New Release!

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Sleeping With My Boss by Claire Adams ~ #NewRelease #Billionarie #Romance #Rafflecopter

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Synopsis
Asher Sinclair is a billionaire CEO who loves money, success, and his privacy. He crosses paths with Lilah Maxwell when she, unknowingly, destroys his ad campaign right in front of him. Far more impressed than wounded, Asher then offers her a promotion, which she hesitantly accepts. The more they work together, the more the sparks fly.
While both are hesitant to jump into a relationship, similarities in their past and their ambitions bring them together. However efforts to sink his company threatens to destroy their relationship forever.
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Thursday, September 22, 2016

Beck: Hollywood Hitmen, Bk 1 by @maggiemarr ~ #NewRelease #Romance #Sexy





Title:  Beck

Series:  Hollywood Hitmen, Book 1

Author:  Maggie Marr

Release Date:  September 20, 2016

Buy Links:



Summary:

Hot Hollywood Nights… Box office breaker, Natalie Warner might be the Princess of Tinseltown, but she’s a starlet with a bad attitude, a frightening past, and a stalker. Former SEAL Beck Tatum has a mission and no patience for Hollywood bad girls. He must protect Natalie and stay out of her bed–both missions seem nearly impossible.

Natalie Warner can’t ignore the risk any longer. A star on the rise, her latest film is on track to be the biggest box office breaker of the summer but Natalie isn’t safe. Someone is after her. Could it be her angry addict father or her mother who always wanted to be a star herself? What about her ex-boyfriend who just did time? The Studio refuses to ignore the threat and forces Natalie to take on a bodyguard, but that bodyguard comes in the shape of rugged, irresistible Beck Tatum, because whoever is after Natalie isn’t going to stop until someone makes them.

A question, wrapped in a riddle, Beck Tatum doesn’t know what part of the government he worked for before he lost his memory or what exactly his mission was. He can remember that he loved and that he lost that woman as well as his memories on that final mission. Now with a second chance, he’s assigned to protect a high-value asset. Rich and entitled but yet kind and vulnerable, Natalie Warner isn’t the spoiled rich woman Beck expected. But falling for her would put her life on the line and Beck isn’t about to lose anything else.

Teasers:




 

 

 


 

Author Bio:

Maggie Marr is the author of contemporary romance and women’s fiction. She writes smart, sexy, women and the men they love. She got her start in Hollywood pushing the mail cart at ICM, but quickly rose through the ranks to become a motion picture literary agent. As well as writing, she maintains a boutique legal practice dedicated to the needs of creatives & entrepreneurs. She is the current President of Los Angeles Romance Authors (LARA) and legal adviser to the Women’s Fiction Writers Association (WFWA). Maggie loves all things pop culture and when she isn’t taking care of her clients or writing she can be found reading, chasing kids, or exercising her rescue pup

Social Media:


Excerpts:

#1

Beck welcomed darkness. The night was a cloak of anonymity that provided him with a freedom the daylight never did. When he chose to be, Beck was soundless in his movements. Swift and stealthy under the cover of night, he could move before anyone knew of his presence. You didn’t get nineteen confirmed kills without embracing silence.
He entered Natalie’s bedroom. Moonlight glanced through the window and shone on her face. Her dark hair lay like liquid night on a pillow. Those perfect lips barely parted. Her sleep was peaceful. Restful. A thought . . . a memory . . . a moment from before, with Marisol, flashed through Beck’s mind like lightning in a summer sky, then was gone.
Natalie was tough. She might appear like a sexy girly-girl, but with all the treachery she’d endured from her family and friends, she’d developed a thick hide to survive and thrive.
Beck circled the room. Tested the locks on the French doors that led to the balcony. Her room was on the second floor, but if a person was determined they’d find a way to get inside. He scanned the bathroom. Pretty damn swank. Next was the walk-in closet, which was bigger than his last apartment and filled with more shit than one of those fancy-ass high-end department stores.
He circled back to the bedroom and stopped beside Natalie’s bed. She had no reason to trust Beck. All the people in her life had failed her when she’d trusted them. Why would she expect anything different from him?
Because Beck wouldn’t fail. Not again. Not this time.
“What are you doing in my room?”
“My job.”

#2

“The first letters?” Beck stood in the main operations room with Remi. He opened the file. He’d read and reread the letters and the file over the last two days. Each letter had a different picture of Natalie Warner cut from a magazine with a giant red X through the photo. Beneath the photo of Natalie, in an angry red scrawl, were the words Kill The Whore.
“They came back clean without prints. Mailed from varying locations in Los Angeles, so nothing there. They’ve escalated to following her. They tailed her all the way home last week.”
Beck looked up from the papers.
Remi shook his head. “No plates. You have everything you need?”
“Sounds like she’s a tough one.”
“Doesn’t trust anyone. Family isn’t supportive. Major daddy issues, so her choices in regards to men haven’t been wise. Leaves lots of possibilities for potential stalkers. Could be someone who knows her, a stranger, or some random she took home.”
“Police?”
“Studio doesn’t want them, she doesn’t want them. She doesn’t want us either but the studio is bringing us in. They prefer discretion, especially with the Shemax premiere coming up.”
Beck looked back at the tablet. In her picture, Natalie Warner didn’t look too tough or too wild. A sadness in her eyes made Beck doubt there were as many random hookups in her life as Remi thought.
“We need to put you in place today. You ready?”
Beck looked around the room and out the giant windows and toward the L.A. cityscape in the distance. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
His stomach tightened. On most missions he was sent in to kill people, but on this one he was meant to make certain Natalie Warner wasn’t killed

#3

Easy. Target.
And his responsibility.
Like a sucker punch to the gut, the realization hit him harder than it had before when they’d first arrived. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move a muscle on his face, but slid his gaze toward Remi. The lift on one corner of Remi’s mouth told Beck that Remi completely understood. Hence the hefty salary, the long folder, and full-on psychological profile of Miss Warner that Beck had been presented with over the last three days.
“Miss Warner.” Beck voice was smooth and firm. “I’m afraid we have to decline.”
The skin on her arms prickled and she stiffened with his words. Her back went ramrod straight and away went the gorgeous breasts. Conflicted. She was conflicted by her physical attraction to Beck and her dislike of being rejected. She licked her lips and pulled her hair behind her ear. Her entire demeanor shifted from sultry sexpot to spurned child. Yeah, with that body, those eyes, and all that fame, Natalie wasn’t rejected often.
“So you do know who I am.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Her smoldering gaze went arctic frigid faster than a bullet split bone.
“No”—she tossed her head and tilted her chin upward—“everyone just thinks they do.”

Teasers:

#1

Details. The Agency had schooled him on those types of miniscule details. Those teeny tiny details conveyed the reality and facts of a situation. Nothing escaped Beck’s eye. Nothing.
He took the final step into the atrium, and he’d summed up this guy, knew he was left-handed and had an injury in his right leg. Yeah, he had him all summed up, but didn’t know what the fuck the guy wanted with him.
“Beck Tatum, I’m Remi Prince.” He grasped Beck’s hand. A firm shake. His gaze locked with Beck’s. “I have a proposition for you.”


#2

Natalie’s breath stalled in her chest. Those eyes. Sharp blue pierced through the restaurant and stole her breath. He didn’t drop his gaze. Most men, the moment they realized that she was the Natalie Warner, grew uncomfortable in their own skin or became bravado-machismo, as though they were suddenly hunting big game and she was the trophy.
Not this guy. His gaze remained locked to hers. He didn’t caress her body with his eyes, he didn’t wink or smile, he didn’t even acknowledge her celebrity. He simply looked at her.
Heat flew through her. Well-worn feelings of fear and loneliness dissipated beneath his stare. That man, a man she didn’t even know, was built to protect.

#3

“Get some sleep.” Beck’s gaze slid over her outline under her comforter. What would it feel like to slide beneath the comforter and wrap his arms around her? Keep her safe and in his arms.
He wouldn’t find out.
“I’ll be right outside your room.”
Fire crackled between them. He’d be a fool to ignore the attraction. Better to acknowledge the want, if only to himself, so he could assess and insulate against his own weaknesses.
“Just say my name and I’m here.”


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Shopping for an Heir by Julia Kent ~ #NewRelease * Contemporary #Romance * Comedy *



Shopping for an Heir (Book 10 in the Shopping series)
Author: Julia Kent
Release date: September 20, 2016
Genre: Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance

Description:

Gerald Wright works for billionaires. He never imagined he’d become one.

The former Navy Seal is a chauffeur by day, artist by night, so when hotter-than-ever ex-fiancĂ©e Suzanne Dayton interrupts his nude model sculpting class to serve him with inheritance paperwork from a man he’s never heard of, he assumes it’s a joke.

Turns out the joke’s on him. There’s just one catch. A big one.

And it might be Suzanne — in more ways than he ever dreamed.

Shopping for an Heir is the 10th book in the New York Times bestselling Shopping for a Billionaire series by Julia Kent.



Buy links:

Amazon Canada: http://amzn.to/29IQds1
Amazon Australia: http://amzn.to/29JqH84
Google Play: http://bit.ly/29MNgdk
Goodreads:  http://bit.ly/2atJMcM

Author Bio:

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down

Social Media Links:


Teasers:



#1

“I can do this,” Suzanne Dayton muttered under her breath, standing outside the decrepit arts center, pacing back and forth, trying desperately to find her old military voice. More than ten years out of the Navy after a two-year stint, and that world was like a different lifetime. Three years of law school and seven years as a practicing attorney—now a full partner at one of Boston’s best firms—and here she was, trembling with anxiety at the thought of walking into a nude sculpting class.
The nude part? No problem.
The class part? No problem.
The instructor? Big problem.
And what she needed to deliver to him?
“Oh, God,” she groaned. “How did my life come to this?”

#2

Squaring her shoulders, Suzanne decided to make this easy for him. God only knew why. “My law firm is handling the estate of deceased billionaire Harold Hopewell. You’ve been named in his will.” She tapped the thick envelope in his hand. “These papers explain everything.”
“Explain what?”
“You’re his heir. One of them, at least.”
At that moment, a leaky pipe released a drop that went ker-plunk into a ragged bucket on the floor.
“How can I be an heir to a guy I don’t even know?” His words were about the dead billionaire, but she knew he was just trying to engage her. Make her stay.
She looked around. She had to get out of there. “Read the papers. If you have any questions, my office number is on the letterhead.”

#3

Gerald awoke with a start, gasping into the strange box of reality, the room dark with shadows and filled with the scent of deeply anticipated horror.
“Oh, God,” he grunted, breathing erratic, heart in flames in the center of his chest.
That dream.
That f*cking dream.
He hadn’t had that dream about Suzanne in eight years.


 
Excerpts:

#1

He smelled like home. Like love. Like promise and comfort, like passion and disbelief.
“What’s wrong?” he snapped, his face alternating between joy and anger. “Why are you here?”
Coming to her senses, she extracted the thick envelope from her brief bag, looking him square in the eye. “Legal matter. I’ve been instructed to deliver this to you.” She used remarkable restraint in not peering around Gerald to get more of an eyeful of Declan McCormick’s stately form.
Then again, Gerald was an impenetrable wall of muscle himself, not easily subverted. She’d need taller heels to peer around him. He did not move his palm from her arm, and his touch infused her, a deeply satisfying sense of connection slowly creeping along her skin, her breath quickening, his touch ringing bells inside her that had been dormant for a decade.
“What is it?”
“Read it. You’ll understand.” She turned on her heel and started to leave, shaking inside so hard she might trigger the New Madrid fault.
He glared at her. “What? That’s it? Ten years and that’s it?” He pulled back, breaking contact.
All her anxiety faded, like an antidote injected straight into the heart, his words kicking in, providing such clarity.
“Ten years you chose, Gerald,” she hissed, mouth curling, throat seizing. “You do not get to put this on me.” Grief flared in her, a burst like a fireball, and then it turned to the ash of anger, a light coat settling over every spare surface of her heart.
His eyebrows shot up, eyes gliding away, his nose twitching and mouth tightening as if holding back.
Squaring her shoulders, Suzanne decided to make this easy for him. God only knew why. “My law firm is handling the estate of deceased billionaire Harold Hopewell. You’ve been named in his will.” She tapped the thick envelope in his hand. “These papers explain everything.”
“Explain what?”
“You’re his heir. One of them, at least.”

#2

A flash of movement under a streetlight in the distance, at the nearest light, caught Gerald’s eye.
Suzanne.
Sprinting, he left Declan befuddled, calling out his name, until the light changed and he watched as Suzanne marched forward with that confident walk of hers, shoulders squared as if she were still in morning formation and wore a uniform, wiping her mouth with a tissue and muttering to herself. He knew how the curve of her spine felt under his palms when she stood like that, the supple feel of the paradox between soft skin and hard bone a delightful feast for his fingers.
“Wait!” he called out, unsure and unbidden, moving on pure instinct. He needed to touch her. Would die without making that single, simple connection. Not just in an intimate sense. The need was more than that.
Suzanne got to the curb and stopped. She did not turn around, her body poised, waiting.
Panting with the burst of exertion, his brain firing on all cylinders, he caught up to her and slowed down at the last steps, moving to her, pulled by a force that drew him in. His front settled against her back, his tight cotton t-shirt brushing against the thin linen jacket she wore, the friction erotic and full, sensual.
As his palms touched her elbows, her arms at her side, he inhaled with precision, measuring her.
She did not move.
“Suzanne,” he murmured, chin close to a stray hair that curled out from her updo, resting against the fine, creamy line of her neck. With longer hair, the sharp, jutting bones of her jaw stood out, giving her the look of a Viking princess. In heels, she was exactly his height, setting him off-kilter. He wasn’t a short man. In fatigues she was always four to five inches shorter. In service dress, her shoes gave her a two-inch lift.
He liked being equal. Liked it a lot.
“Please,” she whispered, the word spiraling off into the dark night, as if the street lights beyond them were pulling her voice to them.
Taking her reaction as something other than rejection, he left his hands where they were, closing the inch gap between them. She was cool and regal, his hot, thick chest pressing into her back.
“Please what?” he asked, knowing this could go either way, but not caring, because right now—as each second ticked by—he had more internal calm than he’d had in ten years.
Even as desire burned bright inside him.
“Please don’t.”
He froze.
“Don’t what?” Tempted to step back, he held strong. Her please carried a weight to it, a meaning he needed to discern before acting. All impulse and no analysis would end this in a flash. Time was his friend. Patience.
Hesitation.
He had to go against instinct.
“Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”

#3

Gerald awoke with a start, gasping into the strange box of reality, the room dark with shadows and filled with the scent of deeply anticipated horror.
“Oh, God,” he grunted, breathing erratic, heart in flames in the center of his chest.
That dream.
That f*king dream.
He hadn’t had that dream about Suzanne in eight years.
Drawing on every tool in his psychological coping toolbox, Gerald started with deep breaths. Inhale for eight, exhale for four. Something like that. His hands fisted the sheets, which were damp in sections. Sweating profusely, Gerald stood, throwing the sheet off him, stomping through his bedroom naked, headed to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Instead, he found himself five minutes later, standing in front of the open freezer door.
Just...standing there.
A glance at the stovetop clock told him it was 4:56 a.m. Sunrise soon. The day would begin.
Hell, the day had clearly begun already. No way was he going back to bed.
His nose was cold. His back was covered with sweat. One drop trickled down his spine and into his ass crack. And yet, still he stood there, stupidly staring at a half-empty freezer.
Enlightenment would not come from a frozen pad Thai dinner.
Today was his day off. He had a wide-open schedule. Nothing planned.
Which made today dangerous.
Think, man. Think, he urged himself, recalling what his psychologist at the Veterans Affairs center had told him, all those years ago. Use the tools. Don’t define yourself by the intrusive thoughts.
He froze.
And realized that the dream had been different this time.
Blinking, he felt his corneas stick against the backs of his eyelids, the rapid eye movement necessary to return his body to the well-oiled machine it needed to be.
The dream was different. 



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