BAD BUSINESS- A Nicole Edwards Review

There’s something about sports romance that makes for some the hottest reads; I’m claiming it’s the stamina our heroes tend to have. Edwards next Bad Boys of sports is filled with its moments of sexy times but it’s also a feel-good romance. With little drama and a focus on a forbidden romance that both our hero and heroine continue to fight, Bad Business was a fun read.

After a wild night with with the hottest woman Stone’s ever met, our football star is coming to terms with his future retirement. Turns out his lovely lady is his boss’s daughter. With an unclear future, an affair with Savannah could be a huge distraction. But this action man knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it. His charming pursuit of Savannah is romantic and sexual all at he same time!

Savannah’s not one to break her own rules. But a night with the rumored ladies man of her father’s football team becomes an opportunity she can’t pass. Stone is charming, funny, and these two click like you wouldn’t believe. An undeniable chemistry links not only their sexy life but their ability to carry on conversation with witty and sarcastic banter. As danger of their affair is set to leak, this sports office trust leaves readers fulfilled with an age old question: is love worth everything? (P.s. it so is)


35058893 This player’s got a lot to learn if he wants to score . . . with the boss’s daughter.

Stone: Football is more than a game to me. It’s my calling. Becoming the Dallas Wranglers’ starting quarterback before I retire is a dream come true, but with a few wins under my belt, suddenly everyone wants a piece of me. And even though being in the spotlight has its perks—beautiful women, star treatment, more beautiful women—what really gets me sweating is the watchful gaze of my sexy-as-hell PR coach, Savannah Andrews. The catch? Her father is kind of my boss. . . .

Savannah: In my family, football is big business. When your dad owns an NFL franchise, you learn a thing or two about schmoozing, and from what I can tell, it’s not a skill in Jason Stone’s playbook. Sure, the veteran quarterback is literally larger than life. With broad shoulders, muscles on muscles, and a mouth made for kissing, he may be one of the hottest men in the league—and I should know. I’ve turned down enough players to start my own all-star team. But those guys just wanted to get close to my father. Meanwhile, Stone is getting temptingly close . . . to me.

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SAVAGE PRINCE – A Meghan March Chapter Reveal

Who knew things could get even darker and dirtier in New Orleans? New York Times bestselling author Meghan March introduces the Savage Prince of the city, the man you never want to meet.

I do what I want and who I want. I don’t follow anyone’s rules—even my own.
I knew I shouldn’t touch her, but it didn’t stop me.
Didn’t stop me the second time either. Only made me want a third.
My lifestyle suits the savage I am, and she doesn’t.
But Temperance Ransom is my newest addiction, and I’m nowhere near ready to quit her yet.
I’ll have her my way, even if it means dragging her into the darkness.
Hopefully it doesn’t kill us both.

Savage Prince is book one of the Savage Trilogy, set in the same world as Ruthless King, however you do not need to read the Mount Trilogy to devour this scandalously hot new story.

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Chapter 1

Temperance

Why is he wearing a mask?

Instinctively, I take a step back as the heavy door swings open, revealing the rest of the doorman’s tall body and the other half of the ornate red-and-black leather mask obscuring his face.

It’s not Mardi Gras season anymore, and this antebellum mansion is dozens of miles away from Bourbon Street, where spirits are high and revelry is in full swing, no matter the time of year.

Louisiana, you’re beautiful, but you’re also creepy as hell at night sometimes.

The doorman gestures for me to enter, and I hesitate on the threshold for one final beat, clutching my bag to my side before stepping through the archway. He closes the massive wooden door behind me with a decisive thud and throws a long bolt.

I’m locked in. What did I get myself into?

Chills skate over my skin, and my blazer does little to stop the shiver working through me.

This is not a haunted house. Or a dungeon. It’s a potential customer. I tell my overactive imagination to calm down but blood pounds in my ears, competing with the slow, rhythmic, and visceral beat of the bass coming from somewhere inside.

The sprawling plantation house reminds me of something out of a movie, especially with its massive trees dangling their moss over the banks of the bayou. Mansions and their expensive everything make me more nervous than the gators lurking in that murky water.

My senses shift into high gear as I scan the polished wooden planks of the floor, covered by thick rugs that probably cost more than I make in a year. The muted glow of gaslight sconces adds to the otherworldly feel—at complete odds with the throbbing beat of the club music.

For the dozenth time, I wish I did more research before I showed up for this meeting, but I’ve been so busy, I can barely manage to shovel three bites of food into my mouth for lunch.

It’s worth it, I remind myself. I have a respectable job now. There’s no mud on the bottom of my shoes to track inside these days.

Even though I know I’m in the right place, my polished designer knock-off pumps itch to beat a path to the door and out to my car . . . except it’s not there, because the overly efficient valet drove it away before the front door even opened.

I swallow back a lump of unease but straighten my shoulders and turn my attention to the doorman, who seems to be waiting for me to compose myself.

When I meet his hooded stare, he doesn’t speak. I hold out the note that showed up on my desk at Seven Sinners. He takes it from me and glances at the printed text, but still says nothing.

“I’m supposed to meet someone?” I hate that my voice sounds like I’m asking a question rather than making a statement. I shake off the unease and find my assertive tone. “I’m here to meet someone for a business discussion. Can you please direct me to the office?”

The doorman gestures to the opulent staircase before me with the card before offering it back.

My sweaty palms leave smudges on the edges as I snatch it from his grip. I should have known from that fancy cream linen paper that this wouldn’t be like the normal bars and clubs I’ve visited to hawk Seven Sinners Whiskey.

“Thank you.” I give him a nod, and once again get zero verbal response. This place is bizarre. Time to get in and get out.

Attempting to look unaffected, I stride toward the red-and-gold runner climbing up the stairs.

I’m just here to sell whiskey. All the whiskey.

The treads beneath the soles of my shoes vibrate more with each step I take. As I round the curve of the staircase, I find another masked man waiting for me at the top.

I offer him my invitation and stare over his shoulder at the light spilling out from beneath a set of closed double doors.

There. That has to be the club. See, nothing different about this place after all.

Except there is, and I don’t know if it’s my overactive imagination, but I swear I can smell sex in the air. Images of all the things that can possibly be happening behind those doors assail my brain. I force my attention back to the man for direction.

He jerks his head to the side and starts down a wide gold-and-white-striped corridor, away from the doors. He pauses at the corner as though waiting for me to follow him, and I uproot my feet from the floor and stumble forward to catch up with my bag smacking my hip. Instead of leading me farther down the corridor, he steps out of the way to reveal another set of curving stairs and points upward.

Seriously? I thought this was a business meeting, not punishment for missing my date with the gym for the last six months.

My arches cramp in protest as I smooth down my skirt, reset my bag, and climb to the top, but at least this discomfort takes my mind off the peculiar feel of this place.

I’m going to have to sell a ton of whiskey to make this trip worth it.

When I hit the next landing, there’s a third man, this one the size of a linebacker, wearing a matching mask.

Where the hell is everyone else? What kind of club has silent doormen and no tipsy patrons stumbling back and forth to the restroom?

I don’t have time to ask either of those questions before masked man number three reads the words on the card I hold out and leads me down a hallway to what I assume must be the manager’s office. At least, I hope like hell it is.

An ornate door with an antique brass knob awaits at the end, and he pushes it open and gestures for me to enter with a meaty hand.

I pin my most professional smile on my face and take a deep breath, ready to charm whoever awaits me inside into buying more whiskey than they plan.

With a confident stride, I make my way inside.

“Hi! I’m Temperance—” I trail off when I realize the chair behind the desk, dimly lit by a simple banker’s lamp, is empty.

A quick scan of the rest of the dark room reveals no signs of life.

What the hell?

“Okay, then.” I clear my throat, poised to turn around and get the hell out of this place, when a light flickering to life distracts me.

But it’s not a light in the office where I’ve been shown, but a light in the room next door. A room that I can apparently view through what appears to be a two-way mirror.

Am I really seeing this?

And by this, I mean a monstrous iron-and-wood four-poster bed draped with black silk sheets . . . and restraints.

A bedroom. A kinky bedroom.

Holy hell.

I stumble back a step, reaching for the doorknob, but my gaze fixes on the black mask of the woman entering the bedroom and the heavily muscled shirtless man with his palm on the small of her back.

This isn’t just any trendy secret club interested in adding top-notch whiskey to their shelves.

It’s a sex club.

I should be horrified. Running screaming in the opposite direction and out to my car. But instead, I’m rooted to the floor.

I have a front-row seat to one of my dirtiest fantasies. A fantasy I finally got up the nerve to try to fulfill a few months ago, because Lord knows I don’t have time to have a relationship, but my search for a non-sketchy sex club in New Orleans fell flat. Google sure as hell didn’t have this one on the map, and neither did any of the forums or blog posts I read.

A real underground sex club.

A tingle of excitement, like I’ve just discovered a secret key to another world, shoots through me as the man shuts the door to their room and slowly circles the woman before pushing her to her knees with one dominant hand on each shoulder. He has the look of a conqueror inspecting his war prize, complete with tribal ink marking his chest and upper arms, and dark leather pants. It’s hot as hell.

The rational part of my brain says I should look away, not invade their private scene, but I glance quickly at the door I entered through. No one is bursting in to tell me it’s some kind of mistake that I was led here.

The woman, dressed in red lingerie, keeps her gaze downcast, but I’m not nearly as disciplined. I can’t take my eyes off her companion as his ass flexes against the leathers.

When he stops in front of her, he releases her shoulder and buries one hand in her honey-blond hair, gripping her at the base of her neck, forcing her attention to his face.

They are completely and utterly absorbed with each other, and neither of them spares even a glance at the wall that serves as my voyeuristic porthole. Do they know? They must.

His voice somehow comes loud and clear into this room. “You wanted my attention down there, little girl. You’ve got it all now.”

My heart thumps harder as he reaches for the flap of his leathers with his other hand and yanks it open, freeing his heavy cock.

I bite down on my lower lip to stifle the hushed oh my God dying to break free. The sting from my teeth serves as a reminder that this isn’t one of my dreams.

This is real.

My conscience wars with me, telling me to turn away. Go back down the stairs. Run out the front door. Find my car and get the hell out of here.

But that and any other thought of business dies away as he wraps one palm around his thick cock and gives it a rough tug before thumbing the tip. The ruddy reddish-purple shaft seems to pulse against his grip, and my lip trembles as my thighs clench.

Why is it so frigging hot to see a man handle himself like that?

Using his grip on her hair, he guides her lips toward the head.

Sweet Lord. I shouldn’t be turned on by this. But my sweaty palms and the thumping pulse that has taken up residence between my legs expose my lie.

This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in person.

“You want this? Is that why you’ve been acting like a little brat?” His words are muted, like the sound is being piped into the office through speakers, or maybe it’s because the blood roaring through my head is drowning out normal sound. Either way, his gruff, deep voice drags over my senses, making goose bumps rise across my skin.

“Yes, sir.” The woman’s chin bounces as she licks her lips.

He drags her face an inch closer to his cock. “Show me how much.”

My nipples pebble against my bra at his rough order. Heat, completely inappropriate fiery heat, streaks through me as one of the woman’s hands dives between her legs.

“You don’t get to touch yourself until I tell you to. I’ll turn that ass of yours red before you finger that wet little cunt.”

I squeeze my thighs together like he’s somehow threatening me. Ordering me. Dominating me.

And I wish he were.

“I want your hands on my legs. I’m going to fuck your face. Remind you who owns these lips.”

A quiet moan echoes through the room, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure it came from her and not me. Okay, ninety percent sure.

I squirm, my chest rising and falling faster as she rests her palms on his muscled thighs and he feeds his cock into her mouth inch by inch.

Oh my God. I can’t watch. I shouldn’t watch. I’m not a dirty little thing who likes to watch. I’m not. Really. I’m not.

But I’m a filthy liar, because none of the words I use to berate myself make me tear my gaze away from the most erotic scene I’ve ever seen play out.

He shifts his grip, using one hand to cup her chin and tilt her head to the angle of his liking as he powers deeper inside, more of his rock-hard shaft disappearing with each thrust.

His growl echoes through the room, and I can feel it in the wet heat between my legs like a heartbeat.

“You feel that? You want more?”

Her plaintive, muffled cry for more unleashes another round of shivers as my breathing shallows. My inner muscles clench as I imagine a cock sliding past my lips and down my throat. My gag reflex flutters at the all-too-real and intense feeling.

That could be me.

Her fingertips curl around his legs and mine do the same, but instead of smooth skin, mine scrape across the fabric of my skirt. Two thin layers. That’s all that separates me from making myself come in approximately 2.5 seconds.

My fingers tense, stretching as though itching to move.

Don’t you even think about it, Temperance. Don’t you dare think about it.

But then he slows his movements, pulling his cock from between her lips. It glistens in the dim light as he wraps a hand around it and strokes. The woman’s need is visible in every tense muscle of her body as she fixates on his lazy movements.

“I’m not coming in that pretty mouth. Not tonight. Tonight, I’m taking that ass you’ve been teasing me with. Bending you over so I can see your cunt and your tight little hole. I get so fucking hard when I think about turning it red before I finally bury myself inside.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. This isn’t even fair.

I swallow the saliva filling my mouth and back up until I bump into the edge of a desk. My heels wobble, and I reach out a hand to steady myself.

I cross my legs and shift back and forth to try to stave off the urge to do more. I’m here for business. Not for pleasure. But the reminder is a fleeting one, disappearing from my brain as soon as he speaks again.

“Tell me you want me to take your ass. Own it. Make it mine so you never forget who you belong to.”

The woman’s mouth drops open and her tongue darts out to wet the corner. “Yes, sir.”

He reaches down and extends a hand. “Stand.”

She complies by sliding her fingers into his and rising gracefully to her feet. Then his movement turns rougher as he spins her around and bends her over the end of the bed.

My heart thunders as I squeeze my thighs together, and the man yanks the crotch of her thong aside, baring her pussy and ass.

It’s obscene, but I can’t look away.

My fingernails dig into my leg through my skirt as he barks another order.

“Spread your legs.”

The uncompromising tone of his voice ricochets through my body, and part of me wants to comply like the woman as she slides her legs a few inches farther apart, creating an even more indecent visual.

The heat between my legs jumps what feels like a million degrees, and I suddenly wish I’d done laundry this week, because then I’d be wearing underwear. Instead, wetness gathers and threatens to drip down my inner thighs.

A dirty, shameful feeling curls inside me and I squirm, squeezing my legs even tighter together, but it doesn’t change the way my body responds. Especially not when he claps his palm between her legs with a smack. Her hips jerk and a moan spills out from between her lips.

Oh good Lord. He spanked her pussy.

I cover my mouth with one hand to silence my own sharp breath, and my teeth dig into my skin.

He plunges a finger inside, moving it out and then back in. “This is mine. You flash it at anyone else, and I’ll tie you up and drag you to the edge so many times, you’ll be delirious before I ever let you come. That’s a fucking promise.”

He pulls free of her body and lands a hard smack on her ass. She screeches as his handprint blooms red on her skin before he covers it with a firm grip, and the sound coming from her mouth turns into a moan.

“Please.”

“You know I love to hear you beg.” He releases her and lands another blow. “But you’ll remember your manners or get nothing.”

“Please, sir!”

Her wail wraps around me as he caresses the cheek he just stung. The desk bites into my ass, but I know it’s not the same.

I want to know what that feels like.

The truth blows through my mind like a hurricane. Unstoppable. Unashamed. Un-fucking-believable.

Is it possible to spontaneously orgasm? I have to get out of here. But my fingers curl around the sharp edge of the wood as though it’s the only thing keeping me grounded.

“Beg me.”

With my nipples harder than diamonds, I wait for her to beg. Please. I want to see—

She does.

Oh good Lord, I’m going to hell.

He grips his cock with one hand, her ass with the other, and lines up the head with her entrance. “Pussy first. You’re not ready for me yet.”

The pace of my breathing nears hyperventilation.

I need to do something. I have to—

Any capacity for rational thought is ripped from my brain as he buries his cock inside her and her scream fills my ears. He pounds into her over and over, and I hate her. I hate that she’s receiving his perfectly rough thrusts that rip moans of ecstasy from her throat, and all I have is the clenching emptiness between my legs.

I want that. I need that. It’s been way too long since I felt . . . anything like this. Actually, I’ve never felt anything remotely like this.

This dark edge of pleasure is something I’ve only read about. Wished for. Dreamed about.

Her moans and cries intensify, and he praises her. I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me, and pretend he’s whispering them to me.

My fingers edge toward the hem of my skirt and I draw it up inch by inch. I need more. Just a little—

“My naughty secretary should know better than to touch herself during work hours.”

The deep, rasping words come out of the shadows and brush over my skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

Shock freezes my movements, my fingertips locked on the material of my skirt, as a chair creaks and the disembodied voice takes the shape of a tall, broad-shouldered man stepping into the dim pool of light. A black leather mask obscures the top half of his face, but his piercing blue eyes burn hotter than a five-alarm fire. They sear my skin everywhere they touch.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Ms. Smith?” His sculpted lips are perfect—except for the fact they called me by the wrong name.

“Umm, uhh . . .” I stammer as I attempt to find words that can possibly apply to this insane situation. “I-I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong—”

His eyes narrow, but the heat remains intact. “Nobody argues with me in my office. Strike two, Ms. Smith.”

“But I’m here for—” I make another attempt to explain his mistake, but he cuts me off with a tilt of his head.

“Whatever I want.” He emphasizes each word as he takes another step toward me. “And tonight, what I want is you.”

My teeth dig into my bottom lip as he slides his suit jacket off his shoulder and down one arm before repeating the motion with the other. His movements reveal a crisp white shirt perfectly tailored to broad shoulders, thick biceps, and a narrow waist.

Holy wow. He’s sex in a suit.

“If you’re still in this office in ten seconds, I’ll take that to mean yes, sir, I’m ready.”

I glance at the door and back at him as he begins the countdown.

“Ten . . .”

#SavagePrince_Meghan13

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A New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels, Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.

Sign up for Meghan’s newsletter and receive exclusive content that she saves for her subscribers: http://meghanmarch.com/subscribe

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8 SIMPLE RULES FOR DATING A DRAGON – A Kerrelyn Sparks Review & Chapter Reveal

Welcome to the wonderful world of fantasy and romance: The Embraced. As nations war and history is in the cusp of change, Gwennore is becoming restless as an elf in a human realm. She’s looking for some escape; but capture by dragon is not something she could’ve planned for. Arriving in the strange mad world of Norveshka she meets their General, Silas. As more secrets about the kingdom come to light Gwennore has to decide: risk a future of persecution or her own happy ever after.

When you hear comparisons to Game of Thrones and other fantasy series, know that is so accurate! Sparks paints an elegant picture of different non-humans and magic induced humans mixed in a world of dragons, trolls, and elves. While the story has a romantic aspect there’s always a larger picture of danger and espionage. The elusive Chameleon from previous books has returned and is after another crown. As Gwennore and Silas begin to unravel the curse upon his kingdom and family, she begins to discover more secrets from his past. Silas is not all he’s portrayed to be; and Gwennore has some serious decisions to make on what she’s willing to handle for her future.

Sparks’ world building leaves nothing to the imagination. From a lands to creatures and even forms of travel, everything in her Embraced series is fantastical and wonderful for the creative mind. I highly enjoyed the twists and surprise in Gwennore and Silas’ story and I can’t wait for more of the sisters’ tales!


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Kerrelyn Sparks is no stranger to the New York Times bestseller list, as her massive fan base couldn’t seem to get enough of her Love at Stake series. Sparks then introduced her extraordinary fantasy romance series, The Embraced, with How to Tame a Beast in Seven Days and So I Married a Sorcerer. Set in a medieval mythical world, the series follows a special group of people with powers born when the two moons of the world form an eclipse. Now comes the captivating third installment, EIGHT SIMPLE RULES FOR DATING A DRAGON (St. Martin’s Paperbacks; March 27, 2018), where readers meet Gwennore, our fierce and powerful new heroine.

Gwennore is an Elf able to track down the cause of an illness and heal it; a valuable asset to her people. But when she is thrust into the realm of the dragons, she discovers a haunted place of power and magic, plagued by an ancient curse. And then she meets the smoldering General Silas Dravenko. She’s been raised never to trust a dragon, but never did making a deal with the devil feel so good…

Silas has no way of saving the royal family he’s served for years. But when a beautiful elf comes bursting into his world, Silas is awakened to desire in a way he’s never felt before. But can he trust a sworn enemy?

Filled with romance, adventure, and a vividly imagined new world, EIGHT SIMPLE RULES FOR DATING A DRAGON is a fantasy in the vein of Game of Thrones with all the fun of The Princess Bride. Audiences will become enthralled with Gwennore in a world where passion, fantasy, and royal intrigue collide. Return to the most exciting, magical and romantic series to come along in years in the stunning world of the Embraced!

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As the three men came to a stop, Gwennore noted that the ladies-in-waiting were curtsying, so she did, too.

Karlan bowed. “My lord general.”

“At ease,” the gorgeous man in the middle said.

Freya rushed to his side. “Silas, you arrived just in time. I’ve discovered an assassin.” She pointed at Gwennore. “You should arrest her!”

Gwennore popped up from her curtsy, ready to defend herself. But before she could say anything, the general had enveloped the queen’s hand in his own and turned her away.

“Your Majesty.” He flashed a smile that caused a few of the ladies to stumble as they rose from their curtsies. “I came as quickly as I could after hearing the news. May I congratulate you on the birth of your daughter?”

“Why, yes.” Freya blushed. “Thank you. I was in labor a dreadfully long time, you know.”

“Yes, so I hear.” He patted her hand. “But thank the Light, you and the babe are doing remarkably well.”

What nonsense was this? The gorgeous general was acting like the others—playing along with the queen’s delusion. Gwennore drew in a deep breath to voice her objection, but the general shot her a warning look with his sharp green eyes.

When she lifted her eyebrows as if to question him, he inclined his head ever so slightly. He’sasking me to trust him. It was as clear as if he had spoken. For a moment she wondered if she was experiencing a mental connec- tion with him like she had with Puff.

Don’tjump to conclusions, she chided herself. She was only hoping for a connection because he was the most handsome man she’d ever met.

Something flared in his eyes, a spark of gold in the em- erald green, and her knees grew weak. Good goddesses, was she about to swoon like these other silly women? She needed to be stronger than this.

“Thank you, Silas,” Freya said, drawing his attention back to her. “Doesn’t the baby look just like her father?” “Yes, indeed.” The general glanced at Eviana, who was still clinging to Gwennore’s legs. “And to mark the occa- sion, I have brought you a gift.” He motioned to Gwennore. “A nanny. As you can see, the princess has already

developed a special fondness for her.”

Freya gasped. “You brought the elf here?”

“Of course.” He gave Gwennore a wry look as if he was daring her to contradict him. “She’s a noblewoman I captured some time ago in battle, but since then, she’s learned our language and proven herself quite useful.”

So General Gorgeous had no problem spinning lies or manipulating a madwoman. Gwennore snorted. But since she was in danger of being imprisoned and even exe- cuted, she was not in any position to reject his solution.

Even so, she wondered if she could actually trust him. As the general of the Norveshki army, wouldn’t he see her as an enemy?

“We dare not trust an elf,” Freya muttered. “She could be a spy. Or an assassin.”

“We can trust her,” the general insisted. “Lady Gwennore cares deeply for the princess. Enough to risk her life for her.”

Gwennore’s heart lurched into a fast pace. He knew her name? And what she’d done? Puff must have told him everything that had happened. That meant General Gor- geous could hear dragon voices, too. It made sense, she figured, since his job would require him to communicate with dragons. But did that mean he had ordered the first dragon to kidnap Eviana? Or perhaps, he had ordered Puff to try to stop the kidnapping. Which side was he on?

“But elves are such violent creatures,” Freya whined. “They are fierce warriors, that is true,” the general

agreed. “That is why Lady Gwennore will make an ex- cellent nanny. No one will protect your daughter as well as she.”

“Well . . .” Freya looked confused. Her hands fluttered around her chest, causing the rubies to sparkle in the after- noon sun. “I suppose we can give her a try.”

“Excellent.” He turned toward Karlan. “You and your men may return to your posts.”

Gwennore exhaled with relief. She wasn’t going to the dungeon. And as the official nanny, she could remain close to Eviana.

“And remember.” The general stepped closer to Karlan and added softly, “Lady Gwennore is my guest. She will be treated with respect.”

“Yes, my lord.” Karlan motioned for his men to follow him back to the main gatehouse.

With Gwennore’s superior hearing, she’d heard the general’s whisper. He had to be on her side. For one thing, he kept referring to her as a lady. The status of noble- woman would shield her from any physical abuse during her stay here in Draven Castle.

So, most probably, she had two allies in Norveshka—Puff and General Gorgeous. She could only hope they would both prove to be trustworthy and honorable.

The general turned to the nearest lady-in-waiting. “Your name, please?”

The woman stumbled back a step. “O-Olenka, my lord general.”

“Lady Olenka, would you please escort Lady Gwennore and the princess to the nursery? And make sure they are well taken care of.”

“Yes, yes, of course, my lord general.” Olenka nodded, then curtsied again.

“I’ll drop by to check on you later.” The general shot a pointed look at Gwennore. “Till then.”

Gwennore inclined her head, understanding he in- tended to have a talk with her. That was fine. She needed to talk to him, too.

“Oh, everything will be perfect, my lord general! You can trust me.” Olenka motioned for Gwennore to follow her. “Come along now.”

Gwennore lifted Eviana in her arms and walked toward Lady Olenka. As she passed the queen, she bowed her head. “Good day, Your Majesty.”

Freya narrowed her eyes. “If anything happens to my daughter, I’ll have your head. I will not lose another child!”

Another child? How many had the queen lost? “I will protect her with my life,” Gwennore told her, then fol- lowed Lady Olenka toward the northwestern tower.

As she neared the general’s two companions, she noted there was a slight difference in their uniforms. One had three brass stars embedded in his leather breastplate, while the other had two. Did that mean they were officers? The general had four stars on his breastplate.

These men were handsome like the general—tall, muscular, long dark hair. No doubt they knew how to make a….


MEET KERRELYN…

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Apparently, she has issues with reality. After writing 16 books about vampires and shifters, Kerrelyn has now completely gone off the deep end and wound up on another planet.

Although Kerrelyn is best known (so far) for the Love at Stake series, which has hit as high as number 5 on the New York Times list and 22 on the USA Today list, she hopes her readers will love The Embraced as much as they did her merry band of vamps and shifters.

Kerrelyn lives with her family in the Greater Houston area of Texas. You can visit with her on Goodreads or her Facebook page, where she does a monthly contest. On Twitter, she posts as @KerrelynSparks.

WEBSITE

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RECOVERED – A Jay Crownover Excerpt Reveal & Givaway

From New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Jay Crownover comes a standalone romance with a hero sure to keep readers up long into the night. Check out the review below and pick up your copy of RECOVERED for just $.99 through release week only!

It was hate at first sight……

Affton

I hated Cable James McCaffrey.

He was entitled, spoiled, a user…and an addict.

He was out of control and didn’t bother trying to hide it.

He had everything anyone could want but still seemed miserable and lost.

Every move he made, every mistake he stumbled his way through, rubbed me the wrong way. However, I couldn’t stop myself from trying to save him from himself when no one else would. In the sweltering heat of the summer, Cable taught me that having it all means nothing if you can’t have the one thing you want more than anything else.


Cable

I was obsessed with Affton Reed.

She was rigid, uptight, and no fun. There was something about her innate goodness that called to me.

She acted like she was above all the normal faults and failures that clung to the rest of us like the scent of smoke after a fire.

I was infatuated with her, but that didn’t stop me from acting like she didn’t exist.

In the scorching heat of summer, Affton taught me that there is always a way back from the brink of despair. She showed me that the trick to having it all was realizing that it was already there, in my hands. All I had to do was hold onto it.

 

The road to recovery is full of twists and turns no matter who is in the driver’s seat.

 RECOVERED is just $.99 through release week! Order your copy of RECOVERED today!

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I took another swallow of cinnamon-flavored booze and made a face as it burned down my throat. Maybe I could breathe fire. I needed to be able to if I was going to make it through the summer with Affton Reed looking over my shoulder. She had some of the strongest shields I’d ever seen. If my fire wasn’t hot enough, it would bounce off her and burn me to a crisp.

The sun was down, and I was pretty much sitting in the water now. I thought about lying down and letting it lift me up and carry me wherever it wanted. I wasn’t drifting anywhere good on my own. I heard splashing and felt the air behind me stir. No longer alone. No longer left to my own devices and bad choices.

I took another swig from the bottle, draining it, and looked over my shoulder at the girl making her way toward me. Her hair looked silver in the darkening light, and there was no mistaking the annoyance on her unmade-up face. She looked at me then shifted her gaze to the empty bottle in my hand. Her lips pulled into a frown, and her eyebrows tugged down into an angry V over the top of her nose.

“You aren’t going to make anything about this summer easy, are you, Cable?”

I had a thing for her voice. It was a little bit husky and a lot sweet with that slow, southern Texas twang in it. The way my name sounded when she said it, all exasperated and frustrated, was fucking sexy. It made me wonder what it would sound like when she whispered it in the dark while I was inside of her. I’d imagined that more times than I could count over the last eighteen months.

“I don’t really do easy, Reed.” I looked at the empty bottle in my hand and contemplated tossing it into the Gulf. Knowing my luck, I’d hit some endangered marine life and give the judge one more reason to add months onto my sentence. Instead, I reached up and handed it to the leggy blonde who was now standing next to me, the water well above her ankles.

“Jesus. Did you drink this whole thing?” She sounded incensed, and when I rolled my eyes up to look at her, it was clear she was contemplating hitting me over the head with the very weapon I’d just handed to her.

I shrugged. “Pretty much.” The bubbly teen girls barely had the chance to put a dent in it before I swooped in and snagged their stash.

She sighed from where she was hovering above me. I jolted in shock when she suddenly lowered herself to the wet sand next to me, the water immediately soaking into her frayed cutoffs and swirling around her ankles and hips as she copied my pose, my empty bottle caught between her feet. She leaned forward, rested her cheek on her knee, and gazed at me steadily out of those mesmerizing eyes. “I tried to tell your mother this was hopeless. I warned her there is no helping someone who doesn’t want to be helped. I don’t want to be here, Cable.” Her voice was hard, and I was surprised that her admission hurt a little bit. I didn’t want to be around me most of the time, but I was used to other people flocking to me, vying for my attention. “I don’t want to be here, but I have to be, so that means you’re stuck with me no matter how difficult you decide to make the next couple of months. I don’t have a choice.”

I wanted a cigarette. I needed something to occupy my hands and my mouth. I’d left the smokes and m y t-shirt on the steps of the deck off dad’s house. The steps led to the beach, just a few feet from the water. It was a beautiful house on a prime piece of property. With Affton here, it was nothing more than an expensive jail cell.

I knew exactly what means my mother had gone to in order to get Affton to agree to this madness. She told me outright she was blackmailing my former classmate, I think in a thinly veiled attempt to make me care about someone else’s future if I wouldn’t care about my own. I knew if I drove Affton away, her father would lose his job. It wasn’t fair, but my mom had been nothing short of ruthless in her pursuit of my sobriety. “My mom can be very convincing when she puts her mind to it.” She could also be tough as nails and immovable when she wanted something.

Affton snorted and shifted so her chin was resting on her knee instead of her cheek. She looked out over the endless landscape of water and sky, and I shivered even though it wasn’t cold. I lifted a hand to run it through my hair. My unease lived inside of me, crawled all around my bones and under my skin. I wasn’t used to it making its way to the surface because of someone else. There was a lot unsaid between me and this girl. The few words we’d exchanged were powerful, important ones that hung heavy between us. It was so much easier when I looked at her, and she refused to look back.

“I don’t think convincing is the word I would use…more like conniving. Either way, she tied my hands, so succeed or fail, you are stuck with me until the end of summer. Let’s get you into the house so you can sleep this bottle off and pray you don’t get popped for a piss test tomorrow.” She grabbed the bottle from where she had plunked the base in the sand and lifted a pale eyebrow at me. “You should have picked something…” she trailed off and gave me a shrug. “Less wussy to enjoy your last binge with. This stuff tastes like toothpaste.”

She offered me her free hand, and for a second all I could picture was grabbing it and pulling her under with me, letting the water cover us both and take us somewhere we would both rather be. I didn’t. I took her hand and struggled to my feet. Months of forced sobriety tumbled away under the wash of cinnamon whiskey. I wobbled and almost went back down, but before I could nose dive into the shallow water, Affton was there, arm around my waist, empty bottle pressed into my side, a chilly reminder that I’d already fucked this up and it was only the first day.

I had no idea how either one of us was going to survive the summer, and if we did, I had no idea how I was supposed to survive beyond that when I was once again left to my own devious and duplicitous devices.


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About Jay Crownover:

Jay Crownover is the international and multiple New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Marked Men Series, The Saints of Denver Series, the Point Series, the Breaking Point Series, and the Getaway Series. Her books can be found translated in many different languages all around the world. She is a tattooed, crazy haired Colorado native who lives at the base of the Rockies with her awesome dogs. This is where she can frequently be found enjoying a cold beer and Taco Tuesdays. Jay is a self-declared music snob and outspoken book lover who is always looking for her next adventure, between the pages and on the road.

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SAVAGE PRINCE – A Meghan March New Release

Who knew things could get even darker and dirtier in New Orleans? New York Times bestselling author Meghan March introduces the Savage Prince of the city, the man you never want to meet.

I do what I want and who I want. I don’t follow anyone’s rules—even my own.
I knew I shouldn’t touch her, but it didn’t stop me.
Didn’t stop me the second time either. Only made me want a third.
My lifestyle suits the savage I am, and she doesn’t.
But Temperance Ransom is my newest addiction, and I’m nowhere near ready to quit her yet.
I’ll have her my way, even if it means dragging her into the darkness.
Hopefully it doesn’t kill us both.

Savage Prince is book one of the Savage Trilogy, set in the same world as Ruthless King, however you do not need to read the Mount Trilogy to devour this scandalously hot new story.

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A New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels, Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.

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