost glow in the light.
“So terrible you are.”
He blows a breath full of whiskey at my bangs, clearing them from my face.
“Come on, Yoda, you need to catch up. Everybody’s getting crazy tonight.”
The moment he says it, Ethan runs by, stark nude. “Skinny-dip!”
I bury my face in Liam’s chest and squeal with laughter as he howls at the sky a few times before sweeping me off the ground.
“Hell yeah. We’re dipping, Van.”
Want More? Read the rest here:
Donovan Kennedy is the girl dreams are made of.
Five years ago, she was our best friend.
Our moral compass.
The girl that held our hands everywhere we went.
The three of us were young. Innocent.
Nothing could touch us — not even heartache.
That was then.
Now she’s back. All grown up.
With red lips and long legs — a challenge waiting to be accepted. A prize that’ll turn our world upside down.
Brothers turned to enemies.
Hearts torn apart.
We never expected to fall for the girl.
In the end, she’ll only choose one —Me.
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2RF8pKa
Trilina is an author, wife, and mama to three rowdy kiddos. When she isn’t making grilled cheese sandwiches, she can be found writing saucy novels that titillate and excite her readers.
Pucci’s journey started impulsively. She wanted to check off a box on her bucket list. But what began as fulfillment has become incredibly fulfilling. And now she can’t see her life without her characters, her readers and this community.
She currently resides in Northern California with her Italian stallion and her feral children, where the days are slow and easy and wine pours are heavy. (just kidding…maybe)
Connect with Trilina
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TELL ME PRETTY LIES by Charleigh Rose
Release Date: March 18th
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“Shayne!” Thayer’s voice breaks through the heavy rain. I cross my arms and continue toward my house.
Thunder rolls and lightning follows again, much sooner this time, telling me the storm is moving closer. I push wet hair out of my face, squinting to see through the rain.
“What the fuck, Shayne,” Thayer booms, running up behind me. I turn to face him, his dark, wet hair falling in front of his eyes. “Are you crazy?”
“You told me to leave!”
“Well now I’m telling you to get your ass back inside the barn!”
I shake my head as the thunder booms once more. I know I’m being unreasonable. Now is not the time to hold anything against him. But I can’t help it. I turn back around, heading for the house. We’re only slightly closer to the barn anyway, and I’d rather get somewhere warm. But then Thayer’s hand is gripping mine, pulling me back toward him.
A loud crack splits my ears as another flash of light appears, interrupting us. Thayer and I both look over to see a bolt of lightning hit a tree only feet away. It blazes down the tree in a straight line, chunks of bark flying off. I stand there wide-eyed, staring at the smoke that follows.
“We need to leave.” Thayer grabs my hand again. When we touch, I feel a jolt shoot through my thumb and down wrist, and I drop his hand like it’s on fire.
“What was that?” It doesn’t exactly hurt, but I definitely felt something.
Thayer frowns, bringing a hand up to grip his bare shoulder, but he doesn’t respond. He felt it too.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Holden calls out, running up to us from the direction of the house. “The old man’s about to lose his shit.” He looks between the two of us, Thayer shirtless, his belt buckle still undone, and me, shoeless, looking more like a wild animal than a girl.
I freeze, not knowing how I’m going to explain, but Thayer’s quick on his feet, even three sheets to the wind.
“Pretty sure she just got hit by some ground lightning,” he says, gesturing to the tree that’s still smoking. “She should probably get to the E.R.”
“What? No, I’m fine,” I insist, shaking my head.
Ground lightning? Is that what that was? I barely felt it.
Holden rushes over to me and Thayer takes off, giving me one last look over his shoulder as Holden inspects me for damage. I can’t pry my eyes away from him, standing there in the pouring rain with his bare, tan chest heaving, perpetual frown in place. Somehow, I know that for the second time this week, everything is about to change. I feel it in my bones.
And I can’t shake the feeling that Thayer just said goodbye.
Three things my mother acquired when she became engaged:
1. A brand new Tiffany’s ring.
2. A lavish home on Heartbreak Hill.
3. Three privileged stepsons.
The last thing I expected was to fall for one of them, least of all Thayer Ames.
Beautiful, brooding, and untouchable.
I knew it was a bad idea. He warned me himself.
But he was a thunderstorm, and I never could resist the rain.
It was perfect…
Until it wasn’t.
One night was all it took for our world to crumble around us, leaving only secrets and lies between us.
Now, I have to face him again, and the boy I used to know has become the man who loves to hate me.
About the Author:
Charleigh Rose lives in Narnia with her husband and two young children. She’s hopelessly devoted to unconventional love and pizza. When she isn’t reading or mom-ing, she’s writing moody, broody, swoony romance.
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