Excerpt & Giveaway! I Do, If Only ... #3 by A.J. Pine

A new adult romance from Entangled's Embrace imprint...

Sometimes you have to trust your heart to find out what home really means. Duncan McAllister is marrying Elaina Tripoli tomorrow. Except--he's missing. Jordan, Noah, Griffin, Maggie, and Miles arrive in Greece for the festivities to find frantic messages from both the bride and groom. Noah and Griffin set off to find Duncan while Jordan, Maggie, and Miles try to salvage what should be a day of celebration before the wedding. But the Americans have their own baggage. Noah's got a surprise planned for Jordan that has to go perfectly. Griffin's keeping life-changing news from Maggie. And Miles--well, he wasn't looking for love on this trip until a Greek sous chef named Alex rocks his world. The race is on for Duncan to make it back to Elaina before she decides not to take him back at all. For Noah to make sure his monumental plan goes off without a hitch. For Griffin to tell Maggie the truth without losing her. For Miles to admit that letting himself fall in love is worth the risk. Happily Ever After waits at the finish line…if the four couples can make it on time.

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~*~

Miles was—staring. Except Miles Parker didn’t stare. He was the object of other people’s gawks and ogles, men and women alike. It’s not like he was an asshole about his looks, but he never put on the bullshit of false modesty. He was hot. He knew it. And he liked the effect it had on others.

“How did you know I spoke English?” Miles asked, finding his voice.

Those lips turned up into a sinful grin, and Miles followed the corners of the man’s mouth to the apples of his cheeks and the crinkle of his cinnamon-colored eyes. Again with the staring.

“I was watching you speak to those American girls who walked by just before. The one with the red hair—she is your girlfriend?”

Miles grinned at the thought of being watched. Then he chuckled at the question. He was, technically, Maggie’s plus one for the wedding. He loved her more than anyone else he knew. And yet, the answer was an emphatic no.

The stranger’s thick, dark brows furrowed, and for a second Miles let his gaze drift to the passengers coming up the aisle. He nodded as Griffin and Noah passed them by, confirming his suspicions.

Still laughing, Miles said, “The lighter-haired one, that is the boyfriend.”

His new seatmate narrowed his eyes. “Then can I admit something?” he asked, and Miles crossed his arms over his chest.

“Sure. I like admissions.”

Mystery Man scrubbed a hand across the dark stubble on his jaw.

“I noticed you at the gate at JFK.”

Miles sighed. “My apologies, then.”

“For what?”

“For being too wrapped up in the first pity party I’d thrown myself in a long time to notice you. Because I do now, and let me tell you…you’re hard not to notice.”

He held out his hand toward Miles and started, “I’m—”

But Miles shook his head. “No names,” he said. “What would be the point?”

The guy shrugged and laughed. “I guess there isn’t one.” He turned then to face the passenger in front of him, reclining his seat and resting his hands behind his head as if he were lounging at the beach.

Miles followed suit.

Shit.

There was a beautiful, way-too-charming man sitting next to him, and Miles just gave him the polite fuck off.

When did he ever shy away from flirting? This was the fun part. But something about this guy set off an internal alarm, one Miles couldn’t recognize or define.

“You know,” Mystery Man said, still staring at the cabin’s ceiling, “we don’t need to share names to make a good time of the rest of the flight.”

Miles agreed to himself that this was a good point. He should explore it further.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

“Another admission,” the man said. “When I saw you at JFK, I wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” He leaned closer, enough so that Miles could feel his breath on his own lips. “Do you wonder what it would be like to kiss me?”

Well, he sure as hell was wondering that now.

~*~

AJ Pine writes stories to break readers’ hearts, but don’t worry—she’ll mend them with a happily ever after. As an English teacher and a librarian, AJ has always surrounded herself with books. All her favorites have one big commonality–romance. Naturally, her books have the same. When she’s not writing, she’s of course reading. Then there’s online shopping (everything from groceries to shoes) and, of course, a tiny bit of TV where she nourishes her undying love of vampires and superheroes. And in the midst of all of this, you’ll also find her hanging with her family in the Chicago burbs.

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Release Day Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway: Stirred by Nancy S. Thompson

 

I’m Eden MacLaird, and Fate screwed me good at the age of twenty-one, stole my first love, then my first child. Twenty years later, I still haven't found my happily-ever-after. Sure, from the outside, I have it all, including Declan, my gorgeous, rich-as-sin husband. But things aren't what they seem, and catching Declan in bed with my best friend destroys any dreams I harbor for love, much less sexual fulfillment. Then in walks Sean Bennett... Just months away from earning his post-graduate law degree, Sean's smart, driven, and serious, but an unexpected encounter between us in a bar one night changes everything. His best friend, Trinitee, warns against getting too involved, but the heat between us is beyond intense, and neither of us are willing to walk away. With my marriage in shambles, I'm eager to make a go of it with Sean, despite our sixteen-year age difference. But while I relish my sexual reawakening, I fear giving up the posh life I've grown accustomed to. That life, however, and everything in it, comes crashing down as bodies start piling up around us, and all clues point to me and Sean. Secrets, betrayal, and revenge threaten to destroy not just my carefully-crafted reputation, but my very life. With our freedom at stake, Sean and I join forces to uncover those plotting against us. But as doubt and evidence mount, I must choose: give in to my suspicions and save myself, or trust our new-found love and save us both.

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~*~

Her hands caught mine and stilled it in place, not letting me go any farther, but not pushing me away either. She was very conflicted; that much was certain—the look in her eyes, the way she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. And it would work to my benefit, I was sure. But instead of emboldening me, it gave me pause, and my longing inexplicably shifted from what I wanted for myself, to what I wanted for her—to feel desired, to know she was someone’s fantasy, a dream come true. I would show her what she’d been missing all these years, what her husband had denied her, that she was worth the effort, worth giving to, worth loving. And in my sudden need to be what her husband had not, I felt a fullness swell inside me. Not just between my legs, or even my heart, but in my soul. Caught in that epiphany, I leaned in, my mouth a mere inch from her right ear. “What are you so afraid of, Eden?” I breathed, and slowly, I moved to face her, so close, all I had to do was stretch my neck, ever so slightly, and my mouth was on hers, gently, my tongue a flick against her lips as I brushed across it. Next, my mouth was at her left ear. “Why not take the risk?” I pressed but for a moment before my mouth reclaimed hers. I kissed her deeply this time, my tongue probing for hers, and, after a moment’s hesitation, she met me head on. My hand between her knees pressed forward, not rough, but definitely insistent. Undeniable. Her hands, once a tense and formidable barrier, relaxed, though she kept them resting against mine as my fingers edged upward, gently easing her legs apart to allow me access. And there it was, the lacy edge of her panties, and an intense, scorching heat. My heart ricocheted in response. Eden sucked in a soft hiss as her mouth retreated from mine, but, though she pulled back for a split-second, a half-hearted attempt to regroup and regain control, she knew, as well as I, that it was impossible, and her mouth returned to the one place we both knew it belonged, right against mine. But even that proved too much for her, and she dipped her chin to lean her forehead against my cheek as she panted in anticipation. Because that’s what this was. Anticipation. I hadn’t really touched her—not yet. I hadn’t invaded the space her wedding vows had long ago promised to one man, and one man only. That anticipation she felt was her sense of decency and fidelity warring with her desire, the basest need a human could ever experience.

~*~

Nancy is a California transplant currently living in Seattle, Washington with her husband of 23 years, their son, a student at Seattle University, their giant snow dog, Jack, and his kitty, Skye. She works as a freelance editor for her publisher and writer friends and also has her own interior design business within the model home merchandising industry. When she's not writing or editing, Nancy keeps herself busy by cooking and baking.

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Release Day Blitz! Just One Taste, Topped #2 by Lexi Blake

One Hot Chef…. Eric Vail has always loved a challenge. After leaving the Navy, he mastered his passion for cooking. As the sous chef at Top, one of Dallas’s hottest restaurants, his skills are pushed to the limit every night. Unfortunately, his ultimate prize still eludes him. Server Deena Holmes is the sweetest thing he’s seen in forever, but she’s as distant as she is beautiful. When they’re put together in the same training class at the infamous club Sanctum, he knows this is his shot. And this former SEAL never misses. A Woman Who Lost Her Taste for Love… Deena thinks Eric is the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen, but her heart has been burned too many times before. She’s sworn off relationships for good and she can’t trust herself with a man that easy to fall in love with. She takes a spot as a trainee at Sanctum in the hopes of finding a safe place to explore and experiment. When she discovers her partner is the same chef she dreams about every night, Deena knows she may have bitten off more than she can chew. A Perfect Recipe for Passion While exploring the world of Sanctum, Eric and Deena find themselves learning about each other and finding an intimacy neither expected. But when the ghosts of her past resurface, old wounds are reopened. Can their newfound love survive when it’s put to the test?

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~*~

“Why? Why would you want me?” All her arrogance was gone.

“Because we’re friends and I like you and you’re gorgeous. I’ve wanted to sleep with you from the moment I saw you. That might not be what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. I think we could be good for each other. Neither one of us has had a lover in a long time. Am I right?”

“You’re right,” she replied. “I haven’t even dated anyone since my divorce.”

“Then why not try? If it doesn’t work, we’ll go back to being friends.”

Her head shook. “That never happens.”

“I don’t know what kind of douchebags you’ve been dating, but I’m still friends with almost every woman I’ve ever dated. It doesn’t have to end in either happily ever after or hate. Especially if we’re both honest. The contract is for six weeks. I can promise you right now that I’m still going to like you after six weeks. You be honest with me. Were you planning on experimenting with your training Dom if you’d had chemistry with him? Before you knew I was the Dom. Would you have given that Dom a chance?”

She nodded silently.

“Well, then I suppose we’ll have a very abstinent training period and then we’ll go our separate ways when it comes to the club. I guess Big Tag and the shrink aren’t as smart as they think they are.” He wasn’t about to give up. This was only the beginning of a very long battle, but it was time to retreat. “We’ll talk about the contract later tonight and set up all the rules. I’ll still have to touch you during the scenes, but I’ll make it as impersonal as possible.”

“We don’t know that we have chemistry,” she said quietly, making no move to grab the bags.

He shrugged. “I guess we won’t know.”

He turned to begin helping her. He would take the bags out to her car and then let Grace know she was on her way. Someone would meet her in the parking garage to help her bring everything up. He would spend the afternoon planning menus with Chef and heading to the farmer’s market to find fresh vegetables for dinner.

A hand on his arm gently pulled and he turned.

Deena was standing right there, her face turned up to him, her eyes wide. “Shouldn’t we know?”

She went on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. He went still, unwilling to frighten her away. Soft lips moved over his as her hands found his waist. She was tentative, but he could sense the fire in her. Those hands told the real tale. They moved restlessly, as though she had them on a leash. He wanted that leash taken off.

When she ended the kiss and stared up at him, he decided to go for broke. She wanted to see if they had chemistry? He could show her how volatile they could be.

“My turn,” he whispered before he took control. His hands slid up her neck, fingers sinking into the soft, silky strands of her hair.

He kissed her, moving his lips over hers, commanding her. The minute he took control those hands of hers started to move, sliding up the muscles of his back, her body pressing in. He felt her relax as though happy to not be the one in charge. Deena could take control of a room of diners and work that floor with an iron will, but she was shy about this. She needed him to take charge of the physical part.

He could do that. It wouldn’t be sexy if she weren’t so together in the rest of her life. He kissed her again and again, his tongue finally moving over her full bottom lip. She groaned and her mouth opened, welcoming him inside.

The kiss turned wild, their tongues playing against each other as their bodies came together. He could feel her rubbing against him. He would bet her body was soft, her pussy already getting slick and ready for him.

He was so ready for her.

And if he took her right here on the prep table, she would likely run away forever. She wasn’t ready. Not even close.

He broke off the kiss, brushing his lips lightly against hers one last time. He’d promised her control. It was damn iron will that got him to take his hands off her. She was so sweet looking with her hair mussed and her lips puffy from kissing. This was how he wanted to see her all the time. Sweet and willing and ultimately satisfied.

Satisfaction would have to wait.

“We have plenty of chemistry, sweetheart.”

~*~

 

Her first novel, Their Virgin Captive: Masters of Ménage, Book 1, was a collaboration with New York Times bestselling author Shayla Black. There are five more books available in the series: Their Virgin's Secret, Their Virgin Concubine, Their Virgin Princess, Their Virgin Hostage, and Their Virgin Secretary. The next book in the series, Their Virgin Mistress, is coming to Amazon this April. In addition to the Masters of Ménage series, she is the author of the Masters and Mercenaries series. The first seven novels, The Dom Who Loved Me, The Men with the Golden Cuffs, A Dom is Forever, On Her Master's Secret Service, Love and Let Die, Dungeon Royale, and A View to a Thrill are available now, along with the novellas Sanctum, Unconditional, Dungeon Games, and Cherished. The eighth novel, You Only Love Twice, is coming in February of 2015, along with two new novellas, Luscious and Adored, coming in May of 2015. In 2013, Lexi also began releasing her urban fantasy series, Thieves. The full series, Steal the Light, Steal the Day, Steal the Moon, Steal the Sun, and Steal the Night, are available now on Amazon. The first book in a spin-off of the series, Ripper, released in January of 2015. Look for Addict, the next book in the spin-off series, to be released in Fall of 2015. Lexi will again collaborate with Shayla Black in a new series The Perfect Gentlemen. The first book, Scandal Never Sleeps, will release on July 7, 2015. Sign up for Lexi's FREE newsletter at http://lexiblake.net/contact.html#newsletter. For more information about her books, her appearances and her wacky life visit her Facebook page http://goo.gl/q2IHnJ or her website http://www.lexiblake.net .

Excerpt & Giveaway! Inconceivable! by Tegan Wren

A popular, young royal couple can't produce an heir? INCONCEIVABLE!

When Ozarks native Hatty goes “whole hog” during karaoke, she catches the eye of Prince John. He isn’t what she expects the heir to a small European nation to be: he's affable, witty, and isn’t put off by her tell-it-like-it-is demeanor. Their flirtation should be short lived, but a force stronger than fate—Hatty’s newspaper editor—assigns her to cover the royals. After spending time together, she and John soon begin dating, and Hatty finds herself making headlines instead of writing them.

But challenges loom that are even more complicated than figuring out how to mesh Hatty's journalism career with life at Belvoir Palace. Hatty and John soon find themselves embroiled in an unusual sex scandal: they can't produce an heir. Tabloids dub Hatty a “Barren-ess,” and the royals become irate. Hatty politely tells them to shove it. But beneath her confident exterior, she struggles to cope with a heartbreak that invades her most intimate moments with John. Pressured to choose between invasive medical procedures and abandoning John’s claim to the throne, the couple feels trapped until a trip to Ethiopia shows them happy endings sometimes arrive long after saying “I do.”

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~*~

He leaned closer and sang softly. I recognized the opening lyrics to Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.” His singing voice was soulful and sexy, and something deep inside me responded, making my heart beat a little faster.

He stopped and looked me in the eyes. “That song’s about someone who’s alone. But that’s not you. You’re too lovely to be lonely.”

A nervous laugh escaped my lips. “Are you kidding? Aren’t we sitting in a sanctuary for the lonely?”

“I don’t feel lonely right now.”

“Me either.” I blew into my mug, then took a sip. “Have you had one of these?”

“I don’t think so. What is it?”

“It’s called a chocolate kiss. It’s peppermint schnapps and hot cocoa.”

He reached over and picked up the steaming mug. His movement conveyed authority while his neat fingernails screamed uppity. They looked better than mine, damn it. After taking a long pull from the cup, he handed it back. Our fingers brushed together, sending a flash of heat through my body.

“Thanks for sharing a kiss with me,” he said, reaching over and lifting my chin.

Our eyes met, and I couldn’t tear myself away from his gaze. Yowza. Was he going to kiss me? Did I want him to?

“You guys know each other?”

I flinched at Plato’s words―I hadn’t seen him coming toward us―and pulled back. I sloshed a healthy dollop of my drink onto Farmer Joe’s pants. We both reached for the stack of napkins, but I got there first.

“Sorry. Here, let me,” I sputtered, dabbing at the wet patch.

I blotted along his pants, and my hand moved a little too close to the inside of his leg. A burning sensation rose up behind my ears. “Umm. I’ll just let you do it.”

I dropped the wad of damp napkins onto his open palm. Glancing at his face, I saw a half smile. I closed my eyes and touched my forehead, gently rubbing the area above my eyebrows as I always did when embarrassment overwhelmed me.

~*~

The best compliment Tegan Wren ever received came from her sixth grade teacher: “You always have a book in your hand!”

Guided by her love of the creative process, Tegan grew up acting in theatre productions and writing poetry, short stories, and plays. She turned her eye to writing about real life when she worked as a journalist, producing reports for various radio and television stations in medium and large markets in the Midwest and also filing some stories for a major national news network. Wren has both a Bachelor’s of Journalism and a Master of Arts in Communications. After completing her graduate degree, Tegan had the opportunity to teach journalism courses at a major state university. She absolutely loved training the next generation of journalists.

Tegan’s thankful that she’s had the opportunity to travel overseas, and uses those adventures to inform her writing. She also draws inspiration from her own struggles, joys, and other life experiences. Tegan and her husband, Patrick, experienced infertility for five years before becoming parents through adoption. Because she understands the financial stress of the infertility journey, Tegan is donating half the royalties from her book to Baby Quest Foundation. This charity awards grants to people all over the U.S. for fertility treatments. Tegan is thrilled to use her story to help other people find their happily ever after.

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In The Spotlight! Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway: Hidden Shifter, Fated Date Agency #7 by Abraham Steele

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hillwell. Your fated mate is dead.” 

Samuel Hillwell is in mourning for a man he's never met. The handsome alpha waited too long to contact the Fated Date Agency. There was always a stock trade or a trip to Europe that seemed more important. His mate passed away just days before he reached out. As he goes into a downward spiral, questioning everything he's based his life on, he can only wish he'd had one night with his deceased omega. 

Caden Grey is on the run. After surgically altering his face and travelling across the country, the former kindergarten teacher still can't stop looking over his shoulder for the people who want him dead. Now that he's arrived in Clover Grove, he should finally be able to take a breath. But he's just starting to get settled there when a dazzling man runs up to him. A man who knows Caden's previous name. 

Will Samuel figure out the truth about the tormented omega? And if he gets into Caden's heart, will either of them be safe? 

Hidden Shifter is Book 7 of the Fated Date Agency series. It also stands alone as a complete 200-page gay shifter romance novel with steamy content and male pregnancy. 

Guaranteed HEA ending with no cheating and no cliffhangers!

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~*~

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

I’d already been sitting on the edge of my leather couch waiting to hear who my fated mate was. Now I pressed the phone to my ear as if it would make an explanation come faster. “Bad news?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hillwell,” Praya said again. “Your fated mate is… dead.”

The phone fell out of my suddenly-limp hand. I slumped against the couch, unable to move. It sounded like the woman was still talking, but I didn’t have the strength to pick the phone up and hear what she was saying. She’d already told me everything I needed to know.

My fated mate was dead.

For a moment, I just let my mind wrap around the facts. My fated mate was gone before I’d even had a chance to meet him. I’d never known him – and now I would never know him. Still struggling to breathe, I pushed myself to wrap my fingers around the handset.

“Mr. Hillwell?” the matchmaker asked. “Are you still there?”

Was I? It was a good question. “I’m here,” I finally said. “There… there must be some mistake. My mate can’t be dead.”

“I know this must be shocking for you,” she said. “I can call back later and give you your mate’s information, if you’d like. I think you could still make it to the funeral.”

A fist seemed to squeeze my heart. Going to my fated mate’s funeral would be bad enough if I’d actually lived with the man. To go without having known him felt even worse. I didn’t know if I could take it.

This definitely was a shock, and I was about to ask Praya to call me back as she’d suggested. Then it hit me. If I could still make it to the funeral…

“When did he die?” I asked.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Hillwell,” she said quietly. “He died yesterday.”

A strangled sob came out of my lips. If I’d just written to the agency earlier, I would have met my mate. It had been open for years now. Practically every alpha and omega I knew had been written in, been matched, and fallen in love. Shifters across the country had already found happiness.

But me? No, I was always too busy. My work was more important than finding the man of my dreams. The money was stacking up in my bank account, and there was no time to feel lonely. When I did think about the coldness of my bed at night, I just put off writing to the agency. There was always more time.

That time had run out.

Somehow I managed to speak. “How did it happen?”

“He was in a car accident,” Praya said.

She sounded sympathetic. I tried to picture her – she sounded middle-aged, but what did she look like? Was she behind a desk? In a white lab coat? Her hands would definitely be folded, and her lips would be pursed. It probably wasn’t every day that she had to deliver this kind of news. Well, it wasn’t as if it mattered.

“You can look up the details, if you’d like,” she said. “His name was Idris Greene.”

The name alone sent a rush through me. Idris, Idris… They said names could influence your personality, and in this case I thought it was true. Knowing his name brought me a tiny bit closer to him. I could almost feel the man I’d been meant to spend my life with.

“I’ll… I’ll look him up,” I murmured. “Thank you.”

I walked with heavy steps through the halls of the home I’d made for myself. The elaborate furnishings and expensive tapestries seemed to mock me. The two men with arms intertwined in a five-thousand-dollar painting shook their heads. I had bought myself a yacht – a yacht! – yet I hadn’t found time to write to the agency. What was all of this worth if I had no mate?

Praya should have matched me earlier. She should have reached out to all the unmatched shifters. There were so few of us left at this point – I was sure she could have done it easily. If she’d put in some effort, done her job, I would have had some time with my mate. Maybe he wouldn’t have died if he’d been here with me.

How could fate have done this to me? Why give me a mate just to take him away? Stopping short in the middle of the hallway, I clenched my fists and screamed up at the sky. My cri de coeur was raw, primal – a howl of suffering.

When I could scream no more, I dropped my hands to my sides. Doing it had given me a kind of relief, and I saw my situation with new clarity. I had done this to myself. I couldn’t deny that. Praya had operated her business as expected. The stars had given me the same treatment as everyone else. It was me who had held off on writing to the agency.

I took in harsh breaths, knowing that I could only blame myself. Why had I waited so long for the right moment? When was the right moment supposed to be? I’d finally done it now that I was closing in on thirty. I’d done it calmly, as if writing to the agency was no different from ordering take-out. I’d only been mildly curious about what I was going to get. If anything, I’d worried slightly about how finding my mate would screw up my current life. I had it pretty good – or I’d always thought I did.

What good were all my stock trades now? They’d seemed so urgent before, and yet I’d never thought the few extra dollars in my bank account from each time I’d said “later.” Love had been waiting for me, and I had shoved it aside...

~*~

Abraham Steele writes smoking hot romantic stories about gay men, whether human or shifters. Subscribe at http://eepurl.com/bcX9Cf to get a FREE book and to hear about new releases. Become a fan at https://www.facebook.com/AbrahamSteeleAuthor for even more live updates!

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Release Day Blitz & Giveaway! Built to Last: A Small Town Contemporary Romance by Elisabeth Grace

At seventeen, the small town of Saltwater Springs had been everything to Scarlett Devereaux—as had her boyfriend Luke. Never had she imagined she’d have to leave them both behind—until the night that changed everything. A decade after skipping town Scarlett returns to start over in the only place that ever really felt like home. But when nothing goes as planned, she’s forced to turn to Luke for help. With a drunk for a dad and a mom making pocket change at the local diner, no one ever thought Luke Garrity would amount to anything. After building a successful contracting business he’s proven everyone wrong professionally, but things in his personal life are upside down. Making it the exact wrong time for Scarlett to return to Saltwater Springs. With a history of devastation and heartbreak between them can Scarlett and Luke make amends, or will secrets from the past threaten the foundation of Scarlett’s new life? Were Luke and Scarlett really built to last?

BUILT TO LAST is available now – add it to your Goodreads list here!

Read BUILT TO LAST for free on Kindle Unlimited:

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~*~

“Place your left hand on the piece of wood away from where you’re cutting, but close enough that it’s comfortable.” She did as he instructed. “Good, just like that. Now you’re ready to cut.” Luke moved to stand beside her. Scarlett was nervously biting her lip. “I don’t know if I can do this.” She glanced up to him, her eyes almost pleading with him not to force her. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the spitfire of a woman she’d been blossoming into before she left town. Not only had she lost some of her Southern accent during her time away, but apparently she’d also lost some of her “hear me roar” attitude. What had shaken her confidence so much that she questioned her abilities? His stomach twisted at all the different scenarios running through his mind that could have made that possible. “I’ll help you with the first cut.” Luke positioned himself behind Scarlett and leaned over her bent frame, placing his hand over hers. Her soft hand twitched underneath his for a second and then settled. “All right, the key is to keep an eye on the saw base as you cut and to push with enough force that the saw keeps moving through the wood, but not so fast that the saw seems to slow down. Sound good?” She nodded, the movement of her body shifting her hips ever so slightly—enough that he became painfully aware of his crotch’s proximity to the juncture of her thighs. He shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable in pants that were becoming more uncomfortable by the second. Scarlett’s whole body tensed underneath him. With a deep breath, Luke decided the best course of action was to ignore her response to being so physically close to him, even though her rigidity further twisted the knife she’d dug into him a decade earlier, leaving him wanting to question why he was never good enough. Scarlett cleared her throat. “Let’s get this over with.” Her words dug the knife in deeper. “Once I have the first one under my belt, I’m sure it will get easier.” Maybe that’s all he’d ever been to her—a notch in the proverbial belt for experience sake. He’d never thought he was just a good time to her, but she’d left him questioning everything. “Turn the saw on then, and I’ll help you guide it,” he said in a brusque tone. The sound of the blade whirling against the side of the wood cut through the silence in the storefront and Scarlett jerked a bit, startled, bumping into him. Not at all helping the situation below his belt. Luke lightly squeezed her hand below his, indicating that she should push the saw forward. As she did, bits of wood and sawdust bounced up and into the air. Five seconds later, the small piece they’d cut fell to the ground and the saw’s rotation started to slow. The noise died down, and Luke was about to congratulate Scarlett on making her first cut when a shrill voice rang out from behind them. “Well, well. Isn’t this cozy? Still trying to sleep your way into high society, are you, Luke?”

~*~

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Chance of a Lifetime, Anderson Brothers #3 by Marissa Clarke

 

Sometimes the biggest risk is playing it safe…

Gen Richards is tired of living down to her family’s expectation of the helpless blind girl. Resurrecting her high-school bucket list that begins with “kiss a total stranger” seems just the thing until she finds herself in a panty-melting lip lock with her big brother’s best friend.

Chance Anderson thrives on adrenaline, but Genny’s the one risk he’s not willing to take. His recklessness a decade ago landed her in the hospital and ejected him from her life. He’s bad for her and everyone knows it—especially her big brother.

Chance reluctantly helps Gen complete her bucket list in order to keep her out of trouble. Running through a freezing fountain, playing Spin the Bottle while fending off a mad horde of stinging insects, and skinny dipping with homicidal attack swans don’t hold a candle to the real danger: falling for the one person he can never have.

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~*~

He pulled her free of the fence and held her against him until she was steady. “Pond is about fifty feet straight ahead,” he whispered in her ear, sending shocks of energy through her entire body. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

She crept along behind him with her fingers though his belt loops, fighting back giggles. “Are you kidding? I’ve waited ten years to do this. Are you going to chicken out on me?”

“Never!”

“Shhhhhh.” He chuckled and stopped, causing her to bump into him full-body from behind with an oof. “What the heck?” she whispered. “It’s like the blind leading the blind here.”

“I’m going to show you precisely how well I can see if you mash your breasts against me again.” He headed off once more with her in tow.

“Well, then, warn me before you stop.” A rustling came from somewhere on the right. “What was that?” she whispered, moving her grip to the belt loops nearest the front of his pants to get closer to him.

“Stopping,” he said, straightening from his tiptoe crouch.

Still holding him tight, she buried her face in the back of his shirt. “There’s something in the bushes or weeds to our right, and I’m scared it’s going to jump out at us.”

He cleared his throat. “Honey, there’s something in my pants, and if you don’t turn loose of where you’re holding me, it might jump out at us, too.”

“Oh.” She giggled and released him. “Sorry. I’m kind of excited.”

“Clearly, so am I.”

~*~

Marissa Clarke lives in Texas, where everything is bigger, especially the mosquitoes. 

When not writing, she wrangles her rowdy pack of three teens, husband, and a Cairn Terrier named Annabel, who rules the house (and Marissa's heart) with an iron paw. 

Marissa also writes young adult novels for Penguin USA under the name Mary Lindsey. She is represented by Kevan Lyon of the Marsal Lyon Literary Agency.

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Cover Reveal, Excerpt & Giveaway! Clean by Mia Kerik

High school senior Lanny Keating has it all. A three-sport athlete at Lauserville High School looking at a college football scholarship, with a supportive family, stellar grades, boy band good looks… until the fateful day when it all falls apart.

Seventeen-year-old Trevor Ladd has always been a publicly declared zero and the high school bad-boy. Abandoned by his mother and sexually abused by his legal guardian, Trevor sets his sights on mere survival.

Lanny seeks out Trevor’s companionship to avoid his shattered home life. Unwilling to share their personal experiences of pain, the boys explore ways to escape, leading them into sexual experimentation, and the abuse of illegal drugs and alcohol. Their mutual suffering creates a lasting bond of friendship and love.

When the time finally comes to get clean and sober, or flunk out of high school, only one of the boys will graduate, while the other spirals downward into addiction. 

Will Lanny and Trevor find the strength to battle their demons of mind-altering substances as well as emotional vulnerability?

Clean takes the reader on a gritty trip into the real and raw world of teenage substance abuse.

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~*~

PROLOGUE

Lanny 

Trevor wouldn’t even look at me when I walked over to the gas station this morning to say hi. And Jimmy’s Fuel Stop is like three miles from my house so it took a major effort to walk there, especially since I’ve been feeling like total crap lately. Another one of my shaky human bonds bites the dust. I need to go out and get myself a cat. 

“Can’t you see I’m working, Keating?” That was all he said. But I’ve always been good at reading between the lines. I could tell what he was thinking as he stood beside the gas pumps, totally caught up in not looking at me. “Take a hike before you get me fired, loser. Some of us got goals in life....” So I took off before he had a chance to make me feel like I shouldn’t have ever made an appearance on the planet earth. But I still know it would have been better had I never been born...maybe Joelle would still be okay. 

It’s Saturday afternoon and nobody’s home. Mom and Dad are probably off at the park with Joelle, sloshing through the wet snow together so she gets her daily exercise. Or maybe they took her to the make- your-own-sundae-place to improve her fine motor skills by sprinkling sweet toppings on big scoops of ice cream. I’m in Mom and Dad’s bathroom, bent in half with my head stuck in the closet, searching the cluttered shelves for anything that will get me high enough to escape. And I mean anything.


That’s when I see the cough syrup. The bottle in front is almost new, and there’s an older bottle of a different brand right behind it, little more than halfway full. Seeing these medicine bottles reminds me of something Chad suggested about a week or two ago— that we should try robo-tripping. He told me that if we drink enough cough syrup, the DXM in it would get us high in a “super blissful, tingling-body-parts way,” which sounded pretty decent to me then and still does now. Not completely surprised I remembered Chad’s exact description of a DXM high, I thank God for this dextromethorphan stuff that suppresses nasty coughs, because it looks like I’m going to find my much-needed buzz after all. 

Pleased that I don’t have to resort to sniffing glue from the tube on my father’s basement workbench or huffing my mother’s hairspray—and believe me I came close—I snatch the bottles with a shaky hand. They’re both sticky with the syrup that dripped down the side last time one of the Keating’s had a major head cold accompanied by a hacking cough. Licking my fingers provides me with a hint of the cherry flavor I’m probably going to be barfing up later tonight. But I don’t care. I can’t get through a single day without some help, and by that I don’t mean help from my human friends, seeing as I have none left. 

The walk to the shed seems longer than ever. It’s an effort to so much as put one foot in front of the other. I haven’t eaten anything for a full day; I’m sure that’s why I feel like such crap. And it’s not like I want to think about this stuff, but I can’t stop myself. The “stuff” I don’t want to think about is really people. The people I have hurt so much lately because of my bad habits. 

This list starts with my little sister Joelle, who I told to “stuff a sock in it” when she asked me to read that goddamned book about a kid going to school—for the zillionth time! “School’s not all it’s cracked up to be, Jo. Stop being so damned excited about it! Those kids are gonna tear you to pieces and won’t even wait until you turn your back to do it!” It hurts too much to remember the expression on her face right after I told her that, so instead I stare beyond the leafless trees into the gray sky and think about my parents. 

I’ve hurt Mom and Dad a lot too, because they know I’m sick, they just don’t know exactly what’s wrong with me. And I’m not sure how much they care. Their plates are too full already with Joelle’s problems, I guess. 

I glance down at the two bottles of cough medicine dangling from between my fingers and remember Chrissy and Robyn, who I use like toilet paper. They can do way better than me in the study-buddy department. 

I trip over a root that crosses my path and fall to my knees, but just as quickly drag myself back to my feet. A stray root isn’t enough to stop me from getting to where I’m going. 

I’m almost at the shed now, and I can’t avoid thinking about him any longer. Trevor hates me. He never calls anymore, never asks me to go to the shed to drink some beer and fool around. He just looks at me in the hallway at school with angry disgusted eyes, and tells me every chance he gets “you’re fucking up your life and I’m not gonna let you fuck up mine.” 

Trevor Ladd...the ultimate untouchable. If I could’ve made somebody like him want to be with me, I would’ve surely been able to win my parents back. Well, no such luck. I’m more of a zero to Trevor than I ever was...and Mom and Dad still don’t care. 

Blew my entire life sky high. Which is where I’ll be soon, if all goes according to plan. I lift each bottle of sticky sweet cough medicine to my lips and kiss them, one by one. 

Just the sight of the tiny, beat-up brown shed fills me with an indescribable sense of relief, probably like the feeling of coming home after years at sea. As soon as I push open the door, I see that Trevor isn’t here and I’m illogically disappointed. But Trevor can’t save me from myself. He did his duty; he tried to get me clean, and he got clean in the process. 

Way to go, Trevor. 

Alone in a frigid shed in the middle of the woods, I’m more than eager to suck down a couple bottles of cough medicine so I can be somewhere else...someone else. A vision of Landon Keating forms in my mind—not Lanny, the student, or Lanny, the athlete, or Lanny, the son and brother—but the near-future version of me when I’m “simultaneously mellow and stimulated,” if the online experiences I’ve read about taking DXM are accurate. Sad truth is, I’ll take just plain disoriented. Any effect will be fine if it whisks me away. 

I drop down to the cold floor and without ceremony open one of the small bottles. The cough medicine goes down more easily than I thought. 

Cherry-berry-sweet-thick-burning-soothing- pleasure-pain. It doesn’t take too long. 

Itchy as hell...belly’s on fire....


“Read to me, Lanny...read it again!

”Can’t feel my legs at all....


“Wishes don’t wash dishes, son.”


Can’t stop barfing.... So sick....


“Take a hike, Keating—you filthy, no-good, loser boozer-druggie!”


Blew it with Trevor...blew it with everybody. 

Can’t breathe...need a breath.... 

Gonna die here alone.

~*~

Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.

Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to CoolDudes Publishing, Dreamspinner Press, Harmony Ink Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.

Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.

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