Jul 19, 2017

Blog Tour -- Hate To Want You by Alisha Rai




One night. No one will know.







HATE TO WANT YOU
Forbidden Hearts #1
Alisha Rai
Releasing July 25, 2017
Avon Books






Alisha Rai, one of contemporary romance’s brightest stars, makes her Avon Books debut with the first novel in the sexy Forbidden Hearts series!

One night. No one will know.

That was the deal. Every year, Livvy Kane and Nicholas Chandler would share one perfect night of illicit pleasure. The forbidden hours let them forget the tragedy that haunted their pasts—and the last names that made them enemies.

Until the night she didn’t show up.

Now Nicholas has an empire to run. He doesn’t have time for distractions and Livvy’s sudden reappearance in town is a major distraction. She’s the one woman he shouldn’t want . . . so why can’t he forget how right she feels in his bed?

Livvy didn’t come home for Nicholas, but fate seems determined to remind her of his presence—and their past. Although the passion between them might have once run hot and deep, not even love can overcome the scandal that divided their families.

Being together might be against all the rules . . . but being apart is impossible.












Despite her ridiculous schoolgirl outfit, she wasn’t the girl she’d been when she left town. Her hair, her clothes, even her attitude was subtly different. He’d watched every change happen over the past decade in a time-lapse video. There was nothing he didn’t like about the differences in her now.

Dangerous.

Right. Right. This was about sex. Nothing else.

She headed down the walkway, the flickering streetlamp in the parking lot burnishing her hair with red and black. She didn’t wobble a bit on her pencil-thin heels, reassuring him that though she’d been in a bar, she wasn’t anywhere near intoxicated.

He got out of the car, taking care to pull his collar up and lower his head, feeling ridiculous as he did so. He was a grown man. Who cared if he had sex with another consenting adult?

Lots of people, starting with his father, but he wasn’t going to think about them right now.

His strides were longer than hers. Her heels and skirt made it difficult for her to do more than mince. He made it to the door a second after she got it open, and followed her in, kicking the door shut behind him. She stripped off her light fall jacket and tossed it on the floor. “Liv—” was all he had a chance to say before she was in his arms, shoving him back.

It was dark, the only light coming in from the crack between the dingy curtains. Her lips pressed against his, and he inhaled the scent of her, each drugging kiss making his head spin. She crawled up him like he was a pole, her arms and legs clutching for balance.

It took him only a second. One second of having those red lips devouring his hungrily, one second of that hot sinner’s body pressing against his own, and all semblance of rational thought flew out of his brain.

Who cared about tomorrow? He was too enflamed to wonder about anything but the here and now. Too excited to even consider this a bad idea. He kissed her back as if he would die if he didn’t get her mouth, licking and sucking and memorizing the very taste of her. He slid his hands over her ass, gripped her luscious cheeks tight, and spun her around, pushing her up against the door.

He ripped his lips away, holding her from him when she might have forced her way back. “How do you want it?” he growled. He had an inkling, from the signals she was broadcasting, but it had been a while since he’d had to read those signals.

“Hard . . .” She scraped her nails over the back of his neck. “Use me. Make me feel it tomorrow.”

The wild look in her eyes was sharper than he’d ever seen it, and it ramped up his own lust. He dragged his hand over her ass, rubbing the fabric against her bottom. “This outfit is indecent.”

Her lids dropped to half-mast, and she arched her back. “You don’t like my clothes? I’m heartbroken.”

“You look like a schoolgirl.”

She tightened her legs around his waist, rubbing up on him. Her heat and wetness was obvious, even through the twin barriers of her underwear and his pants. “A naughty one? Who needs to be punished?”

He should feel ridiculous, but instead his body hardened more, blood engorging his dick. “So naughty.” His hand slipped up her leg to her hip and the strip of fabric there. He used his other hand to arch her back farther, feathering his fingers up her spine. “I could see your ass while you were walking outside.” He traced his hand around the waistband at her back and clenched the fabric in his wrist, pulling the bikini and her tights taut, digging into the folds of her pussy. Her eyes widened.

He tightened his grip. “Were you purposefully strutting around in this skirt, your ass hanging out of it?”

“N-no.”

“You’re lying. Do you know what I do to liars?”

Her nails dug into his skin. “Tell me you spank them.”

A red haze swam in front of his eyes, and he pushed her legs down so she was standing. Then he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around to face the door.

He grasped her by the hips and pulled her to stand with her back in an arch, then flipped up that ridiculous plaid skirt. It took him a second to lower her tights to her thighs. Her red panties barely covered the curves of her ass, making him growl. He didn’t know what bar she’d been in, but he imagined her seated in some dingy smoke-filled dive, anonymous bastards salivating over her tight body. Fuck, all it would have taken was one shimmy, and everyone could have gotten a free show, these tempting round globes exposed but for the silly scraps of fabric she’d put over them.

You have no right to be jealous.

He palmed her cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the plump flesh. “Do you know how badly I wanted to pull you onto my lap and flip this skirt up the second I saw you?”

“To fuck me or to spank me?”

“Both.”

She arched her back more, her ass wriggling. He didn’t think, merely lifted his hand and smacked one full cheek, his rational, caring side standing far apart and watching in horror. He’d never spanked a woman before. As scrappy as Livvy was, he hadn’t thought she’d like this.

Her moan suggested otherwise.

He got it. He got the appeal of this, with Livvy bent over in front of him, legs spread, skirt lifted, red panties exposed, and the hot flesh of her ass filling his hand. He slapped her other cheek, and she moaned again, louder. Hell. He could see the appeal of literally doing anything with Livvy, to be honest.

“Was that okay?” he had the semblance of mind to ask her.

Her hands had braced against the door, and her fingers curled in. She nodded, her red-streaked hair rippling over her back.

His next tap was harder. “You’ve been so bad, Livvy. Tempting all those men tonight. Tempting me.” He smacked her again. “You’ve never stopped tempting me.”

She whimpered. “I’ll stop.”

“We both know that’s impossible.” He squeezed her left cheek, dropping to his knees behind her. With his teeth, he carefully lowered the panties over her ass to meet the rolled-up waistband of her tights. He stayed there, luxuriating in her body as he pressed soft kisses over each cheek, punctuating each tender touch with a slap of his hand.

When she was rocking back against his mouth, he pulled away. He came to his feet. Unable to take his gaze off her tight body, he walked backward until his knees hit the cheap bed. Nicholas slid down to sit on the floor, his back supported by the bed. The sliver of streetlight illuminating the room highlighted her sweet, reddened buttocks. He tore at his jeans, growling when his hand met his throbbing cock. He needed to jerk off or get in her pussy. Something. Anything. Literally whatever would relieve this ache as soon as possible.

She peeked under her arm and straightened, skirt dropping down to cover her bottom.

A crime, covering that butt.

Livvy stripped off her tights and panties and then turned to face him. “Nicholas?”
He ran his hand down his cock once, then twice when he noted the hunger in her gaze as she watched him fondle himself. He grazed the tip, and his body jerked. “Take off your clothes. Shirt first.”

“Do I have to?” Her breathless question was pseudo-innocent.

“Unless you want to be punished.” How he’d punish her, he wasn’t sure. More spanking? Licking her until she wept with the need to orgasm? Fucking her until she screamed?

These didn’t sound like terrible punishments for either of them.

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, and she undid them one by one, so slowly he knew it was a tease. He tightened his hand on his cock, because he knew if he didn’t, he’d demand she come over here so he could rip the offending material right off her.

She stripped it off her shoulders, leaving her in her bra, her toned belly inviting his lips.

“Now the bra.”

She unsnapped the front snap and drew both cups of red lace away from her breasts. They were perky and lifted on their own, the small handfuls the perfect fit for his palm. Her brown nipples were tight and pointed, giving away her excitement. Her breasts rose and fell, her gaze locked on his hand. He made his pulls slower and more explicit, both to give her a show and to make sure he didn’t blow too quickly.

Her hand dropped to the waistband of her skirt, shoving it down, leaving her completely naked. She licked her lips, making the remnants of her lipstick shiny and vibrant. He imagined those lips wrapped tight around his cock, him whispering, Suck me, while guiding her head over his lap.

He shook his head, trying to shake the filthy image from his brain, and released his cock. “Come here.”

She walked over. Her hand unselfconsciously slid over her belly and pussy. She was wet and hot and plump, nearly hairless, save for a small landing strip. The pot of gold tattooed at her hip was a dark shadow. “Closer.”










Alisha Rai pens award-winning, sexy, contemporary romances and is the first author to have an indie-published book appear on The Washington Post’s annual Best Books list. She spends most of her time dreaming up sexy heroes and heroines, traveling, and tweeting. To find out more about her books or to sign up for her newsletter, visit her Website.




Release Blitz -- Fractured Love by Ella James









Title: Fractured Love
An Off-Limits Romance Standalone
Author: Ella James
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: July 19, 2017




Blurb


She was my foster sister, her luxurious house the only home I’d ever known. I fell in love with Evie before her doctor parents signed my adoption papers. They threw me out the day they caught us. Now I’m Dr. Jones, so far removed from who I used to be, it seems like a bad dream. I tell myself nothing can touch me. Until I see the residency roster at Rockies University Hospital. There’s only two incoming neurosurgery residents each year. This year it’s Landon Jones—and Evie Rutherford.








Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited





Also Available







FREE for a VERY limited time

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Always free in Kindle Unlimited







AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited








AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited








Author Bio


Ella James is the USA Today bestselling author of sixteen teen and adult love stories. She's an angst-a-holic who loves exploring difficult situations and the emotions of the people caught up in them. Also, smut. But always, always romance.

Ella's obsessions include vanilla cream soda, hiking, other weird, crunchy things like rock collecting, and the antics of her three little monsters.

To find out more about her projects, follow her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ellajamesbooks, tweet her at author_ellaj or follow her on Instagram (authorellajames).

Interested in the foreign rights for one of Ella’s books? Contact her agent, Rebecca Friedman, at rebecca@rfliterary.com.



Author Links

Jul 18, 2017

Release Blast -- Adjunct Lovers by Liz Crowe




A brew that brings two lovers full circle.






ADJUNCT LOVERS
A Brewing Passion Novella
Liz Crowe
Releasing July 18, 2017
Totally Bound







When Ross and Elisa open their new business in Detroit, they believe they’ve embarked on a dream life, complete with their beloved, precocious daughter. But owning and running a restaurant is not for the faint of heart, and Elle quickly becomes laser-focused and obsessed, while Ross spends his days consulting, or concocting new beers on his pilot system—and wondering why she won’t agree to set a date for their wedding. When their restaurant—named “Komfort” for its focus on the comfort foods of various cultures—is featured on a nationally televised tour of hot new eateries, its popularity shoots into the stratosphere, and Elle’s stress level reaches a breaking point.

Faced with a mutual inability to communicate beyond their robust sex life, Ross issues an ill-considered ultimatum: the restaurant or him. Stunned when she refuses to consider such a ridiculous demand, he’s forced to come to terms with his own selfish tendencies. Hoping to repair the damage he’s done, he concocts a new beer inspired by her, using a recipe for a classic German-style K├Âlch. He crafts the final product using a special ingredient designed to catch Elle’s attention. It does. But not necessarily the way he’d planned.


“Adjunct Lovers” fills in the story begun in LIGHTSTRUCK, and provides a closer look at Ross’s and Elle’s complex personalities as they make their sexy way toward happily ever after—with the help of a very special brew.











Catch up on ALL the 
Brewing Passion Romances











The job was a hell of a lot more than she’d bargained for—although to be fair, she had been warned by plenty of people familiar with its daily grind. The mornings were her favorite time here. The kitchen sparkling from the night’s cleaning, the tables bare, the chairs flipped over on top of them. The place still held a bit of mustiness from its many years sitting empty but they were overwhelming that with nearly three years’ worth of their own odors—drywall, paint, floor refinishing, which were all subsumed by the daily fact of food being prepared, served and eaten.

She and Ross had built this. It was theirs. And yet, now it was more ‘hers’ and a lot less ‘his’. She understood his need to get back to brewing and supported it but she missed his daily presence, supporting her, in ways she’d never thought she would.

She moved over to the secondhand couch, used by her and countless others for cat naps during down times, and closed her burning eyes, marveling at what a relief it was not to be looking at lists, recipes and spreadsheets.

Just for a minute. Just a quick rest.

She fell into a light sleep within seconds, dropping into an odd half dream-state, where she could still hear the prep staff talking, laughing, slamming things around. Music suffused her drifting brain, matching whatever had been dialed up on the streaming service behind her.

She felt Ross’ arms around her, cradling her, his lips at her ear, crooning to her in his country-boy German accent. As she relaxed in his embrace, he kissed her, sending a sharp spike of lust down her spine. Dream-Ross undressed her gently, stroking every inch of skin he exposed, following that with his lips, tongue and teeth. She shivered and reached for him, wanting more of him. Wanting all of him.

But now he was frowning at her, withdrawing. His mouth moved but she couldn’t hear his words. He was making that crazy-ass ultimatum again. They were fighting. Anger swirled around and between them, poisoning the pleasant eroticism of the moment before. It wasn’t as if they’d never fought. It was more like these arguments held an edge of real frustration as opposed to brief or imagined aggravation. She hated it. She hated herself for being so short, so tired all the time, so obsessed, as he liked to put it, by the damn restaurant.

“But it was your god damned idea, Hoffman,” she reminded him in her dream. “What do you think? I’d just open it and waltz away from the thing, letting it run itself?”

“No,” he said, his voice low, tight with unhappiness. “That’s not what I think.”

“Then what do you suggest? I mean, I’m sorry if you’re feeling neglected. But I can’t take my eyes off this. I can’t. You understood, once upon a time, but all of a sudden you’re being a total child about it.”

Dream-Ross reached for her, tugged her close, their naked skin warm as they wrapped themselves around each other and fell into their bed. “I want to get married, Elisa,” he demanded when she straddled his hips and eased herself down his long, thick shaft with a sigh. “I want that one simple thing. Why won’t you give that to me?” His deep blue eyes were wide, his breathing shallow. She rolled her hips in silence, giving them the friction they both sought. “God damn it.” He yanked her down. The ropey strands of her dreadlocks curtained them when he jammed his tongue into her mouth, before rolling them so he was on top, the way he preferred to come, buried deep inside her.

She reached back and grasped the headboard, lifting her lower body up, wanting him deeper, groaning as she came in a glorious burst of energy at the same moment she felt him join her, releasing into her with a hoarse cry of pleasure. This was her man, her Ross, her life. It was all she wanted, nothing more. She opened her eyes and pressed her hand to the tight, red curls of his beard. “I love you,” she said in a whisper.

He frowned. “Then marry me. Today. Tomorrow. This weekend. I’m sick of waiting.” She opened her mouth to say “yes, anything you want. Just please never leave me.”


Someone was shaking her shoulder, yanking her out of the half-dream, half-memory. She hadn’t been able to say “yes” that night, either. She’d been so overwhelmed at the thought of planning a wedding she’d started crying, so he’d held her until they’d both fallen asleep, still skin-to-skin, sweaty and sticky. The next morning they’d had their first massive, ugly fight. And that had been, what, a month ago now? It felt like a million years, but also just yesterday.












Amazon best-selling author, mom of three, Realtor, beer blogger, brewery marketing expert, and soccer fan, Liz Crowe is a Kentucky native and graduate of the University of Louisville currently living in Ann Arbor. She has decades of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse.

Her early forays into the publishing world led to a groundbreaking fiction subgenre, “Romance: Worth the Risk,” which has gained thousands of fans and followers interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”).

With stories set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch, in successful real estate offices and at times in exotic locales like Istanbul, Turkey, her books are unique and told with a fresh voice. The Liz Crowe backlist has something for any reader seeking complex storylines with humor and complete casts of characters that will delight, frustrate and linger in the imagination long after the book is finished.

Don’t ever ask her for anything “like a Budweiser” or risk bodily injury.