Bossy Brothers: Jesse by JA Huss

Title: Jesse
Series: Bossy Brothers #1

Author: JA Huss

Release Date: June 24, 2019

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Blurb

Thirteen years before Emma Dumas bought me in a bachelor auction to teach me a lesson she stole my heart down on Key West. I fell so hard for this girl I made all the promises. Only with Emma, I really meant them.

And then I disappeared.

But it wasn’t my fault. Let’s just call my reason “Family Business”. I’d tell you what that business is, but then I’d have to kill you. Just kidding. I can’t tell you what my family business is because it’s so secret, even I don’t know.

My point is… I didn’t ghost. It was a weird twist of circumstances. And OK, yes. I did hook up with pretty much every girl on the island that week. But after I met Emma, I was ruined. She’s the only one I wanted.

It’s been thirteen years. I’m a changed man. I STILL want her. I have ALWAYS wanted her.

But it’s kind of hard to tell her that with a gag in my mouth and a hood over my head.

Bossy Brothers: Jesse features a bachelor auction gone wrong, four smart ladies who botch a crazy revenge kidnapping, a fancy power dream date with fast cars, private jets, and expensive yachts, lots of ex-sex, and a happily ever after that proves… sometimes the best man for the job is a woman.

Purchase Your Copy Today! 

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

Amazon – All Countries

Excerpt

JESSE

I’m outside. Where are you?

That’s what I text to Emma once I pull up in front of her building. She’s
testing me but I’m ready for her today. I am willing to overlook the drugging
and the kidnapping — but no one walks out on me the way she did last night.

No one.

So am I being petty and childish by demanding that she spend the day with
me learning her lesson?

Absolutely.

Do I care?

Absolutely not.

I don’t even know what we’re going to do today. I have no plans other
than monopolize her day. Make her waste time with me. Make her hate me.

This is what’s called the classic hate fuck, Jesse.

Her words are burned into my mind forever. I will never stop hearing her
say that to me. Ever.

The balls on this woman. Giant, motherfucking bull-sized balls on this
woman.

My phone dings in my hand just as a horn honks behind me.

I glance down at the screen and read her message. I’m right behind you.

Then I glance in the rear-view and see her waving at me from a… what the
fuck?

She’s smiling broadly from the driver’s seat of a matte-black Lamborghini
Huracán, her curlicue pigtails bobbing around her face.

She honks again. My phone dings. The text reads. Get in. I’m driving.

Oh, I don’t think so. I came here in a motherfucking Ferrari
Portofino. Red. So I text back. You get in. I’m driving.

My phone rings. “What?” I ask, so annoyed. Because while the Portofino
was an excellent choice, I do have to admit the Huracán has sex written all
over it.

“I’m driving. Get in.”

“You’re not driving,” I say. “I’m the man, I do the driving.”

She revs her engine behind me. “We’re taking my car. If you’re a good boy
maybe I’ll let you drive it.”

“I could buy my own Huracán, Emma. I don’t need to drive yours.”

I catch her smiling even bigger in the mirror. “We can compare dicks all
day long if you want. But I’m not getting out of this car until we arrive at
our destination. So. I suggest you pick and choose your battles carefully, Mr.
Boston. Because as you can see, I’m sporting pigtails. And what you can’t see
is that I’m wearing the same outfit I was that day at the shaved ice stand all
those years ago.”

“Hmm,” I say.

“Hmm, indeed. This is your fantasy, right? You want to make me look like
that teenager I was back then. Fine. I’ll play along. If you let me drive my
car.”

“I don’t know where you got this car, but it’s definitely not yours.”

“It is now. I had it delivered fifteen minutes ago.”

“You bought a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car to impress me?”

“Two-seventy-five with upgrades. But who’s counting? And I didn’t do it
to impress you, Jesse. Don’t be dumb. I did it to make you feel inferior.”

“So that’s how this is gonna go?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re trying to hate-fuck me with a car.”

“I… don’t really know if that’s a thing. But sure.”

I hesitate.

“You know you want to drive it.”

“I really don’t have a thing for fast cars, Emma. You miscalculated.”

She revs her engine again and it sounds like a fucking lion. Or a lion
ready to fuck. One of the two. “Everyone has a thing for this car. Don’t
you want to see the interior? I wish I had time to customize it myself, but oh,
well. Listen to the sound system — ”

The chorus of Smells Like Teen Spirit blares out into the city.
Everyone within a hundred yards turn to look at her.

I check the mirror again and find her banging her head and laughing
hysterically, her pigtails flying back and forth.

I text, Stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself.

She pauses her head-banging to text back. Get. In. The. Car. Now. Or
I’ll roll down the window and ask that hot-as-fuck jogger to get in instead.

I glance at the jogger. He’s shirtless, sweaty, and not bad-looking — OK.
No. He’s hot, even I can see that — and he’s also smiling at Emma like he wants
to throw her down on the hood of that Huracán and fuck her right here in front
of the whole city.

I get out, toss my keys to her building valet, and intercept the jogger
with a hand in the air. “Back off, asshole.”

AUTHOR BIO

JA Huss is the New York Times Bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today Bestseller’s list 21 times in the past five years. She writes characters with heart, plots with twists, and perfect endings.

Her new sexy sci-fi romance and paranormal romance pen name is KC Cross and she writes novels and teleplays collaboratively with actor and screenwriter, Johnathan McClain.

Her books have sold millions of copies all over the world, the audio version of her semi-autobiographical book, Eighteen, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award and an Audie Award in 2016 and 2017 respectively. Her audiobook, Mr. Perfect, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award in 2017. Her audiobook, Taking Turns, was nominated for an Audie Award in 2018. Five of her book were optioned for a TV series by MGM television in 2018. And her book, Total Exposure, was nominated for a RITA Award in 2019.

She lives on a ranch in Central Colorado with her family.

Connect with Julie

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | BookBub
Pinterest | Amazon | Newsletter 
Facebook Group

JA HUSS NEW RELEASE ALERT

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⇨ GIVEAWAY ⇦

$25 GIFT CARD AND SIGNED COPY OF THE BOOK

ENDS JULY 8

Luca Vitiello by Cora Reilly: Release Blitz

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I was born a monster. Cruelty ran in my veins like poison. It ran in the veins of every Vitiello man, passed on from father to son, an endless spiral of monstrosity.

A born monster shaped into an even worse monster by my father’s blade and fists and harsh words.

I was raised to become Capo, to rule without mercy, to dish out brutality without a second thought.

Raised to break others.

When Aria was given to me in marriage, everyone waited with baited breath to see how fast I’d break her like my father broke his women. How I’d crush her innocence and kindness with the force of my cruelty.

Breaking her would have taken little effort. It came naturally to me.

I was gladly the monster everyone feared.

Until her.

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When I stepped out of the bathroom, I found Aria in front of the panorama windows, her back turned to me, looking out toward the skyline.

I moved toward her, noticing the way her body tightened. It got only worse when I reached out for her. Her obvious nervousness set my teeth on edge, because I didn’t know how to put her at ease. Words of consolation or reassurance weren’t really my fucking strength. My first instinct was to give her an order to stop the tensing, but that wouldn’t have gone over well.

I reached out for her and she stiffened even more as if she thought I’d grab her, push up her nightgown and fuck her right against that window—which was what I wanted to do but never would, unless she fucking wanted me to. I touched my knuckles to her soft skin and lightly ran them down her spine, trying to show her that I was going to hold back for her, that I’d be careful with her.

Apart from the goose bumps pimpling her skin, she didn’t react. She obviously wouldn’t act on her own accord. I had no trouble leading; the problem was that my style of leadership was usually not for sensitive women, and Aria was breakable.

I held out my hand to her, knowing that she would follow my silent order because she’d been brought up to obey. She finally turned around to me, but her gaze rested on the scar in my palm, which she traced with her fingertips. My skin tingled from the almost non-existent touch. It was strange being treated that carefully.

“Is that from the blood oath?” She looked up, finally meeting my gaze. She often averted her eyes, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of my reputation or if her upbringing had taught her to cast down her gaze. It was something I wanted gone as soon as possible.

“No. This is,” I said, showing her the scar on my other hand. It was much smaller than the one Aria was still touching. “That happened in a fight. I had to stave off a knife attack with my hand.”

Aria’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. I needed to kiss that mouth. Wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I led her toward the bed.

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Read the First Chapter HERE!

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Release Day July 8 Cora Reilly LUCA Teaser.

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46359874_2316414201925091_2213201513826746368_oCora Reilly is the author of the Born in Blood Mafia Series, The Camorra Chronicles and many other books, most of them featuring dangerously sexy bad boys. Before she found her passion in romance books, she was a traditionally published author of young adult literature.

Cora lives in Germany with a cute but crazy Bearded Collie, as well as the cute but crazy man at her side. When she doesn’t spend her days dreaming up sexy books, she plans her next travel adventure or cooks too spicy dishes from all over the world.

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Manipulate by Pam Godwin: Release Blitz

MANIPULATE by Pam Godwin
DELIVER Series, Book #6

Manipulate, a full-length stand-alone in a series of interconnected dark romance books is NOW LIVE!! 

Dark Romance * Anti-heroes * Ménage * Cartel

Release Date: June 25th, 2019

Amazon | Other Retailers | Goodreads

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Tula Gomez is in the most ruthless prison in South America.

She only drove to Mexico to help her sister. She did nothing wrong.
But her quiet life changed in an instant.

To survive the violent, cartel-controlled prison where men blend with women, she pledges her loyalty to the notorious leader in exchange for the one thing she needs most.
Protection.

When she agrees to seduce the suspicious new inmates, Martin Lockwood and Ricky Saldivar, she doesn’t expect to enjoy it. Sure, they’re gorgeous, irresistibly alpha, and insanely talented with their hands and mouths. But they’re the enemy. She can’t fall for them.

Torn between her cartel loyalties and two men who want her as deeply as they want each other, she questions who is manipulating whom. Her search for answers leads to a passionate ménage, a soul-crushing secret, and an impossible choice.

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DELIVER SERIES

Each book is a different couple. No cliffhangers. Must be read in order. 

DELIVER #1 –  FREE
VANQUISH #2
DISCLAIM #3
DEVASTATE #4
TAKE #5
MANIPULATE #6


DELIVER, Book 1: FREE on all retailers

Deliver2500x1563

His name was Joshua Carter. Now it’s whatever she wants it to be.

She is a Deliverer.

She lures young men and delivers them to be sold. She delivers the strikes that enforce their obedience. She delivers the sexual training that determines their purchase price.

As long as she delivers, the arrangement that protects her family will hold.

Delivering is all she knows.

The one thing she can’t deliver is a captive from slavery.

Until him.

And her stubborn slave thinks he can deliver her…from herself.


VANQUISH, Book 2

Her life is like a prison cell.
A self-made, to-hell-with-the-free-world existence that locks from the inside.
Stop judging. Her agoraphobia doesn’t define her. It simply keeps her safe.

He belongs in a prison cell.
The 6×8, make-me-your-bitch variety that locks from the outside.
But he’s free. To hunt. To take. To break.
And he just found a sexy new toy.

Capturing her is the easy part. Her fucked-up mind, however, makes him question everything he does next.
But he’s a determined bastard. If all goes his way, this will hurt like hell.


DISCLAIM, Book 3

Camila was seventeen when Van Quiso kidnapped her. Ten years after her escape, the shackles refuse to release her. Not while there are still slave traders preying on her city.
She will stop at nothing to end them.
Even if that means becoming a slave again.

Returning to chains is her worst fear—and only option. They won’t know who she is or what she intends to do. She’s prepared for every complication.
Except him.
The one who decimated her sixteen-year-old heart.

Matias is charming, gorgeous, and dangerously seductive. He’s also untrustworthy and enshrouded in secrets. After years of no contact, he finds her—on her knees, wrists bound, in the clutches of her enemy.
Will he sabotage her mission by needlessly saving her?
Or will he keep her in chains and never let her go?


DEVASTATE, Book 4

“What is the price you’re willing to pay?”
“Money isn’t an issue.”
“I’m not talking about money.”

Tate is on the hunt to find his best friend’s sister.
Eleven years ago, Lucia Dias was abducted. Presumed dead. He never met her, so why does he care?
Some might call his efforts noble, but his motivation is more perverse, bordering on obsession.

When he follows a chilling lead to Venezuela’s Kidnap Alley, what he finds is neither a corpse nor a captive.

Amid poisonous lies and crippling depravity, the price of love is devastation.
And he pays.
With his body, his blood, and her life.


TAKE, Book 5

He’s a notorious crime lord, a kidnapper, and an artist.

Scarification is his outlet, and he just captured a new canvas.

Kate refuses to surrender beneath his blade or the cruelty in his beautiful eyes.

But she’s drawn to the man inside the monster. A man who makes her ache with his touch. Who owns her with his kiss.

A man who worships her as deeply as he hurts her.
She can run, but there’s no escape from a bond carved in scars.


Deliver Series Audiobooks

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DELIVER #1: Audible
Narrated by Teddy Hamilton (Josh) and Abby Crayden (Liv)

VANQUISH #2: Audible
Narrated by Ryan West (Van) and Jo Raylan (Amber)

DISCLAIM #3: Audible
Narrated by Christian Fox (Matias) and Emma Wilder (Camila)

DEVASTATE #4: Audible
Narrated by J.F. Harding (Tate) and Tracy Marks (Lucia)

TAKE #5: Coming June


Pam Godwin

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Pam Godwin, lives in the Midwest with her husband, their two children, and a foulmouthed parrot. When she ran away, she traveled fourteen countries across five continents, attended three universities, and married the vocalist of her favorite rock band.
.
Java, tobacco, and dark romance novels are her favorite indulgences, and might be considered more unhealthy than her aversion to sleeping, eating meat, and dolls with blinking eyes.

Connect with Pam

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | BookBub
Pinterest | Amazon | Goodreads
Facebook Group 


Other Books by Pam Godwin


Stand-Alones

 Dark Notes Pam Godwin eBook   


Trails of Sin Series

Knotted AMAZON Buckled AMAZON Booted AMAZON


Tangled Lies Series

    


Deliver Series

  

  


Trilogy of Eve

eve1_deadofeve eve2_bloodofeve eve3_dawnofeve eve0_heartofeve


 Deliver Trailer


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Read Between the Wines

BOSSY BROTHERS: Jesse by JA Huss: Release Blitz + Giveaway

Title: Bossy Brothers: Jesse
Series: Bossy Brothers #1

Author: JA Huss

Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 24, 2019

Add To Goodreads

Blurb

Thirteen years before Emma Dumas bought me in a bachelor auction to teach me a lesson she stole my heart down on Key West. I fell so hard for this girl I made all the promises. Only with Emma, I really meant them.

And then I disappeared.

But it wasn’t my fault. Let’s just call my reason “Family Business”. I’d tell you what that business is, but then I’d have to kill you. Just kidding. I can’t tell you what my family business is because it’s so secret, even I don’t know.

My point is… I didn’t ghost. It was a weird twist of circumstances. And OK, yes. I did hook up with pretty much every girl on the island that week. But after I met Emma, I was ruined. She’s the only one I wanted.

It’s been thirteen years. I’m a changed man. I STILL want her. I have ALWAYS wanted her.

But it’s kind of hard to tell her that with a gag in my mouth and a hood over my head.

Bossy Brothers: Jesse features a bachelor auction gone wrong, four smart ladies who botch a crazy revenge kidnapping, a fancy power dream date with fast cars, private jets, and expensive yachts, lots of ex-sex, and a happily ever after that proves… sometimes the best man for the job is a woman.

Image may contain: 1 person, text

Purchase Your Copy Today! 

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

Amazon – All Countries

AUTHOR BIO

JA Huss is the New York Times Bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today Bestseller’s list 21 times in the past five years. She writes characters with heart, plots with twists, and perfect endings.

Her new sexy sci-fi romance and paranormal romance pen name is KC Cross and she writes novels and teleplays collaboratively with actor and screenwriter, Johnathan McClain.

Her books have sold millions of copies all over the world, the audio version of her semi-autobiographical book, Eighteen, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award and an Audie Award in 2016 and 2017 respectively. Her audiobook, Mr. Perfect, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award in 2017. Her audiobook, Taking Turns, was nominated for an Audie Award in 2018. Five of her book were optioned for a TV series by MGM television in 2018. And her book, Total Exposure, was nominated for a RITA Award in 2019.

She lives on a ranch in Central Colorado with her family.

Connect with Julie

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | BookBub
Pinterest | Amazon | Newsletter 
Facebook Group

JA HUSS NEW RELEASE ALERT

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⇨ GIVEAWAY ⇦

$25 GIFT CARD AND SIGNED COPY OF THE BOOK

ENDS JULY 8

Teardrop Shot by Tijan: Release Blitz + Giveaway

Teardrop Shot, a brand new Standalone Sports Romance with new characters, new adventures, new angst, and some new craziness from New York Times Bestselling author Tijan, is NOW LIVE!

Add To Goodreads

Blurb

I asked for his criteria for bed buddies–that’s the PG version.

He swore at me and said he didn’t do groupies. And just like that, our friendship was off to a great start.

Reese Forster was the starting point guard for the Seattle Thunder.

Gorgeous. Cocky. Loved by the nation.

He’s also attending preseason basketball training camp where I used to work.

Correction: where I work again, because I was fired from my last job.

And dumped.

And I might have a tiny bit of baggage, but that’s normal. Right?

Reese and I shouldn’t have become friends. We shouldn’t have become roommates.

And we really shouldn’t have started sleeping together … (Except we did.)

I’m adorably psychotic. He’s in the NBA. This is not a disaster waiting to happen, at all.

Teardrop Shot is a 107k Standalone with brand new characters.

Will be in KU but will be available for pre-order on all sites prior to release day.

No photo description available.

Purchase Your Copy Today! 

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

GIVEAWAY

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About the Author

Tijan is a New York Times Bestselling author that writes suspenseful and unpredictable novels. Her characters are strong, intense, and gut-wrenchingly real with a little bit of sass on the side.

Tijan began writing later in life and once she started, she was hooked. She’s written multi-bestsellers including the Carter Reed Series, the Fallen Crest Series, and the Broken and Screwed Series among others.

She is currently writing a new YA series along with so many more from north Minnesota where she lives with a man she couldn’t be without and an English Cocker she adores.

Connect with Tijan

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | BookBub
Tijan’s Reader Group | Pinterest | Book + Main Bites 
Goodreads | Pinterest | Amazon | Blog

Teardrop Shot by Tijan: Excerpt Reveal

Teardrop Shot, a brand new Standalone Sports Romance with new characters, new adventures, new angst, and some new craziness from New York Times Bestselling author Tijan, is coming soon!

Available for preorder on all platforms now!
Reserve your copy before is placed exclusively with Amazon for Kindle Unlimited June 24th!

Add To Goodreads

Blurb

I asked for his criteria for bed buddies–that’s the PG version.

He swore at me and said he didn’t do groupies. And just like that, our friendship was off to a great start.

Reese Forster was the starting point guard for the Seattle Thunder.

Gorgeous. Cocky. Loved by the nation.

He’s also attending preseason basketball training camp where I used to work.

Correction: where I work again, because I was fired from my last job.

And dumped.

And I might have a tiny bit of baggage, but that’s normal. Right?

Reese and I shouldn’t have become friends. We shouldn’t have become roommates.

And we really shouldn’t have started sleeping together … (Except we did.)

I’m adorably psychotic. He’s in the NBA. This is not a disaster waiting to happen, at all.

Teardrop Shot is a 107k Standalone with brand new characters.

Will be in KU but will be available for pre-order on all sites prior to release day.

Preorder Your Copy Today! 

iBooks | Nook | Kobo 

            !ndigo         Angus & Robertson            Mondadori Store

June 24th, it will be removed and be placed exclusively with Amazon for Kindle Unlimited.

KINDLE WILL GO LIVE JUNE 24TH!

EXCERPT

Two days later, they’d won their first preseason game and were back practicing.

Both gyms were filled and were in the middle of drills. The sound of bouncing basketballs, whistles, yelling, and the squeaks of shoes against the floor filled the courts.

And the smell of sweat.

I loved it.

I’d never enjoyed playing the sport myself, but my brother was a basketball star for our high school team. He was starting varsity in seventh grade, and growing up as Chance Manning’s little sister had its benefits — but also its cons. One of the benefits, I was treated like royalty at every single basketball game. Another girl, whose brother was on the varsity team with Chance, told me she’d started being one of the team’s managers. That was a loose title they’d given her because she showed up and took stats for their games. She’d asked if I wanted to do it with her, and the answer had been a resounding hell yes. The popular girls down front always had time for Chance’s little sister, and the only better seating was actually with the team. That’s where they put us managers.

So even to this day, a filled and active gym of basketball players made a part of me purr like a kitten.

I’d missed this, and I’d forgotten how much I missed this. Seems as if coming back to camp hadn’t been the only part of my history I was revisiting, and I was okay with that too. I dropped the ball I’d been bouncing idly and whipped my head around.

Reese stood at the counter, sweat wetting his hair, his face, and his shirt. He held a basketball on his hip.

“What?”

My brain turned off. Reese Forster looked as if he’d stepped out of the shower. He didn’t smell like it, but he looked like it.

My groin was inflamed. The Fourth of July decided to visit, and I groaned, biting my lip. So embarrassing.

“What’d you say?” I asked again, my voice a little raspy.

He nodded toward the screen door. “You and that guy from the other day. You’re good friends.”

It took a second, but Grant. It clicked then. The Tub Day.

And nope.

I was not going to let my weird brain go nuts with thoughts here. He was asking because he was curious. That’s all. For no reason other than curiosity.

Right.

A monotone voice sounded through my brain: Calm the fuck down.

I swallowed, and just like that, I was calmer.

My normal response was to go into hyperdrive, but enough was enough. I needed to be a normal person. Reese (I wasn’t using his last name any more) had asked a general question, because he was generally interested, and I could respond — like a generally normal person.

You’d think I’d be better after getting hazed. I wasn’t. I was worse, in some ways.

I tucked some hair behind my ear. “I used to work here a long time ago, and he and I — ”

Reese bounced the ball between his legs, once, catching it right away. “There was a thing?”

I was totally cool here.

“Yeah.” I winced at myself. “I mean, no. We were best friends. That’s it.”

He dropped the ball again, starting to bounce it in front of him. “So there wasn’t a thing?”

“Friends.”

“So who did you have a thing with?” He was still bouncing, his head cocked to the side.

“What?” Why is he asking about this?

“Come on.” He looked me up and down. “You’re hot. You’re trying to tell me you’re single?”

I couldn’t say I wasn’t.

He kept on, “And you’re working here as what? A gym court attendant?”

“Um.” Shit. He wanted the deets on why this train wreck was still working at a camp.

All the Damian trauma, Grandpa Newt, and getting fired exploded in my chest in one big ball.

I let out a sigh.

“That’s…stupidly tragic.” What else could I say?

He caught the ball and stopped, staring hard at me. “Stupidly tragic?”

I clipped my head in a nod. “Would you like more water? I can get that for you.”

Pretending like he’d asked for more water, I started walking away. I called over my shoulder, “I’ll get you more water.”

He stared at me the whole way as I went back out the door. I couldn’t see him, but I felt him. And then I remembered: we had just filled the table with water an hour ago.

***

Reese kept his distance from me the rest of the day. I worked like a normal employee, with only minimal fangirling still going on inside of me, but not as much. The whole ‘stupidly tragic’ thing put a damper on my inner fangirl.

But he watched me, and I couldn’t ignore the flutter going on in my stomach. And those weren’t there because of my fanatical fan-ways. They were there and growing because of a different reason, one that was more like me woman and he man, that sort of way.

And that was bad.

I could do nuts. Crazy was a nice firm wall that I kept around myself, shielding people from getting too close, or from me connecting as a real human being kinda way. It was a good firm wall locked around me, and the more he was watching me, the more that wall was getting dents in it, and that was the bad part.

Really bad. Like seriously, I’m stupid — sign me up for another stint of therapy kind of bad.

I did not need to deal with anyone on a real basis. Lucas was the most I’d tried in a year, and we all know how that ended.

Reese Forster made Grandpa Newt not even a blip.

But, I was walking from the main lounge, after dinner when he fell in step beside me, and for some reason no one clued Reese Forster in on how bad of an idea he was to my senses.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out earlier,” he said.

I almost faltered in my stride, but caught myself and kept going. I needed to deal with this problem before I was put in a mental clinic.

“Tell me something gross about yourself.”

“Why?”

We were rounding one of the outdoor courts. A couple of the other players were there, shooting hoops.

I figured, why not. “Because gross helps balance things out. I need balancing out. I’m starting to like you.”

He grabbed my arm, jerking me to a stop.

His head inclined toward me. His eyes keen. “Say again.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on. You’re a pro ball player. Women throwing themselves at you is not new. Why are you surprised by me?”

“It’s not that.” He gripped the back of his neck. “As a line, that was almost lame compared to some I’ve heard.” An easy grin fell back in place and he let go of his neck, nodding to me. “You can do better.”

This guy.

I — no words.

Then I blinked a few times, staring at him because he was right. I could do better, and that sort of thing wouldn’t even phase him.

“Okay. Fine.” I could do this.

This was weird.

I was still going with it. “Is your dick cold? Because I’ve got a warmer for it.”

He didn’t react, his face expressionless, then his smirk grew. “That’s it? We’re not at the Roxbury. Do better.” His smirk was growing cocky.

Jesus. He did not realize the stalker he was fanning here.

Some of the bouncing from the court lessened. The guys were starting to watch us. One guy broke from their group, heading over. I saw it from the corner of my eye.

I coughed. “I don’t know. How do girls usually hit on you?”

He shrugged. “Most just usually send me a nude in my messages. Or you know, practically being naked and just grabbing me.”

“That works?”

His smirk was almost rakish now. “If I have an itch and she’s got the warmer for my dick.”

That was so crude. My warmer got hotter.

“Yeah. Well. I’m trying to warn you away from me.”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t scare me. Besides, I thought you were funny.” He relaxed, rolling his shoulders back.

“Reese,” Juan called out, halfway to us. He shot out a ball. It bounced once and Reese caught it without looking away from me.

“You think I’m less funny now that I’m being honest?”

He flexed his hands around the ball. “Maybe I’m missing the questions?”

Juan stopped just shy of joining our group and conversation. He was waiting.

And I was waiting too. No one missed my questions. I didn’t even miss my questions. I was waiting because I didn’t know how to process this conversation. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you messing with me?”

There was another burning feeling in me, moving up, spreading over my stomach, my chest, rising all the way to my neck. It was a burning feeling that I hadn’t felt in so long. I almost didn’t recognize it.

“Is that another attempt? ’Cause that’s lame too.” He smirked. “Thought you weren’t a camp groupie?”

Well…there was always going to be a fine line with that one, especially with him, only with him.

I closed my mouth and bit down hard. Juan Cartion was listening to our conversation, and not even hiding it. The Cruskinator was coming in too, his large hands on his hips.

I focused back on him, trying to ignore the other two and now a third was coming over. “We have an audience.”

Reese’s eyebrows pulled together, skimming a look over his teammates. “So?”

“So.” I coughed, smiling and dipping my head down. My hands were almost shaking. “I should get the cage open. Excuse me.”

I wasn’t running. I honestly wasn’t.

I wasn’t hiding.

I wasn’t avoiding.

I — just — I’d hid from life while I was with Damian, then hid for another year, and Lucas had been a crash and burn attempt at jump-starting my whole living again. This, though. This, with a minor conversation with Reese Forster (yes, I had to say his last name because his first name didn’t put it into the best perspective) had me feeling things I’d almost forgotten could happen in me.

I felt normal, for a small moment.

I was a girl crushing on a guy, not a fangirl gawking over a celebrity, and it hit me hard in the chest. Right there, making that thing pumping and skipping a beat.

That was what I’d been afraid of. 4.

We were heading down the trail when we passed a few of his teammates coming the other way.

I averted my gaze, pulling on his sweatshirt as he stopped.

“What’s up, Forster?”

“Not much. Heading back to shoot some hoops.”

I could feel their gazes.

Reese’s sweatshirt swamped me, but it smelled like him. A hint of sand and pine mixed together. Tugging his sleeves down, I balled them up and pretended to look at them.

“We bus out at ten, right?”

Reese nodded. “Yeah. Breakfast is at nine.”

That was news to me, though not the busing-out part. I knew they had another preseason game coming up.

Fists bumped between Reese and the others as they said their goodnights. We’d walked a few feet before someone murmured something, and the others began laughing.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I knew that laugh was about me.

“They think we’re fucking,” Reese commented.

I smothered a “WHAT?” and let out a strangled chuckle instead. “Yeah. No shit.” A second thought, “You think they’ll tell your coaches about me staying in your cabin?” Because I hadn’t said a word to the other staff. I didn’t want to hear any of the lectures I’d get. Plus I knew Keith would relish the chance to fire me.

“Nah. And to be honest, I don’t think the coaches would give a shit — as long as we show and do our jobs. And you’re not underage.” He laughed. “Juan told the guys about your cabin, but none of them are buying it. I figure it’s easier to let them think that than tell them truth. Is that okay with you?”

I looked up. “What’s the truth?”

He grinned, the look taking him from hot to HOT. “That you’ve become like an annoying gnat that I like for some reason.” He raised an eyebrow. “How’s that for the truth?”

Warmth flooded me. I could be a gnat.

We started forward again, and I kept his sleeves wrapped around my hands. “You could tell them the other truth.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“That I’m a stalker with polite boundaries.”

He groaned. “Stop with the stalking bullshit.” He swung, but his fist was more of a tap on my shoulder. It was a soft tap, one between friends.

Friends.

We’d become friends.

I was okay with that.

About the Author

Tijan is a New York Times Bestselling author that writes suspenseful and unpredictable novels. Her characters are strong, intense, and gut-wrenchingly real with a little bit of sass on the side.

Tijan began writing later in life and once she started, she was hooked. She’s written multi-bestsellers including the Carter Reed Series, the Fallen Crest Series, and the Broken and Screwed Series among others.

She is currently writing a new YA series along with so many more from north Minnesota where she lives with a man she couldn’t be without and an English Cocker she adores.

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Handle With Care by Helena Hunting: CHAPTER REVEAL

Handle With Care, an all-new romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting is coming August 27th!

Here is a delightfully fantastic sneak peek!

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HE WANTS TO LOSE CONTROL.

Between his parents’ messed up marriage and his narcissistic younger brother, Lincoln Moorehead has spent the majority of his life avoiding his family. After the death of his father, Lincoln finds himself in the middle of the drama. To top it all off, he’s been named CEO of Moorehead Media, much to his brother’s chagrin. But Lincoln’s bad attitude softens when he meets the no-nonsense, gorgeous woman who has been given the task of transforming him from the gruff, wilderness guy to a suave businessman

SHE’S TRYING TO HOLD IT TOGETHER.

Wren Sterling has been working double time to keep the indiscretions at Moorehead Media at bay, so when she’s presented with a new contract, with new responsibilities and additional incentives, she agrees. Working with the reclusive oldest son of a ridiculously entitled family is worth the hassle if it means she’s that much closer to pursuing her own dreams. What Wren doesn’t expect is to find herself attracted to him, or for it to be mutual. And she certainly doesn’t expect to fall for Lincoln. But when a shocking new Moorehead scandal comes to light, she’s forced to choose between her own family and the broody, cynical CEO.

HWC - PO.jpg

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EXCERPT

Chapter One

What Have I Gotten Myself into?

Wren

I slip onto the empty bar stool beside the lumberjack mountain man who looks like he tried to squeeze himself into a suit two sizes too small. He’s intimidatingly broad and thick, with long dark hair that’s been pulled up into a haphazard man bun thing. His beard is a hipster’s wet dream. His scowl, however, makes him about as approachable as a rabid porcupine. And yet, here I am, sidling up next to him.

He glances at me, eyes bleary and not really tracking. He quickly focuses on his half-empty glass again. Based on the slump of his shoulders and the uncoordinated way he picks up his glass and tips it toward his mouth, I’m guessing he’s pretty hammered. I order a sparkling water with a dash of cranberry juice and a lime.

What I could really use is a cup of lavender-mint tea and my bed, but instead, I’m sitting next to a drunk man in his thirties. My life is extra glamorous, obviously. And no, I’m not an escort, but at the moment I feel like my morals are on the same kind of slippery slope.

“Rough day?” I ask, nodding to the bottle that’s missing more than half its contents. It was full when he sat down at the bar an hour ago. Yes, I’ve been watching him the entire time, waiting for an opportunity to make my move. While he’s been sitting here, he’s turned down two women, one in a dress that could’ve doubled as a disco ball and the other in a top so low-cut, I could almost see her navel.

“You could say that,” he slurs. He props his cheek on his fist, eyes almost slits. I can still make out the vibrant blue hue despite them being nearly closed. They move over me, assessing. I’m wearing a conservative black dress with a high neckline and a hem that falls below my knees. Definitely not nearly as provocative as Disco Ball or Navel Lady.

“That solving your problems?” I give him a wry grin and tip my chin in the direction of his bottle of Johnnie.

His gaze swings slowly to the bottle. It gives me a chance to really look at him. Or what I can see of his face under his beard, anyway.

“Nah, but it helps quiet down all the noise up here.” He taps his temple and blurts, “My dad died.”

I put a hand on his forearm. It feels awkward, and creepy on my part since its half-genuine, half-contrived comfort. “I’m so sorry.”

He glances at my hand, which I quickly remove, and refocuses on his drink. “I should be sorry too, but I think he was mostly an asshole, so the world might be better off without him.” He attempts to fill his glass again, but his aim is off, and he pours it on the bar instead. I rush to lift my purse and grab a handful of napkins to mop up the mess.

“I’m drunk,” he mumbles.

“Well, I’m thinking that might’ve been the plan, considering the way you’re sucking that bottle back. I’m actually surprised you didn’t ask for a straw in the first place. Might be a good idea to throw a spacer in there if you want tomorrow morning to suck less.” I push my drink toward him, hoping he doesn’t send me packing like he did the other women who approached him earlier.

He narrows his eyes at my glass, suspicious, maybe. “What is that?”

“Cranberry and soda.”

“No booze?”

“No booze. Go ahead. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He picks up the glass and pauses when it’s an inch from his mouth. His eyes crinkle, telling me he’s smiling under that beard. “Does that mean I’mma wake up with you beside me?”

I cock a brow. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Shit, sorry.” He chugs the contents of my glass. “I was joking. Besides, I’m so wasted, I can barely remember my name. Pretty sure I’d be useless in bed tonight. I should stop talkin’.” He scrubs a hand over his face and then motions to me. “I wouldn’t proposition you.”

I’m not sure how to respond. I go with semi-affronted, since it seems like somewhat of an insult. “Good to know.”

“Dammit. I mean, I think you might be hot. You look hot. I mean attractive. I think you’re pretty.” He tips his head to the side and blinks a few times. “You have nice eyes, all four of them are lovely.”

This time I laugh—for real—and point to the bottle. “I think you might want to tell your date you’re done for the night.”

He blows out a breath and nods. “You might be right.” He makes an attempt to stand, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, he stumbles into me and grabs my shoulders to steady himself. “Whoa. Sorry. Yup, I’m definitely drunk.” His face is inches from mine, breath smelling strongly of alcohol. Beyond that, I get a whiff of fresh soap and a hint of aftershave. He lets go of my shoulders and takes an unsteady step back. “I don’t usually do this.” He motions sloppily to the bottle. “Mostly I’m a three drink max guy.”

“I think losing your father makes this condonable.” I slide off my stool. Despite being tall for a woman, and wearing heels, he still manages to be close to a head taller than me.

“Yeah, maybe, but I still think I might regret it tomorrow.” He’s incredibly unsteady, swaying while standing in place. I take the opportunity for what it is and thread my arm through his, leading him away from the bar. “Come on, let’s get you to the elevator before you pass out right here.”

He nods, then wobbles a bit, like moving his head has set him off balance. “That’s probably a good idea.”

He leans into me as we weave through the bar and stumbles on the two stairs leading to the foyer. There’s no way I’ll be able to stop him if he goes down, but I drape one of his huge arms over my shoulder anyway, and slip my own around his waist, guiding him in a mostly straight line to the elevators.

“Which floor are you on?” I ask.

“Penthouse.” He drops his arm from my shoulder and flings it out, pointing to the black doors at the end of the hall. “Jesus, I feel like I’m on a boat.”

“It’s probably all the alcohol sloshing around in your brain.” I take his elbow again, helping him stagger the last twenty feet to the dedicated penthouse elevator.

He stares at the keypad for a few seconds, brow pulling into a furrow. “I can’t remember the code. It’s thumbprint activated though too.” He stumbles forward and presses his forehead against the wall, then tries to line up his thumb with the sensor, but his aim is horrendous and he keeps missing.

I settle a hand on his very firm forearm. This man is built like a tank. Or a superhero. For a moment, I reconsider what I’m about to do, but he seems pretty harmless and ridiculously hammered, so he shouldn’t pose a threat. I’m also trained in self-defense, which would fall under the by any means necessary umbrella. “Can I help?”

He rolls his head, eyes slits as they bounce around my face. “Please.”

I take his hand between mine. The first thing I notice is how clammy it is. But beyond that, his knuckles are rough, littered with tiny scars and a few scabs, and his nails are jagged.

“Your hands are small,” he observes as I line his thumb up with the sensor pad and press down.

“Maybe yours are abnormally big,” I reply. They are rather large. Like basketball player hands.

“You know what they say about big hands.”

I fight not to roll my eyes, but for a brief moment, I wonder if what’s in his pants actually matches the rest of him. And if he’s unkempt everywhere, not just on his face. I cut that visual quickly because it makes me want to gag. “And what do they say?”

His eyes crinkle again, and he slaps his own chest. “Something about a big hands, big heart.”

I bite back my own smile. “Pretty sure you’re mixing that up with cold hands, warm heart.”

His brow furrows. “There’s a good chance.”

The elevator doors slide open. He pushes off the wall with some effort and practically tumbles inside. He catches himself on the rail and sags against the wall as I follow him in. I honestly can’t believe I’m doing this right now.

He doesn’t have to press a button since the elevator only goes to the penthouse floor. As soon as we start moving, he groans and his shoulders curl in. “I don’t feel so good.”

Please don’t let him be sick in here. If there’s one thing I can’t deal with, it’s vomit. “You should sit.”

He slides down the wall, massive shoulders rolling forward as he rests his forehead on his knees. “Tomorrow is going to suck.”

I stay on the other side of the elevator, in case he tosses his cookies. “Probably.”

It’s the longest elevator ride in the history of the world. Or at least it feels that way, mostly because I’m terrified he’s going to yak. Thankfully, we make it to the penthouse floor incident-free. On the down side, now that he’s in a sitting position, getting him to stand again is a challenge. I have to press the open door button three times before I can finally coax him to his feet.

In the time between leaving the bar and making it to the penthouse floor, the effects of the alcohol seems to have compounded. He’s beyond sloppy, using the wall and me for support as we make our way to his door. There are two penthouse apartments up here. One on either side of the foyer.

He leans against the doorjamb, once again fighting to find the coordination to get his thumb to the sensor pad. I don’t ask if he needs my assistance this time since it’s quite clear he does. Once again I take his clammy hand in mine.

“Your hands are really soft,” he mumbles.

“Thanks.”

The pad flashes green, and I turn the handle. “Okay, here we go. Home sweet home.”

“This isn’t my home,” he slurs. “My cousin’s family owns this building. I’m crashing here until I can get the fuck out of New York.”

I scan the penthouse. It an eclectic combination of odd art and modern furniture, like two different tastes crashed together and this is the result. Aside from that, it’s clean to the point of looking almost like a show home.

The only sign that someone is staying here is the lone coffee cup on the table in the living room and the blanket lolling like a tongue over the edge of the couch. I’m still standing in the doorway while he sways unsteadily.

He tries to shove his hand in his pants pocket, but all he succeeds in doing is setting himself off-balance. He nearly stumbles into the wall.

“Thanks for your help,” he says.

He’s back in his penthouse, which means my job is technically done. However, I’m worried he’s going to hurt himself, or worse, asphyxiate on his own vomit in the middle of the night, and I’ll be the one catching heat if that happens. I’ll also feel bad if something happens to him. I blow out a breath, annoyed that this is how my night is ending.

I heave his arm over my shoulder and slip mine around his waist again, leading him through the living room toward what seems to be the kitchen. There’s a sheet of paper on the island, but otherwise it’s spotless.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

We pause when we reach the threshold. “Which way is your bedroom?”

He looks slowly from right to left. “Not that way.” He points to the kitchen. It’s very state of the art.

I guide him in the opposite direction down the hall, until he stumbles through a doorway, into a lavish but simply furnished bedroom. Once we reach the edge of the bed, he drops his arm, spins around—it’s drunkenly graceful—and falls back on the bed, arms spread wide as if he’s planning on making snow angels. “The room is spinning.”

“Would you like me to get you a glass of water and possibly a painkiller for the headache you’ll likely have in the morning?” I’m already heading for the bathroom.

“Might be a good idea,” he mumbles.

I find a glass on the edge of bathroom vanity—which is clean, apart from a brand new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. I run the tap, wishing I had a plastic tumbler, because I’m not sure he’s in any state to deal with breakable objects. I check the medicine cabinet, find the pills I need, shake out two tablets, and return to the bedroom.

He’s right where I left him; sprawled out face up on a massive king-size bed, legs hanging off the end, one shoe on the floor beside him. I cross over and set the water and the pills on the nightstand.

I make a quick trip back to the bathroom and grab the empty wastebasket from beside the toilet in case his night is a lot rougher than he expects.

I tap his knee, crossing my fingers he’ll be easy to rouse. “Hey, I have painkillers for you.”

He makes a noise, but doesn’t move otherwise.

I tap his knee again. “Lincoln, you need to wake up long enough to take these.” I cringe. I called him by name, and he didn’t offer it to me while we were down at the bar. Here’s hoping he’s too drunk to notice or remember. His name is Lincoln Moorehead, heir to the Moorehead Media fortune and all the crap that comes with it. And there’s a lot of it.

One eye becomes a slit. “Every time I open my eyes, the room starts spinning again.”

“If you drink this and take these, it might help.” I hold up the glass of water and the pills.

“’Kay.” It takes three tries for him to sit up. He tries to pick the pills up out of my palm, but keeps missing my hand.

“Just open your mouth.”

He lifts his head. “How do I know you’re not trying to roofie me?”

I hold up the tablet in front of his face. “They don’t say roofie, so you’re safe.”

He tries to focus on the pill and then my face. I have my doubts he’s successful at either.

His tongue peeks out to drag across his bottom lip. “The cameras in the hall will catch you if you steal my wallet.”

I laugh at that. “I’m not going to steal your wallet, I’m going to put you to bed.”

“Hmm.” He nods slowly and opens his mouth.

I drop the pills on his tongue and hand him the glass, which he drains in three long swallows. “Would you like me to refill that?”

“That’d be nice.” He holds out the glass, but when I try to pull away, he covers my hands with his. His shockingly blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment they’re clear and compelling. Despite how out of it he is, and how much he resembles a mountain man, or maybe because of it, I have a hard time looking away. “I really wish I wasn’t this messed up. You smell nice. I bet your hair is pretty when it’s not pulled up like that.” He flops a hand toward my bun. “Not that it’s not pretty like that, but I bet if you took it down, it would be wavy and soft. The kind of hair you want to bury your face in and run your fingers through.” He exhales a long breath. “I haven’t had sex in a really long time, but I feel like I would have zero finesse if I tried right now.”

I smile and turn away. In the time it takes for me to refill his glass, he’s managed to get one arm out of his suit jacket. He’s made it most of the way onto the bed, feet still hanging off the end, but he’s on his back, which is not ideal.

I set the glass on his nightstand, along with a second set of painkillers, which I’m assuming he’ll need in the morning, and give him another nudge. “Hey.”

This time I get nothing in the way of a response. I poke him twice more, but still nothing. He can’t sleep on his back with how drunk he is. He needs to be on his side or his stomach with a wastebasket close by.

I can’t in good conscience leave him like this. My options are limited. I shake my head as I kick off my shoes and climb up onto the bed with him. This is not at all what I expected to be doing when I brought him back up here.

I stare down at his sleeping form. His lips are parted, they’re nice lips, full and plump, even though they’re mostly obscured by his overgrown beard. His hair has started to unravel from its man bun, wisps hanging in his face. He has long lashes, really long actually, and they’re thick and dark, the kind women pay a lot of money for. His nose is straight and his cheekbones—what I can see of them—are high. With a haircut, a beard trim or complete shave, and a new suit that actually fits, I can imagine how refined he’ll look. More like a Moorehead than a mountain man lumberjack. I shake my head. “I need you to roll onto your side, please,” I say loudly.

Nothing. Not even a grunt.

I pull on his shoulder, but he’s dead weight. Leaning over him, I make a fist and give him a light jab approximately where his kidney is. “Lincoln, roll over.”

And roll he does, knocking me down and turning over so he’s right on top of me. We’re face-to-face. Good God, he’s heavy. His bones must be made of lead. He shifts, one leg coming over both of mine. I push at his knee, but his arm swings out and he wraps himself around me on a low groan, pinning my arm to my side. He’s like a giant human blanket.

“How did this become my life?” I say to the ceiling, because the man lying on top of me is apparently out cold.

I try to wriggle free, I even yell his name a bunch of time before I give up and wait for him to roll off me. And while I wait for that to happen, I replay the conversation with his mother, Gwendolyn Moorehead, that took place forty-eight hours ago and put me in this awkward position underneath her drunk son.

I’d been standing in Fredrick’s office, still digesting the fact that he was dead. It was shocking that a massive heart attack had taken him, since he was always so healthy and full of life.

Gwendolyn, his wife—now a widow—stood stoic behind his desk, papers stacked neatly in the center.

“I’m so very for your loss, Gwendolyn. If there’s anything I can do. Whatever you need.” The words poured out, typical condolences, but sincerely meant because I couldn’t imagine how my mother and I would feel if we lost my father.

Gwendolyn’s fingers danced at her throat as she cleared it. “Thank you,” she whispered brokenly and dabbed at her eyes. “I appreciate your kindness, Wren.”

“Let me know what you want me to handle, and I’ll take care of it.”

She took a deep breath, composing herself before she lifted her gaze to mine. “I need your help.”

“Of course, what can I do?”

“My oldest son, Lincoln, will be returning to New York for the funeral, and he’ll be staying to help run the company.”

A hot feeling crept up my spine. I’d heard very little about Lincoln. Everything from Armstrong’s mouth was scathing, Fredrick’s passing references had been with fondness, and my interactions with Gwendolyn had been minimal as it was Fredrick himself who hired me, so this was first I’ve heard of Lincoln through her. “I see. And how can I help with that?” I could only imagine how difficult Armstrong would be if he had to share the attention with someone else, particularly his brother.

“Transitioning Lincoln.” Gwendolyn rounded her desk. “You’ve managed to turn around Armstrong’s reputation in the media during the time you’ve been here. I know it hasn’t been easy, and Armstrong can be difficult to manage.”

Difficult to manage is the understatement of the entire century where Armstrong is concerned. He’s a cocksucker of epic proportions. He’s also a misogynistic, narcissistic bastard that I’ve had to deal with for the past eight months on a nearly daily basis—sometimes even on weekends.

My job as his “handler” has been to reshape his horrendous reputation after his involvement in several scandalous events became very public. It wasn’t a job I necessarily wanted, and I was prepared to politely reject the offer, but my mother asked me to take the position as a favor to her since she’s a friend of Gwendolyn.

Beyond that, my relationship with my mother has been strained for the past decade. When I was a teenager, I discovered information that changed our relationship forever. Taking the job at Moorehead was in part, my way of trying to help repair our fractured bond. The financial compensation, which was ridiculously high, also didn’t hurt. Besides, Gwendolyn is on nearly every single charitable foundation committee in the city, and since that’s where my interests lie, it seemed like a smart career move.

“Since you’re already working with Armstrong and things seem to be settled there for the most part, I felt it would make sense to keep you on here at Moorehead to work with Lincoln. He’s been away from civilized society for several years. He’s nothing like his brother, very altruistic and focused on his job, rather than recreational pursuits, so he should be easier to manage.”

I fought a scoff at the last bit, since “recreational pursuits” was a reference to the fact that Armstrong couldn’t seem to keep his pants zipped when it came to women.

Gwendolyn pushed a set of papers toward me. “It would only be for another six months. And of course, your salary would reflect the double work load, since you’ll still have to maintain Armstrong in some capacity while you assist Lincoln in transitioning into his role here.”

“I’m sorry, what—”

Gwendolyn pulled me into an awkward hug, holding onto my shoulders when she stepped back. Her eyes were glassy and red-rimmed. “You have no idea how much I appreciate your willingness to take this on. As soon as your contract is fulfilled, you have my word that I’ll give you a glowing recommendation to whichever organization you’d like. Your mother told me you’re interested in starting your own foundation. I’ll certainly help you in any way I’m able if you’ll stay on a little longer for me.” She dabbed at her corner of her eyes and sniffed, then tapped the papers on the desk. “I already have an agreement ready and an NDA, of course. Everything is tabbed for signing.”

I’m pulled back into the present when Lincoln shifts and one of his huge hands slides up my side and lands on my breast. At the same time, he pushes his nose against my neck, beard tickling my collarbone. He mutters something unintelligible against my skin.

I’m momentarily frozen in shock. Under any other circumstances, I would knee him in the balls. However, he’s not conscious or even semi-aware that he’s fondling me. Thankfully, now that he’s moved, I have some wiggle room.

I elbow him in the ribs, which probably hurts me more than it does him. At least it gets him to move away enough that I can slip out from under him. I roll off the bed and pop back up, smoothing out my now-wrinkled dress. My stupid nipples are perky, thanks to the attention the right one just got. Probably because it’s the most action I’ve seen since I started working for the Mooreheads eight months ago.

I hit the lights on the way out of the bedroom, pause in the kitchen to grab a glass of water and check out the sheet of paper on the counter. It’s a list of important details regarding the penthouse, including the entry code. I nab my purse, snap a pic, and head for the elevators.

I have a feeling this is going to be a long six months.

Other Books in the Series

Shacking Up 
Getting Down (novella)
Hooking Up 
I Flipping Love You 
Making Up

About Helena Hunting

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Helena Hunting lives outside of Toronto with her amazing family and her two awesome cats, who think the best place to sleep is her keyboard.

Helena writes everything from contemporary romance with all the feels to romantic comedies that will have you laughing until you cry.

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BOSSY BROTHERS: Jesse by JA Huss: Cover Reveal + Giveaway

Title: Bossy Brothers: Jesse
Series: Bossy Brothers #1

Author: JA Huss

Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: JA Huss
Photo: Sara Eirew

Release Date: June 24, 2019

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Blurb

Thirteen years before Emma Dumas bought me in a bachelor auction to teach me a lesson she stole my heart down on Key West. I fell so hard for this girl I made all the promises. Only with Emma, I really meant them.

And then I disappeared.

But it wasn’t my fault. Let’s just call my reason “Family Business”. I’d tell you what that business is, but then I’d have to kill you. Just kidding. I can’t tell you what my family business is because it’s so secret, even I don’t know.

My point is… I didn’t ghost. It was a weird twist of circumstances. And OK, yes. I did hook up with pretty much every girl on the island that week. But after I met Emma, I was ruined. She’s the only one I wanted.

It’s been thirteen years. I’m a changed man. I STILL want her. I have ALWAYS wanted her.

But it’s kind of hard to tell her that with a gag in my mouth and a hood over my head.

 

Bossy Brothers: Jesse features a bachelor auction gone wrong, four smart ladies who botch a crazy revenge kidnapping, a fancy power dream date with fast cars, private jets, and expensive yachts, lots of ex-sex, and a happily ever after that proves… sometimes the best man for the job is a woman.

LIVE RELEASE ALERT

Excerpt

EMMA

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“What’s it look like?”

“It looks like you’re parking at a Tastee-Freez.”

“Nothing gets by you, does it, Emma?”

“Why are you taking me to a Tastee-Freez?”

“Usually people come here for ice cream.”

I just blink at him.

“You don’t like ice cream?”

“Everyone likes ice cream.”

“Exactly,” he says, grinning like a foolish, charming bastard. Which makes no sense at all, but wow. I’d forgotten about that smile and how disarming it is. He looks at me. “Come on,” he says. “It’s a date, right? You paid ten million dollars for this date and now you’re going to complain when I do something date-y?”

This wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was:

Buy him.

Drive up to his lake house.

Drug him.

Wait for the girls to show up.

Take him over to our lake house.

Tie him up.

Make him regret all his asshole decisions thirteen years ago.

Probably gloat too. Little bit of, “Look at me, so rich and powerful now. And you dumped me, you dumbass. But oh, hey. I’m too good for you now. You could’ve had all this and now you’ve got nothing. Sucks to be you.”

Which is all pretty childish because he’s Jesse Boston. He could get any girl he wants. Just look at how they fell all over him tonight at the auction.

Ten. Million. Fucking. Dollars.

I feel sick. Literally, I feel sick. It’s not that we can’t afford the ten mil. It’s just… that was not the plan. This asshole isn’t worth ten million. What the hell were all those women thinking?

And us. What the hell were we thinking? This is all Hannah’s fault. I’m gonna kill her later.

No revenge plan is worth ten million dollars.

And now he wants to have ice cream with me.

Uggggh.

“So?” Jesse says.

“Hmm?”

“Are we gonna get out of the car? Or are we going to sit here all night?”

“I’m not really in the mood for ice cream,” I say.

He grins at me again. Oh. God. Why is he so damn hot? It’s not fair. “See, that’s the best part about ice cream. You don’t have to be in the mood for it. In fact, eating it when you’re not in the mood is the best part. Because it puts you in the mood.”

And then he does one of those little eyebrow waggles.

I squint at him. “Are you coming on to me?”

“What?”

“Was that innuendo?”

He frowns. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

I point to his forehead. “You waggled at me when you said ice cream puts you in the mood.”

“I didn’t waggle at you.”

I huff. “Dude, you totally did.”

“OK, whatever. If you say I did, then I did. But no. It wasn’t innuendo. Ice cream is like… that’s just what people eat when they’re stressed, ya know?”

I just stare at him.

“God, for a woman who paid ten million dollars for me, you sure are a tough crowd.”

“I know how much I paid for you,” I snap. “Stop reminding me.”

“OK,” he says, holding up a hand. “Would you like me to take you home? Should we just… end this?”

I huff. “I paid ten million dollars for you. I’m getting my date.”

He stares at me. No. He glares at me. “Then get your fucking ass out of my car and order a motherfucking ice cream.”

And then he gets out, not even waiting for me. Just gets out, slams the door, and walks up to the Tastee-Freez and gets in line.

“Rude,” I mumble.

AUTHOR BIO

JA Huss is the New York Times Bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today Bestseller’s list 21 times in the past five years. She writes characters with heart, plots with twists, and perfect endings.

Her new sexy sci-fi romance and paranormal romance pen name is KC Cross and she writes novels and teleplays collaboratively with actor and screenwriter, Johnathan McClain.

Her books have sold millions of copies all over the world, the audio version of her semi-autobiographical book, Eighteen, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award and an Audie Award in 2016 and 2017 respectively. Her audiobook, Mr. Perfect, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award in 2017. Her audiobook, Taking Turns, was nominated for an Audie Award in 2018. Five of her book were optioned for a TV series by MGM television in 2018. And her book, Total Exposure, was nominated for a RITA Award in 2019.

She lives on a ranch in Central Colorado with her family.

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JA HUSS NEW RELEASE ALERT

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Dirty Mafia Duet by Meghan March: DOUBLE COVER REVEAL

New York Times bestselling author Meghan March continues the story of untold truths and one man’s redemption in the Dirty Mafia Duet.

Dirty Mafia Duet, an Audible Original!

AUDIO RELEASE DATES:

Black Sheep 🐑 July 2, 2019

White Knight  August 6, 2019

E-BOOK AND PAPERBACK RELEASE DATES:

Black Sheep 🐑 August 27, 2019

White Knight  October 1, 2019

About Black Sheep 🐑

Every family has a black sheep.

In the infamous Casso crime family, that black sheep is me — Cannon Freeman.

Except I’m not a free man. I’ve never been free. Not since the day I was born.

I owe my loyalty to my father, Dominic Casso, even if he won’t publicly acknowledge me as his blood.

I’ve never had a reason to go against his wishes… until I met her.

Drew Carson turned my world upside when she walked into my club looking for a job.

Now, my honor and my life are on the line.

Going against my father’s wishes might buy me a bullet straight from his gun, but black sheep or not, it’s time to make my stand.

She’s worth the fallout.

BLACK SHEEP TEASER

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About White Knight 

I never expected to be anyone’s white knight. That’s not a role I’ve ever played.

But when the Casso crime family shifts into uncharted territory, they’re looking for a new hero, and they’re looking for me — Cannon Freeman, the black sheep.

But my time in disgrace is at an end.

It’s my turn to rise up and save the people who matter most to me.

Even if my family has never given a damn about me, I will not let them fall.

More than anything, I will not let her fall.

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About Meghan March

Making the jump from corporate lawyer to romance author was a leap of faith that New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Meghan March will never regret.

With over thirty titles published, she has sold millions of books in nearly a dozen languages to fellow romance-lovers around the world. A nomad at heart, she can currently be found in the woods of the Pacific Northwest, living her happily ever after with her real-life alpha hero.

Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.

Below, sign up for Meghan’s newsletter and receive exclusive content that she saves for her subscribers; and to get the inside scoop on a daily basis, search Meghan March’s Runaway Readers on Facebook and join the fun.

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Choke Me by Ker Dukey and K Webster: Release Blitz + Giveaway

CHOKE ME, a steamy standalone novella from International Bestselling authors, Ker Dukey and K Webster, is NOW LIVE!

Publication Date: June 17, 2019
Genres: Adult Contemporary Romance, Romantic Suspense

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I had a plan.
Make Ren Hayes pay.
But plans don’t always turn out the way we want them to.

He was found not guilty of murdering my best friend.
But that doesn’t make him innocent.
In my eyes, he’s guilty.

Guilty of charming everyone around him into believing his innocence.
Guilty of being so intoxicating I forget who he is—what he is.
And guilty of awakening parts of me I never knew existed before his touch.

I know eventually, I’ll succumb.
His allure beckons me.
Keeping me on the edge of madness between lust and hate.

In the end, it’s me who’s guilty.
Guilty of allowing him to take my breath away.

This is a super steamy romance sure to take your breath away! A perfect combination of sweet and sexy with a smidgen of suspense that you can gobble up in just an hour or two! You’ll get a happy ending that’ll make you swoon!

This is not a dark romance.

Purchase Your Copy Today!!

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About K. Webster

 

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

Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action.

She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen.

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About Ker Dukey

My books all tend to be darker romance, edge of you seat, angst filled reads. My advice to my readers when starting one of my titles…prepare for the unexpected.

I have always had a passion for storytelling, whether it be through lyrics or bed time stories with my sisters growing up. My mum would always have a book in her hand when I was young and passed on her love for reading, inspiring me to venture into writing my own. I tend to have a darker edge to my writing. Not all love stories are made from light; some are created in darkness but are just as powerful and worth telling.

When I’m not lost in the world of characters I love spending time with my family. I’m a mum and that comes first in my life but when I do get down time I love attending music concerts or reading events with my younger sister.

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