THE GREATEST RISK – A Kristen Ashley Review & Chapter Reveal

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It’s passionate and powerful; suspenseful and seductive. Kristen Ashley’s finale of the Honey series is an endless list of beautiful adjectives that add up to an explosive 5 star read. Sixx, a renowned Domme in the Honey Club, has had her eyes on Stellan for years. Ever the ice queen, Sixx has never approached or dared to risk anything more than a furtive glance. Her main concern? He’s a Dom; and two dominant personalities combined with her dangerous past could never work. So she watches and waits as Stellan seems to move about life without her.

Stellan’s eyed the beautifully intriguing Sixx for longer than she could imagine. After waiting years for her to make a move he decides that only another Dom is willing to crack the shell of this mysterious femma fatale. What Stellan hadn’t planned on was not only culling the dominatrix but releasing the submissive inside. Our surprising little Sixx is a Switch; a rarity in the BDSM world. Now Stellan has to love the woman in control and woman who craves it. But is Sixx willing to take the greatest Risk?

In KA’s distinctive voice, I found a new hero within Sixx. Much like past heroes in her romances, Sixx has the attitude of a hero who doesn’t shy from what must be done yet doesn’t find themselves worthy of happiness or true love. Sixx is a persona created by our heroine to handle the harsh reality of the world and to shield herself from that which cold break her heart. But KA’s genius doesn’t allow for Sixx to be unnecessary or a skin that must be shed to find the true woman underneath. No, both the woman and the warrior are parts of Sixx that Stellan (and Sixx and readers alike) has to learn to love. There’s a beauty to her fragmented idea of self. Sixx doesn’t need to be fixed, she needs to be discovered, by others and herself.

In addition to our final Honey couple, KA dives into more worlds of the exotic and risque. With a wondrous gift from Stellan we get privilege to a warrior’s pit. And it Sixx’s dangerous world we dive deeper into the other clubs of BDSM and meet one of the hottest trios to ever grace romance pages (Seriously it was some of the hottest scenes I’ve ever read…EVER). The raw emotion throughout the entire novel is the number one reason why this is an instant addition to my top reads. Grab a glass of wine and some tissues because its about to get messy at the Honey Club.

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A woman unable to connect, struggling to hide another part of her.

A man burning to learn her truth, and make her whole.

Through explosive passion and deep exploration, they are about to take the greatest risk of all.

But will they be able to take that leap, and come out on the other side together?

In this next passionate novel in the Honey series, New York Times bestselling author Kristen Ashley delivers a stunningly romantic and intensely sexy novel that will stay with you long after you turn the final page.

 

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one

Let’s Go

SIXX

Present day …

Sixx wandered the halls of the Bee’s Honey for absolutely no purpose except to make the boys in the booth watching the cameras that monitored the action in the club think she was taking in the scene.

Instead, she was biding time to go into the Dom Lounge to get what she’d stashed in her locker.

She was over it.

Over the scene.

Over the wait.

Done.

The Honey had now become a place she could hang and have a drink, connect with some friends if she was in the mood, get some of her kink by watching, and torture herself being around Stellan.

It was also where she stashed something if she had it to stash. This was because the Honey had surveillance and security that rivaled that of the White House. If a person wasn’t supposed to be there, they didn’t get in there. The end.

She’d been back in Phoenix now for a while.

Months.

And although she’d put on a variety of shows, bided her time, put herself out there, made herself available, Stellan hadn’t thrown down the gauntlet.

She sure as hell wasn’t making the first move.

Thus that first move wasn’t going to be made.

So be it.

She hadn’t expected much and she sure got that.

And she had to admit, part of her was relieved (a large part).

Because if he took a shot, what then?

Could she protect him from all that was her?

Doubtful.

More like impossible.

She never had with anyone who mattered, not that she’d had many in her life who mattered.

And Stellan absolutely did not deserve to have to deal with all that could befall anyone who got close to Sixx.

Tonight was different, though.

Tonight, she wanted done with the extracurricular activity she was engaged in.

Also tonight she roamed the halls knowing Stellan was there, he’d taken a room, and he’d gone off his normal modus operandi.

He’d selected a female sub.

He’d also selected a male.

If in a mood, though that mood was always rare, he’d pick more than one sub.

But they were always females.

Sixx had a feeling she knew why he’d done this. She had Google alerts set up, and she’d seen it.

That it being that it was announced to the media that day that the two-and-a-half-month marriage of Andreas Lange and his pretty-much-child bride Priscilla was done. Although the press was asked to leave the couple alone in this trying time, it was nevertheless reported that Andreas might often think with his dick and had apparent self-esteem issues that drove him to having a pretty young thing dripping off his arm, but when it counted, he used his other head. The one with an actual brain in it.

In other words, he had a reported ironclad prenuptial agreement, and the soon-to-be-again Ms. Newton would walk away with the engagement ring he gave her, any gifts she’d acquired during their relationship and nothing else.

Nothing else.

Not even a settlement.

She was young, and Sixx knew that young didn’t make you stupid, it just made you young, naïve, and perhaps with the beauty that girl had, overconfident. Thus she probably thought her golden looks mingled with a twenty-two-year-old pussy would buy her a lot more time to get a lot more gifts.

Sadly, she’d been wrong.

Sixx could not know how this news affected Stellan. Although they had exchanged a variety of words since she’d been home, they’d both been at a few get-togethers where he didn’t avoid her, but he didn’t pursue her, they’d caught each other’s eyes on a number of occasions; and she’d noted him watching her work with her submissives, as he’d noted her doing the same with his, they had not even resurrected the loose but friendly relationship they’d had before she’d left.

She put it down to him still smarting from Leigh’s falling in love with another man.

That said, even if Leigh had, it appeared that not much had changed between Stellan and Amélie. Although chilly between them when Sixx got back, that had thawed, and they were as sociable and close as they ever had been. And it was clear Stellan liked Olly, Amélie’s enormous, gorgeous stallion.

Then again, everyone liked Olly. It was impossible not to like the guy. He was just that guy who had it all and not simply the fact he was so easy to look at.

He adored Leigh, for one. Utterly. And he did not hide it in the slightest.

But he was outgoing, funny, solid. If you were moving house and you needed an extra pair of hands, he was there. If you had a nephew (or niece) who wanted to be a firefighter (which Olly was), he’d take the kid through his station and introduce him to all the guys. If you were at a cookout with him and running low on your drink, you found your glass slid out of your hand and another one put in it without even having to ask.

Even Stellan, wanting Amélie for as long as he did, couldn’t dislike the guy.

So they’d become friends.

And Sixx had watched.

That was one of the two things she’d done since being back.

In a halfhearted attempt to get his attention (and keep Aryas off her back), she played.

And she watched.

Which was what she was on a mission to do now before she hit the Dom Lounge to prepare to complete her other mission.

As she wandered, Sixx didn’t spend time watching Mira and Trey in their room.

It was tough watching Mira work now that she had a sub and they were together together. In other words, in love. Mira was good at what she did, and Trey liked what his Mistress gave him, but that look of adoration on her face while she was doing it …

Sixx just couldn’t deal with it.

This was also why she avoided Leigh and Olly when they were at play (and more recently, also when they weren’t because the connection they had between them just didn’t stop).

Right then they weren’t in a playroom. They were still in the bar, holding court, The Stallion Alpha Sub King and his Dominatrix Queen, as usual reigning supreme over the club and enjoying it before they moved to a room to enjoy each other.

They were actually worse to watch than Trey and Mira, they were so beautiful together. They were like watching dancers, so perfectly in sync, expressive, at one with each other and their own bodies. The sequence practiced, even if it was always different, it was so graceful it was sublime.

Putting this out of her mind, Sixx moved on her black platform pumps to the back hall full of playrooms, noting, and not surprised, that Aryas’s red room was shuttered away from view. The blackout blinds to that room were scarlet, not black like all the others, thus its name.

It was his own personal playroom if he was in town. And he was. And he had one of his babies in there, working her.

Sixx didn’t need to watch that, although she would have. She’d not only seen Aryas at play, he’d worked her because he’d trained her. He showed her how to be who she was. He introduced her to other Dommes to teach her the things he could not. And he’d played with her in his sessions in which she was required to sub so she could understand the headspace her own subs had to get in to serve her.

She had been surprised she’d liked it.

She’d been freaked she’d liked it so much.

Too much.

Aryas had handled that too for her—amazingly. Which meant he’d helped her handle it.

And then she’d locked it away.

However as she bypassed his room, she felt her lips thin that he was back there with one of his babies and not with the woman he should be with.

At first when Sixx arrived back in Phoenix, he’d let things lie.

Now that months had passed, he was getting up in her face about making a move on Stellan.

Fortunately, she was able to fight back since he wouldn’t make a move on Mistress Talia.

Which was where Sixx went and where she stopped to watch, also not surprised that Talia was working a sub mostly because those two circled each other just this way. If Talia took a sub and he caught it, Aryas wasn’t too far from taking his own. If Aryas took one and Talia caught it, she hustled a sub into a playroom.

Retaliation.

As Sixx watched Talia work a sub named Bryan, definitely a favored and oft-used toy of hers, she got worried.

In a heartbeat, Bryan would take things further with his tall, slender, lithe, beautiful, mocha-skinned, tawny-fro’ed Mistress, and not just because he seriously got off on the way she worked him.

She wasn’t just beautiful and had a serious style going on in and out of a playroom. She was funny, quick-witted, smart-mouthed, loyal and very sweet. And Sixx had witnessed her aftercare of Bryan when she got down to serious business with him, and even knowing Talia’s heart was with Aryas, her head and attention was with Bryan in a way he could mistake the fact that he didn’t have a place in that particular vital organ.

Sixx considered having a word with the Mistress.

She did that, and then she decided instead to have a word with Leigh so Leigh would have a word. Amélie was probably already thinking of doing it. She wasn’t Queen Bee just because she rocked a playroom, and she took her unofficial role seriously.

But if Sixx had a word, she might light a fire, and perhaps if they double-teamed Aryas and Talia, they could get something going.

Before hitting the Dom Lounge, she found her feet taking her one last place.

At first, she positioned herself carefully in order to be able to process what she might see and at the same time be out of his line of sight because he always broke scene to catch her eyes if he saw her at the windows. And the possibility of seeing him working a male sub was something she wanted without him breaking scene.

This eye contact, at first, she’d found terrifying, because it was encouraging. It was rare a Dom working would do that unless he was working directly with another Dom.

When months passed and nothing came of it, Sixx stopped finding it terrifying or encouraging and just found it weird.

There was no invitation in his gaze. No challenge issued. No warmth or comradeship or humor or anything.

He’d just catch her gaze and hold it for as long as it took for her to break it. Even if he was physically inside one of his subs, he’d thrust while simply looking at Sixx, remote and disengaged, from her and his sub, until Sixx herself broke the contact and his attention went back to his sub.

But if he was working a male, especially inside one, this she’d want to see. Man-on-man was a thing of hers, and since she’d returned to Phoenix, she’d indulged in that, always taking multiple submissives, they were always male, and she’d call the shots to get that fix.

Seeing Stellan engaged in something like this would probably make her orgasm right there in the hall. Hell, just thinking about it got her wet.

Then again, although this would be an extraordinary sight to see, Sixx didn’t figure it would take much to do that. In all her play since she’d come back, she had not once let a single sub touch her, she’d rarely touched them, and she hadn’t had that first orgasm, not in play, not with some random partner she picked up out in the vanilla world (because she hadn’t picked anyone up), not even at her own hand.

But as she hesitated at the edge of one of the rooms Stellan favored, the silhouette and blackout blinds up like he normally played it, she didn’t even see Stellan.

The female was working the male, and that work was inspired, but there was no Stellan.

Sixx took one step along the hall.

Another.

And there he was, still in his trousers and dress shirt, but the suit jacket was thrown over the back of the leather club chair he was sitting in. He had his long legs crossed, and he was slanted to the side, elbow on the arm of the chair, head propped up in his hand where it held his square jaw at his knuckles with his forefinger extended along his chiseled cheek.

She drew in a breath at the bored expression on his arrestingly beautiful face, that expression running deep into his dark blue eyes.

He did not look annoyed, upset, or distracted, as news of his father acquiring then disposing of another wife in a matter of months might make him.

He didn’t look anything, certainly not like he was in a room where sweet and dirty sex acts were being performed at his command by the slaves he’d chosen for the evening.

He looked like he was in a meeting that he couldn’t wait to get out of.

Then suddenly, his gaze came to her.

He didn’t move, didn’t lift his head, just swept his eyes straight to her, not like he’d noticed her standing there, like he’d sensed she was there.

His expression didn’t change. Neither did his position.

He stared her right in the eyes, pinning her to the spot, giving her nothing except his regard.

She wanted to scream, Why? Why do you look at me like that? Why can’t you give me something? Anything?

She didn’t do that.

Of course not.

She accepted the only challenge he gave her and stared straight at him in return for as long as she could stand it.

And Sixx could stand a lot, so this lasted a long time, perhaps full minutes, before, as ever (and as ever wanting to kick her own ass), she broke the contact and walked slowly, and as casually as she could fake it, away.

Once out of sight of Stellan, she didn’t mess around going to the Dom Lounge.

There were cameras in there too, but she’d given herself a reason to return there after she had a drink in the hunting ground. This being so she could collect what she’d put there a week ago and be done with the job she was on so she could then collect the paycheck.

She did just this, going directly to her locker and grabbing the small, boxy, black python Alexander McQueen clutch with its four finger loops topped with various skulls or roses. A clutch she’d placed there after she’d arrived rather than giving it to reception, which was what most of the Dommes did.

Inside was a slim, business-card-sized wallet with her credit card, ID and a few banknotes, her phone, another phone that was hers-but-also-not, her lip liner and lipstick, her fabulous vintage compact with mother-of-pearl inlaid in black depicting cranes flying across a yellow moon, her Cayenne keyfob and nothing else.

With her back to the camera, she grabbed a random vibrator she had in her locker, twisted off the bottom where you’d put batteries, upended the flash drive she’d hidden there, and slid it in the lining of the clutch that she’d jimmied so she could open it, hide things behind it, and then press it back in place where it held.

She then went to the mirror.

At first, she didn’t look at herself, but instead used it to take in the plush surroundings of the Dominants’ Lounge.

Deep-seated, purple-velvet banquettes spanned the walls. They were covered in red-and silver-velvet toss pillows. The patterned silver wallpaper behind them was bottom-lit with soft light.

There were attractive steel tables with scented candles glowing on top of them.

The lockers were made of the same steel as the tables and looked like a bank of cabinets with a variety of digital locks, not lockers.

The gleaming black basins had no faucets, just wide, lush waterfalls that activated by motion. There were no paper towels, instead thick, soft, purple, red or silver hand towels and washcloths.

There were showers around the side, as well as a Jacuzzi tub, a steam room and a sauna.

Available for use was anything you could need. Disposable razors (for men and women) and shaving cream, aftershave, a variety of colognes and perfumes, hairspray, lotions, oils, deodorants, tampons, condoms, face moisturizer, bath soap and scrub, shampoo and conditioner.

Submissives were specifically disallowed there. The lounge was for downtime and Dom time outside any scene. If a sub needed to be cared for or it was part of the scene, you requested a room that had those amenities, and the Dom took care of that.

And Sixx longed to stretch out on those banquettes and close her eyes to the D. L. & Co. candles that smelled like vanilla, balsam and pepper, soothing and spicy, so very Aryas. So very the Honey.

God, she loved it there. It was like her home. It was the only place, outside being on a job, where she could be …

What?

Not herself. She played a role there. No one knew who she was. Not really. (Except Aryas, or at least he knew more than everyone else.) Not even people she called friends.

So why did she love it there so much?

And why was her heart hurting that she wasn’t getting out of it what she needed anymore?

She looked at herself in the mirror.

“Because it’s safe,” she whispered to her reflection.

That was it.

And now it no longer felt as safe.

Because Stellan was there, and wanting him and not having him—but more, knowing she should never expose him to what it would mean to have her … hurt.

That didn’t make sense either. She’d wanted a lot in life.

And never got it.

But Stellan was different.

Stellan was …

Sixx shook off her thoughts and took herself in through the mirror.

She couldn’t see the black pumps or her long legs she’d sleeked not only by giving them a close shave all the way up to her pubis but also with a subtle oil that made them shine.

What she could see was the black leather micro-mini that sat tight on her hips, cupped her ass and had a wide black belt with a bold silver buckle.

Up top she wore a white leather modified camisole that had a deep plunging neckline that went to her midriff and spread wide at the sides, showing the inside curves of her smallish breasts. The straps were very thin. There was a tight band across her ribs. It was cropped but not by much, showing only a hint of flesh at her belly between camisole and skirt, depending on how she moved.

Her hair was short, clipped in a graduated bob at the nape of her neck, the champagne highlights in her dark cinnamon hair looking (she thought) great in the sweeping, long bangs that fell well past her eye, the sides of her hair hanging below her jaw, all the ends in messy flips.

She had to style it, which was a minus. But it was short so it didn’t take long, and it had a sex-bomb vibe, so that was a definite plus.

She looked into her wide, brown eyes and wondered, What next?

A weighty question because it wasn’t about what was next for her at the Honey.

But what was next for her with everything.

At Aryas’s appeal (which meant repeated demands), she’d given up “the job.”

Ostensibly.

As far as he knew, Sixx had gone legit, working as the internal investigator for a large local law firm.

However, directly due to Aryas’s interference in some of his other friend’s lives, a need had arisen in Phoenix when Branch Dillinger stopped doing what he did out there and became the operations manager for all of the Bee’s Honeys.

Nature abhorred a vacuum.

Cue Sixx stepping in because first, her pay at the law firm was good, if you weren’t used to making a lot more doing a lot more dangerous shit for a lot more dangerous people. And second, if you were used to doing a lot more dangerous shit for a lot more dangerous people, as well as used to the adrenaline rush that got you, it wasn’t an easy habit to break.

So she had a proper job, not a normal one, but one that included a 401K and a bi-weekly paycheck that gave her insurance benefits.

And on occasion, she moonlit on the side.

Aryas didn’t know.

No one knew (except her friend and sometimes partner, Sylvie Creed, and her husband, Tucker, who she and Sylvie sometimes had to call in to help. But Sylvie wasn’t in the life Sixx pretended to lead through her play and relationships at the Honey).

Even if Sixx got off on it, and the cash she accumulated doing it, not to mention the freedom that offered, she knew she couldn’t do it forever. She had the scars to prove that particular story you told yourself to stay on the job was a lie.

But what would she have if she stopped?

The kink was getting boring. There were only so many orders you could give that led—perhaps in a lengthy way, but nonetheless the end was always the same—to someone else’s orgasm.

It had lost its appeal.

Because she wasn’t connecting.

She used to connect.

She used to stay mostly silent, watch, listen, open herself to being acutely aware of every expression or even twitch of the skin to sense what her sub wanted … then she’d find some elaborate or creative but always hard-earned way to give it to him.

Now she didn’t even have that.

Anyone could give their own self an orgasm. It was her job as a Dominatrix, regardless if the emotion wasn’t there, the attention and the respect and the motivation and the deliberation had to be there to connect. Somehow. Some way.

That was gone.

So what was the point?

To yank herself out of thoughts that were going nowhere, even though her long-lasting lipstick was doing its job, she still opened her clutch, pulled out the liner and lipstick, refreshed the ruby red, ended it with a nice coat of clear gloss, and dropped the stuff back in her bag.

She then grabbed her phone—not her actual phone, the other one—before she clicked the clutch closed and made her way out of the lounge, deciding to have a drink while she dealt with the details of finishing up her final mission of the evening.

She wandered the halls, doing it avoiding having to walk past Stellan’s room, and hit the hunting ground.

The back corner booth was open, so she went there, flipped open the burner phone in her hand, set it to silent and then used her thumb in the onerous task of hitting the numbers on the pad repeatedly to get to the letters she needed to send the short text.

Really, smartphones were a gift from God.

The drop happens tonight.

She tucked the phone by her thigh when a server came, and she decided cool-but-luxe Sixx, Mistress with the Mostest, was fucking dead.

It was over.

No rep to uphold.

No bullshit to convey.

She was over that too.

She wasn’t going to sip from a glass of wine, withholding any personality, any hint of what made her, what defined her, that she might convey through the simple matter of ordering her preferred drink.

“Gordon’s cup. Hendrick’s,” she ordered.

“Gotcha,” the server said then moved away.

She looked to the hunting ground and saw subs avoiding her eyes but still preening in view, hoping she was there to make a selection.

God, she was dried up. Not even a tingle.

The only time she’d felt anything in—Lord, it had been days—was when Stellan’s eyes met hers earlier through the windows to his playroom.

And those days had been the days since she was last at the Honey and Stellan had turned his attention to her.

She looked down to her thigh, flipping open the phone to see no return text, and muttered under her breath, “I’m a fucking mess.”

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

Her head snapped up just in time to watch Stellan, back in his suit jacket and definitely out of his playroom, slide in the booth across from her.

God, he was gorgeous.

But …

What the fuck?

“You were saying?” he prompted.

She flipped the phone shut and tucked it against her thigh so she’d feel it vibrate when the text came in.

“I have something on my mind,” she shared, not knowing what to make of this, him in the booth opposite her, making an approach, sitting there looking magnificent but still inaccessible, speaking directly to her with only her there to speak to.

“And that would be?” he asked.

“It’s work,” she told him.

“Ah,” he murmured, glancing to the side and looking up when the server set her drink in front of her. An action he oddly watched with what appeared to be rather avid fascination as the old-fashioned glass came to rest on the burgundy cocktail napkin. “Scotch, please,” he ordered before the guy could ask.

“On it,” the server said and moved away.

Stellan didn’t watch him go and it took a good deal, Sixx didn’t look away when Stellan’s attention came back to her.

“Not in the mood tonight?” he queried.

She shook her head, lifted her drink, and took a sip.

When she put it down, she verbalized that same response. “No.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, and there it was.

God.

There it was.

That “hmm” was almost like a purr, and that purr snaked right up her pussy, an area that instantly got wet.

“You’re finished early,” she noted.

He gave a one shoulder shrug that managed to be masculine and elegant at the same time, something only Stellan could pull off.

“I thought I’d try something new.”

“And?” she asked.

“It wasn’t as successful as I’d hoped.”

“Too bad,” she murmured, taking another sip of her drink.

“Is it?” he returned, and her gaze lifted to his, because he’d asked a question but mostly because that question was strange.

“For you, and them, of course it is,” she replied.

“They got a good deal out of it, I assume, unless she faked it, which is doubtful. He, however, couldn’t fake it as the evidence he left was physical.”

Perhaps she shouldn’t have left so soon. It would undoubtedly have been interesting to watch Stellan orchestrate something like that.

“Unusual for you to choose a male,” she remarked.

He turned his head to the hunting ground and remarked, “An experiment I’m unlikely to repeat.”

She gave it some time, and this was mostly because she was arrested in the act of taking in the beauty of his profile. The cut line of his strong jaw. The angle of his cheekbone. The shadowed hollow under it. The fine lines that fanned from the corner of his eye. The straight slope of his nose. And, Lord God … that remarkable swell of his lower lip.

When she realized another second and she’d start squirming in the booth, she spoke.

“It might be more enjoyable if you went hands on,” she suggested.

He looked back to her and more wet surged between her legs at the expression on his face and what was emanating from his eyes.

“If I fancy ass, it comes with breasts and a vagina or not at all.”

Sixx would take him up her ass, deep, hard, fast, soft, slow, gentle, any way he liked it.

She’d beg him for that.

On that thought, her salivary glands went into overdrive, and she lifted her drink, tipping it to him in salute, before she brought it to her mouth but didn’t take a drink.

“Too bad,” she murmured.

Then she sipped.

His lips, including that luscious bottom one, curled up slightly at the ends.

“Mistress Sixx,” he said softly. “If she had it her way, they’d be lined up by the score and fucked raw, climaxing at her command at the tip of her whip.”

She stared at him, her stomach feeling like it was cramping, but her voice sounded even when she asked, “You say that like there’s something wrong with it.”

“Of course there isn’t,” he drawled, totally and openly lying.

I’d make you like it, she said in her head. I’d make you beg for it. I’d break my back, sell my soul, do anything I’d need to do to make you come harder than you’ve ever come before, tying you to me, connecting you to me, making you never want to leave.

He held her gaze, his face arrogant and knowing.

Or I’d give it to you, her mind whispered. Anything you wanted, anything you’d want to do to me to give you what you needed in a way that need could never be eased and you’d always come back for more.

He kept holding her gaze, but in the dim light of the bar of the Bee’s Honey, she could swear she saw something in his expression grow soft, like he could read her thoughts.

Before she could get a lock on it, or better, turn from him so he couldn’t read anything further, for once he looked away first, but only because the server was there, placing his lowball of Scotch over ice in front of him.

Sixx picked up her drink, looked to the hunting ground, and took a healthy sip.

“Are you staying?”

Stellan’s question brought her attention again to him.

She put her drink down and asked, “Pardon?”

“In Phoenix,” he explained. “I know you travel for work and it takes you away for long periods of time. But this time, you’ve been back for a while, so it seems like you’re staying.”

She had been intending to stay.

Now she didn’t know.

“For a while,” she replied.

He nodded, sipping his drink, and then stated, “I’ve been meaning to invite you, simply haven’t had the chance. But I’m having a party next weekend. We’ve hit June, and the weather hasn’t yet started baking. I’m taking advantage. We’ll start with a pool party, then everyone can change and we’ll move in for dinner. I’d be delighted if you’d come.”

She hid her reaction to that by throwing back more gin.

“Leigh and Olly will be there,” Stellan went on, back to his gaze set unwavering on her. “Mira and Trey. Felicia’s bringing a couple of her toys. Penn and Shane will be there. Victor has a new slave he’s enjoying so he’s bringing her. In other words, it’s a play party, just to make that clear. Though, depending on how it goes, we’ll make things more sociable and less structured for dinner. That will be up to the Dom.”

When he hesitated, she nodded, indicating she’d heard and taken this in, and he kept speaking.

“Belle’s bringing Tiffany. Talia is bringing Bryan. Aryas will be out of town, as will Evangeline’s partner, but Evangeline will be there in her usual capacity. Observation only.”

It was an unwritten rule when referring to the Honey’s Domme Evangeline’s “partner”—who was really her boyfriend who was essentially living with her—at least in the confines of the walls of the club, people did not use his name.

But he was Branch Dillinger. Her partner. Her boyfriend. Her sub. But he was also the Honey’s new top guy, since Aryas had taken a step back from operations in order to focus on opening his new club in Tahoe, and he needed someone he could trust to pick up the reins.

And if Branch played it that way, wishing things to be private, he got it that way, and would even if the man couldn’t probably snap your neck with his bare hands then walk away and not give that kill a second thought.

It was just the life and everyone obeyed that rule.

Though the threat of having your neck snapped worked too.

Sixx was just relieved Evangeline was back, not to mention ecstatic she had a man in her life like Branch. Especially after what was done to her to make her take a prolonged break, all of this happening when Sixx was away.

It was good it happened when she was away. If she was close, retaliation would have been much different than what Aryas had ordered, and even much different than the vastly more thorough way in which Branch had handled it.

But it was handled. So at Aryas’s firm request, she’d let it be.

She was relieved and ecstatic for Leenie … and also jealous.

Jealous because she wondered what it would feel like to have a miracle happen after the world as you knew it turned to complete shit and then one day … you might not be healed, but you were again whole.

“And if you like, I’ll have a couple of male slaves available for your use. Fresh meat. I know a few who’d volunteer that I’m sure you’d like,” Stellan continued.

And that stomach cramp got worse.

He’d provide her “a few volunteers.”

Thoughtful.

And damned disappointing.

She wondered who he’d have there.

And how many.

“I’ll think about it,” she told him.

“Please do,” he said before taking another sip of his Scotch.

She followed suit with her gin, practically willing her phone to vibrate against her leg to give her a reason to get away from him.

Stellan spoke again.

“So you’re not in the mood, will you allow me to offer you something that might strike a different mood? One I’d wager you’d enjoy a great deal.”

At this proposal that came out of nowhere, Sixx almost choked on her gin.

But of course she didn’t, and again her voice was clear and cool when she asked, “What’s that?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid it has to be a surprise. But I will say it will be a surprise you’ll like. I also have to say, you shouldn’t wait to make your decision or things will culminate and we’ll miss our chance.”

Things will culminate?

Oh no.

She was intrigued.

Damn it!

“Can you give me a hint?” she pressed.

He made a tsking noise that she felt tap against her clit, and as was his usual, he didn’t lose contact with her gaze.

But he wasn’t looking aloof anymore.

This was both an invitation and a challenge.

She just didn’t know to what.

And with Stellan—this sudden Stellan who was vastly different than the Stellan she’d been getting (or not, as the case was) for the last too-many-months—she wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“Don’t disappoint me, Sixx,” he said quietly. “The Honey’s Ice Princess, cool and composed in every situation, shying away from an adventure?”

“I simply need to know how long it would take,” she lied. “I have something I need to do tonight,” she didn’t lie.

“As soon as you need to go, I’ll bring you back.”

He’d bring her back?

He was going to take her somewhere?

“What’s it going to be, Sixx?” he pushed. “In truth, I should have asked you the minute I joined you in this booth. We risk missing the grand finale the longer we wait.”

“Stellan—” she started, wondering how to get out of it at the same time how not to appear like she was jumping on it by accepting too quickly.

She needed time to assess this change, plan, strategize, prepare, fashion a brand-new Sixx. One who could deal with the likes of Stellan Lange and come out the other side of whatever became of whatever was happening unscathed.

And more importantly, make certain he did.

Or time to find a place to hide. Or escape, her mind taunted. Coward.

“I’ve bought you a present,” he shocked her by announcing. “I did this some time ago. I’ve been wishing to give it to you but haven’t had the opportunity. Now’s the opportunity.” The movement was almost not there, but yet it was when he leaned slightly her way and warned in a low voice, “Don’t waste it.”

Again, eye contact, unrelenting.

Challenge.

Invitation.

Finally.

And a gift?

She lifted her drink, took another healthy swallow, put it on the table and then dropped her hand to her thigh to curl her fingers around the phone there while grabbing her clutch off the table with her other hand.

She looked back to him and said, “Let’s go.”

When she did, all vestiges of her stomach cramps disappeared.

Because when she said that, Stellan Lange smiled a wicked, roguish, beautiful smile.

Right at her.

Copyright © 2018 by Kristen Ashley in The Greatest Risk and reprinted with permission from St. Martin’s Griffin.

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Kristen-Ashley-Pic-237x300

Kristen Ashley is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over fifty novels, including Mystery Man, The Gamble, and Own the Wind. She grew up in Indiana, but has lived in Colorado and the West Country of England.

SOCIAL LINKS:

Author Website

Twitter – @KristenAshley68

Facebook – @KristenAshleyBooks

Instagram – @KristenAshleyBooks

 

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THE HOOK UP – An Erin McCarthy Teaser

We’re just under a month away from the release of THE HOOK UP by Erin McCarthy – check out this teaser below and be sure to preorder your copy of THE HOOK UP now!

About THE HOOKUP

Available May 8th

Is there an equation for the perfect hookup? Turns out it’s a lot more complicated than one plus one. . . .

Sophie: Numbers are my comfort zone, which explains why my sex life is a big fat zero. Then again, if I’m smart enough to earn a PhD, why can’t I calculate a way to get a guy into bed, just to see what all the fuss is about? With my prima donna sister, Bella, getting married in Maine, I figure her wedding is the perfect opportunity for my little experiment. And Cain Jordan seems hot enough—he’s certainly drunk enough—to show me what I’ve been missing. Judging by the body of evidence, it’s a lot. . . .

Cain: Being stuck in the same town as my lying SOB twin brother, Christian—who may or may not be the father of the son I’m not allowed to see—is a hell of a reason to drink myself silly after the lobster boat docks each day. Any port in a storm . . . But Sophie’s different. She doesn’t play around. And she’s becoming a habit I don’t want to break. Because the smartest woman I’ve ever met is also the sexiest—and the only one who makes me want to change.

Don’t miss Bella and Christian’s story in The Breakup!

 

THE HOOK UP releases May 8th – preorder your copy now!

✦ Amazon http://amzn.to/2oRBVP3
✦ Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/2oS6vbr
✦ Kobo http://bit.ly/2oRza07

 4CD8B9E7-A972-402B-9132-ECB3B3C5BFB4.png


About Erin McCarthy

USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author Erin McCarthy first published in 2002 and has since written over sixty novels and novellas in teen fiction, new adult romance, paranormal, and contemporary romance. Erin is a RITA finalist and an ALA Reluctant Young Reader award recipient, and is both traditionally and indie published.

When she’s not writing she can be found sipping martinis in high heels or eating ice cream in fleece pajamas depending on the day, and herding her animals, kids, and amazing renovation-addicted husband.

Connect with Erin McCarthy

✦ Website http://www.erinmccarthy.net/
✦ Facebook https://www.facebook.com/ErinMcCarthyBooks
✦ Twitter https://twitter.com/authorerin
✦ Instagram https://www.instagram.com/authorerinmccarthy/
✦ Goodreads https://tinyurl.com/yc2xuxbw
✦ Bookbub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/erin-mccarthy

 

IRON PRINCESS – A Meghan March New Release

He’s a mystery. An enigma.

His very identity is a secret buried beneath layers of deception.

He’s also an addiction I can’t shake. An attraction I can’t fight.

And then I found out exactly who he is—a man more dangerous than the devil himself.

Now I need him in order to save everything that matters to me.

I have to pull back. Protect myself from the danger that haunts his every step.

Which would be easy . . . if I could stop myself from falling in love with him.

 

iBooks | Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | Amazon CA | BN | Kobo | Audible

 


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.

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | iBooks | BN | Kobo


Unthinkable. Unbelievable. Inconceivable.

I don’t recognize what my life has become. I can’t tell where the lies end and the truth begins anymore.

He came into my world and urged me out of my safe little corner.

All my dreams are coming true except the one thing I want most— my own happy ending.

But I’ll fight for it.

For now.

For always.

 

iBooks | Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | Amazon CA | BN | Kobo | Audible

 


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

To get the inside scoop on a daily basis, search Meghan March’s Runaway Readers on Facebook and join the fun.

FACEBOOK | WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM | AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE | TWITTER | PINTEREST

THE HOOK UP – An Erin McCarthy Teaser

We’re just under a month away from the release of THE HOOK UP by Erin McCarthy – check out this teaser below and be sure to preorder your copy of THE HOOK UP now!

About THE HOOKUP

Available May 8th

Is there an equation for the perfect hookup? Turns out it’s a lot more complicated than one plus one. . . .

Sophie: Numbers are my comfort zone, which explains why my sex life is a big fat zero. Then again, if I’m smart enough to earn a PhD, why can’t I calculate a way to get a guy into bed, just to see what all the fuss is about? With my prima donna sister, Bella, getting married in Maine, I figure her wedding is the perfect opportunity for my little experiment. And Cain Jordan seems hot enough—he’s certainly drunk enough—to show me what I’ve been missing. Judging by the body of evidence, it’s a lot. . . .

Cain: Being stuck in the same town as my lying SOB twin brother, Christian—who may or may not be the father of the son I’m not allowed to see—is a hell of a reason to drink myself silly after the lobster boat docks each day. Any port in a storm . . . But Sophie’s different. She doesn’t play around. And she’s becoming a habit I don’t want to break. Because the smartest woman I’ve ever met is also the sexiest—and the only one who makes me want to change.

Don’t miss Bella and Christian’s story in The Breakup!

 

THE HOOK UP releases May 8th – preorder your copy now!

✦ Amazon http://amzn.to/2oRBVP3
✦ Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/2oS6vbr
✦ Kobo http://bit.ly/2oRza07

 4268B86F-C438-488D-B753-340F3E2AACDA.png


About Erin McCarthy

USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author Erin McCarthy first published in 2002 and has since written over sixty novels and novellas in teen fiction, new adult romance, paranormal, and contemporary romance. Erin is a RITA finalist and an ALA Reluctant Young Reader award recipient, and is both traditionally and indie published.

When she’s not writing she can be found sipping martinis in high heels or eating ice cream in fleece pajamas depending on the day, and herding her animals, kids, and amazing renovation-addicted husband.

Connect with Erin McCarthy

✦ Website http://www.erinmccarthy.net/
✦ Facebook https://www.facebook.com/ErinMcCarthyBooks
✦ Twitter https://twitter.com/authorerin
✦ Instagram https://www.instagram.com/authorerinmccarthy/
✦ Goodreads https://tinyurl.com/yc2xuxbw
✦ Bookbub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/erin-mccarthy

 

NEEDING HIM – A Kennedy Fox Review, Excerpt Reveal & Giveaway!

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I am completely thrown by this book. Kennedy Fox continues to outdo themselves with every new romance; seamlessly blending steamy with intriguing. I’m thoroughly swept off my feet by hot-shot doctor Evan Bishop. He knows what he wants and he’s not afraid to go after it. After a passionate night (and hysterical morning) with a gorgeous woman at his brother’s wedding, he’s thrown for a spin when the sexy siren, Emily, shows up in his ER as his new coworker. And now the sparks FLY! There’s something different about the energy of an enemies-to-lovers romance: the tension that builds between Evan and Emily explodes. He’s controlling and a hothead but she’s not afraid if a challenge.

As the two clash they seem to realize there’s more between them than just attraction. But as Evan begins to understand his feelings for Emily, a danger looms from her past threatening her life. With a sinister stalker following her every move the story gains more and more suspense. With a cataclysmic climax Evan and Emily gave to fight for their future, before it flatlines. And not to leave readers without; KF dangles the carrot of one JUICY story for quiet twin John that has me DESPERATE for what the heck just happened! Add this five star Bishop to your TBR NOW!

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Evan Bishop is your typical hotshot doctor.
Hardass, brooding, and all business.

Instead of working on the family ranch, Evan broke the mold and became an ER doctor.
He’s good with his hands—in more ways than one—smart as a whip and is the definition of God’s gift to women. Being a gentleman is in his Southern roots, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t flawed. Exclusive dating has never been a top priority and his tragic past makes him stay at arm’s length. Deciding to let loose for a wild night, he takes a page from the Bishop brother’s relationship book and hooks up with a mysterious girl he’ll never have to see again, which is perfect for this self-proclaimed bachelor.

Emily Bell is a city girl through and through but is determined to get away from her family and past. All she wants is a fresh start and to make a name for herself in the medical field. No random hookups and no dating coworkers—that’s her new motto after being burned time and again. When she agrees to attend a wedding as a plus-one, she’s soon ditched and left to drink solo—but not for long. Mr. Suit is the ultimate temptation with his Southern charm, messy blond hair, and irresistible sex appeal. Everything about him screams bad news, but he makes her reconsider her rules just for one night.

After all, some rules are made to be broken.

They want the same thing—one night of passion then they’ll go their separate ways. No cuddling afterward. No next day phone calls. No awkward goodbyes. Too bad the universe has other plans—one that’ll be obvious when they report to work on Monday morning.

*A contemporary romance with a little Southern drama. This is book 2 in the Bishop Brothers series. Each book features a different brother and can be read as a complete standalone. HEA guaranteed!*
Not suitable for readers under 18 due to adult language and sexual content.

AVAILABLE NOW

AMAZON | iBooks | B&N | KOBO

Excerpt NH

I caved.

Fuck me. I caved, and now he thinks he’s in control and God’s gift to the world.

Fucking great.

I won’t let him manipulate me with sex. He must not be that smart if he thinks that’s actually going to work. I said those things in the heat of the moment and because I really needed to fucking come, but that doesn’t mean I meant it. Hell, I would’ve told him the sky was purple if that meant he’d give me what I needed.

Regardless, that was really damn hot. The way I yelled at him, and he yelled back, and then we just attacked each other. Every moment of our first night together has replayed in my head since it happened, but now… angry Evan is the one who will haunt me in my dreams. Angry Evan is hot and demanding and knows just how to tease the fuck out of me. I almost hate him for it. Except I could never hate a man who knows how to worship my body like he does.

But God, does he really have to be such a controlling asshole?

I scoop my scrubs and shoes off the floor and adjust my just-fucked hair. Once my top is on, I search for my panties. When I don’t find them on the floor, I shake out my scrub bottoms, but they aren’t there either. What the fuck?

Panic starts to surface at the realization that I lost my damn panties. Shit, shit, shit.

My pager beeps, and it’s painfully obvious I’m going to have to put my pants on without them. Quickly, I finish getting dressed and push my shoes on before grabbing my lab coat and the soiled shirt and flying out the door.

I throw Evan’s shirt in the trash before anyone can see me and ask questions.

Rushing to the nurses’ station for an update, I look around but don’t see any commotion or people scrambling like normal. “What’s going on? You paged me?” I ask, trying to catch my breath.

Fiona looks at me like I’ve gone crazy. She swallows and lowers her eyes before bringing them back up to look at me. She witnessed the heated argument back in the trauma room, and now she looks uncomfortable as hell. “Dr. Bishop asked me to page you. He wanted me to tell you that your break is over and to get back to work.” I can tell she’s uneasy delivering the news, but that doesn’t stop the anger from brewing inside me.

The vein in my forehead is about to burst, but I remind myself to play it cool. For all they knew, Evan sent me on the break to calm down, and now I’m the one looking like a slacker.

“Okay. Thanks.” I pinch my lips together to prevent any further words from spewing out of me. No one can know that Evan and I are…whatever the hell we are. Considering I came to this hospital to make a name for myself all on my own, the last thing I need is people thinking I sleep my way to the top.

Crap.

“Dr. Bell,” Evan barks from the other side of the room. He’s holding a pile of charts in his hands that are no doubt from the huge fire incident that just unfolded.

Taking a deep breath, I put my lab coat on and dig my stethoscope from the pocket and wrap it around my neck. We have to act impartially to each other publicly, but hell, I didn’t realize how hard it’d be now that we’re together.

“Yes, Dr. Bishop?”

He doesn’t even look up at me when I approach him, and I hate that it irritates me.

“I need you on beds seven through fifteen until the next shift rotation, then finish these charts before you leave.” His head tilts up, his lips in a firm line as he piles the stack in my arms. “I also need an update on the Brauer kids once an hour.”

Swallowing, I adjust the charts in my arms to prevent them from falling. I won’t let my pride get in the way of doing my job, and if charts are what I need to do right now, then I won’t make a scene. At least not in front of everyone. However, once we’re alone, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind for treating me like a damn intern again.

“Absolutely. Anything else, sir?” My tone is laced with fake sweetness, and he doesn’t flinch a beat at it.

“Yes, actually.” He takes a step forward and dips his head until his mouth hovers over my ear. “Make sure those charts are done correctly before you leave. I’ll be looking through them extensively.”

“Of course.” I grind my teeth, wishing I could give him a piece of my mind right now.

“And since I know you’re going commando, I won’t ask you to perform any oral procedures.” He winks before walking away, making my blood boil.

That asshole stole my panties!

Giveaway NH.png

Enter to win a Kindle Fire, signed paperback of NH, Amazon gift card, and swag box (4 winners)

Needing Him Release Day Giveaway


Brooke Cumberland & Lyra Parish are a duo of romance authors who teamed up to write under the USA Today Bestselling pseudonym, Kennedy Fox. They share a love of You’ve Got Mail and The Holiday. When they aren’t bonding over romantic comedies, they like to brainstorm new book ideas. One day, they decided to collaborate and have some fun creating new characters that’ll make your lady bits tingle and your heart melt. If you enjoy romance stories with sexy, tattooed alpha males and smart, independent women, then a Kennedy Fox book is for you!

Keep up with all their social media platforms for updates & info!

WEBSITE | NEWSLETTER | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM

Copy provided

NEEDING HIM – A Kennedy Fox New Release Excerpt Reveal & Giveaway!

Evan Bishop is your typical hotshot doctor.
Hardass, brooding, and all business.

Instead of working on the family ranch, Evan broke the mold and became an ER doctor.
He’s good with his hands—in more ways than one—smart as a whip and is the definition of God’s gift to women. Being a gentleman is in his Southern roots, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t flawed. Exclusive dating has never been a top priority and his tragic past makes him stay at arm’s length. Deciding to let loose for a wild night, he takes a page from the Bishop brother’s relationship book and hooks up with a mysterious girl he’ll never have to see again, which is perfect for this self-proclaimed bachelor.

Emily Bell is a city girl through and through but is determined to get away from her family and past. All she wants is a fresh start and to make a name for herself in the medical field. No random hookups and no dating coworkers—that’s her new motto after being burned time and again. When she agrees to attend a wedding as a plus-one, she’s soon ditched and left to drink solo—but not for long. Mr. Suit is the ultimate temptation with his Southern charm, messy blond hair, and irresistible sex appeal. Everything about him screams bad news, but he makes her reconsider her rules just for one night.

After all, some rules are made to be broken.

They want the same thing—one night of passion then they’ll go their separate ways. No cuddling afterward. No next day phone calls. No awkward goodbyes. Too bad the universe has other plans—one that’ll be obvious when they report to work on Monday morning.

*A contemporary romance with a little Southern drama. This is book 2 in the Bishop Brothers series. Each book features a different brother and can be read as a complete standalone. HEA guaranteed!*
Not suitable for readers under 18 due to adult language and sexual content.

AVAILABLE NOW

AMAZON | iBooks | B&N | KOBO

Excerpt NH

I caved.

Fuck me. I caved, and now he thinks he’s in control and God’s gift to the world.

Fucking great.

I won’t let him manipulate me with sex. He must not be that smart if he thinks that’s actually going to work. I said those things in the heat of the moment and because I really needed to fucking come, but that doesn’t mean I meant it. Hell, I would’ve told him the sky was purple if that meant he’d give me what I needed.

Regardless, that was really damn hot. The way I yelled at him, and he yelled back, and then we just attacked each other. Every moment of our first night together has replayed in my head since it happened, but now… angry Evan is the one who will haunt me in my dreams. Angry Evan is hot and demanding and knows just how to tease the fuck out of me. I almost hate him for it. Except I could never hate a man who knows how to worship my body like he does.

But God, does he really have to be such a controlling asshole?

I scoop my scrubs and shoes off the floor and adjust my just-fucked hair. Once my top is on, I search for my panties. When I don’t find them on the floor, I shake out my scrub bottoms, but they aren’t there either. What the fuck?

Panic starts to surface at the realization that I lost my damn panties. Shit, shit, shit.

My pager beeps, and it’s painfully obvious I’m going to have to put my pants on without them. Quickly, I finish getting dressed and push my shoes on before grabbing my lab coat and the soiled shirt and flying out the door.

I throw Evan’s shirt in the trash before anyone can see me and ask questions.

Rushing to the nurses’ station for an update, I look around but don’t see any commotion or people scrambling like normal. “What’s going on? You paged me?” I ask, trying to catch my breath.

Fiona looks at me like I’ve gone crazy. She swallows and lowers her eyes before bringing them back up to look at me. She witnessed the heated argument back in the trauma room, and now she looks uncomfortable as hell. “Dr. Bishop asked me to page you. He wanted me to tell you that your break is over and to get back to work.” I can tell she’s uneasy delivering the news, but that doesn’t stop the anger from brewing inside me.

The vein in my forehead is about to burst, but I remind myself to play it cool. For all they knew, Evan sent me on the break to calm down, and now I’m the one looking like a slacker.

“Okay. Thanks.” I pinch my lips together to prevent any further words from spewing out of me. No one can know that Evan and I are…whatever the hell we are. Considering I came to this hospital to make a name for myself all on my own, the last thing I need is people thinking I sleep my way to the top.

Crap.

“Dr. Bell,” Evan barks from the other side of the room. He’s holding a pile of charts in his hands that are no doubt from the huge fire incident that just unfolded.

Taking a deep breath, I put my lab coat on and dig my stethoscope from the pocket and wrap it around my neck. We have to act impartially to each other publicly, but hell, I didn’t realize how hard it’d be now that we’re together.

“Yes, Dr. Bishop?”

He doesn’t even look up at me when I approach him, and I hate that it irritates me.

“I need you on beds seven through fifteen until the next shift rotation, then finish these charts before you leave.” His head tilts up, his lips in a firm line as he piles the stack in my arms. “I also need an update on the Brauer kids once an hour.”

Swallowing, I adjust the charts in my arms to prevent them from falling. I won’t let my pride get in the way of doing my job, and if charts are what I need to do right now, then I won’t make a scene. At least not in front of everyone. However, once we’re alone, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind for treating me like a damn intern again.

“Absolutely. Anything else, sir?” My tone is laced with fake sweetness, and he doesn’t flinch a beat at it.

“Yes, actually.” He takes a step forward and dips his head until his mouth hovers over my ear. “Make sure those charts are done correctly before you leave. I’ll be looking through them extensively.”

“Of course.” I grind my teeth, wishing I could give him a piece of my mind right now.

“And since I know you’re going commando, I won’t ask you to perform any oral procedures.” He winks before walking away, making my blood boil.

That asshole stole my panties!

 

 

Giveaway NH.png

Enter to win a Kindle Fire, signed paperback of NH, Amazon gift card, and swag box (4 winners)

Needing Him Release Day Giveaway


Brooke Cumberland & Lyra Parish are a duo of romance authors who teamed up to write under the USA Today Bestselling pseudonym, Kennedy Fox. They share a love of You’ve Got Mail and The Holiday. When they aren’t bonding over romantic comedies, they like to brainstorm new book ideas. One day, they decided to collaborate and have some fun creating new characters that’ll make your lady bits tingle and your heart melt. If you enjoy romance stories with sexy, tattooed alpha males and smart, independent women, then a Kennedy Fox book is for you!

Keep up with all their social media platforms for updates & info!

WEBSITE | NEWSLETTER | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM

CHASER – A Kylie Scott Review & Excerpt Reveal

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Eric’s your typical bar owner hottie. He loves women, and spending time with them, intimately. I really thought I was going to hate Eric based off of that persona as well as how his friends and family perceived him. I could not have been more wrong. After watching his brother find a happy ever after, Eric’s beginning to see things in a different light. Meeting Jean, wasn’t the plan to fall for her. A night of passion, yeah, but finding out she’s pregnant can stop any man in his tracks. But there’s a connection between them. Eric is able to just be himself without the judgement he’s used to. And when Jean’s baby arrives a whole new side of Eric opens up. He’s still carefree and lovable but Jean and her daughter give him something to be proud of.

I was honestly taken by surprise with how emotional this book made me feel. There’s no terrible past from Jean about her child’s father. There’s no cataclysmic event to force Eric to decide what he wants. This a story about two people (technically three with the baby lol) who fall for each other all out of order. But who are we to judge. You never know what a relationship looks like to the two people in it. And Chaser is the soothing balm after the rough and rich stories of Vaughn and Joe. Scott couldn’t have done a better job on Eric’s story!


Chaser (1)Given his well-earned bad boy reputation, Eric is having a tough time scoring.. When single Jean moves to town, she seems heaven sent by the sex gods. Only problem is, she not only wants nothing to do with him, but it turns out that she’s pregnant.

Starting over in a small town, Jean is determined to turn her wild lifestyle around and be the kind of mother she always wished she’d had. Since local bar owner and all round hottie, Eric Collins, is now determined to steer clear of her pregnant self, it should be easy. When she goes into labour during a snow storm and her car slides on some ice, it’s Eric who comes to the rescue.

There seems to be a bond between them now, but is it enough? And can Eric give up his manwhore ways to be the man Jean needs?

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Excerpt Chaser.png

I’d been tricked. Betrayed.

After Andre and Jean ate their lunch, we headed outside to deal with her stuff. The cold wind suited my mood to perfection.

Talk about disappointed.

“Don’t lift that, it looks heavy,” I snapped.

Jean blinked. “It’s a pillow.”

“The world’s largest pillow ever. You can’t be too careful.” My gaze roamed over her swollen middle. “You’re . . .”

“Pregnant?” she asked with a voice dripping poison and sugar.

“Are you having trouble with the concept?”

“Absolutely not. I was just going to say huge, that’s all.”

She blew out an exasperated breath. “Thanks, Eric. That makes me feel so much better.”

“I just . . .”

“Don’t bother.” The woman turned back to her sensible, medium-sized SUV and got busy riffling through the contents. I was surprised she’d been able to squeeze into the driver’s seat.

Boxes and stuff took up almost every inch inside the vehicle. Each and every box seemed to have been neatly labeled with the contents.

The woman took her organization seriously. She looked over her shoulder. “You know, I can’t help noticing that Eric-the-smooth-moving-flirt has been suddenly replaced by Eric-the-awkward-jerk.”

“Well, you said you were single.” I folded my arms defensively across my chest.

“I am.”

And then there was an awkward silence.

“Yeah, but . . . I mean, in your condition . . .” I fumbled to a halt.

She turned, face all scrunched up. Like I was the one with the problem.

“Just hop out of the way so I can grab some boxes,” I said, voice gruff.

Still nothing from her. “It’s a second-story walk-up and you have a lot of stuff to get up there. You should be taking it easy.” Hands on hips, I tapped my black leather boot against the sidewalk, waiting her out. “Jean, I’m not trying to insult you. It’s the truth.”

She swore quietly, going back to fussing with the contents in the vehicle. I don’t think any woman has ever given me the silent treatment quite this quickly. Usually I’m good for at least a couple of hours after seeing them naked.

Man, I still couldn’t believe this was happening. God hated me or something. Pregnant women and me were enema. Anathema. Whatever. Now that I’d seen her out in the autumn light, however, she looked younger than I’d first guessed. Despite her tired eyes, her skin was smooth, soft looking. She was likely closer to her early twenties than mid.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Why do you care?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Just curious.”

“How old are you?”

“Nearly thirty.”

She sniffed. “I’m twenty-two.”

Young, like I’d thought. She was probably too immature for me, anyway.

“Come on, Jean. Let me get some of the boxes.”

Boyd ambled out of the Dive Bar, turning his head this way and that, looking up and down the street. I raised my hand and he started over in our direction. The big cook would make short work out of moving all this stuff. Behind us, Andre and Nell came out of the tenants’ entrance to the Bird Building. The place was a big brick building about a hundred years old. Just past the door was an entryway with stairs leading up to the second floor, followed by two empty shops, their windows covered in flyers about local events. Concerts and parades and shit. They’d been vacant for a while, unfortunately. Andre’s Guitar Den came next, then Pat’s tattoo parlor Inkaho, and the Dive Bar on the corner.

“Everything’s good to go. Alex and I gave it a cleaning last week just to be sure,” said Nell, smacking a kiss on Jean’s cheek.

“You’ll meet Alex later. She’s probably busy working or something now. She’s sort of a shut-in.”

“You two didn’t have to do that,” said Jean. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Andre leaned against the SUV. “Your furniture got delivered yesterday too, so it’s all good to go.”

“Excellent,” said Jean. “I can’t wait to sleep in a decent bed again. Road trips when you’re seven months’ pregnant kind of suck.”

“I bet.”

“Who’s minding the kitchen?” I asked.

“Lydia will text Boyd if they need something,” said Nell.

“We’re only going to be a few feet away from the place.”

I frowned.

“I own the kitchen, Eric. Not you,” she said. “You’re in charge of the bar, that’s all.”

One of Jean’s eyebrows inched up slightly. So I might have implied that I was the sole owner. Shit happened.

I crossed my arms. “Fine. No need to bite my head off.”

“My best online friend just moved to town. We’ve been texting and skyping for months. She’s been an absolute rock for me through all the nerves of being pregnant again,” said Nell. “Stop messing with my happy.”

And then there was an awkward silence. Great. If only there was some way to get out of helping without looking like a raging asshole. The possibility of anything happening between me and Jean had been buried six feet deep, never to be spoken of again.


kyliescottimageKylie is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author. She was voted Australian Romance Writer of the year, 2013 & 2014, by the Australian Romance Writer’s Association and her books have been translated into eleven different languages. She is a long time fan of romance, rock music, and B-grade horror films. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet. You can learn more about Kylie from http://www.kylie-scott.com/

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