*Each story is completely standalone.
Wild, Crazy Hearts
The Bradens and Montgomerys
Releasing June 12, 2019
World Literary Press
High school teacher Brindle Montgomery and rancher Trace Jericho have been close friends forever and on-again off-again lovers for years. As rebellious as they are stubborn, they’re both perfectly happy with their no-strings-attached hookups. But when Brindle returns from a trip to Paris with a baby bump, it sends Trace’s wild, crazy heart into a frenzy—and Brindle is left wondering if she’s made the biggest mistake of her life.
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39329369-wild-crazy-hearts
Goodreads series link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/151180-the-bradens-montgomerys-pleasant-hill—oak-falls
Also in Audio Book
Get it FREE when you sign up for an Audible 30-day FREE Trial https://smarturl.it/ktz4oa
Read Chapter One: https://melissafoster.com/wild-crazy-hearts-sneak-peek/
Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance and new adult romance with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Melissa’s emotional journeys are lovingly erotic and always family oriented–perfect beach reads for contemporary romance lovers who enjoy reading about wealthy heroes and smart, sassy heroines.
Rafflecopter Giveaway (Win a digital copy of EMBRACING HER HEART (5 Winners))
Series Buy Links:
💕EMBRACING HER HEART (Book 1)
Also in Audiobook
💕ANYTHING FOR LOVE (Book 2)
Also in Audiobook
💕TRAILS OF LOVE (Book 3) – $1.99 Kindle Monthly Deal (ends June 30)
Also in Audiobook
💕MAKING YOU MINE! (An LWW World Romance – Rel Jan 22, 2020)
SLAY: RIVALRY (Slay Quartet #1) by Laurelin Paige
Release Date: June 4th
Amazon International: http://mybook.to/SlayBook1
Google Play: https://laurl.in/slaybook1-gp
JOIN the SLAY ONE: RIVALRY RECOVERY GROUP when you’re done reading!! Enter at your own risk however!! There WILL BE spoilers!!
Add SLAY #1 to Goodreads:
Edward Fasbender is a devil.
He’s my father’s business rival, a powerful, vicious man who takes what he wants and bows to no one. I only took the meeting because I was curious. I thought he was going to offer me a job.
But that’s not what he’s after at all. His proposal is much more intriguing, and I see an opportunity. An opportunity to turn the tables and bring down the devil.
I’ve gotten in trouble playing these games before. I know when the risk is too great, when the stakes are too high. I know how to be cold and strong-willed and destructive. I know how to withstand dominant men with arrogant charm and rugged features.
Yet I can’t resist taking on Edward.
And I can’t resist the pull he has on me.
Soon I’m not so sure which side of the battle I’m standing on–if I’m the warrior meant to slay,
Or the one who will be slain.
Sitting like this, on the arm of the chair, his back straight, we were practically the same height. It occurred to me that this was the closest we’d ever been to having equal footing, and somehow that made me both heady and encouraged.
I reached out to rub the collar of his shirt between my thumb and forefinger, my breath stuttering under the thick weight of apprehension, my mouth watering from how close I was to touching his skin. This close, I could smell the liquor on his breath and the musky scent of his cologne and the fainter scent underneath of pure man.
“Tell me your requests.” Was it my imagination or did his voice suddenly seem darker? Less steady?
“There’s only one.” I leaned in until my lips were near his ear. “I want to add sex to the deal.”
He made a sound low in his throat, half like a laugh, half like a moan. “What, now?”
He turned his face toward mine, and now our mouths were only inches away from touching. I could feel the warmth of his exhale on my skin, sending a trail of goosebumps down my arms.
“Now, sure.” Fuck, I was wet already. “But I meant in the marriage, too.”
His lips danced around mine. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. You want to be humiliated, degraded, and hurt?”
Because that was the goal of The Game.
But, also, YES!
Because, in that moment, there was nothing more I could imagine wanting than to be all those things, to be humiliated and degraded and hurt, by him. I wanted it so much I ached. Ached in places I hadn’t known could feel.
I reached my neck forward, pushing my mouth toward his.
Just when I thought the kiss was inevitable, he leaned back. “You couldn’t handle it.”
About the Author
With millions of books sold worldwide, Laurelin Paige is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author. She is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however.
When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or Letterkenny, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She’s also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn’t do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio.
She is represented by Rebecca Friedman.
Facebook Fan Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/HudsonPierce/
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Neve Hall has always admired the good works of the civil servants who brought prosperity back to the Nation. She especially respects the Sufferers—empaths who, with the help of technology, anonymously bear others’ troubles for them. But when her assigned empath is abruptly retired, she uncovers certain secrets. Like the identity of her new Sufferer, Micah Ward… and the fact that behind his kind smile is a life filled with loneliness and pain.
The closer Neve grows to Micah, the more desperate she becomes to protect him from a cruel and gruesome fate. But in a world where only a few are allowed the luxury of love, saving Micah comes with a price: Neve must choose between her loyalty to the Nation or her heart—a decision that will take them both on a race for their freedom, and their lives.
Love Is Always Enough: A Character Interview with Neve Hall
Meet Neve Hall, the narrator of North to Nara. She’s 17, enjoys nature and animals, has a promising future working at the local museum… and is in love with the one person forbidden to her: Micah Ward, her Nation-assigned Sufferer. When following her heart is an act of treason, she’s forced to make one tough choice after another.
Q: What was it about Micah Ward that made you fall for him?
A: Micah is pretty much the exact opposite of my last boyfriend. Kael—my ex—wasn’t a good listener and could be selfish. I wasn’t a priority to him at all, and he really hurt me. I think that’s part of what drew me to Micah. He sees through to the real me, and he makes me feel safe. He loves me with his whole heart. If only all girls could date an empath!
Q: What was the scariest part of your adventure in this story?
A: Without giving anything away (of course!), there were so many moments where my heart was beating so fast I still can’t believe it didn’t burst. The obvious answer is toward the end, when Micah and I tried to escape the Nation. Yes, being chased through the mountains was definitely terrifying on the surface—but Micah and I were together, so it wasn’t the worst thing we went through. Instead, the most frightening time for me was when he was attacked during his sentencing. I thought he’d been killed. The idea of a world without him in it was horrifying.
Q: On a happier note, what was your favorite date with Micah?
A: We had to be pretty unconventional with our dates, since… you know… we were forbidden by law to see each other. There was a lot of sneaking around. A lot of close calls. That made everything more exciting, too. My favorite date with him, though, was just slow dancing together in his apartment on a rainy night. He played this old song from before the Nation was formed—“The Very Thought of You” by Billie Holiday. I didn’t expect him—this strong, distinguished guy—to do something sweet and vulnerable like that.
Q: What’s next for you and Micah?
A: We have a long road ahead of us before we can really have our happily-ever-after. For one thing, we’re on our own now, and we have to figure out how to survive in a completely different place, with no one to fall back on for help and a completely different language to learn. It’s intimidating, and everywhere we turn, the challenges keep racking up. We have each other, though, and I hope that’ll be enough. Love is always enough, I think.
The romance and adventure of North to Nara continues with its sequel, Sky to Sea, coming January 2020.
When Amanda was a child, her father traveled frequently for business, always bringing her back a book as a present. Whether she was getting lost in the pages of a tale about far-away knights, girls with supernatural powers, or kindly giants, she was quickly hooked on stories.
Over the years, Amanda has followed her own yellow brick road of reading and writing, and although her adventures haven’t involved sword fights or saving the planet from certain annihilation, they have involved jobs in scholarly publishing and marketing, a modest amount of travel, and a lifelong love of novels.
Amanda holds degrees in English from Salve Regina University and Boston College. Her favorite things include Starbucks lattes, lazy summer afternoons at the beach, and books with characters that make you go “awww.” She lives in New Hampshire with her family and furbaby, Snickers the Poodle.
“Can I join you?” he asks, motioning to the table.
There’s interest in his eyes, the kind a man has for a woman, but who knows, maybe it’s real or maybe it’s not real. Maybe he knows who I am and sees a path to power and fame. The way Tobey wanted me for money and power, right up until the moment I’d called his number aka his agenda; thus, he has not called me since I left. Maybe Harvard will lie even better than Tobey did. Maybe Harvard will at least kiss better than he did, and the lies would taste like temptation rather than convenience. At least then, if I’m used, I’ll enjoy being used.
Whatever the case, it’s clear I might actually be angry with Tobey and that aside, the interest that Harvard has shown in me, must be controlled before my Denver sanctuary is destroyed. “You can join me,” I say, “but only because I’m trying to save the rest of the place from the attorney in the house.”
I am pleased when Harvard laughs, where Tobey would have scowled, proving that Harvard has a sense of humor, which is rare for those in my life. I’ve barely completed this thought when he moves forward and claims the seat next to me, not across from me, settling his briefcase on that chair instead. In the process, his leg brushes my leg and for the briefest of moments, I’m transported back to the place that I’m now trying to forget: to Austin, to Drew’s leg next to mine, his wink, and I do now what I did then. I jerk back. If Harvard notices he doesn’t react. “Since we haven’t been formally introduced,” he says, resting his naked hands on the table. “I’m Logan. Logan Casey.”
“Logan Casey,” I repeat trying to ground myself in the present, at least for now, but some part of me is still swimming in that memory, which naturally has me wondering if this man is a shark in the water around me. “Two first names,” I add. “Sounds like your parents fought over who got to pick your first name. Did they draw straws for which choice became your middle name?”
“You’re actually right on target,” he says, laughing again, and it’s a nice, masculine laugh, and oddly this thought feels familiar while Logan does not. “No one has ever guessed that,” he adds. “My mother won the name war. The women always win. Speaking of names. Do you have one?”
“Hailey Anne Pitt,” I say, “and in my house, my father won the name war.” Because in my father’s world, I add silently, the women don’t win the wars. At least, not that he knows, not in an obvious way. I’ve learned this well.
“Well then, Hailey Anne Pitt,” he says, “what’s a Stanford girl like you, doing in a place like this? You’re a long way from school.”
I’m smacked in the face with a lesson I’ve long ago learned and forgotten with this man; strangers do not always remain strangers and all offhanded remarks can come back to haunt you. “That was a joke,” I say, shutting the door connected to my real life, and a path that leads to my father. “I hate attorneys, remember?”
He narrows his eyes on me, and for no reason other than instinct, I believe he’s looking for a lie that he won’t find. I’m simply too well-taught from birth, too skilled at being more than one person to allow such a detection. Well that, and the fact that I really do hate attorneys, which is why I’ll be a good one.
“That was a joke?” he confirms.
“Yes,” I say. “Are you amused?”
“Yes, actually. I am. What does a lawyer-hating smart ass like yourself do for a living?”
“When not busy taunting those who went to law school,” I say. “I’m an aspiring artist.” Both honest answers, if you put a “was” in front of the “aspiring artist” which I’d thought that I’d come to terms with, but the knot in my stomach says I have not.
Logan motions toward the art room. “Your career explains why you ended up here.”
“I guess it does,” I say, as this place serves me well to reconnecting to the Pitt part of my life, which is a place I really need to be right now, for all kinds of reasons.
“Are you good?” Logan asks, as if he’s read my mind.
My father’s words answer him in my head. Art is useless unless you’re famous, he used to say often, because of course, it was inconceivable that I might be good enough to be famous. “Art is like movies and food,” I say, shoving aside that bad memory. “Good is subjective.” I don’t give him time to reply. I ping the conversation back toward him. “What kind of law do you practice?”
“Corporate,” he says, and this time he pings back to me. “Do you live in the neighborhood?”
“Yes,” I say simply. “Do you?”
“I bought a building a few years ago where I live and work which means this is my home turf, and why I know you’re new here.”
“I am,” I say and since he’s clearly going to ask for details, I quickly preempt with an on-the-fly story. Actually, it’s the suggested story, Rudolf included in my file. “I came here for a job, and my new boss owns a house he’s rented to me for dirt cheap.”
“And what does an artist do but create art for a living?”
“I’m working for a private art acquisitions firm. I now hunt for treasures for a living.” This lie is actually my dream job that I’ve never been allowed to entertain.
The horror flick loving waitress delivers my coffee and brownie. “Thank you,” I say, because every politician’s daughter has manners beaten into her.
“No problem,” she says, “but if you come to your senses and want a better version of that coffee, just shout.” She eyes Logan. “I already know you want a crappy tasting coffee, on endless pour and a chocolate chip cookie. Coming right up.”
“Thanks, Megan,” he says, giving her a wink that I don’t classify as flirtatious, just friendly, and Megan is gone.
“Obviously you’re a regular,” I comment, “and they even like you.”
“And they like me,” he confirms, “despite knowing I’m an attorney.
“Because you’re good looking and use it to your advantage.”
He arches a brow. “You think I’m good looking, do you?”
“Oh, come on,” I say, crinkling my nose. “Everyone thinks you’re good looking. I’m simply stating a fact. We use what we have and those of us that are smart, know what we have.” I move on from what is really quite inconsequential. “Why work here, not at home, or in the office?”
“I find I get a lot of work done with a cookie, coffee, and no access to streaming television,” he explains.
No one in my D.C. crowd would make an admission of being human and distractible. Some people in my situation might take comfort in that fact, but I don’t. Logan’s an attorney, and my gut, which I’ll confirm with research, says he’s a powerful one, the kind that radiates toward my father. Maybe that’s a coincidence and maybe it’s not. Maybe he’s testing how well I execute my cover story. The possibilities are many. Though in all fairness to Logan, perhaps I’d lean toward his innocence, if not for the laundry list of recent events such as Tobey being gay and the FBI agent, who is likely working for my father, that I slept with to prove I was a) still desirable and b) not a killer.