He proposed . . . and I said yes. Normally a jovial occasion for a couple in love, but this proposal has a very different feel. Because the man that I’ll be calling my husband blew into town with one thing on his mind . . . to make my life a living nightmare.
So why did I say yes?
Well, because we both need something from each other.
Namely, I want the farm land he currently owns, and he needs a wife in order to inherit his family cabin in his grandfather’s will.
So as he so eloquently put it, my hand, for his land.
At first, I thought the idea was nuts. Who really gets married out of convenience? Apparently, I do.
And now we have to sell our relationship to the town. Meaning, we’re holding hands, he’s pinching my cheeks . . . upper and lower. We’re even forced to share the one-bedroom guest house on the farm where his monstrous body is taking up a large percentage of the bed.
But we’re so persuasive about our farse, that now I’m starting to think he actually might like me. Especially when he grabs me by the wrist and teases the shell of my ear as he whispers, “Mine.”
I peek a look over at Wyatt, and he does the same. When our eyes meet, he keeps them locked for a few seconds before they drop to my mouth and back up again.
I do the same.
And when our eyes lock, I can feel it, this electric energy bouncing between us. It’s worrisome but also exciting. It shouldn’t be happening, but oh my God, I can’t stop myself from leaning into him, letting him touch me, stare at me, and make me feel unlike anything I’ve felt before.
He was right. I avoided him for a reason today, and that was because I felt something. Something toward him. Something I shouldn’t be feeling, but I can’t help.
I’ve grown accustomed to having him around.
I look forward to him holding me at night.
And I crave his witty comebacks that provoke an eye roll from me.
But tonight, tonight it feels different, and I don’t know why.
Tonight, it feels like something’s going to happen. Someone will break, and I just hope it’s not me.
Stella Hunter and Aaron Shedlock narrate in duet this sexy, marriage of convenience romance. THE REASON I MARRIED HIM will be released on February 6th in a live release on Audible!
ABOUT MEGHAN QUINN:
USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.
Never miss another NEW RELEASE, text READ to 474747.
Genre/Tropes: Rockstar / Filthy / Age gap / Possessive hero / Damsel in distress / Enemies to lovers / Forced proximity / Sinfully hot
Series: Rock God, book #2
Exciting News!
Get a sneak peek into the scorching world of Reign by Cassandra Robbins!
Immerse yourself in a tantalizing excerpt that sets the stage for a sinfully hot rockstar romance. Legends collide, passions ignite, and trust is on the line.
Are you ready to read a preview before the release on January 4th?
Excerpt
“I’ve spent two weeks busting my ass to get something out of her, something that I haven’t already heard and seen a thousand times. Anything. But all she seems to be able to do is belt out the same stale, boring note over and over.” I motion to the control panel. “You tell me, how I can make anything out of the crap she’s giving us?”
“Ammo, it’s early…this is all part of the process.”
“Text me her address, this ends now.” I move toward the door.
“Alright, I’m coming with you, I need to let security know.”
“No. This is between her and me, just tell security I’m coming.” Not waiting to hear anything else, he’ll do it because he knows I’m ready to walk.
From USA Today bestselling author Cassandra Robbins comes her latest sinfully hot rockstar romance. A scorching, enemies to lovers, deliciously addictive stand-alone about rock ‘n’ roll royalty and burning obsessions.
They call him a legend.
One of the greatest guitarists of our time.
The mighty Ace of Spades brought in to produce my album and save the day.
Not only is he covered in tattoos. He’s gorgeous, talented, and infuriatingly arrogant, even demanding I trust him.
Trust him?
I. Hate. Him.
I’m a former child star turned rock princess, caught up in all kinds of bad press and scandal. I need to stay focused on my music, and career. Not get distracted by his filthy mouth and piercing eyes.
If only our chemistry wasn’t off the charts, or the fact that I can barely breathe when he’s near.
Time is ticking. Sooner than later, the chaos and mayhem of our lives will take over.
Everything becomes messy.
And tricky.
Rockstars don’t get happily ever afters…or do we?
About the Author:
Cassandra Robbins is a USA Today, Amazon Top 20, KDP All-star and International bestselling author. She threatened to write a romance novel for years. Robbins finally let the voices take over with her debut novel, The Entitled. She’s a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic driven to create obsessive, angst-filled characters who have to fight for their happily ever after. Cassandra resides in Los Angeles with her hot husband, two beautiful children, and a fluffy Samoyed, Stanley and a silly Goldendoodle, Fozzie. Her family and friends are her lifeline but writing is her passion.
You’re probably wondering why I would do such a thing? Well, I didn’t.
It was my teammates.
The moment they found out Blakely White was single, they took it upon themselves to play cupid and instruct me on how I should win her over.
Don’t wear a shirt around her.Make her dinner.Lightly touch her shoulder when you say goodbye.
I’m so flustered, so overwhelmed, so madly in love with this woman who barely notices me, that I lose control of the situation and make one huge mistake: I offer to be her fake date for a wedding so she can make her ex jealous.
That means, for one whole night I get a free pass with her. I get to hold her, dance with her, kiss her…stare at her from across the room like she’s my entire world because she has been for months now.
But when the night comes to an end, I’m faced with two options: bring her back to my bedroom and show her how I really feel, or let her walk away, succumbing to the fact that I very well might not be her type.
“No, going to watch from my apartment. I actually asked Blakely to watch with me.”
He slowly turns his head and faces me. Whispering, he asks, “Did you tell Posey this?”
“No, why?”
“He’s going to be so freaking obnoxious that I don’t think I can bear him knowing.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“He’s seemed really chill in the Frozen Fellas group, but he’s been bragging up a storm in a separate text about how he’s the best matchmaker to ever walk the planet. Of course, Pacey let him have it last night and said he shouldn’t be celebrating while our center is laid up with a bad ankle. We haven’t heard from him since but if he knows you have a date planned—”
“It’s not a date.”
“Oh, he’ll call it that. Like man, he’s been insufferable. It’s almost as if he’s trying to avoid something in his life so he’s incessantly involving himself in ours.”
“That’s probably the case,” I say just as OC walks into the locker room.
“Oh crap, man, how are you doing?” he asks, coming up to me and taking a seat.
“Good. Slightly in pain, but just got done with treatment.”
“I can’t believe you rolled your ankle fighting over an air mattress.”
“Yeah.” I pull on my hair. “I need to come up with a better story, because it doesn’t sound great.”
“To me it does,” Silas says with a smirk.
“How was everything last night?” OC asks.
“Good.” I glance around the room. “Don’t say this to Posey, because his head might explode, but I shared my bed with Blakely last night. Nothing happened but this morning, she said it was the best night’s sleep she’s had in a while. She said it was probably because she felt comfortable sleeping next to me.”
“Dude.” Silas slaps my chest. “That’s huge.”
“She really said that to you?” OC asks.
“Yeah.” I can’t hide my smile. “It was the first sign I’ve gotten from her where I thought . . . maybe there could be something there.”
“There’s definitely something there and, now that you get to spend all of this time with her, Posey was right, this is the perfect chance to make your move,” Silas says.
“Yeah, I think it is, but I’m going to take it slow. Feel her out and then, maybe when the time is right, I’ll ask her out.”
OC shakes his head. “I swear, if this all works out and you end up marrying this girl, Posey will never, and I mean never let us live it down.” Crap, he’s right. But if I were to end up with Blakely, nothing would overpower the utter happiness I’d feel. I’d have my girl . . . something I still can’t even imagine.
“I think that’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I say.
Erin Mallon and Connor Crais narrate this sexy, roommates-to-lovers romance in duet with a full cast including Jason Clarke, Teddy Hamilton, JF Harding, and Kelsey Navarro! HE’S NOT MY TYPE will be released on November 28th, and you can pre-order it now!https://mybook.to/HesNotMyType
ABOUT MEGHAN QUINN:
USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.
Never miss another NEW RELEASE, text READ to 474747.
After failing my last semester for my masters degree, I decided to come back to my hometown of Almond Bay and wallow in self pity while my boyfriend told me everything was going to be okay. To my dismay, instead of open arms, he greeted me with a box to move my things.
Now I’m not a petty person, but when he told me he broke up with me because I was boring, there’s only so much of the higher road I can take. Hence the box of memorabilia I took from him.
The plan? To give it back to his boss, who happens to be my brother’s nemesis, and get the ex fired. But plans never go the way you want them, because instead of dropping off the box with a note, I’m pinned with the crime by Hayes Farrow himself.
And because my life is so pathetic, he gives me two options: turn me into the police and press full charges or . . . work it off. How could I possibly work for someone I can’t stand? Easy, I don’t look good in orange.
But working for Hayes isn’t as horrible as I thought it would be. The hate I had for him begins to turn into something else – something deeper, something I never thought I’d feel.
Unfortunately there are still old grudges and family drama to deal with. And what happens when my brother finds out that I’m working for the guy he hates more than anyone else in the world? Will I be able to follow my heart or will the way I hate him blind me from the love I feel?
The girl straddling my lap, tits bouncing in my face, a G-string being the only thing on her body, leans in with a smirk. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
I wet my lips and rest my head against the back of the couch. “Show me.”
A half-empty tequila bottle is on the coffee table in front of us, salt is sprinkled all over, and her tits are still wet from where I was licking the salt off. Lime wedges are scattered along the floor with her clothes and my shirt.
And . . . I’m not really feeling it.
Fuck, what’s her name again?
I know she told me . . .
Kendall?
Kinsey?
Kaliope?
She scoots off my lap and kneels between my legs. Before she can undo my pants, I ask, “What’s your name again?”
Her big blue eyes stare up at me, and she seductively says, “Tara.”
Tara?
Oh fuck, I was way off.
A snort pops out of me because, Jesus, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Is there something wrong with my name?” she asks, sitting back on her heels.
“No.” I shake my head.
“Then why are you laughing?”
Yeah, dickhead, why are you laughing?
“Your hands tickled my dick,” I say because hell, I’m drunk and can barely hold it together. Her brow rises, and yeah, I realize the truth is probably better. “I thought your name was Kendall. I wasn’t close to guessing it correctly.”
Her brow pulls together with disdain. “Who the hell is Kendall?”
“You got me,” I say just as a knock sounds on my door, and my agent pops his head in. “Dude,” I say, gesturing to Kendall . . . I mean, Tara. Jesus Christ.
Ruben winces. “I have to talk to you.”
“It’s fine,” Tara says as she grabs her dress and stands. “I was leaving.”
My dick wants me to protest, but I don’t have it in me, so I watch as she slips her dress over her head, shimmying it over her large tits. Such a shame. I would have had fun with her.
But I’ll tell you one thing—I’m never fucking desperate for pussy. Ever.
I’m not the begging kind.
So if she wants to leave, I won’t stop her.
And from the pause at the door and the glance over her shoulder at me, I know she wants me to stop her, to beg her to stay. Sorry, not going to fucking happen.
I lift two fingers to my forehead and offer a salute, causing her brows to turn down.
“You’re an ass,” she says as she pushes past Ruben and leaves.
Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.
I lean forward with my elbows on my thighs as Ruben shuts the door to my dressing room and straightens his tie. The man is a killer in negotiations and the smartest man I know, but he’s a goddamn dweeb. It’s not the first time he’s walked in on me with a girl, and it won’t be the last, yet he still has the same nauseous and uncomfortable look.
I pour myself another shot of tequila but then lift the bottle to inspect it. We didn’t drink that much. “Fuck.” I sigh. “I think Matt’s stealing from me.”
Ruben steps closer and picks my shirt up off the ground. He folds it and gently sets it on the coffee table. “Your assistant?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “Things keep going missing, and he’s the only one besides you allowed in my private space.” I lift an eyebrow. “Unless you’re stealing from me?”
Utter shock and disgust cross Ruben’s face. “You . . . you can’t be serious.” He tugs on the cuffs of his paisley button-up shirt. “I would never—”
“I’m kidding, Ruben.” I toss the shot back and then lean against the couch again. “What’s up?”
“Two things,” he says, holding his fingers up. “Carlton called and wants to know when to expect the next album.” I roll my eyes.
“Jesus Christ, I told him he’ll get it when he gets it. I’m just finishing up his goddamn tour.”
“That’s what I told him, but since you’ve recently gone viral again, he wants to capitalize on that.”
“I’m sure he does,” I say. “Well, I have nothing, so he’ll be waiting a while.”
“Not even a single?”
“Ruben.” I stand from the couch and snag the shirt he folded. “You know me better than anyone, do you think I have a single up my sleeve I can just release?”
“Didn’t think so, but I thought I’d check.” I slip my shirt on. “What would you like me to tell Carlton?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Are you?” he asks.
“Nope,” I answer, picking up my faded gray baseball hat. “But I will.” After slipping it on backward, I grab my phone and place it in my pocket. “What’s the second thing?”
Ruben hesitates. “Abel called.”
That makes me pause and turn toward Ruben. “Why?”
“Your grandma fell again, fractured her hip. She’s been asking for you. She thinks this is the end.”
“She thinks every day is the end,” I say.
Ruben keeps me from moving toward the door when he says, “Abel thinks she really misses you and will say anything to get you home.” Ruben sighs. “I think you need to go back to Almond Bay.”
Ahh . . . fuck.
ABOUT MEGHAN QUINN:
USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.
Never miss another NEW RELEASE, text READ to 474747.
NYT Bestselling Author A.L. Jackson has a sneak peek of her upcoming single dad, fake fiancée romance, Promise Me Always. Coming January 30th!
“Go, go, go!” Tessa jumped up and down, rooting on Remy who’d thrown the Frisbee and was currently rounding the bases.
I scooped Scout into my arms, and he and I raced toward the Frisbee that’d rolled out the right side of the baseball field.
Scout was bouncing all over, his laughter filling the air, my little guy kicking my sides like I was a horse. “Hurry, Dad, hurry, Remy is so really fast, and we gotta catch her before she gets all the way to home base.”
I dipped down to snag the Frisbee, holding tight to Scout as I tipped him upside down, making him holler and laugh uncontrollably while Tessa was shouting, “You’re almost there, Remy! Whoop, whoop! Team Remy-T Wreckers coming in for the win. Yeah, baby!”
Scout’s eyes went wide. “Go, Dad! We gotta catch her. Rocket speed!”
I shifted him, tucking his side to mine so he could stretch out his arms like he was flying, and I was supplying the rocket propulsion as we bounded back the opposite direction, a bunch of sounds bubbling out of my mouth as I found a lightness I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Remy rounded third base.
Tessa jumped up and down on the pitcher’s mound, waving her hands in the air and cheering on my kid. “Go, Remy, go!”
Both their faces were red.
Joy radiated all around.
Guessed it was my joy, too.
This feeling in the air that might have been the best thing I’d ever felt.
Scout kept himself rigid, still zooming through the air. “After burners, Dad!”
I increased my speed a fraction.
Remy screamed and laughed as she ran for home, my daughter soaring free when her steps were often laden with reservation.
Her load too heavy.
I made sure that we just missed her as she stomped onto the base.
“Ahh, dang, you’re too fast.” I feigned the grumbled complaint while my little girl squealed in victory and shouted, “I did it! I did it!”
Tessa ran her way, her arms in the air. “You did it! You are a rockstar, Remington Hendricks!”
They jumped, high-fiving each other with both hands.
“Oh, man,” Scout whined. “We got a tie. How do we even know who’s the best?”
I pressed my lips to the top of his head. “Means we’re all the best, little man.”
“That’s Rocketman to you,” he told me.
A chuckle got free, and Tessa was giggling nonstop, her smile so bright, happiness this glow of warmth that surrounded her.
She poked Scout’s belly where I’d shifted him upright. “Pure awesomesauce, I tell you.”
He jumped out of my arms and into hers.
She caught him like she was completely accustomed to pint-sized shenanigans. “There’s my Rocketman! You’re off to Mars!” she sang as she swung him around.
Peals of his laughter rang in the air, and Remy moved to hold my hand, grinning in a way I hadn’t seen her do in so long that I’d almost forgotten what it looked like.
God, I wasn’t even sure how to navigate through it when I kept getting struck with an urge to capture it.
Hold it and protect it forever.
“Okay, I think that’s my favorite game.” Remy was almost shy to say it, though it was adrenaline and glee rushing all over her face.
“So fun!” Tessa agreed.
Everyone was panting with the exertion, sweat slicking our skin, and we moved back to where we had the blanket set up in the shade.
Tessa flopped down onto her back on it, Scout still held in her arms. Remy flopped right down beside her.
Tessa rolled her head in Remy’s direction so they were staring at each other where they lie on their backs. “Thank you for being on my team.”
“Best team ever.” Timidity might have filled Remy’s voice, but joy shined in her eyes.
They just sat there for a second, smiling at each other, something special moving between them.
Scout climbed off Tessa, and he crawled to the cooler and tossed open the lid. “I spy with my little eye a blue Popsicle.”
Like he hadn’t spotted it earlier when we were passing out sandwiches and fresh-cut fruit.
He reached for one.
“You’re supposed to ask first, little man,” I told him.
“Is it okay, Tessa?” He beamed at her. I was pretty sure those full lips would be enough to swindle the last dollar out of a starving man’s hand.
I blinked at him. “Excuse me? What am I, chopped liver?”
Scout shrugged. “Tessa’s got my back.”
Tessa sat up, pressing her fingertips to her mouth like she was trying to keep back her laughter.
“What are you giggling about?” I asked, voice low as I climbed down onto my knees at the edge of the oversized blanket.
“I think I found myself a couple of new besties.” Her smile softened, pure affection as she glanced between the two of them.
Remy smiled, too, and fuck, my chest tightened.
I loved to see my little girl happy.
“I’ll be your best friend because you brought me a Popsicle,” Scout supplied as he grabbed a handful of them and started to pass them out.
“One for Daddy-Doo, one for Remy-Roo, one for Tessa-Too.”
My kid, he was a poet.
“Dad, you better kiss her if you’re gonna marry her,” Scout said so nonchalant as he peeled the wrapper and stuck the blue bullet into his mouth. “Because in a minute, she’s gonna have blue lips, and that’s gross.”
I knew we were going to have to get these displays of affection right, but my nerves decided it was a fine time to short-circuit.
To go zapping and zinging in all those places she kept bringing to life.
Shaking me down and tightening my guts in a flurry of want as I looked at the woman who watched me with such a tenderness that my spirit groaned.
“You’ve got love, Dad,” Remy whispered.
Soft encouragement that cut me to the quick.
My child’s belief filling me full after I’d lost it.
Warily, I crawled forward on my knees, already towering over Tessa where she sat on the blanket.
My friend.
My friend.
Curling my hand around the back of her neck, I drew her closer.
Fire flashed.
That feeling rising that I had to keep at bay.
But those blue eyes, they were so intense and deep and filled with this trust that spread like fingers through my senses.
The girl a lure.
Her lips barely parted as we sat there with an inch of space separating us.
Hovering.
Hesitating.
Unsure.
My heart thundered too loud, and I finally drew her the rest of the way in and pressed my lips to hers.
A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.
Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, BLEEDING STARS, FIGHT FOR ME, CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART, FALLING STARS, and REDEMPTION HILLS novels. Watch out for her upcoming stand-alone, PROMISE ME ALWAYS, releasing January 30th!
If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.
Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson – Sign up to receive her newsletterhttps://geni.us/ALJacksonBookClubB or text “aljackson” to 33222 to receive short but sweet updates on all the important news.
Excited about Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland’s upcoming release, The Rules of Dating? Check out this SNEAK PEEK!
Crash!
Shit. Billie and I looked at each other. A devilish smirk spread across her face…and then she turned and bolted.
I looked around. The coast seemed clear, so I ran as fast as I could while pushing a heaping cart full of crap. For the last hour and a half, Billie had been picking things out and holding them up to show me. If I agreed, she chucked them over her shoulder for me to catch with the cart. I’d been zigging and zagging, trying to scoop up all the merchandise she threw as I followed her around—both of us laughing like school kids the entire time. That is, until I missed that last toss and a glass bowl shattered on the floor.
IKEA was a giant maze, and both of us kept running, turning left and then right, until we finally arrived in the warehouse portion of the store, which was right before the checkout line. Billie leaned over with her hands on her knees, huffing and puffing.
“I think we’re in the clear,” she said.
“Pretty sure I would’ve rather paid for the twelve-dollar bowl than make a run for it. This cart is so full, it almost tipped like ten times.”
She laughed. “Did we get everything we need?”
“I’m not sure. But we definitely bought a lot of shit we don’t need. Like I think we could have done without the motorized ice cream cone spinners. The tenant can lick their own ice cream.”
Billie grinned. “Those are for me and Saylor. They light up, too!”
I snorted. “Come on, let’s check out before I’m completely broke.”
While we loaded everything onto the conveyor belt, I lifted my chin toward the in-store restaurant located just after the cashier stations. “You still up for meatballs?”
“Uh…hello? It’s the only reason I came.”
I clutched my hand over my heart. “Oww, that hurts. And here I thought you came for the company.”
After we were all checked out, I wheeled the cart over to a table for two in the corner of the restaurant. “Why don’t you stay here with the stuff, and I’ll go get us some meatballs.”
“Okay. But can you get me a drink, too, please? I’m so thirsty.”
When I came back, I set two big plates of meatballs on the table.
“Did you forget the drinks?” Billie asked.
I grinned and lifted a finger. “Actually, I didn’t. I brought them.” My gym bag from earlier had been lying on the bottom shelf underneath the cart since we walked in. Taking it out, I unzipped and started to unpack. “Wine, madame?” I held a bottle of merlot over one arm, showing the label like a maître d’.
Billie cracked up. “You brought wine with you? I thought it was strange when you took your duffle bag into the store. But I figured maybe your wallet was in it and stuff.”
I shrugged. “What choice did I have? You won’t go out with me, so I have to make the best out of our undate at IKEA.” I unloaded two plastic wine glasses, white cloth napkins, and a candleholder with a red candle.
Billie picked up the candle and examined it before raising a brow. “A winter village scene?”
I shrugged. “They’re Christmas candles. I only had an hour to get out of the house with a four-year-old. Don’t judge.”
The looks we got from the people around us as we ate meatballs by candlelight were pretty comical. I was also pretty sure it was against the rules to have an open flame in IKEA, let alone an open bottle of wine, but evidently the people behind the counter hadn’t read the employee rule book to be certain. Either way, the smile on Billie’s face made it all worthwhile. After we were done eating, I blew out the candle and started to pack up.
“You know…” Billie shook her head. “I think you just snuck a date into our undate.”
I shoved the cork back into the top of the wine bottle and zippered it into my duffle. “I did not.”
She squinted at me. “I’m pretty sure you did. What’s the difference between what we just did and a date? We shared a candlelight meal with wine and cloth napkins.”
I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “The difference is, you don’t get to come at the end.”
When I pulled back, Billie’s jaw was hanging open. I freaking loved that she looked so affected. She swallowed. “Is that the way all your dates end?”
I shook my head back and forth slowly. “No, but it’s damn straight the way ours would.”
It all started when I hosted a little party for a bunch of new friends.
Though “friends” might not be the right word since the invitees were all the women I’d found out my boyfriend was talking to behind my back. When the guest of honor walked in—aka my now ex—things took a turn…
Unfortunately, a stranger witnessed the whole blowout. I was in a mood that night and ended up giving this gorgeous guy an attitude, too. As if my night could get any worse, before he stormed off, he informed me he was actually my landlord.
Colby Lennon, along with three of his friends, owned the building where my tattoo shop was located. He and I were total opposites. He wore a tie, oozed confidence that came with years of women falling at his feet, and wasn’t afraid to say what he wanted, which lately—was me.
I hated that I found myself attracted to him. Especially since I was supposed to be on a self-imposed dating hiatus. Yet the two of us couldn’t seem to stay away from each other. We started hanging out, as friends. I even went as far as making rules for what he’d dubbed our “undates.”
But eventually, our explosive attraction became too much to bear, and we broke our resolve. I let my guard down and started to really fall for Colby.
Nothing could have prepared me for the ride he took me on. And I certainly wasn’t prepared for where I’d wind up when the ride was over.
All good things must come to an end, right?
Except our ending was one I didn’t see coming.
PENELOPE WARD
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over thirty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-seven languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new standalone novel.
The day I showed up to Dax Moody’s sprawling home, I had no idea what was coming.
As a traveling massage therapist, I was used to entering the houses of strangers.
But this assignment was different from any before it.
From the outside, I’d correctly assumed the owner was rich. What I didn’t realize was that he would be younger than I’d imagined, single, stunningly gorgeous, and mysterious.
Despite the fact that Dax had booked a massage, it never actually happened, since our first appointment was unexpectedly cut short by a comedy of errors.
Certain I’d never see him again after that day, I’d done nothing but think about the captivating man.
To my surprise, he called a second time. That appointment, we talked a lot, developing a stronger connection. But once again, there was no actual massage.
The man I now affectionately called “Moody” kept calling me to come back.
It took three times before I finally gave him the massage he’d ordered. Let’s just say it was challenging to keep things professional. I was extremely attracted to Dax, and by that time, I was falling hard.
Eventually, I’d find out why he’d been so aloof, the reason why he and I could never be together.
Our story was supposed to end there, but it didn’t.
Instead, I was left perpetually longing for a forbidden man.
“I…stand beside you and rub my hands into your skin and work to get some of the knots out of your muscles.”
He shook his head. “No. I meant, what do you do? Is this your full-time gig?”
Is that an insult? “Yes. I went to school for massage after college, and I make a good living. Being a massage therapist is not something you do on the side. It’s a great, fulfilling career in and of itself,” I said defensively.
“I didn’t mean to imply it wasn’t.” He fidgeted with his watch, which looked like it cost more than my car.
I blew out a breath. “I do have other aspirations, but this pays the bills and allows me to put some money away, too. I’m currently saving for a trip to Europe.”
“I see.” He stared out the window, almost looking as though he wanted to escape.
What’s with this guy? “Look…I can leave if you’re not comfortable.”
“No.” He walked over to a cabinet and took out a bottle of some kind of liquor. “I just need something to take the edge off.” He poured himself a glass of amber-colored liquid.
I stared at his big, masculine hands. “Well, this is a first.”
“A first what?” he asked.
“The first time a client has ever had to relax before a relaxing massage.” When I laughed, I accidentally snorted.
His eyes narrowed. “What the hell was that?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snort. That happens sometimes when I’m nervous. It just comes out.”
“Why are you nervous?”
“Maybe your attitude is rubbing off on me.”
He chugged the alcohol and slammed the glass down. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to relax. It’s my nature. Even when I’m supposed to be freaking relaxing…the thought of relaxing stresses me out.”
I nodded. “That’s actually a real thing. It’s called relaxation-induced anxiety.”
He chuckled. “Thanks for the diagnosis.”
“I used to be like you. I’d get panic attacks from the quiet when I tried to meditate.”
He licked the side of his mouth. “I suppose that defeats the purpose.”
“Exactly. And sitting still, like in the hair salon or dentist’s chair, used to make me panicky when I was younger.”
“Younger? You’re pretty young. How long have you been doing this massage thing?” he asked.
“A couple of years.”
“What made you get into it?”
“I wanted to make people feel good. And it doesn’t bore me. I never have to be in one place.”
“Does it pay well? How much of the fee do you get to keep?”
My eyes narrowed. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“Well, maybe I need to get comfortable with you before I let you put your hands all over me.”
For some reason that comment rubbed me the wrong way. Let me put my hands on him? As if it was a privilege? (As if he could read my mind and sense my attraction? Ugh.)
I raised my voice. “I thought you told the company someone recommended me. Why are you so apprehensive?”
“Okay.” He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Let’s get this over with. What do I do?”
Jesus. He’s wound tight. “Take off your shirt and lie down on the table. You can leave your pants on or take them off.”
He let out a guttural laugh. “Take my pants off?”
“Yes. That’s actually customary. But it’s always the client’s choice. I can leave the room, if you wish, while you undress. There’s a towel to cover yourself. But you can totally leave your pants on, too.”
“I will be leaving my pants on, thanks.”
“Okay. Just make sure you take the stick out of your ass one way or the other.”
He glared at me but finally cracked a slight smile. I’d take it.
I laughed. “In all seriousness, just breathe. That’s all you need to worry about.”I took a deep breath in, willing myself to take my own advice.
Dax slowly pulled his shirt over his head, once again granting me a view of his rippled muscles. There wasn’t an inch of anything soft on his body. I turned away suddenly when I caught my eyes lingering a little too long.
He then lay down stomach-first on the table and within seconds, I heard the pitter-patter of paws and the clanking of a metal collar coming from down the hall.
A large English sheepdog pushed through the door and entered the room, barking profusely at the sight of me. Then he jumped up on the table and landed on Dax’s back.
“Damn it, Winston!” Dax yelled.
I didn’t even know a dog that big could jump so high. The dog shot me the evil eye. This house is just full of welcoming people.
“Hello,” I said awkwardly.
He growled. It seemed Doggy was just as extra as his owner.
“Get off me, you fluffernutter!” Dax groaned.
The dog kept growling at me while I covered my mouth to keep from laughing. “Why is he so angry?” I asked, trying to stifle my amusement.
“He’s protective to a fault. He was napping upstairs when you arrived. I hoped he’d stay sleeping. I hadn’t planned on him coming down, although I should’ve.”
Dax sat up and somehow got the beast of a dog off him. He hopped down off the table. “I’ll be right back,” he said, guiding Winston out of the room and down the hall. The sound of the collar disappeared into the distance.
Left alone for a moment, I exhaled and wandered over to a shelf that displayed various things, including a large, white seashell that seemed completely out of place, given the room’s otherwise masculine vibe. It was beautiful. Remembering what my mother had told me when I was little, I lifted the shell and placed it against my ear in an attempt to hear “the ocean.” Met with the ambient noise that resonated from within, I closed my eyes and smiled.
“Please don’t touch that,” Dax called from behind me.
Shaken by his abrupt tone, I jerked, and the shell slipped from my fingers and crashed to the ground.
He let out a jarring shriek.
My hands shook. “I’m so sorry… I…” I bent to clean up the pieces, but he bolted to stop me.
“Don’t touch anything!” His tone was grating.
“Why? It’s my fault,” I insisted.
“Please just get up,” he commanded in an even harsher tone.
Burning with embarrassment, I stared down at the mess. That’s when I realized something had fallen out of the shell.
AUTHOR BIO
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over thirty books. Her novels have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
True North, an all-new mistaken-identity contemporary romance from New York Times bestselling author JB Salsbury is coming August 8th, and we have your first look!
The North name is a heavy burden. Two things I learned young—the best way to keep my head on is to keep my head down, and… never fall in love. But I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.
Lillian came into my life swinging. Mistaking me for my abusive twin brother, she greets me with a swift kick to the balls and a busted lip. Then she really shakes up my world.
She needs her job, but she needs a break just as much. And nothing silences my demons as efficiently as playing the hero.
To protect her from my jerk twin—her boss—I take her on a business trip and quickly learn that she’s different. Blunt. Honest. Intriguingly strange. I’m transfixed, so when she unknowingly sinks a multimillion-dollar deal, I don’t speak up. Something my family won’t forgive.
Now, I have a choice to make. I can go against my own blood and burn the North legacy to the ground, or play it safe, commit to my self-imposed rules and predestined future. Choosing her would ruin my life as I know it, but I’m starting to wonder if a life without her is worth living.
Keep reading for your first look inside True North!
Lillian
An hour and a half later, we’re in the backseat of a minivan, trying to figure out how we’re going to smuggle a bag of double cheeseburgers and fries into the hotel without anyone seeing. “Here, you take the fries and fill your pockets.” I hand him the containers of fries and pop a couple in my mouth in the process. “Oh, these are so good.” “Stop eating them all.” He carefully slips the sleeve of fries into the inner pocket of his coat and then eyes me. “What about the burgers?” Turns out, our meal at the restaurant was delicious. The meat was tender and juicy and full of flavor, but even after we ate blue corn cakes with elderberry syrup for dessert, we were still hungry. We also had two more drinks and a glass of dessert wine from the local winery, which may have directly contributed to our current situation. Because the entire staff saw us eat in the restaurant, and we don’t want to insult anyone, we’re sneaking food back to our rooms. I grab a burger and shove it into my clutch. Then I stuff another into my cleavage. “You can’t do that. It’s too obvious,” Hudson says without looking at me. “Give it to me. I’ll tuck it under my arm.” “Eww, I don’t want your armpit touching my burger.” He shoves his hand out again. “Then it’ll be mine. Give it.” “No, this works.” I pat the burger between my boobs. “Women do this all the time. Look. You can’t even tell.” His gaze drops to my chest and then darts away. “Uh, yeah. You can.” “It’s fine. I got this.” “What do you mean women do this all time?” I do a doubletake. Is he joking? “You didn’t know that women use their cleavage as a pocket?”
About JB Salsbury JB Salsbury, New York Times Best Selling author of The Fighting Series, lives in Phoenix, Arizona, with her husband and two kids. She spends the majority of her day lost in a world of battling alphas, budding romance, and impossible obstacles as stories claw away at her subconscious, begging to be released to the page.
Her love of good storytelling led her to earn a degree in Media Communications. With her journalistic background, writing has always been at the forefront, and her love of romance prompted her to write her first novel.
Since 2013 she has published six bestselling novels in The Fighting Series and won a RONE Award.
Welcome to the Swype House, where the secrets are bigger than the…
Influenced, an all-new enemies-to-lovers rom-com standalone from USA Today bestselling author Kelsey Clayton is coming June 10th, and we have the FIRST look!
From USA Today bestselling author Kelsey Clayton comes an addictive, laugh out loud romcom that will have you falling in love with more than just the main characters.
Welcome to the Swype House, where the secrets are bigger than the…
The rules are simple: Fake it for the cameras. Do it for the views. Don’t kill each other.
It felt like an easy yes when I was invited to change my bio from, “Kaia Blakely, college student,” to “Kaia Blakely, newest influencer at the Swype House.”
Then I met Declan Royce. His profile highlights his looks and his humor, but it ought to read, “Owner of an ego so large, it was given its own zip code.”
Suddenly, not killing each other feels like an impossible task.
So yes, it was death threats we were whispering in the background of that viral video, not sweet nothings. So no, there’s zero reason to keep the #Kailan hashtag trending.
Except that it’s our job. So it looks like we’re adding another rule to the list:
Meet Kelsey Kelsey Clayton is a USA Today bestselling author of Contemporary Romance novels. She lives in a small town in Delaware with her husband, two kids, and dog. She is an avid reader of fall hard romance. She believes that books are the best escape you can find, and that if you feel a range of emotions while reading her stories – she succeeded. She loves writing and is only getting started on this life long journey. Kelsey likes to keep things in her life simple. Her ideal night is one with sweatpants, a fluffy blanket, cheese fries, and wine. She holds her friends and family close to her heart and would do just about anything to make them happy.
A Close Proximity, Single Parent Romance from A.L. Jackson
Coming March 28th
“You matter, Salem. You matter. Look at you, darlin’.”
There was the charm all mixed up with the disorder that was at the heart of this man.
My chest squeezed and the blood thundered through my veins.
“Beauty. The meaning of it.” The words fell on a harsh exhale from his lips, and the air that was barely skating up my throat died right there when he slowly toed off the dress shoes he wore.
Obsidian eyes flashed like a rush of the darkest night, rough as they devoured me from across the space.
Without looking away, he leaned down and peeled the socks from his feet.
I gulped, then I was nearly passing out when he ticked through the buttons on his shirt and peeled that off, too.
The man was nothing but wide, wide shoulders. Muscle everywhere, bulky on his arms and chest, his abdomen packed, tapering down and narrow at the waist.
Most all of his skin was covered in ink that seemed to scream the same as the walls, though it remained indistinct in the minimal light cast down from the rafters.
But I could make out enough to get the intonation.
The pure intimidation.
Menace and peril and life.
The mountain of a man stood there for a moment, then he took a step forward.
Energy rushed across the floor.
He approached like a phantom. Like a painting that had come to life.
It covered me whole and caressed me in shadows.
I was right. This man was definitely, definitely dangerous.
There was no question about it then.
And still, I remained there, held in his gaze, feeling the safest I’d ever felt.
I thought he was coming for me, only he slipped by on his bare feet.
Desire rippled through on his wake.
God, that was sexy, too.
Jud Lawson was an anomaly.
Conflict and peace.
Harmony and dissention.
A blinding light in the longest night.
Stealer of heart and sanity and good sense.
Because remaining there on the ground like an offering?
Posing for him?
There was no question I’d lost my mind.
His aura rippled through the room as he moved over to the wall that I faced. He pulled an easel closer, and the canvas he set on it looked like it’d been painted over a thousand times. He knelt to open a few jars of paint.
He picked up a brush and studied me.
I trembled beneath his watch.
“Beauty,” he rumbled. “Second I saw you out in the rain. Thought I had to be imagining things. Hallucinating.”
“I was terrified,” I admitted, our voices dancing through the condensed air.
Louder than they should be.
The thrumming of our hearts was palpable.
Frantic beats that echoed against the other.
A smirk ticked at the corner of his sexy mouth, then it slipped when he glanced at me then to the canvas. He began to paint. Quick, sweeping strokes, as if the images fell from him without thought. “I felt your fear, Salem. I felt your desperation. Wonder if I felt it then, that we were bound to be more than strangers. Wonder if I knew you were supposed to be on the back of my bike that night. Wonder if I knew you were going to become something that mattered in my life.”
“If you want a book that will wreck you in the best way possible than grab this UNPUTDOWNABLE, HEARTBREAKINGLY BEAUTIFUL story that will leave you with ALL THE FEELS!”
Want a Signed Paperback or Say It’s Forever Release Box? PRE-ORDER HERE
The Alternate Cover is Here!
Not only do we have the AMAZING release boxes up, but the alternate cover is now available to pre-order as well. I am IN LOVE with both covers and can’t choose a favorite!
If you can’t choose either – I also have hardbacks that feature both!
Want a Say It’s Forever Release Box? It includes a signed paperback, premium merchandise, and goodies! This box is even better than the last and I CAN’T WAIT for you all to see what’s inside!!!
Quantities are limited and boxes sell out fast, so reserve yours now!
Want a Signed Paperback or Say It’s Forever Release Box? PRE-ORDER HERE
A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.
Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, BLEEDING STARS, FIGHT FOR ME, CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART, FALLING STARS, and REDEMPTION HILLS novels. Watch out for her upcoming stand-alone, SAY IT’S FOREVER, releasing March 28th!
If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.
Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson – Sign up to receive her newsletter http://smarturl.it/NewsFromALJackson or text “aljackson” to 33222 to receive short but sweet updates on all the important news.
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