Category Archives: Coming Soon
What do you do when you’re the reigning kissing booth champion but the only person you want to kiss is your best friend’s brother?
Kiss Me Not, an all- new hilarious brother’s best friend standalone romance from New York Times bestselling author Emma Hart is coming August 27th and we have the fresh and fun cover!
Let me make this clear right here, right now: I, Halley Dawson, do not care that Preston Wright is kissing other women.
Not a lick. Not at all. Nuh-uh-freakin’-uh.
I do care that he’s doing it six feet away from me behind a gaudy velvet curtain—making him my competition in this year’s kissing contest.
Why do I care, you ask? Because I’ve had an unfortunate crush on the insufferable idiot since I was sixteen years old, but I also know it’s never going to happen.
He’s the Creek Falls bachelor to die for, and I’m the Creek Falls racoon lady who puts peanut butter sandwiches out for them every night.
I’m not going to let him break my four-year-long reign—no matter how many times he breaks the rules and slides the curtain across to do the one thing he’s not allowed to:
Pre-order your copy today!
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/KissMeNot
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2XkZiA5
About Emma Hart
Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages.
She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs.
Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud.
Yes, really. She’s that sarcastic.
Connect with Emma
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2Dq42ez
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2EBbZNe
Stay up to date with Emma by joining her mailing list: https://www.emmahart.org/newsletter
Release Date: October 29th, 2019
The former Tin Gypsy motorcycle club has everyone in Clifton Forge, Montana convinced they’ve locked their clubhouse doors and ripped off their patches. Everyone but Bryce Ryan. There’s more happening at the club’s garage than muscle car restorations and Harley rebuilds. Her instincts are screaming there’s a story—one she’s going to tell.
As the new owner of the small town’s newspaper, Bryce is hungry for more than birth announcements and obituaries. When a woman is brutally killed and all signs point to the Tin Gypsies, Bryce is determined to expose the club and their leader, Kingston “Dash” Slater, as murderers.
Bryce bests Dash match after match, disappointed her rugged and handsome opponent turns out to be an underwhelming adversary. Secrets are exposed. Truths defeat lies. Bryce is poised to win this battle in a landslide.
Then Dash breaks all the rules and tips the scales.
One kiss, and she’s fighting to save more than just her story. She’s fighting to save her heart from the Gypsy King.
SLAY: RIVALRY (Slay Quartet #1) by Laurelin Paige
Release Date: June 4th
Add SLAY #1 to Goodreads:
ONE WEEK UNTIL RELEASE!!
PREORDER SLAY: RIVALRY TODAY!
Amazon International: http://mybook.to/SlayBook1
Google Play: https://laurl.in/slaybook1-gp
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.
I slammed the faucet off with my elbow and reached past him to tear a towel from the dispenser, which I crinkled up and dabbed at my palm. The rough paper scratched and irritated my sensitive skin, turning it an angry red. Turning me angry red.
I let out a frustrated groan, then whirled my exasperation on him. “What are you even doing here?”
One of my pre-planned talking points came rushing back at me in the beat that followed. “You’re stalking me,” I charged. It was supposed to have been an accusation with weight, meant to have been thrown at him when I innocently discovered he was at the same banquet I was attending, and how dare he! Much the way it had come across when he’d said it to me at Orsay.
Now, spat out so sourly, it sounded lame and desperate, probably because I was lame and desperate.
Grinning like a cat that had caught the canary, Edward gently took my hand in one of his and pulled the blue paisley square from his front pocket with the other.
“Am I?” he asked, the raw timbre of his voice oddly soothing. “Stalking you?”
“Yes, you are.” Rapt, I stared as he patted my palm dry with the handkerchief. I was shaking. Could he see that? Could he see how his touch seared into me? How it boiled? How it burned?
“That’s cute that you think that. I’m not, obviously, as this is my event, which, of course, you already know.” He wrapped the printed material around my hand, fashioning it into a bandage. And if your presence here is an attempt to hint that you expect me to court you, I shan’t do that either, so get over yourself and accept my offer.”
“You’re the one who needs to get over yourself. I’m not interested.” I jutted my chin out as if to dot the i of my disinterest.
Or to bring my lips closer to his.
He was already so near, his mouth only inches from mine and so tempting. As tempting as it was off limits, because I was certain it was. Even more tempting because it was off limits.
I wasn’t conscious of leaning in, wasn’t aware of the physical movement that brought my face to his. I only knew that there was this thing that I had to have, had to have badly, and that thing was his mouth pressed to mine. That thing was the taste of him on my tongue. That thing was the aching relief of his kiss.
My lips moved slowly against his with a cautious sort of eagerness, coaxing him open with a hint of my tongue. There wasn’t a question—my mouth was there, taking whether he gave or not—and yet, it felt like begging. Felt like I was pleading with the very shell of my soul to let me in. To kiss me back. To kiss me well.
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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Daredevil Jimmy Rowan Describes His Most Dangerous Stunts
Hey, girl. Jimmy Rowan here. You might know me from my YouTube channel. Yeah, I’m the guy who nearly gets killed on every video. Say what? You want to know how I got started?
Ahh, long story. Maybe for another day. Or a night with some tequila Cuervo handy. The short is, I’m a daredevil. And I’m good at it. So…imagine my shock when prim and proper Miss Elizabeth Banks comes up to me at a bar, a really seedy, not-her-damn-type bar, and offers me a hell of a lot of money to be her ‘perfect’ freaking man.
Kind of wild, right?
All I have to do is wear her suits and act “civil” – whatever that means.
And I’m having a great time just raking her with my eyes.
This woman is all long legs, pouty lips, and looking all business in a business suit that’s just begging to get rumpled.
Definitely what Lizzy wants me to do is a walk in a park compared to some of the stunts I do. I mean. I’ve thrown myself off tall buildings and pulled my chute way, way past the moment when I should’ve.
I’ve crashed motorcycles on top of cars when I tried to leap over them.
I’ve broken a rib or two, and sometimes several at a time, and I’ve got a good number of black eyes, with no help at all from anyone but me.
With Sexy little Lizzy here, there’s no physical risk at all. Not one you could see anyway, except the one that I never really saw coming.
Damn her and her little big million dollar contract.
Damn this sexy, smart, closet-crazy perfectionist just waiting for more than just a sweep off her feet. Oh man, this girl needs a flat out toss to the ground. And I’m the man up for the challenge. What? You’re shocked? Lady, they don’t call me devil for nothing.
Million Dollar Devil Excerpt
There’s a long, almost-empty bar and a couple of customers having nachos and chips and salsa at the tables.
But as I walk across the tilting cement floor, every single one of those eyes is on me.
What am I doing here, again?
Oh, right. Probably trying to get myself mugged.
Summoning my courage, I take a middle stool at the bar and tell the bartender, who’s busy watching something on his phone, “Tequila, the finest you have—straight up,” in a gruff voice that I hope makes me sound like I can hold my own, in case someone is eyeing up my purse.
He doesn’t look up, merely smiles down at whatever he’s watching as he pours me something from a bottle called Montezuma and serves with his free hand. What the hell is Montezuma?
Great service. “Um. I said the best you have.”
He looks up at me, finally seeing me for the first time. A frown of annoyance on his lips. “This is the best, princess. Also the only.”
I probably don’t want to upset him, seeing how he has arms the size of tree trunks, covered in tattoos.
I take my shot and guzzle it down. It’s awful, like paint thinner, squeezing tears from my eyes. Whatever. I tap the bar for another. When my curiosity gets the best of me, I ask, “What are you watching?”
“Jimmy Rowan. The stunt guy on YouTube? He’s going to get killed one day.”
“Hopefully not today.” I frown and peer at the screen as he shows me. “What kind of stunts does he do anyway? That’s so dangerous.”
He tilts his phone in my direction. A guy in a helmet and nylon jumpsuit is throwing himself off an airplane. He’s speaking into the camera saying, “So I was dared to pull the strings fifteen seconds after any sane, normal human being would. So, let’s count down from right about … now.”
My eyes widen, and my insides clutch in concern for the idiot behind the camera.
The static from the wind makes his voice sound shattered, strained.
“Thirteen.” The bartender is counting.
I watch the idiot continue his free fall as land grows closer beneath him.
“What an idiot,” I mumble, but I’m still unable to take my eyes off the video.
“Five!” the bartender says. I look away.
“Just tell me he lived.”
“Oh, he lives.” He shows me the camera when the guy finally pulls the cord on his chute, and a few seconds later, crashes into the ground. The guy growls, “Ouch,” then starts laughing, a low, rumbly laugh. I can’t help but smile and shake my head.
“And he did this all because…”
“They dared him to. Five hundred bucks.”
“He did all of that? For five hundred bucks?”
“He gets more from the video views. A man’s got to put food on the table.” He eyes me up and down. “Specially when he doesn’t have a trust fund coming to him.”
Shaking my head, I push my empty glass forward. “Bartender. Another drink. Please.”
I’m on my third.
He pours it for me. “Classy guy, that Jimmy.”
“In what dictionary?”
He frowns as he sets his phone back into his pocket and polishes a glass. “Huh?”
“What dictionary would define him as classy?”
His eyes widen as if I’ve just murmured something blasphemous. “Well, maybe not your class. He doesn’t own a Rolls. But around here, he’s royalty. Jimmy hangs out here all the time.” He nods at a dark corner booth situated to the right of the bar. “His office is right over there.”
I see the cluttered tabletop and wonder what kind of man leaves a tripod, camera, and old laptop set up in a bar. He must trust the people who patronize this place. Either that or the patrons fear him.
“Jimmy Rowan will do anything for a dare—he’s a man of honor.”
“If he’d do that for five hundred, what would he do for half a million or more?” I grumble, smiling and shaking my head at the thought. At least I can still smile.
“He’d do anything. What? You offering?” He eyes me with new interest, in kind of a smarmy way, as if he thinks I’m asking to buy his services. Who the heck does he think I am? “Ladies go for him.”
Oh god, he does think that.
“No, thank you very much,” I mutter. “Ladies or women? I don’t think a lot of ladies would go for someone that foolish.”
He raises his gaze past my shoulders. Silence falls over the room, and then the bartender murmurs, “Speak of the devil…”
There’s a loud crash, followed by a ruckus.
“What’s that?” I glance around at the commotion.
The bartender smiles. “Jimmy Rowan.”
I turn my gaze to the door, and my heart skips a beat. The tall, raw-looking sex machine the bartender refers to doesn’t look anything like a Jimmy. The guy is too tall and eye catching and too … well, hot.
About the Book
Title: Million Dollar Devil
Author: Katy Evans
Release Date: May 28, 2019
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Heir apparent to her father’s company, Lizzy Banks needs a man. The perfect man. But when the rich “fundbabies” she usually rubs shoulders with prove impossible to hire, she takes a chance on a raw beast of a man salvaged from the wreckage of a bar brawl.
James Rowan earns a modest income as a YouTube daredevil, but he can’t refuse Lizzy’s million dollar deal. As she polishes his rough edges, creating a sophisticated gentleman fit for the highest circles of society, not only does she bring out the perfect man—it’s like she’s making the man of her dreams. How can she resist?
Though Lizzy loves seeing James in his clothes—and out of them—he isn’t the kind of man you bring home to Daddy. Her father’s disapproval and the pressure of the campaign have her eyeing the straight and narrow, but Lizzy’s finding it awfully hard to resist the devil on her shoulder . . .
Katy Evans loves family, books, life, and love. She’s married with two children and a dog, and she spends her time baking healthy snacks, taking long walks, and taking care of her family. To learn more about her books in progress, check out http://www.katyevans.net and sign up for her newsletter. You can also find her on Twitter @authorkatyevans and on Facebook at AuthorKatyEvans.
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