The Illusion of Ecstasy Blitz- Nicole Loufas

Illusion of Ecstasy
Nicole Loufas
(2nd Dose in the Thizz Series)
Publication date: December 1st 2016
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult

When Dani discovered the cash hidden in her attic, she had no idea the problems it would bring. With the help of the Marino’s, Dani is able to launder her father’s dirty money, but their help comes with a price. Her relationship with Matt.

Not wanting to hurt Dani’s future or freedom, Matt removes himself from the equation to keep everyone safe. But when it’s time to go home, he has to decide which is more important – watching his little sister grow up or returning to the girl of his dreams.

Nick is determined to make good on all the bad he’s caused, and has finally accepted his role as a Marino. Fate doesn’t make it easy for him. Especially, when he returns from Europe to find Dani is falling apart. With Matt out of the picture, Nick contemplates a future with the only girl he’s ever loved.

In the conclusion to Thizz, A Love Story, follow Dani, Matt, and Nick on a soul-searching journey into adulthood. The Illusion of Ecstasy explores the emotional tribulations they encounter without the help of thizz. How to deal with real emotion becomes the biggest obstacle of all on their road to maturity.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

Nick and I circle each other for a few minutes. I wait for him to make the first move. He always makes the first move. To my surprise, he just keeps circling and smiling. Finally, I go for it. I lunge, and he falls against the padded headboard. Wood cracks. I keep wailing on him with the pillow. Nick grabs me around my knees and takes me down. He tries to pin me using a move I taught him. He has no chance. I arch my back and twist my body. Before Nick can take his next breath, I’ve got him flipped over. We’re both breathing heavy. I hold Nick by the neck, not too hard. I don’t want to hurt him. Not really. I’m lying on my back, my arm wrapped around his neck as he’s lying beside me, sort of in front of me. I feel his hand tap out at the same time the screen on the front door squeaks open and then slams shut.

Nick starts to laugh when Dani appears in the doorway.

She takes in the room. The comforter on the floor, the sheets askew. Nick in my arms. She’s trying really hard to keep a straight face. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just working out some aggression,” Nick jokes and breaks free.

I want to ask what she’s doing here, but I suspect Nick had everything to do with it. The phone call, changing the sheets, it makes sense now. That thoughtful motherfucker.

“I can come back later,” she teases and breaks into a huge grin. Her face lights up. She only beams like this when she’s high. There is only one person who could’ve given her pills.

Nick jumps off the bed and wraps Dani in his arms. He pulls back and kisses her on the forehead. Her eyes flutter closed, and all I can think is—karma is a bitch.

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Author Bio:

Nicole was born and raised in California. She claims to be a San Francisco native, however she’s lived in both Northern and Southern California. She credits her creativity to the fact that she attended 12 schools between kindergarten and her senior year in high school. Her nomadic childhood allowed her to reinvent herself often. Some might say she was a liar. While others see the stories she told as a coping mechanism. Twelve schools, in six cities, in twelve years – give her a break. Today she channels her storytelling ability into writing novels. Long story short – kids that lie become writers.

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Snowed Blitz- Maria Alexander

Snowed
Maria Alexander
Publication date: November 2nd 2016
Genres: Fantasy, Mystery, Young Adult

Charity Jones is a 16-year-old engineering genius who’s much-bullied for being biracial and a skeptic at her conservative school in Oak County, California. Everything changes when Charity’s social worker mother brings home a sweet teen runaway named Aidan to foster for the holidays. Matched in every way, Charity and Aidan quickly fall in love. But it seems he’s not the only new arrival: Charity soon finds the brutally slain corpse of her worst bully and she gets hard, haunting evidence that the killer is stalking Oak County. As she and her Skeptics Club investigate this death and others, they find at every turn the mystery only grows darker and more deadly. One thing’s for certain: there’s a bloody battle coming this holiday season that will change their lives – and human history – forever.

Will they be ready?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

SNEAK A PEEK AT CHAPTER 3:

I can hear Mom and Dad chatting in the living room, asking questions. Another softer voice with a strange accent gives staccato answers.

“Charity?” Mom calls out. She sounds annoyed.

I shuffle through the foyer, inhaling the smell of baking lasagna. When I enter the family room, Mom and Dad are sitting on the couch with mugs, tea bag tags draped over the edges. Some guy I don’t know sits with them in the easy chair. I can’t help checking him out. He’s my age, average height, with skin pale as cream and wavy ebony hair. His light blue eyes shimmer under long, inky lashes. His wrinkled, striped dress shirt is much too big for his narrow shoulders, and his scuffed black boots with pointed toes peek out from the cuffs of his baggy jeans. He gives off a weird vibe, like he’s been in prison or working for suicide bombers.

He must be a stray.

My mom’s a social worker. She’s always bringing home people for meals. Damaged people.

Mom wraps an arm around my shoulders, kissing my ear. “Where have you been? Did you get my message?”

I shake my head.

“Hey. How’d it go?” Dad hugs me as well. I kiss his big scruffy face.

They are being very nice. Something’s up.

“Not great. I’ll tell you later.” I stare at our visitor.

“Charity, this is Aidan MacNichol. Aidan, this is my daughter, Charity.”

“How do you do?” He holds out his hand. His eyes barely meet mine. His voice is a notch higher than I expect and kind of sing-song. What century is this guy from? Who says stuff like that?

“Hi,” I say and give him The Boneless Hand. I’m touching you but I’m not happy about it.

Except I am. His skin is incredibly soft, like my mom’s charmeuse dress. He

lets go. At the last second, I almost don’t.

And he almost doesn’t, either.

“Where’s your brother?” Dad asks.

“I don’t know. In jail?”

“Charity, stop it,” Mom sighs.

“What? I never know where he is.”

A car roars into the gravel driveway. It must be Charles’ ride. The music escaping the car windows sounds like someone is grinding the air into steel shavings. As the car retreats, Charles bursts through the front door and makes for the staircase.

“Hey! Charles, come here.” Dad motions to him.

Charles looks as if he’d rather snack on rat poison than join us, but he does.

“Hey.” Charles lifts his chin at Aidan. Aidan nods back.

“We want to talk to you guys.” Mom puts her hand on Aidan’s shoulder.

“Aidan is going to be staying with us for a little while.”

“This is bullshit,” Charles announces and heads for the staircase. He looks

at Aidan. “No offense.”

“Hey, get back here!” Dad yells.

“No family meeting? You just drop this on us?” I ask.

Mom looks mortally offended. “Charity!”

“It’s not fair. We never get a say in anything that happens around here. Not about Aunt Bulimia—”

“Aunt Bellina.”

“Or the dog I wanted?”

“Honey, you know Charles is allergic.”

“The only thing he’s allergic to is school!”

“Shut up, Cherry.” Charles glares at me, his hamster face squinching up.

“We have guests from my work all the time,” Mom says, “and you’ve never cared before.”

“Yeah, for dinner.”

Aidan slinks back, hands in his pants pockets. He watches the sky through the sliding glass door on the far wall of the living room. He’s humming a familiar tune under his breath. I can’t quite place it.

“I should go.”

Aidan’s announcement cuts through the room. Everyone falls silent.

“I can’t stay here,” he says. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones. You’ve been very kind.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Aidan.” Mom invokes The Voice. It’s from her days as a trial lawyer. “If you leave, I have to call the authorities. You’re underage, your legal residency is in question, and the county has put you in our care. You can stay with us or you can go to juvy.” Mom darkened. “I don’t recommend juvy.”

“Neither does Charles,” I say.

“Shut up, Cherry!”

Aidan sighs. “I don’t know what this ‘juvy’ is but I suppose I don’t want to go.”

“Are you from like England or something?” Charles asks.

Aidan looks confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“Where is he sleeping?” I ask.

“Your room,” Dad says.

My face heats with horror. I bury it in my hands.

“Kidding!” Dad says, throwing an arm around me for a bear squeeze.

“Sewing room. Now let’s have some chow.”

Mom shuttles us to the dining table. She interrogates Charles as to why he stinks like cigarette smoke, but he claims it’s from riding with his friend Noah. I say nothing. As we set the table, she brings out the salad and lasagna, which smells heavenly.

Humiliation and disappointment haven’t affected my appetite at all, apparently. I wish something would.

I notice that Aidan holds the fork like he’s strangling it. He scrapes the plate. Everyone winces. Where is this guy from? And why is he so strange? Who doesn’t know how to use a fork?

I want to flee to my room to cry but I can’t. I want to make up with Keiko. I feel terrible about that fight. But Mom has laid down the law: No running off before the meal is over. Supposedly this encourages Charles to stay put and bond with us. If I ran upstairs and flung myself onto the bed now, I’d be doubly busted because we have a guest. I just want to be alone and this weird stranger is keeping me from my snug room where I can just melt down.

“Are you all right?” Aidan looks at me, concerned. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t

you who misbehaved at school today.”

Wait—what? How could he know? Or does he?

Mom shoots Aidan an anxious look, then me. “Honey, is there something going on?”

“Cherry started a riot at school today,” Charles offers.

“A riot?” Dad eyes me with disbelief.

“Shut up! That’s not what happened!”

“And then she made the Christian girls cry.”

“Charity!” Mom says. “Was this your club?”

“Mom, I didn’t do anything to anyone.”

“Then they sent Cherry like a million text messages so she can’t use her phone anymore.” Charles beams with triumph.

I want to slam his face into the Pyrex dish. “You! Did you give them my cell number?” My face heats with the rage. My hand balls into a fist on the table.

“That’s enough.” Dad points at Charles. “Did you give out your sister’s cell number?”

“Of course not,” Charles says, indignant. Dad eyes him suspiciously, but lets it drop. There is no justice.

Mom wearily passes Dad the wine bottle. “Charity, what happened?”

“Nothing. I put up a flyer about the Skeptic’s Club and the BFJs picketed my meeting, calling me a lot of unspeakable names. They harassed everyone who was there. They were harassing me with texts calling me a Satanist even before the club meeting. I had to turn off my phone. That’s why I didn’t get your call.” Tears scald the corners of my eyes.

“Where were the school officials?” Mom asks. “I can’t believe they let this happen!”

“Don’t worry. Mr. Vittorio told me he’s reporting it. He’s the librarian.”

Aidan sits with his hands folded in his lap, eyes trailing to the window.

Mom narrows her eyes at Dad and polishes off her glass of wine.

And then there’s Keiko… I can’t take it anymore. I manage to stand up and choke out, “Excuse me,” before dashing for my room.

I hear Charles complaining behind me. “So Cherry gets to have a tampon tizzy and get out of dishes?”

I slam the door and the tears spill out. As I fall on the bed, I look to Mr. Spotty and Miss Yoyodyne, who squat beside my desk. These aren’t stuffed animals. They’re robots I built. I feel like kicking one of my plastic component bins but I hurt so much, I just double over on the bed.

Footsteps pound up the stairs and Mom taps on my door. I know her knock.

“Come in.”

Mom sits on the bed and hugs me. Between sobs, I tell her what happened with Keiko.

“Honey, these people are serious bullies. Do you want me and Dad to talk to the principal?”

“No. That’ll only make it worse. Besides, the school says they’ll deal with it. Can we wait and see what happens?”

She looks unconvinced, wiping hair out of my eyes. “If they lay a hand on you…”

“…I have a good lawyer.”

After Mom leaves, I text Keiko.

I’m so sorry, K. Please don’t be mad. I won’t put up any more flyers. I promise! Xoxo

As I read One Hundred Years of Solitude for AP English, I can hear thebumps and scrapes of Dad and Charles setting up the cot in the sewing room. Despite his protests, Charles enjoys showing off that he can lift more than Dad, who had back surgery several months ago. Mom digs through the sewing room closet. “We’ll get you more clothes this weekend,” I hear her tell Aidan. They wish each other a good night.

After two long hours of AP Calculus followed by Honors Chemistry and French, I eventually crawl into bed, exhausted and wishing that I believed in something—anything—that I could pray to and make things okay with Keiko.

Everything falls quiet except for Aidan. I hear him humming. The wall is thin between us.

I remember hearing Mom crying in the sewing room after we first moved here. She and Dad weren’t getting along. I hate thinking of my mom being weak. She has to be strong, the badass lawyer who torches anything in her way with her words. I love her for that. To hear her sobbing was haunting.

Aidan keeps humming. It’s that same tune as before but this time I know what it is.

Carol of the Bells.

A Christmas song.

 

Author Bio:

Maria Alexander is a produced screenwriter, published games writer, virtual world designer, award-winning copywriter, interactive theatre designer, fiction writer, snarkiologist and poet. Her short stories have appeared in numerous publications and acclaimed anthologies alongside living legends such as David Morrell and Heather Graham.

Her debut novel, Mr. Wicker, won the 2014 Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a First Novel. She’s represented by Alex Slater at Trident Media Group.

When she’s not wielding a katana at her Shinkendo dojo, she’s being outrageously spooky or writing Doctor Who filk. She lives in Los Angeles with two ungrateful cats and a purse called Trog.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter

 

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This Isn’t You, Baby Review- K. Webster

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***This is the fourth book in the series. First three books must be read first in order to understand this story line.***

I was a pawn.
Weak and someone easily manipulated.
To be played with as he saw fit.
Until YOU.

YOU shone light in my now dark world.
It was YOU who made me smile.
For the first time in this game, I had hope.
All because of YOU.

The more powerful pieces on the board, however, were a threat to YOU and me.
They would win at any cost.
Two kings ruling with an iron fist.
Allies or opponents, it was hard to tell.

YOU promised to save me.
Told me we would win.

But then I was on the wrong side of the board.
This isn’t YOU, baby.
And I don’t know what to do.

The game is almost over and I’m counting on YOU.
Tick, tock…

Warning:
This Isn’t You, Baby is a dark romance. Strong sexual themes, excessive drug use, and violence, which could trigger emotional distress, are found in this story. If you are sensitive to dark themes, then this story is not for YOU.

This story will make YOU smile.
This story will make YOU angry.
This story will make YOU crazy.

I hope YOU love it, baby.

My Review: There is no slowing K. Webster down. This book is just as good as the other three. You must read the first three before this one. There are so many twists and turns in this story, you will be scared to peek and see who is around the corner. I was terrified for her at the end, but surprised when I found out who was there. Is this going to be bad or worse? Who knows?! Guess we will find out with the next book. Story flows nicely, I just need more of it and K. Webster is a sadist who doesn’t put out. Who knew?!

You can get your copy HERE

This Isn’t Over, Baby Review- K. Webster

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THIS IS BOOK THREE IN SERIES. PLEASE READ THIS IS WAR, BABY AND THIS IS LOVE, BABY FIRST.

They’d won the battle and I held up the white flag of defeat…
But the war wasn’t OVER.

I suffered the aching loss of what they had stolen from me.
OVER and OVER again, my heart broke.
The white Queen and the black King had taken OVER the game
and ruled for what seemed like eternity.

Until one day, eternity was finally OVER.

I was the dark knight who would rise again and conquer.
I was the man who would win OVER the most important piece on the board.

A slayer. A protector. A father.
A new king with the blackest of hearts.

And head OVER heels in love with…
The little princess who owned my twisted soul.

Sometimes the villains don’t just want their happy ending…
They demand it.

This isn’t OVER, baby.
This will never be OVER.

Warning:
This Isn’t Over, Baby is a dark romance. Strong sexual themes and violence, which could trigger emotional distress are found in this story. This story is NOT for everyone.

This IS a love story.
This IS a dark story.
This IS a story about the villain.

Villains need love too…

***No cucumbers were injured in the making of this book.***

My Review: I cannot get enough of these, if you couldn’t tell. Each one is just as good as the last. Although, you must read the first two for this one to make sense. They are NOT standalones. I was shocked as hell at where the story takes us this time. Just damn!! K. Webster will flay you alive, piece you back together, and then open the wounds to pour salt on them. Phenomenal series. This one is going to be one that I talk about for a while. This is a definite must read, unless you are scared your demons will play really well with the ones you will meet.

You can get your copy HERE

This is Love, Baby Review- K. Webster

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THIS IS BOOK TWO IN SERIES. PLEASE READ THIS IS WAR, BABY FIRST.

My War was over and I had lost. My captor reminded me I was nothing more than his pawn.
His strategy never changed…it was always me.

But what he didn’t know was that LOVE always wins.

In my War, I’d found not only peace
but LOVE as well.

I’d been through a battlefield with my War and LOVE was what brought us to the other side.
Our LOVE was beautiful and pure. Undying.

My captor thinks he has won this war. That I will LOVE him.
What he doesn’t know is this time, I’m the one with a strategy. I’m always thinking several moves ahead of him, my War taught me that.

I will outsmart him and find peace again.
This is a war I will win.
My LOVE will conquer all.

Warning:
This is Love, Baby is a dark romance. Strong sexual themes and violence which could trigger emotional distress are found in this story. Terrible, terrible things happen to our poor heroine, so you’ve been properly warned. This story is NOT for everyone.

My Review: This series is so addictive. I read Book One yesterday and Book Two today. Poor Baylee can’t catch a break. War, what a tragedy. They have been through so much, both together and apart. There are really no words that accurately describe just how in your feels you will get with this whole series, not just this book. Both books so far will provide you with a load of violence, fear, and heartbreak. Countering that, they will also provide you with hope, love and unwavering determination. From now on, no matter what K. Webster writes, you can bet I will be reading it.

You can get your copy HERE

Hail Mary Release- Nicola Rendell

 

 

 

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At a boxing gym in Chicago, Mary Monahan accidentally knocks out the most handsome man she’s ever met. After she wakes him up with a few slaps and some smelling salts, the very first thing he does is ask her out for ribs and beer. His name is Jimmy. He looks like a Gillette model. And he’s just too hunky to resist.

Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi is mystified that Mary has absolutely no idea who he is. Mystified and refreshed. He is, after all, not your everyday NFL quarterback. He shops at Costco, has a soft spot for Pinterest, and is in the midst of an epic losing streak.

Jimmy falls for Mary fast and hard, the way he does everything—balls out and like it’s fourth and long. And he realizes he’s finally met his match. That stamina he’s so proud of? Doesn’t stand a chance against her Kegels.

But what they don’t know is she’s also his new physical therapist, recently hired by the Bears to work on his rotator cuff…and groin injury. If she can’t help him, he’ll be traded faster than they can say “offensive penetration.”

In spite of the thousands of internet memes featuring Jimmy’s face with captions like: “HEY GIRL, WANT TO TOUCH MY BALLS?” Mary finds herself falling for him and his unrelenting desire to make her his.

Until a toddler shows up at Jimmy’s door.

And throws their lives into total chaos.

***

To the reader: Contents includes love, sweetness, naughtiness, honey, champagne, and an HEA. Safe.


Chapter 1
Jimmy


She’s got a hell of a left hook, and her jab is no joke either. It’s hard to tell what she really looks like, with the big blue rubber mouth guard between her teeth and the black padded headgear covering her jaw and cheeks. But I know this: I want to get my hands on that body. Her tight pink tee is low cut and skin tight, and across her breasts are the words: “NOBODY’S PUSSYCAT.”
A cold draft blows in from the window, making goosebumps ripple up her arms. A thin stream of sweat runs down into her cleavage, and then I watch her nipples tighten. Christ. With little bounces, she heads back to her corner and bends over for her water bottle. Stretchy black leggings and no panty line.
Fuuuuuck.
The buzzer dings and we square up. She holds her gloves up to her face, ready to go. They’re bubblegum pink with white cuffs; the girliest weapons I’ve ever seen.
But never mind the gloves. It’s those eyes that have me. Shit, those eyes. This crazy deep green. Packers’ green. Jets’ green. Green like cash. Green that could make a guy go right out of his mind.
Pow goes a jab into my stomach and I double over, tasting my Gatorade from an hour ago. Before I can breathe, before I can even get up my gloves to slow her down, she pelts me hard with a cross to my sternum that knocks the wind straight out of me. I gasp for air and stagger back into the ropes.
“Jesus Christ,” I moan. “Who are you?”
Her eyes light up in this smile. This beautiful fucking smile that I feel way down inside. Then she bounces on her toes and smacks her gloves together out in front of her. Whap, whap. “I’m Mary!” she says around her mouth guard. “And you’re slow!”
Cute. But, yeah…no. Nobody talks to me like that. Nobody. I hurl myself off the ropes, colliding with her in the center of the ring, skin against skin now. I press into her sexy shoulder with my bicep, feeling the sweat between us. She nails me in the gut again; a solid, low-slung straight, and I think, I can’ t hit a girl, can I?
No. Fuck, no.
So I stretch my arm between us, the padding of my glove holding her steady right below her collarbone. She swings for me but I’m a foot taller and she doesn’t stand a chance. “Jerk!”
Obviously.
But on the upside, now I can really get a good look at her the way I want to; close up, but not so close that she’s pummeling me. Her legs are solid and I can even see that little curve of her hipbones barely showing through her leggings. I let my eyes follow the line of sweat to her inner thighs, to that wet, hot place where everything comes together. Fuck. I want my hands on that place. I want to feel the softness and the strength. I want to know the taste of that sweat. The way that softness gives under my tongue.
Ding goes the buzzer. I push her away, padded knuckles to her shoulder. She spins and gets into her corner, so I do the same.
I grab my water bottle and squirt it into my mouth, watching her all the time. She’s fucking beautiful, this one. Fucking gorgeous. The woman of dreams. Of fantasies.
From a pink Nalgene, she takes one big gulp, two, and a little water dribbles down her lips, rolling in drops down her throat. Her eyes stay right on mine. Her chest heaves. Her eyes flash. Her lips tighten. And that’s when it happens. She peels off her T-shirt and tosses it to the floor so that the only word showing is PUSSY.
Ding.
Her body is fucking perfect. I mean perfect. I moan into my mouth guard and I look her up and down. Lean but not thin. Sexy and strong. A fighter’s body. A woman’s body. A body strong enough to take everything I want to give it. And then some.
She turns to set down her water bottle, bending at the waist. And that’s when I see it. The tattoo. It’s a ribbon of black lace that runs in a beautiful, feminine line down her back from right shoulder to left hip, curving down into her pants. Tough as hell, pretty as can be. And with the sexiest tattoo I’ve ever seen in my life.
Stick a motherfucking fork in me. I’m done.
“Nice ink,” I tell her as we square up again.
“Thanks,” she says, leaning in to my shoulder.
“I’ve never seen one like it.” I hook my arm around her again and pull her in. I smell something familiar. I can’t place it. She slips free and moves behind me. For one second, all I can hear is her shoes on the mats.
“I rebelled when I turned 30. It was either this or a tramp stamp.”
“Of what?” I pivot so my face is close against hers.
“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” She smiles tight around the mouth guard. Her glove comes through the air, cutting through the noise of the gym. Whooosh.
I get my right hand up just in time to block her with my glove. The impact rolls down my forearm like I’m nothing but Jell-O.
She lets another jab fly but misses me—barely—and I slip around behind her. The hair at the nape of her neck is curly and wet, and a long dark braid runs down her back. That strip of wet fabric at the top of her pants, dark with sweat. “Why are we fighting?” I growl as I get closer. “Why aren’t we out drinking? Making trouble? Fucking around? Let me take you out.”
She spins to face me, her eyes wide open, surprised. “You wanna drink with me?”
“Hell yes, I do. And a lot of other things.”
“You want me? Fight me.” She fires her bubblegum pink cannons at my stomach with a one-two combination that makes me feel like I’m nothing but a 283-pound heavy bag.
I try to get in a left cross, but she’s way faster than I am and comes up from under with a hook straight out of Manila.
That one got me in my brainpan, in my marrow. “Fuck that,” I snarl.
“Atta boy!”
No way. Nobody atta boys me. I’m Jimmy Goddamned Falconi. I’m nobody’s boy. Never.
“Atta girl.” I nudge her in the shoulder with my chest.
Around her guard, she says, “You fight like you’re in molasses. But you’re strong. You some kind of athlete?”
At first, I’m about to laugh. For about one second, I think I might be on Candid Camera or something. I mean, I can’t walk to the bathroom on an airplane without someone asking me to sign a cocktail napkin. I can’t get through Costco without someone asking me to sign their shopping list. Some kind of athlete?
I’m Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi. Quarterback for the Chicago Goddamned Bears. I’m somebody.
But there’s zero recognition in her eyes. No flicker of the fangirl. No sign she’s playing it cool either. To her, I’m just a guy getting his ass kicked by a girl in pink gloves.
“Hello?” She presses into my chin with a slow uppercut from the right.
I snap out of it. I don’t even know how to answer her. I play quarterback for the Bears. Ever heard of them? Or maybe, Ever heard of football? America’s Game? Fuck. I wouldn’t even know how to start. I’ve never had to explain it. People just know. “Yeah, I like to work out.”
“Then act like it,” she says, all piss and vinegar, and puts her guard back in her mouth. Wham comes that jab into my gut. Pow goes the straight to my pecs. I loop one arm around her and pull her body in close, hooking the back of her neck with the crook of my elbow. I pull her closer, tighter, both arms around her, to get a feel for her…but also to give myself a goddamned break.
She struggles a little, trying to squirm free, but I see the smile on her face, the crinkle of the skin at her eyes.
I pull her head closer to mine. I must be twice her weight; no way is she going to get free now. We are the welterweight and the super heavyweight. Wrong class totally. But then she wedges her forehead in against my chest. I watch her wind up, her biceps flexing, and, boom-boom-boom.
Every time she connects, I lose a little more air and groan, “Fuck-fuck-fuck!”
“Atta boy!”
Fuck. That.
So I keep her pinned and she starts fighting harder, which makes me want to hang on to her more. I press my nose against her head. In her thick brown hair, I can smell her shampoo, her conditioner. Coconut.
While I’m distracted by that smell, thinking of sunscreen and ukulele music and drinks with umbrellas and her on a beach, she slips out from under my arms and pops up in my face.
Well, shit.
“What, you chicken? Gonna hit me back? Or do you want to dance around for an hour or two? Because I can totally do that. I just have to go home to feed the dog.” Whap-whap go her padded fists.
Oh no, no way. No way am I going to let a pretty little thing talk to me like that. I sniff hard and man up.
I give her a jab. A hook. A cross.
And she blocks me every damned time. Blocks me like she’s fought me before, or like she’s known all along what I’ll do when it comes down to it.
Fucking wax-on-wax off, one-two-three.
Pow-pow go her gloves into my side, and fuck. I think I feel those it in my spleen. Enough. Enough. Anger boils up through me like cheap vodka after a long night.
I’m Jimmy Falconi. And I’m gonna make this girl know my name.
I crack my neck side to side and get serious. I suck air through the holes in my mouth guard and get my fists up. I edge her into the corner and those eyes flash at me. She’s sweating hard and her mascara is smudged. Her hair is mussed and her skin is slick. It makes her look dangerous. Angry. I’d like to smudge that mascara a little more. In bed. Immediately.
But first, I’m going to show her who’s boss.
The more she works herself up, the hotter she gets. That’s when something catches my eye. There’s something written on the white cuffs of her gloves. All fuzzy, written in black marker:
On the right glove: HERE COMES…
On the left:…TROUBLE!
Whomp.
She nails me in the jaw with a haymaker, and my molars shake. “Come the fuck on,” I growl back at her, with my glove pressed to the side of my face.
She smacks her gloves together, and lowers her chin. “Are we sparring or chatting? Hit me!” Bounce, bounce, bounce. Butterfly, bee. Whap, whap, whap. “I’m not going to break!”
I work my jaw open and closed a few times thinking, Okay. Fine. Fine. I didn’t think it was going to go like this, but I can roll with a hostile defense, sure. Wouldn’t be the first time. I give her the old elevator stare—up, down, up again—and get stuck on her belly button for a little too long. But then I get a game plan together. I figure I can hit her in the stomach. Not too hard, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to let her know who’s in charge here.
Which would be me. Me, pussycat. Me.
Nudging the edge of her shoulder with my glove, I drive her backwards. Our eyes lock and I get this…this…prickle all through me.
This woman.
This one. Right here.
I want her. So fucking bad.
The fucking gym with its ten phones playing mariachi goes silent. The guys by the cooler egging her on go silent. It’s just her and me and the sweat dripping between us. Soft skin, sparkling eyes. She smells like a summer day and she’s looking at me in a way that no woman has ever looked at me. Ever.
Like she’s gonna own me and she knows it.
Which is bullshit.
She gives me a little lift of her chin and tightens her lips around the guard. She wipes her nose with her glove and then lowers her head. “Come on! You going to fight or are you just going to screw around?”
With my left hand, I jab her softly in the stomach. With the right, a play-hook to the jaw. I raise her chin on my glove so her eyes come up to mine. Then I pull her close, my arm around the back of her neck again. “You wanna screw around?” I say into her ear.
Bam, another hit to the stomach. “I haven’t even gotten started,” she answers.
Fuck it.
She wants to play? Fucking fine. I’ll play. I’ll play hard. I square up. But she gives me this eye. This champion eye. A winner’s eye. Cocky like no eyes I’ve ever seen before. Tom Brady doesn’t have anything on this kind of cocky right here. My luck, this girl’s some UFC champion. Christ.
But I can take her. Yeah, I sure fucking can.
Probably.
I decide on a straight jab; a no-fail straight jab that I plan just hard enough to send her reeling but not hurt her, not actually injure her. I know the punch. It works in bar fights and brawls on the field. An all-American move. As I wind up, everything slows down. I’m 6’6”, 283 pounds, and I throw a football for a living. When I wind up, I wind up. As I do, she ducks, fast as fucking lightning. Greased. Elegant. Lethal. So as my arm is powering through the air, as my momentum gets caught behind 12-ounce training gloves, she pops back up like a goddamned whack-a-mole.
Those eyes flash again and she smiles so hard I can see her dimples.
Dimples. Oh, fuck.
I watch her shoulder tighten, her tricep pucker, and that’s when she lets me have it for real.
The punch comes from left to right, blocking out my view of everything. I don’t see the Mexican flag on the wall. I don’t see the graffiti mural over the windows. Nope. The universe turns bubblegum pink.
It doesn’t hurt, not at first, and as I’m flying backwards, airborne, I have just enough time to think to myself, I wonder if this is what a knockout punch feels like…
Before everything flickers to black.
AP  new -about the author.jpg
Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.
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Pretty Lost Dolls Blitz- K. Webster

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Pretty Lost Dolls

by Ker Dukey & K. Webster
Publication Date: November 28, 2016
Genres: Dark Romance

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Preorder: Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CAD | Amazon AUS

Benny had a dolly who was sick, sick, sick.
Just like him, his dolly needed darkness as a fix, fix, fix.
So they tormented and hunted and played tricks, tricks, tricks.
Together their sins a lethal mix, mix, mix.

Until Benny missed his dolly who was lost, lost, lost.
He needed to find her and love her at any cost, cost, cost.
Not wanting him and his dolly to be alone, lone, lone.
He made plans to bring his dirty dolly, home, home, home.

Have you ever touched another’s soul with the essence of your own, breathed them in so they become apart of you?
I have.
Finally starting to live, feel and fall in love, amongst all the chaos surrounding me.
Dropping my guard and letting another into my heart.
I left my soul open.
I left my heart open.
I left the door open.
And he stole me.
Dillon…I’m sorry.

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About K. Webster

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K Webster is the author of dozens romance books in many different genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. When not spending time with her husband of twelve years and two adorable children, she’s active on social media connecting with her readers.

Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen.

You can easily find K Webster on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads!

Website: http://www.authorkwebster.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bllgoP

About Ker Dukey

My books all tend to be darker romance, edge of you seat, angst filled reads. My advice to my readers when starting one of my titles…prepare for the unexpected.

I have always had a passion for storytelling, whether it be through lyrics or bed time stories with my sisters growing up.

My mum would always have a book in her hand when I was young and passed on her love for reading, inspiring me to venture into writing my own. I tend to have a darker edge to my writing. Not all love stories are made from light; some are created in darkness but are just as powerful and worth telling.

When I’m not lost in the world of characters I love spending time with my family. I’m a mum and that comes first in my life but when I do get down time I love attending music concerts or reading events with my younger sister.

Come find me on Facebook, where I love interacting with my readers.

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This is War, Baby Review- K Webster

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My life had a plan. Until he invaded it and stole it all away. My captor took me and I became a pawn.

His strategy changed and he sent me away to WAR, because money is everything in this world.

In my WAR, though, I found peace.

I couldn’t help but find love where I least expected it, with a man who lived a battle every day of his life
…all inside his head.

But then my captor came back for me.
Yet, this time, battle lines had been drawn and I was protected.

So we thought.
Even though my WAR was raging,
my captor would fight to the death.

The good guys always win, right?
Not always.

All’s fair in love and WAR, right?
Not this time.

***WARNING***
This is War, Baby is a dark romance. A really dark one. So dark you’re going to wish you had a flashlight to see yourself to the end and someone to hold your hand. Human trafficking, dubious consent, and strong sexual themes that could trigger emotional distress are found in this story. This story is NOT for everyone.

 

My Review: I adored this book. This book will grab you from the first page and never let you go. This is Baylee’s story. Major cliffhanger at the end, and admittedly I wanted to scream and throw the book when I got to the end, but ultimately, she chose the perfect spot to end it because I will be getting the next one ASAP.

You can get your copy HERE

Crescent Hill Review- Jackie Wang

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Roman Finnegan fixes hotels for a living. Give him two weeks with any failing hospitality business and he’ll make it profitable again.
But his latest charity project, Crescent Hill Lodge, may be beyond saving.
The owners refuse to acknowledge their financial problems, the staff are disrespectful, the hideous rooms are filthy, and the entire Summers family is on the verge of bankruptcy. If they can’t turn things around before the new year, they’ll have to shut down the lodge.
The only person keeping the business afloat is the owners’ daughter and hotel manager, Magnolia (Maggie) Summers. She’s hard-working, loyal and kind to a fault. She also has big dreams that are stifled by her inner demons.
Despite trying to stay professional, Roman falls hard for this sweet, small-town girl.
So hard, in fact, that he wants to bring her back to London with him.
His gift: an all-expense paid winter holiday in Europe. All Maggie has to do is say yes.
Only thing is, Maggie’s past is littered with broken hearts, unfulfilled promises, and stolen dreams.
She’s too scared to leave her family, hometown, and safety net behind.
She doesn’t think Roman can make her happy.
He needs to convince her otherwise…before his flight back to the UK first thing Christmas morning.

*This is a full-length, exclusive male POV, standalone holiday romance.*

My Review: This was such a sweet HEA. It was almost like reading one of Gordon Ramsey’s scripts from Kitchen Nightmares. I can’t wait to see more out of this author. I do wish there had been a little more conflict, though. Maybe I’m just a sadistic sort.

 

Rock Hard Review- Kat Austen

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First loves don’t last. Especially one as unlikely and turbulent as Elodie and Caspian’s.

It’s been years since she’s seen the rough rebel she fell in love with as a teen. She’s put him behind her and moved on. That’s the story she tries to sell her friends and family, but deep down, she knows it’s a lie. She hasn’t moved on from Caspian Cruz and she probably never will, but she has to finally give up hope they’ll ever reunite.

Or does she?

When her friends drag her to a sold-out rock concert, she comes face to face with the lead singer . . . who just so happens to be the boy she fell for all those years ago.

She never thought she’d see him again. She never realized he’d made it in the music world. And she never expected him to confess that he’s been waiting for her as long as she’s been waiting for him.

What will happen when their worlds collide again? A repeat of the past or a second chance to get things right?

ROCK HARD is a short and sexy read, chock-full of excessive sweetness and heaps of filthy talking. Not for the faint or square of heart.

 

My Review: This was short but sweet. I would have liked to have seen more build up in this story, but it is a saccharine sweet HEA. I would have liked to have seen more interaction between the two of them, maybe her parents reaction. It just felt too easy to me.

You can get your copy HERE