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Disenchanted
-- SNEAK PEAK: 
GIVEAWAY! --
The Science of Attraction
-- EXCERPT: Julian Lane unsettled me in a way not many men did, and it was troubling, to say the least. I’d had a couple of long-term relationships in my life, but I’d never lived with anyone or wanted more. Being a fairly self-contained person, I liked my own company. I spent most days working intimately with people’s complex needs. It was intense, challenging work, and at the end of the day or the finish of a contract, my home was my sanctuary, and I guarded it with my life. The idea of a man cluttering up that space with their things, inconvenient demands, or just the mere fact of their presence sent horrifying chills racing down my spine. I rarely got flustered by a guy, and certainly not the way Julian unnerved me with his capable air, glittering grey eyes, and that profound sense of knowing his place in the world. Julian had the air of a man who knew who he was and where he belonged. You wouldn’t need to jolly a man like Jules along to make him feel wanted, soothe an ego bent out of shape, or play down your success so as not to threaten his by comparison. Men like that were rare and held an intoxicating allure for someone like me. But Jules was also my client’s son, and that alone should’ve made him forbidden fruit even for a bit of harmless crushing. Should’ve. But there’d been something about his smile that first day. Something about the way I’d caught him looking at me when he didn’t think I was watching. And maybe the way I felt when he looked at me, as well. The whole thing was fucking with my head.
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The Demon’s Discovery
-- EXCERPT: Greta ended up with her back pressed against the supplies cabinet, my forearms flat against the glass, her chest heaving and her cheeks flushed as she gazed up at me with wide eyes. “Are you alright?” “Yes,” she whispered. There was no way to miss the way her eyes tracked my mouth, the way I was steeped in her scent or how my heart kept trying to reach for her directly through my chest. It had been the sweetest torture to spend the day pressed up against her from behind, able to smell her hair and feel the curves of her body line up with the planes of mine. And now, with her dressed in my clothing, after what we’d been through earlier, I hardly had any restraint at all left. “Greta,” I warned. “It’s okay. I want …” she swallowed, my eyes following every movement of her throat and the way her tongue dipped out to wet her bottom lip. I cupped her cheek with one hand, warring with myself as every impulse in my body screamed at me. Her eyes became glazed, half closed … and I lost all hold on my control. I dove in like a man starved, plundering her mouth with my own. I swallowed her noises of surprise, growling back as she pressed herself further against me instead of trying to run away. She tasted like the berries we’d had with lunch, and I marveled at the softness of her body under my hands, my lips. I teased at her bottom lip with one fang, swiping at the tiny droplet of blood I’d made rush to the surface with my tongue as she sucked in a breath. To my great pleasure, she didn’t pull away as a brief collage of her here at the collegium danced across my mind. If anything, she hovered closer, asking for more in the way her eyes lingered half-closed, her hands fisted in my shirt. “Vassago …” My name was music on her lips, speaking to the darkest parts of me. The neediest. The most dangerous ones. “Greta.” I pressed my lips to hers again, but gently, taking my time exploring. I mapped the way her cupid’s bow formed perfect points in her lush upper lip and a tiny scar caused an imperfection in her bottom one. The way she was reaching for me the way I was for her. The way she hesitated, but just barely, when I requested she open for me by swiping along her lips with my tongue. As I drank from her lips she followed my lead, making another of those incendiary sounds. I lost myself in her, and it was glorious.
GIVEAWAY! --
Awakening
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Ricardo 
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #Slashed Potatoes and Grave-y (Honeypie Mysteries 1) by Joann Keder @Xpresso Book Tours19/2/2024
Slashed Potatoes and Grave-y
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes& Noble / Kobo -- EXCERPT: “Ma’am?” Honeypie Sweetwater stared out the window of her condo. The rain was coming down in sheets, which was fitting for her current financial situation. Unwillingly, she turned her head to face the stern woman sitting across the table from her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Steam, I—” “It’s SIStine, like the chapel? And I’m Ms.” She twitched her nose just like the old television show with the witch. Also fitting. “This is your copy of the documents for the foreclosure on this property.” “It’s my home. We’re not talking about a lemonade stand. I raised my son here and started a business—” “And that failed too, didn’t it?” Honeypie dug what was left of her fingernails into her palms, doing her level best not to lose her cool. “You just look at the numbers. You don’t have any idea what my life has been like, or what it took just to put food on the table for my kid some months.” After a brief stare-down that Honeypie felt confident she’d won, the banker leaned back, causing the wobbly wooden chair to creak in protest. She flopped an arm over the back of the chair and stuck her tongue in her cheek before delivering the next blow. “There is also the matter of your inheritance. The land and property in Washington State will also become our holdings after you sign the paperwork.” She shuffled through her papers containing a collection of colorful stickers. “I hear great things about the museum in Misty Cove.” “The Chewseum? I didn’t realize that was still open. It’s a food museum. Kinda cheesy, get it?” Ms. Sistine ignored H.P.’s attempt at humor and shoved the documents in front of her. “Please sign on the lines I’ve highlighted.” Her inheritance. Her childhood. Everything that made her the woman she was today. 
GIVEAWAY! --
The Belle of London
-- EXCERPT: KIT TRIES TO PAY OFF AMELIA She surveyed the man before her. He was sinfully good-looking with brown, almost-black hair and brown eyes warm upon her. He was dressed impeccably, and the cut of his coat and pants bespoke wealth and privilege. His shoes were polished. She knew instinctively he was a man used to getting his way. “How can I help you, Mr. …?” she sought out his name. “Call me Christopher.” She didn’t call him by his name. “How can I help you?” “You can do me a great service.” As he spoke, he pulled out a small rectangular book and a fountain pen. “All you need do is name your price.” Amelia frowned. “My price? I don’t understand.” Kit smiled at her as he opened up the checkbook. “I know you aren’t in love. You’ve just met. And I’m sure, as a woman, you dream of finer things, jewels, and frocks. Name your price. You can have them tomorrow. But not Patrick. He’s not for you.” His eyes were as cold as stone. “Patrick,” she breathed out, her heart sinking. She had badly misjudged him. Amelia took off her gloves and faced the man in the low gaslights. “Patrick wants me gone.” The man frowned. “Patrick doesn’t know I’m here.” “He doesn’t know you’re here?” She looked again at his clothes and considered his voice, so used to giving orders and being obeyed, and she knew. He was here to buy her off. She almost laughed at the thought. “Am I such a danger to him?” she whispered. “To you? And aren’t you placing the cart before the horse? Nothing has happened. One supper. What are you afraid of?” Kit looked her up and down. “You must be very used to using your attributes as a way to make men do what you want. I’m sure you’ve had men tell you so. I’m sure you’ve been offered protection from older men. Look at it this way. In my bargain, Miss Westcott, you get the money, and you don’t have to take off a stitch of clothing.” “How dare you.” Amelia was breathless at his degrading words. An intense rage swept through her. Taking three steps, she stood before him, her cheeks flushed and her breath coming quickly. Kit was on his feet in an instant. He stared down into her face. “Is the truth so unpleasing to you, Miss Westcott?” She met his eyes, and her chin notched up. “You think because you associate with a certain kind of woman, all women must be like that. Because I’ve fallen on hard times, my soul and heart can be bought for the price of a few shillings and pence.” “Be careful.” Kit contemplated her oval-shaped face, auburn hair, and light blue eyes. “What I offer you is far more than shilling and pence. It would be more than you could make in a year.” “You are so used to buying and selling people?” she asked him coldly. “I’m not separating Tristan and Iseult,” he responded. “You have fallen on hard times. I can make those hard times easier. Name your price.” She looked away from him. “I have no price.” “Two hundred pounds.” Amelia gasped. An Army officer would make that amount in a year. “I care for Patrick. I do,” she confessed. “And my care for him is genuine and honest. That you chose to come here and insult me when you know nothing about me, I cannot forgive. But because I know a part of you must care greatly for him as well, I will forget this night. But know this, you have judged me wrongly and falsely. And though I am not the type of woman you think I am, you seem to be the exact kind of man I think you to be,” she threw at him. Kit’s jaw clenched as he stared down at her. “And what kind of man is that?” Amelia narrowed her eyes at him. “You are a master. You are a man used to being obeyed and his orders followed. But you’re a coward.” She spat the words at him. “Instead of coming to me and asking me questions in a straightforward manner about Patrick, you made false assumptions and attempted to buy me!” Kit almost sneered. “So, you do not have it in mind to marry Patrick for position and money?” Amelia cocked her head. “Women can do little in society. Most of our worth is in being mothers and wives, is it not? So, if I were to say I was not interested in marrying, that would be a lie. But as Patrick has neither asked me nor mentioned it, I don’t see the relevance.” Kit was about to respond, but she interrupted. “And how is it your duty to confront me so? You are not his brother, I know he has little family. Would he appreciate you being here now? Behind his back. Offering me money to disappear? This is hardly the behavior of a gentleman, which I know you to be,” she demanded. He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I’m a gentleman?” Amelia made a sound of disbelief. “Though you seem intent to make me seem like some unintelligent, money-grabbing slag, I am not. I see the cut of your clothes, the polished expensive shoes, your authoritarian voice—” Kit surveyed her then and was struck by the beauty of her clean skin, luminous blue eyes, and mass of auburn hair that was pinned up. “I won’t apologize for protecting my friend,” he said suddenly. She rolled her eyes. “The last thing on earth I expect from you, sir, would be a warranted apology for your bad behavior. That would mean you realize you acted poorly. We can’t have that.” Kit took a moment to study her again and then nodded. “Very well. Perhaps I misjudged the situation. But remember this. Patrick is an educated man and has a law practice. I’m certain a music hall dancer will not fit into that lifestyle. You’ll at least admit that?” He raised an eyebrow. “You know nothing about me, sir,” she said quietly. 
GIVEAWAY! --
Seven Perfect Days
-- EXCERPT: It was my cousin who did it. Well, kind of. I mean, he really did it, but he’s not really my cousin. He’s actually my father’s cousin’s daughter’s husband; Zayn. I also have two other cousins called Zain, but they had nothing to do with it. Probably. I was over at my uncle’s house, and I snuck out for a smoke. Big house, big garden, big dinner party, so nobody noticed. That’s where I saw Zayn in the library with the gun. I only saw it for a moment before he wrapped it up. I thought if a guy like that had a gun, he was definitely going to use it for something later on. He didn’t see me, thank goodness. I probably should have said something to somebody, but who would listen to me? I am the Devil, after all, and Satan is the father of lies. The only person who talked to me was my brother, and if I said anything to that idiot, he’d probably be dead now. So yeah, I got out of town, and went on vacation. That’s why it annoys me that I get the blame. If they were planning this whole thing then, how can I be the cause of all the trouble now? The point is that you may be right when you say life can go real nuts sometimes. 
GIVEAWAY! --
Catch and Release
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks -- EXCERPT: “I’m all in,” he repeated softly, his breath teasing the skin near her ear. “You can count on me, London.” Could she? It wasn’t like she had a choice. Besides, Bennie said Trey’s reputation with advertisers was nothing but professional. “I’d like it if we could get through this without every moment in each other’s presence being a battle,” he added. Well damn if he wasn’t being the mature one. She was the one being ridiculous by reading too much into everything he said and did, that’s all. If he could approach the situation like a grown up, then so could she. After all, she wasn’t that naïve eighteen-year-old any longer. No way was she falling for Trey Van Horn again. If he could keep things light and businesslike, she would put on her big girl panties and do the same. But not if he kept touching her. It was impossible for her to think with his body so close to hers. She hurriedly untangled her fingers from his and put some distance between them. “I’d like that as well.” Too bad her voice didn’t sound as steady and committed to the new plan as she’d like. She managed a smile that she hoped looked more assured than she felt. “I’m looking forward to making this campaign a success.” He returned her smile with one of his own. Only his bordered on sly, as if he knew what the words were costing her. “Me, too.” He opened her office door and gestured for her to exit first.
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #A Not So Bollywood Meet Cute by Miya Malai #Contemporary Romance @Xpresso Book Tours19/2/2024
A Not So Bollywood Meet Cute
-- EXCERPT: And now Evan is standing there, his soft gaze burning me, as he takes in everything, my jewelry, my low-cut top, my pierced belly button. He steps closer and I turn around, ready to run again. I hear a small gasp escape from him, as he sees the back of my dress, or lack of. And as I take a step forward, a smug smile on my face, I feel a tug on my dupatta. I turn around and he is gripping it with a playful smile. Right now, at this very moment, I feel like it’s just me and him alone in this hall of hundreds of people. I bite my lower lip, begin playing with my necklace, and slide my hand to my cleavage slightly. When he’s completely distracted, staring at my boobs with his mouth slightly open, I pull my dupatta out of his now-loosened grip. As I’m walking at a fast pace, I glance around at the crowd and everyone is so busy enjoying the night, no one notices us. That gives me the confidence to go behind a column, into a secluded corner, where the curtains separate us from the other guests. He’s following close behind. And I’m leaning against the wall. He ducks into the little corner, his hand goes on my bare waist, the other bracing the wall by my head. He kisses my neck, and I close my eyes as my stomach flutters—I feel myself already wet. He’s licking me right below my earring, kissing and biting my neck. And just as I’m contemplating whether to ruin my lipstick and kiss him, the DJ stops the music and makes an announcement. “Everyone please take your seats,” he says through the speakers. “The bride and groom are about to enter.” Evan pulls his head back and raises an eyebrow. “You look beautiful tonight,” he says, looking into my eyes. “And I thought I’d never fall for a white man in Indian clothes,” I say back . . . I bite my lip and put a hand over his heart. “It’s sexy.” And cue 3:06 of “Yeh Ladka Hai Allah,” because that’s exactly how he’s looking at me right now. And I’m about to maul him right here and now, but my family is probably waiting for me for Amir and Bianca’s entrance. My eyes linger on him, with a regretful look, and then I sneak out of our little corner.
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Dirty Saint
Goodreads / Amazon / iBooks / Kobo Get ready for February 21st! -- EXCERPT: A little heated hatred scene from Dirty Saint. This book is heavy on the enemies to lovers, y’all. It’s so hot. I pushed until he moved back, and I could breathe freely. “You did. You lied. You ruined my life. Thanks to you, I’m not the sweet girl I used to be. Now, I’m a bitter bitch with fury in my heart.” His large palm covered my hand, holding it to his hard chest and sending another wave of fear crashing over me. His nostrils flared as he breathed down at me. The heat from his body made my trembling fingertips tingle. I was cold all over even though it was warm outside. “You know what they say about bitter bitches?” His smooth voice was sprinkled with hints of sarcasm and anger. I pulled back, wishing I was strong enough to free my hand from his grasp. My knees began to knock, and I worried I would explode if I didn’t get away. The mix of emotions was a volatile cocktail—unstable and capable. “What?” He licked his thick lips before a sarcastic smile formed, making his dimples appear. “They taste sour. Next time you finger yourself, taste and see.” I gasped, ripping my hand from his and lifting it to slap him. He was faster than me and instead caught my hand in the air. “Be careful who you raise your hand to, Tori. Little girls like you are bound to get knocked on their asses.” “I’d like to see you try,” I spat, dying for a fight with him. Whatever anxiety I felt seconds earlier had been burned away by the raw fury he pulled forward with his words. I had spent most of the past ten years of my life imagining how good it would feel to knock Koah on his ass. I would gladly give him what he wanted if he wanted a piece of me. He chuckled, letting go of my hand and daring me with his eyes to try to hit him again. “I don’t hit girls,” he said. “That’s funny. You have no problem destroying a girl’s life, but you won’t hit them? Typical cowardly bullshit.” He stepped away from me, and the crisp night air flooded my cheeks, cooling them. Once again, the side of his mouth lifted in a sardonic grin. “I’ll see you around, Tori.” He crossed his arms, dismissing me. I wanted to stand my ground, but the longer I stood there glaring back at him, the more I desired to run away. So I folded first, turning and going toward Sadie. I needed away from The Strip and didn’t care what I had to do to get her to leave. I would never let Sadie talk me into a night out again, especially if it meant seeing the devil and remembering how he had burned me. 
GIVEAWAY! -- |
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