Thursday, February 19, 2015

Thin as Smoke by Erin O'Quinn

In 1924, the PI team of Michael McCree and Simon Hart are on the trail of missing motors—a mundane case that turns deadly when they discover the link between their case and that of Samuel Dashiell Hammett.

The writer of hard-boiled crime is scratching to earn a living, and his work as an undercover Pinkerton operative lands him on the shore of the Irish Sea, in the city of Dun Linden. In one of a series of coincidences, Hammett finds himself paired with his old friend Michael, a man he knew in the U.S. before he left for the World War.

“Sam,” as he’s known to Michael, unwittingly sets in motion a series of events that separate the two partners and sometime-lovers. Working on his own, Simon finds himself on both ends of a Smith & Wesson revolver. Meanwhile, Sam and Michael discover that the perilous connection between motors and Mafia bootleggers also means a shattering of former alliances...because Michael and his old friend share a secret, one that threatens to end both his career and his complex relationship with Simon.

Simon and Michael are spectacular once again.  I love the fact that this installment is centered around their one year "anniversary".  We get to see how each of them see that fateful day and when you throw in their new case and the addition of Michael's old colleague, you have yourself a perfect addition to the Gaslight Mysteries.

Speaking of Michael's old colleague, Sam Hammett, it's a special treat for me.  Not only does Sam bring a new element to the story, an inkling of Michael's history and Simon dealing with the jealousy that Sam's arrival has brought out, but for me it adds a bit of fangirl moments.  Sam Hammett, or as most people know him, Dashiell Hammett, is the creator of my most favorite mystery solving couple, Nick and Nora Charles and The Thin Man.  Neither The Thin Man nor Hammett's writing skills have any bearing on this story but just the addition of his character into the mix had me giddy going in and once I finished Thin as Smoke, I was just as giddy.  Miss O'Quinn weaves Hammett into the world that Simon and Michael live in with creativity and nearly as much charm as Michael used to originally worm his way into Simon's life back in Heart to Hart.

Now for the mystery itself.  Perfect for the duo, or should I say trio in this case.  I don't think that the case is as big a part of this story as the cases in the first three of the series.  However, I do think that how the characters deal with the case and each other is more at the center of Thin as Smoke, which is still part of the mystery so perhaps it's just from a different angle.  However you look at the ins and outs of the case, this is a great addition the series and a must read, especially if you like historical settings.


     ...Simon was lying back on the divan in his usual attitude of disinterest, one long leg hooked over the back of the too-short seat. He looked up with those heart-clogging eyes, and his sulky lower lip seemed to jut even more than usual. He rose from his indolent posture and moved toward Michael with feline grace.
     “I cannot believe it. What is it about a simple tie that still clots your fingers?”
     Michael had never admitted to Simon that he knew a thing or two about knots, except tacitly, on the occasions when he’d applied them to a silken cord around a bed dowel. Now he stood helpless while his partner moved behind him and began to finger the buttons on his shirt.
     “First, you know, the shirt needs fastening.”
     Michael felt Simon’s closeness at his back as he’d feel the heat from a raging fireplace, and his groin flared, huge and ready. “Please, love, would ye mind?” His prick was almost shouting, I need to fuck ye! But Michael had learned through the painstaking process of living with Simon that he’d best not show his hand so soon. After all, the man was brilliant and knew precisely what besides Michael’s burly arm lay up his sleeve.
     An’ what third fist is clenched in me pants.
     He looked down to watch Simon’s lithe fingers push buttons through embroidered holes, traveling upward, perhaps accidentally brushing a rigid nipple, until they rested near the collar. The fingers seemed to move as if the air were thick as cottage soup…slow, light as pillow down…and then they found both ends of the tie. As if mesmerized, he saw those fingers stroke the mohair. An instant electric spark resonated from his gut to his asshole.
     As his companion began to fold the ends into a wide Windsor, the blood fast pumping to his groin forced his turgid cock through the still-open fly. It seemed to erupt as a race horse would bolt from the starting gate. As he turned, Simon’s arms still circling his chest, he seemed to be accepting a lover’s tacit embrace.
     Thank God, Simon did not move backward as he half-expected. Michael slid both hands around his neck, just under the jaw, letting his thumbs play with the windpipe. He heard the other man gasp a little, felt the explosion of air as he traced the moving lips with his darting tongue, then bent the head back while he wetly explored a ready mouth.
     Simon did not try to wrest his body from Michael’s insistent cock as they kissed. Incredibly, his groin, a little lower than his own engorged prick, met his like a jackhammer. Hard, insistent, no feather-soft surface anywhere now. Just two hungry men whose hands were moving on each other’s ass…jagged breaths and ravening mouths sampling the skin of the other’s lips…now the cheeks, the ears, the hollow of throats…
     Simon moaned, a sound that served only to madden his wanting prick. He picked up the man with both oversized hands grasping his rounded buttocks and began to carry him to the bedroom...

Author Bio:
Erin O’Quinn earned a BA (English) and MA (Comparative Literature) from the University of Southern California. Her life has been a pastiche of fascinating vocations—newspaper marketing manager, university teacher, car salesperson, landscape gardener—until now, in relative retirement, she lives and writes in a small town in central Texas.

Erin has published six M/M novels and three novellas with AmberQuillPress and two independent M/M novels.

Her series titled “The Gaslight Mysteries” includes Heart to Hart, Sparring with Shadows, To the Bone. and Thin as Smoke.

Erin's indie books are NEVADA HIGHLANDER and THE KILT COMPLEX, both very well received.

In addition to these Amber Quill Press and indie books, Erin has thirteen other published novels. Of those, two are M/M historicals published by Siren Bookstrand, set in the Ireland of badass clansmen, cattle drovers, druids, Saxon mercenaries and St. Patrick himself.

Thin as Smoke

Heart to Hart

Sparring with Shadows

To the Bone

Release Day Blitz: This is the Wonder by Tracey Ward

Title: This is the Wonder
Author: Tracey Ward
Genres: Comedy, New Adult, Romance
Release Date: February 19, 2015
From the moment I saw him – all blue eyes and American pie – I knew I’d never be the same.

Determined to escape the pressure of her impending graduation, Wren Porter chooses to take a semester in Europe. She’s there to study, party, and hide from the question that’s haunting her – What’s next?

At least that’s the plan until one night in Munich when she meets Jax, an American soldier stationed overseas. He’s charming, he’s handsome, and in one small act of kindness he becomes Wren’s own personal hero. Suddenly the two are swept up in a mad romance that will cross countries, break laws, and leave them both breathless.

But Jax has questions about his own future and when reality comes calling their bond is put to the test. Are they only meant to have the nights they shared together in Europe, or could they be so much more?

Could they be the future they’ve both been looking for?

     Outside the pub is dark and cold, the wind coming off the Thames taking form in a swirling fog that lines the walkway leading to the bridge. Tall lampposts pepper the trail, their iron bases gothic and thick, coated in black paint that makes them look menacing and strange. The rain clings to them, obscuring the large yellow glowing globes at their tops and giving the world an underwater feeling, a thickness and body to the air.
     We walk slowly not speaking much. We pass people who nod and wish us a good evening and at some point Jax takes my hand in his, pulling me in to walk so close to him that our bundled up bodies brush against each other with each step. I like the feeling. Of both him next to me and the clench of his cold fingers on my skin.
    Wordlessly he leads me to the large stone railing that runs along the river and we stand side by side, our hands still grasped, and we watch boats traverse up and down the dark waters. It’s getting colder and I take a half step closer to him, burrowing into his side. He releases my hand and slowly lifts his arm, wrapping it around my shoulder lightly as though asking permission. I give it by stepping even closer, tucking in under his arm and resting my head in the curve between his shoulder and neck.
     We stand there like that until my hands begin to go numb and the boats are few and far between. Until his grip on my shoulder tightens and his pulse pounds against my temple, wild and erratic. Until I lift my head to look up into his fathomless blue eyes and my heart misses a beat, then stumbles forward in double time. Until his face lowers, mine rises, and our lips meet in a flicker flame moment of heat sparking and burning soft and low in the cold London air.
     The cold pushes us from the streets to our hotel room and I nervously lay down with him on one of the double beds in our room. I kiss him slowly, my mouth lingering over his lips and my hands staying still on his arms, reminding myself and him to take it slow. That this is our first kiss and I want to savor it. I’m afraid of how far he’ll try to take it. Of that awful moment when the perfection of where we are slips away from us and a boundary has to be formed.
     But Jax never wanders. He never pushes, and eventually the kissing turns to holding and I’m in his arms in the dark and he’s pulling a blanket up over us. He’s brushing his mouth over the top of my head and whispering goodnight, and I’m lit up like the moon. I’m glowing and hovering high above the earth, untouchable. Unreachable. Enveloped in the infinite span of space and time with nothing but the beat of his heart, the pull of his breaths, to hold me down.

Author Bio:
"I don't write romances, I write relationships. One is pretty and perfect and all consuming. The other is real."

I was born in Eugene, Oregon and studied English Literature at the University of Oregon (Go Ducks!) I love writing all kinds of genres from YA Dystopian to New Adult Romance, the common themes between them all being strong character development and a good dose of humor.

My husband, son, and snuggly pitbull are my world.


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Damned by Cynthia Rayne

Title: Damned
Author: Cynthia Rayne 
Series: Four Horsemen MC #3
Release Date: February 17, 2015
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Rose Weston is in hell.

After being kidnapped and held as a sex slave, she is struggling to come to terms with the trauma. Under the care of her sister, Daisy, Rose is recovering at the Hades Motel& Diner, owned by the Four Horsemen MC. When Rose is threatened by her former captor, she asks Duke for help.

Duke has been to hell and back.

After surviving an abusive childhood, dangerous black ops missions, and a couple stints in prison, Duke is reluctant to give a damn about anyone but himself. Despite his better judgment, he finds himself helping Rose. She touches a place in his cold heart, no other woman has. He reluctantly agrees to teach her self-defense skills. Together, they will make the man who held her captive pay. But he doesn’t count on what a temptation Rose can be. She wants to share his bed, have a sexual relationship on her own terms, but is she ready after the abuse she’s suffered? Or is she damned?

Chapter One
     She’s a hot mess.
     Duke watched Rose Weston as she sat, eating dinner with her older sister, Daisy, and his club brother, Cowboy. The girl tried hard to hide it, but he could see the chaos bubbling beneath the surface, even two tables over.
     Not that it was any of his fucking business.
     Hades, the Four Horsemen’s motel and diner, had quite a crowd tonight. The diner had a fifties feel to it with a black and white checkered floor, red vinyl booths, silver stools, and Texas memorabilia on the walls like an old Route 66 sign and a Texaco star.
     Tonight, the place was packed for another one of their brotherhood dinners. Voodoo, a brother who served as the Hades chef and proprietor, barked orders at the prospects.
     Prospects, or potential members of the motorcycle club, had to be at the beck and call of all the full-fledged members in order to prove their worth. It was a lot like pledging a fraternity. At the moment, they hustled to take drink orders and deliver food to the brothers’ tables.
     Duke did a perimeter sweep of the room, a habit left over from his Special Forces routine. He noted the weapons his brothers carried as well as the exits and entrances, which they always kept clear in case some escape and evasion became necessary, or E&E in military lingo.
     He couldn’t help but stare at the train wreck of a girl again.
     She did her level best to look normal. Rose laughed and smiled often. She even managed to eat most of the food on her plate. But her eyes! They told an altogether different story. Bleak, shuttered, and chilly, they reminded him of an abandoned home. And she couldn’t quite disguise the pain in their depths.
     No one else seemed to notice, not even her sister. Maybe they were relieved she got home safe and didn’t really look too close. Two months ago, Duke had pulled her out of a cage. A fucking cage. Some bat shit crazy lawyer for the Raptors, a rival MC, kept her as a sex slave. Fuck only knows what the pervert did to her.
     Cowboy saddled him with protecting Rose, but Duke didn’t consider babysitting or counseling to be part of the job description. So, he kept his distance and watched her like a fucking hawk, in case her former rapist came looking for her. Rose had decided not to move in with Cowboy and Daisy when his brother reclaimed his old house and who could blame her? Pretending to be fine all the fucking time could be exhausting.
     Duke had given up on being normal years ago. But still.
     He couldn’t help but notice her. Her pain called to him on so many levels and she fascinated the hell out of him, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on exactly why.
     While he could appreciate her beauty, he usually went for older women, with loads of sexual experience and very little inhibitions. Rose had long blond hair which fell to the middle of her back and curled around her pretty face. She had wide-spaced warm brown eyes, framed by pale lashes and even paler skin.
     She’d been thin as a lamppost when he took her out of the cage, but she’d started to fill out again, her hips and breasts rounding out thanks to Voodoo’s cooking. Not that you could see her new curves. Tonight, she wore an oversized pair of jeans and a long-sleeved Dallas Cowboys shirt she kept tugging at, trying to force the sleeves below her fingertips.
     That caught his attention. Something about the gesture bothered him.
     Abruptly, her companions finished their food and Rose hugged her sister and Cowboy goodbye. After they left, she sat alone at the table. For a moment, she stared at the tabletop, absently moving the salt and pepper packets around in their tiny blue dish. Then she shook her head, as though trying to focus. Finally, she lurched to her feet, grabbed her bag, and headed out the rear of the diner.
     Duke forced his attention back to the hand-cut fries on his plate, slathering one with ketchup before bringing it to his mouth. He shot a glance at Shepherd, another of his MC brothers, who currently devoured a bacon cheeseburger. They sat at a table together against the wall.
     Voodoo stuffed the burgers with bacon, onion, and cheese and they were tasty, though not his usual fare. Voo nearly always insisted on cooking, mostly because he couldn’t stand to eat inferior food. None of them argued about it. After all, how could they compete with an honest to God chef?
      “What the fuck are you starin’ so hard at?” Shep asked.
     “None of your business.” Duke was in a decidedly shitty mood, as per usual.
     The blond biker grinned. “Haven’t you figured it out by now? Everything is my business, brother.” He tapped his VP patch, like it was the biker equivalent of the ‘S’ on Superman’s chest.
     Shepherd could be a real nosy bastard. While he was only in his late twenties, he had the instincts of a blue-haired biddy when it came to digging up dirt. He had absolutely no qualms about crawling through your private life, so Duke rarely offered up much in the way of personal info.
     He liked his private life to stay exactly that, private.
     “The hellion I’m currently fucking,” he lied. He nodded to the busty bottle blonde he had on tap. Fuck if he could remember her name though. The hellion preened when his eyes rested on her, thrusting out her chest and fluffing her hair. He’d mentally dubbed her Chesty, due to her ample assets. Of course, she’d told him her name their first night together, but he’d been shit-faced and horny as hell after years in prison with only his own slicked up hand for relief.
     The night of his welcome home from prison bash, she’d touched his thigh under the table when she whispered her name.  He’d nearly cum from that alone. He thought it started with an ‘L’. Linda? Leslie? Who the fuck knows? It was too late to ask now without looking like a dick. Besides, talking wasn’t really their thing. Whatever her name was, she had a kinky streak, he enjoyed exploring, and she didn’t demand much of his time outside of bed. It was casual and fun, so it suited his needs fine.
The VP followed the direction of his gaze and rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”
     “You got a problem with me getting my dick wet?”
     The other man angled his head to the side. “Pussy is a fine distraction, brother, but it ain’t a cure. In fact, it’s been known to cause more problems than it solves.”
     “Like you would know? You probably got moth balls in your boxers. When’s the last time you got laid?” None of the brothers had ever seen him with a hellion. Ever.
     Shep tucked a bit of a fuck you into his good ol’ boy grin. “No room for anything in there, but my own big, hairy set of balls, brother.”
     Rolling his eyes, Duke leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest. “A cure for what, Shepherd? Last time I checked, I ain’t got an affliction.”
     The VP snorted. “We both know you’re talkin’ out your ass now.”
     “Don’t even try to fix him, Shep. He was a psycho long before he went to prison,” Ryker put in.
     Duke glanced at Ryker and his old lady, Elizabeth, who sat at the table next to theirs. The guy never missed an opportunity to run his big fat mouth. Ryker bugged the shit out of him. He reminded Duke of one of those kid’s toys, a Ken doll – all looks and no substance. And his initial critical opinion dove to new lows every second he spent with the asshole.
     “Why don’t you go back to your date and shut the fuck up?” Judging by his full plate and the empty shot glasses, Ryker had drunk enough Jack tonight to stun a heavy metal guitarist.  On an empty stomach, no less.
     “Ryker, let’s just have a nice evening,” Elizabeth said, placing a hand on his arm.
     “We will,” he answered, “as soon as I take care of some business.” He leaned forward in his chair, a smirk on his face. “Speaking of girlfriends, you look awful cozy over there with Shep.”
     The VP muttered a curse.
     Duke raised a brow. ‘What the fuck are you babbling about?”
     “Oh, come on! You’re the one who’s supposed to be a brainiac. It’s a joke.” He widened his eyes.      “Get it? You’re all intense, practically eye-fucking him.”
     A cold-eyed stare was Duke’s only reply.
     “Jesus, learn how to take a joke, brother. Like I give a shit who you fuck.”
     “Lay off the booze, Ryker, and eat your damn food,” Shep said tiredly, not so much as sparing either of them a glance.
     “Come on, he’s right. You should eat something,” Elizabeth coaxed. “Voodoo outdid himself tonight. These burgers are amazing.”
     Ignoring her, Ryker stood up and advanced on Duke.
     “Get the fuck away from me, man,” Duke muttered, gripping the edge of the table.
     Ken Doll laughed. “And here I thought you got used to men being close. You know, bending over for the soap in the big house. Five years is a long time to go without pussy brother.”
     “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll sit down. Now,” Duke warned, in a chilly, quiet voice.
     “Why don’t you make me!?”
     That’s it.
     Duke shot up out of his chair and socked Ryker in the jaw, causing the other man’s head to rock back. Shepherd tried to push himself between them, but Duke nailed Ryker with a blow to the gut. Then, Ryker clipped Shepherd’s jaw before he backhanded Duke, sending him reeling into another table.
     “Break it up!” Shepherd ordered. He roared at the prospects, “get your asses over here and run interference!”
     They dashed over, but Duke ignored the commotion and circled Ryker, keeping his fists up. Ryker had been itching for an excuse to start some shit with him ever since he got paroled.
      “Both of you knock it off!” Captain bellowed, jumping out of his seat and striding over.
     Undaunted, Duke grabbed the back of Ryker’s head and slammed the bridge of his nose into a nearby table, causing blood to spatter and drip down to the floor.
     “Oh fuck!” Shep growled.
     Out of the corner of his eye, Duke saw Elizabeth withdraw the Taser Daisy had encouraged her to buy and launch herself at him with a war cry. Fetch blocked her attack, but quickly fell shuddering to the floor in a haze of electrified pain.
     Ryker tackled Duke to the ground and together they rolled over and over, eventually crashing into tables and chairs. A couple of prospects physically pried Ryker off, and held him at bay. Pretty Boy held onto Elizabeth to keep her from pouncing again.  The Taser lay harmlessly on the ground at her feet.
     Captain arrived on the scene and when Duke got up to have another go at Ryker, the Prez stepped in between them. “What the hell is wrong with both of you?”
     Duke jerked a thumb at Ryker. “He called me a fucking fag.”
     “No, I said you might like a dick in your ass,” Ryker retorted. “Didn’t say you were gay.”
     “Both of you shut the hell up!” Captain shouted. “You’re giving me a fucking headache. If you want to beat the shit out of each other, be my guest, but don’t break club property and don’t do it in front of the old ladies,” he said, gesturing to the women in the room. “Now get the fuck out of my sight and cool off.”
     “This doesn’t concern you, old man,” Ryker drawled.
     “What did you say to me, boy?” Captain roared, closing the distance between himself and Ryker. They stood inches apart and neither one of them spoke.
     Everyone got real quiet. No glassware clinking, or chairs squeaking, not even the scrape of cutlery on plates. No one mouthed off to Captain. Well, no one but Eddie.
     “Nothing,” Ryker said, looking away.
     “That’s what I thought,” Captain barked. “I don’t want to see either of you the rest of the night or tomorrow either. If I do, I might shoot you both. Meet me at Perdition the morning after, and trust me. There’s going to be hell to pay, boys.”
     Duke scowled at Ryker, who smirked at him. Ken Doll whispered something to Elizabeth that Duke couldn’t hear, but he’d bet his boots it was an apology. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, but eventually, her eyes softened. He gingerly kissed her forehead and she dabbed at his bruised and bloody face with a napkin, then she placed her arm around him and escorted Ryker from the restaurant.
     Fucking Ryker. He has it too easy.
     Duke hesitated at the edge of the room, long enough to draw some unwanted attention. Chesty got to her feet, but he shook his head. He sure as shit didn’t want to talk to her. She had a tight pussy, but not much going on above the shoulders.
     He felt like pounding his fists into the walls, but it would only earn him a beat down from Captain.      So, he wandered out to the parking lot behind the diner to walk off some of this toxic shit.
     At this rate, he’d have to hoof it to China.
      After fifteen minutes of pacing back and forth, he stilled when he heard the scrape of the metal door behind him.
     “What the hell crawled up your ass tonight?” the VP asked, apparently cutting right to the chase.
     Duke turned away, folding his arms over his chest. “Don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about. I’m fine.”
     Shepherd didn’t comment, pulled out a smoke and sparked it up in that unnerving, almost supernatural, far-too-patient way of his. He tucked a stray strand of blond hair behind his ear and simply waited for Duke to start talking, like the biker version of Buddha.
     “It’s nothing,” Duke insisted.
     The VP lifted one brow, clearly not buying his bullshit.
     Duke clenched his hands. “I’m not some goddamn cocksucker, for the motherfuckin’ record.” The words exploded from his throat, before he could jam them back down.
     Fuck. So much for my private life.
     Shepherd leaned against the brick wall, barely beyond the floodlights overhead, and it wreathed his face in shadows. After a long moment, he spoke quietly, “I know you aren’t, brother. He obviously struck a nerve.”
     Even though Duke had spent five fucking years in prison, he hadn’t resorted to dick. He’d slapped the snot out of the first lady-boy who’d hit on him and he’d picked a fight with the biggest mother fucker on his cell block, so he didn’t risk being anybody’s bitch either. Then, it was a matter of not being caught alone. Safety in numbers.
     “Damn straight. I fucking love pussy. If Ryker thinks—”
     Shep made a disgusted noise in his throat, cutting off the tirade. “Since when do you give a flying fuck what Ryker thinks? He got a rise out of you because he’s pissed about Captain. The Prez is making a move on Eddie and he can’t do a damn thing about it. He used you to let off some steam and you made a very convenient punching bag.”
     He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. Shep was right, of course. It was one of his most irritating qualities. He had a way of bypassing all of someone’s shit and going straight to the fucking bullseye. “I really do hate that fucker.”
     “You don’t say?” Shep deadpanned.
     “Kiss my ass.”
     “No offense, but you ain’t my type, brother.” He blew a couple of smoke rings.
     “You’re so fucking funny.”
      “You’ve got no idea, Duke,” the VP drawled, an edge in his voice. “But come on, I ain’t gettin’ any younger here. What set you off tonight? You and Ryker usually bug the fuck out of each other, but you seem pricklier than usual, emphasis on the prick.”
     “Nothin’ to tell, brother,” Duke said firmly, ending the conversation. Ryker had unwittingly blundered into dangerous territory and it had gotten the best of Duke. Not about his most recent stint in prison, but his childhood.
     But he didn’t share that shit with anyone. Not his mother, not Eddie, certainly not the prison psychiatrist, and not his brothers either. He kept that shit six fucking feet under. Dead and buried where it belonged.
     Shepherd puffed a sigh. “Fine. Have it your way. You always do. All I need to know is you got your shit together now?”
     “Yeah,” he muttered.
     The VP finally stepped back into the light and Duke thought, for a moment, how weary his brother appeared. How worn.
     “What about you?” he asked, noting the deep, dark circles beneath his eyes. He obviously hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks. “You look like you’ve been on a long bender in Vegas.”
     “Thanks, brother.” He laughed, without much humor.
     “Anything I can do to help?”
     “No, no one can help me. Not with this.”
     Duke studied Shep carefully. Something was wrong. Really fucking wrong.
     Maybe the role of VP weighed on him? He basically took on all of their problems, settling beefs between the brothers, scrutinizing new members and old ladies. It had to be a fuckin’ thankless job. Bikers weren’t exactly known for their good choices.
     “Night, brother,” Shep said and then he ambled back inside.
     Duke stared at the closed door for a moment and made a mental note to check on him later, maybe offer to take on some extra responsibilities. He bitched about Shep all the time, but he respected him.
     Ah hell, he fucking loved the bastard. He was the closest thing Duke had to an actual sibling, not that he’d ever admit it. As he headed for the door, a bottle clattered to the ground on the far side of the parking lot, grabbing his attention.
     When he investigated, he found Rose seated on a set of concrete stairs near the loading dock. She had a cigarette in her mouth and tried in vain to get a pink disposable lighter to work. Near her feet, an empty beer bottle rolled back and forth on the uneven pavement.
     When she saw him, she swallowed, eyes skittering away. Duke knew from experience she wanted to avoid his ass. He had witnessed one of her most vulnerable moments. She’d been helpless, dressed as a fuck toy. To deal with scary shit, you had to shove it down and not think on it. Hard to do when the man who’d witnessed your degradation stood in front of you.
     But, he couldn’t walk away. Not yet.
     Duke sat down and plucked the cigarette from her mouth. She gasped in protest as he placed it in his own, but made no move to snatch it away from him. With a grin, he produced his Horsemen Zippo, etched with the club logo, and lit the cigarette with a flourish, then handed it back to her. She offered him the tiniest of smiles, before placing the cigarette between her lips, exactly where his mouth had been moments ago.
     And as fucking crazy as it sounded, it pleased him.
     “Thanks.” She inhaled deeply and then coughed a bit. Clearly, she wasn’t a smoker. He grabbed a cigar from the inner pocket of his cut, as well as his stainless steel cutter. He preferred Ashton Symmetry cigars, which featured a crown emblem, like the tattoo on his back. They had a spicy scent and an earthy taste he found comforting.
     During his stint in the military as a Special Forces sniper, he’d gotten into the habit of smoking. It settled his nerves after he’d taken out a target. He clipped the end of the cigar and toasted the tip of it in the Zippo flame until it began to smolder. Now, all he needed was a scotch and soda.
     She staggered to her feet, grabbed her bag, and the empty bottle.
     He seized her leg and she flinched. Immediately, he released her and she rubbed the spot as though she’d been burned. “Sit down.”
     Her eyes flashed, a bit of spirit showing. It cheered him. He didn’t want to think of her as broken, maybe because he’d been the one to free her. Though he could tell she’d sustained quite a bit of damage. Any fool could see it.
     He didn’t say a word, merely waited to be obeyed.
     Rose stood there, staring at him and he could see the emotions drift across her pretty face— annoyance, resentment, and then finally resignation.
     She plunked back down, though she put a couple feet between their bodies and heaved a disgusted sigh. “What do you want?”
     “I want to ask you a couple of questions.” Shep didn’t have the market cornered on being a nosy bastard. He normally hated to get involved, but someone had to.
      She smiled. It was the fake one she used on Cowboy and Daisy all the time. “I’m fine.”
     “I didn’t ask, but we both know you’re lying.”
     Her big brown eyes got impossibly wider.
     “I know you aren’t fine. What’s going on?” he said.
     “I ain’t lettin’ it go, so you might as well save us both the time and level with me.”
     Rose stared straight ahead, as though mesmerized by the asphalt. “It’s nothing, really. I’m coping, that’s all.” She gestured with the cigarette and bottle.
     “How did you get the beer?”
     “I, uh—”
     “Stole it?” he offered.
    “Borrowed it.”
     “Borrowing means you were going to give it back at some point.” He sighed. “You’re what? Twenty?”
     “Nineteen,” she answered.
     Fuck. That’s young. Duke would be thirty-nine next January, which made him a fucking old man compared to her. Talk about a knee to the balls.
     Wait. Why the fuck do I care how old the girl is?
      “You know, the club could help you.”
     “With drinking?” she said, brow furrowing.
     “No, with documentation. Ryker is in charge of ordering booze for Perdition and Hades. He accounts for every fucking beer. Trust me. Sooner or later, he will figure it out.” He made a face. “If you had a fake ID, you get your own hooch without anyone bein’ the wiser. I could get one made for you.”
     Her eyes rounded. “Um, okay. Thanks.”
     Duke watched as the metal door leading inside, swung open and Chesty came trotting out, evidently impatient to be fucked. She lit a smoke, staring at him from across the lot. Thank God she didn’t approach them.
     “I’ll get the ID to you tomorrow,” he said to Rose. “But you have to promise me one thing.”
     “What’s that?”
     “Drink somethin’ with a bit more kick than beer. Like Jack or Jim. Self-medicating only works if you put your back into it.”
     She cocked her head. “You mean you aren’t going to tell my sister?”
     “Why would I? Ain’t her business.”
     She nodded, standing once more and he jumped to his feet. Before she could walk away, he clutched her sleeve, yanking it up her arm before she could stop him. He needed to check something.
     “Hey!” she cried, swatting at him with her other hand.
     Ignoring her, he examined her skin. As he’d suspected, she had a series of red lines crisscrossing her pale forearm. She’d been cutting herself.
     Most people assumed cutting was a suicidal gesture, but Duke knew better. Cutting had more to do with survival than anything else. Sometimes, focusing on a spot of physical pain instead of the awful emotional kind could be a relief. It was the world’s worst way to cope with excruciating shit. He noted she’d avoided the veins in her arms and the cuts were shallow, so she hadn’t done any serious harm.
      “Let me go!” she howled.
     He ignored her and instead carefully traced one of the lines. The skin had turned an angry-looking red, and felt hot to the touch. “These are getting infected. If you’re going to keep cutting, you need to take better care of yourself.”
     “No,” he muttered, “You don’t need to tell me a comforting lie. I don’t expect you to be okay, or normal, or whatever the fuck they want you to be. I know you’re a mess and you should be a mess after what you’ve been through.”
     “How did you know?” she whispered, glancing at her arm. “That I’ve been cutting?”
     Across the lot, the hellion cleared her throat, and it echoed off the wall, loudly. Fuck. He hated needy chicks. Duke didn’t bother making eye contact.
     “I saw you tugging at your sleeves earlier and made an educated guess,” Duke said sadly. He wished he’d been wrong. He read the question in her eyes. “No, I’m not going to tell your sister, but you have to keep the wounds clean, so you don’t lose your fucking arm. What are you using to slice yourself?”
     Rose bit her lower lip. “A paring knife I snagged from the kitchens.”
     He reluctantly released her arm. “You need a very sharp blade, one you sanitize between cuts. He withdrew his pocket knife and tossed it to her. “Be careful with the fucking thing, it’s sharp as shit. Don’t accidentally cut your arm off.”
     “Why are you helping me?” she asked with wide, wary eyes as she tucked the knife into the pocket of her jeans.
     Fuck if I know. “Because I can.”
     “Thank you,” she whispered.
     Duke sighed. “Don’t thank me. I’m only doing damage control. And I want you to think about something.”
     “You’re free. You got away from him, physically at least. But not mentally. Not yet, anyway.”
     Tears welled in her eyes.
     “Don’t let him keep you in that cage too much longer or you’ll lose yourself, Rose. Oblivion is a comfort, but it’s an illusion, it ain’t the way out.”
     He went to Chesty, who beamed at him, eager for his attention. Duke put his arm around her and led her to a hotel room, he planned on commandeering for a night of oblivion.
     Yeah, he’d just given Rose some damn good advice.
     Too bad he’d never taken it himself.

What's the story behind your latest book?
Damned, and the Four Horsemen Series, grew out of my love for Sons of Anarchy, my obsession with all things Texas, and a brainstorming session I had with my sister and fellow author, Sara Rayne. We sat on my parent's front porch in the summer of 2013 and came up with the club, its backstory, and the characters together. After she flew back to Texas, I sat down and started writing. Including two crazy fast drafting sessions in October of 2013 where I finished first drafts of  Sweet Perdition, the first book, and then Hot as Hades, the second book each in the span of three weeks. 

Damned took me a lot longer than expected. I was originally supposed to have it completed and ready to go by the end of December 2014, but it took a bit more time. I think because the subject of sexual abuse is so thorny. Rose, the heroine, has been sexually assaulted over a period of weeks by the villain of the book, Kent. Those flashback passages were extremely difficult to write.

What are you working on next?
I am working on the next two books in the Four Horsemen MC series, Devil May Care and Hell on Wheels. My sister, Sara Rayne is working on Hellbent (which will be in between those two books).  I absolutely love writing about the characters and deepening their stories and the club's story in the process. 

When did you first start writing?
According to my mom and dad, I wrote as a child, even before I had the fine motor skills to wield a pencil. I used to climb into bed with them on weekend mornings and tell them about the "movies" I saw in my head.

Do you remember the first story you ever wrote?
Yes, I wrote a novel at age thirteen in middle school. It was a romance featuring my friends and members of New Kids on the Block. It was terrible, but everyone loved reading it! I had quite the following at the lunch table!

What motivated you to become an indie author?
Creative control! I have the ability to choose the cover models, the graphic artists, and I have input on editing decisions as well. I love how much freedom comes from being an indie author.
When you’re not writing, how do you spend your time? I am always writing. I write every day, although some days are better than other! I’m a voracious reader, so I’m always looking for new authors and new books to read. I have quite the coffee addiction, so I can be found at Starbucks often. I’m also a Netflix girl. I love to binge watch series and have a relaxing weekend on the couch.

Author Bio:
Cynthia Rayne is the author of the Amazon best-selling Four Horsemen MC series. Her first erotic book was written when she was thirteen. Of course, the most risquΓ© scene involved kissing, but it was the talk of her middle school! 

She is currently pursuing a doctoral degree in education and writes whenever she can. In her spare time, she enjoys dating, shopping, reading way too many romance novels, and drinking a truly obscene amount of coffee. Find out more about Cynthia Rayne and the Four Horsemen, and signup for the new release newsletter on the website.


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Eyes Unveiled by Crystal Walton

Title: Eyes Unveiled
Author: Crystal Walton
Series: Unveiled #1
Release Date: February 1st 2015
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Twenty-one-year-old Emma Matthews lost the song in her heart the same night she lost her dad. With an unfulfilled promise and an ultimatum shadowing her junior year of college, maybe it’s better that way. You can’t hurt if you can’t feel.

But when the reflection she sees in musician Riley Preston’s eyes borders dangerously close to the one she’s spent the last five years searching for, Emma discovers her walls can’t guard her heart from its fiercest desire. Terrified of what she’s experiencing, and even more afraid of what she might lose, Emma grapples for the courage to hold on to one dream without abandoning the promise of another.

Contemporary New Adult Romance novel Eyes Unveiled lets you relive those heartfelt moments when you don’t know how you’d survive a day without your best friend, when you’re trying to figure out who you are and what you’re supposed to do with your life, and when falling in love changes everything.

Music. Friendship. Self-discovery. Hope. Purpose. Identity. Within this inspirational love story, you’ll find you have a song of your own to share.

     If I kept moving, maybe the uneasiness spiraling in my stomach would dissipate.
     Wouldn’t be that lucky. An awkward silence lingered the moment Trevor’s Outlander gunned away from the curb.
     “Do you go to Nuts and Jolts often?” A. J. asked.
     The tread on my sneakers skidded against the sidewalk about as smoothly as my thoughts skidded into each other. “Not really. I’m not a big coffee drinker, but the shop’s atmosphere is cool, especially on Friday nights.”
     “Nothing beats live music.” He kept his face forward, but the shadow of a furtive grin fell on me. “My car is that Acura ZDX over there.”
     Was I supposed to be impressed?
     In the car, he angled toward me right as he turned the key in the ignition, about to say something. Bass pulsated through the speakers. He reached for the controls, accidentally turned up the volume before turning it off altogether, and laughed. “How’s that for smooth? Sorry. I don’t usually have other people in the car with me.”
     His brief flicker of embarrassment disappeared in seconds, along with the college entrance behind us. “So, you like live music. Do you play any instruments?”
     I ran my fingers over my seatbelt. “I play the guitar a little, but I’m not very good.”
     “I bet you’re better than you’re admitting.”
     “What makes you so sure?” The question ended more in a snort than a question mark.
     “I’ve seen you around campus. Off by yourself, playing where no one can hear you.”
     My jaw dropped halfway open. Had people on campus actually been watching me?
     “The way you glow when you play, you have to be enjoying it. So, it can’t be that bad.”
     Heat swept up my neck. “Wait a sec. You just asked me if I played, but you already knew.” Start talking, buddy.
     “Trevor warned me you were a little shy about it. I wanted to see how open you’d be with me.” He stole another glimpse across the car. “You blush easily. I’ll have to remember that.”
     The charm trailing his words fueled my growing debate over which type of guy he was. Ladies’ Man, up one point.
     “With all your time spent trying to make girls blush, do you ever actually study for classes, or is the whole academic scene kind of overrated for you?”
     He laughed. “Just because I’ve noticed one girl on campus doesn’t mean I’ve noticed any others.”
     Right. And Ladies’ Man takes the lead.

What inspired you to write Eyes Unveiled?
When I first contemplated writing fiction, three musts came to mind. (1) It had to include romance because that’s my favorite part of any story. (2) I wanted whatever I wrote to be relatable. (3) I didn’t want to write simply for the sake of entertainment.

As soon as I opened myself up to daydream, a scene fluttered into focus. A guy and girl, college age, sitting in the middle of a secluded field. The guy was playing an acoustic guitar, as much in love with music as he obviously was with the girl across from him. Every chord stoked her love for him the same way it fanned the craving in her heart to find where she belonged. Both fighting what they felt. Both wanting to make the other see what they saw. Physical and emotional tension flared in a palpable tug-of-war between hope and doubt, caution and desire, passion and responsibilities. And right then, I knew these characters had a story to tell—one I wanted to read as much as write. From there, I couldn’t stop the scenes from coming.
What made you choose New Adult?
I didn’t intentionally set out to write NA fiction. But the truth is, college was the best season of my life. I’d relive it in a second. There's something special about it. Sharing an extended sleepover with your best friends, stepping out on your own for the first time, discovering things like who you are & what friendship really looks like. It's when we fell in love like never before, and when we fell apart like never before. It shaped our lives. One of my favorite parts about Eyes Unveiled is that you get to relive those moments all over again. The laugh-until-you-snort moments. The heart-flutters-taking-flight moments. The on-the-floor-crying-your-heart-out moments. All of it. Doubt. Faith. Friendship. Love. NA is a dynamic genre to read and write.

What made you decide to go indie?
I started off on the traditional route, but the more I studied publishing, the more passionate I became about going indie. Along with the benefit of keeping the rights to my book, it’s a joy to partner with some amazingly talented contractors. I love getting to offer my books at a low price and still receive a fair royalty, so readers and I both win. And since traditional and self-published authors have to do the same amount of marketing on their own anyway, you might as well be compensated fairly for the investment. Overall, it simply made the most sense.

Why do you write what you do?
In a word? Passion. As an artist, I leave my heart on the page. Exposed. Vulnerable. Nothing withheld. It’s risky to bear your soul to the world, but that’s the cost of art. There might always be a part of me tempted to guard my heart. But there’s a much more compelling part that’ll never allow me to. Regardless of the outcome, I write what I do because my heart is spoken for.

What do you want readers to take away from your books?
My goal as an author has always been to craft novels that are relevant and encouraging. I love compelling fiction that draws you into characters’ lives to the point of feeling what they feel. The kind that you walk away from knowing the story just impacted your life. Beyond mere entertainment, they awaken dormant dreams, stir creative visions, and remind you that you have a story of your own to live. If you walk away with an emotional connection that touches and inspires you, then I know I’ve written the kind of story I’ve always wanted to.

Author Bio:
Amidst multiple moves up and down the east coast, Crystal received her bachelor of arts from Messiah College in PA, married her exact opposite in upstate NY, and earned her master of arts from Regent University in VA, where she currently resides with her husband. Crystal writes contemporary new adult fiction fueled by venti green teas from Starbucks. 

When not working her accounting day job, she's delving into the wonder of words, supporting her Starbucks habit, or laughing over movie quotes & singing eighties songs with her husband.


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Cover Reveal: Numbers Game by Rebecca Rode

Title: Numbers Game
Author: Rebecca Rode
Genre: Dystopia,Young Adult
Expected Release Date: March 2015
Cover Design: Yocla Designs

Treena can’t wait for Rating Day. Her high score will mean a life of luxury, showing the world that she’s a valuable member of society, not a pathetic waste of space. It won’t hurt her chances with her top-Rated boyfriend, either. But when the big day arrives, her true number shocks everyone.

To get her life—and boyfriend—back, she must go undercover and expose a military spy. Doesn’t sound too hard, except that someone seems to want her dead. And then there’s the mysterious soldier with a haunted past and beautiful brown eyes. Together, they discover a dark numbers conspiracy, one that shatters the nation’s future. They must band together if they are to survive the dangerous game of numbers—and the terrible war that rages within Treena’s heart.

Author Bio:
By day, I'm a busy mom of four who struggles with housecleaning and cooking. By night...well, I'm still a busy mom of four. But scattered into those rare quiet moments is my life's passion--writing. My first book, HOW TO HAVE PEACE WHEN YOU'RE FALLING TO PIECES, was released in March 2013. It's a nonfiction quick-fix book for moms whose lives feel as crazy and out of control as mine does--and from what readers are saying, it's fun and entertaining to read. I also write for Deseret News and on occasion, and some of my articles have also appeared in Schooled Magazine. For a sneak peek at the first two chapters of my book, HOW TO HAVE PEACE WHEN YOU'RE FALLING TO PIECES, check it out on Bye now!

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To the Max by Elle Aycart

Title: To The Max
Author: Elle Aycart
Series: Bowen #3
Genre: Adult, Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 10, 2015
Forensic accountant Annie Griffin has always suspected she's a bit jinxed, so when she finds herself 35, single, temporarily homeless, and pregnant by a gigolo, her fears are confirmed.

 Adrenaline junkie and professional stuntman Max Bowen needs a house-sitter to watch after his pets while he's out of town. Annie needs a place to stay. Standard quid pro quo. No biggie. She can handle that, whatever hellhounds he owns--until Max, the most sought-after bachelor in the county, comes back ahead of schedule and she ends up being roommates with a 27-year old sex god who turns out to be so much more than what she expected.

Max might have had the attention span of a humming bird on crack when it comes to women, but that was before Annie. Her quirkiness and sweet contradictions soon captivate him, not that she's  inclined to give him the time of the day. With his reputation preceding him, he knows the odds are stacked against him, but he will do his best to prove her  that he's what she needs, stuck-up socialite grandmothers, doomsday preppers, groupies, pregnancy hormones, and repentant biological dads be damned.

     Best way to spend Valentine's? Seven and a half months pregnant, on a Florida beach, looking like a whale among sirens, with your feet so swollen they seemed floating boats, and watching your sex God of a boyfriend being ogled and salivated upon by ten-years-younger-than-you, skinny women.
     Yep, best way ever. Hands down.
     Max had had to travel to Florida for work, and had insisted on Annie accompanying him. "Insisted" was too mild a word. He'd totally taken over and made all the arrangements. She'd been presented with a plane ticket and a "we're leaving tomorrow, pack your swimsuit."
     Her man was bossy.
     She would have wanted to object, but Boston in February was no match for Florida. The nice weather, the beach. Max kitesurfing, doing one of his stunts while being filmed. Yummy.
     Sadly, she wasn't the only one that thought so. Apparently the whole of Florida's female population agreed with her.
     When the shooting was about done, Annie stood up from the sun lounger and tried approaching. Several gorgeous groupies, fluffing out their hair, with bikinis that left little to imagination, giggling and swaying their hips like there was no tomorrow, rushed ahead, leaving her in the dust.
     Well, what did she expect? Max was gorgeous with that sexy short Mohawk of his all mussed and his trimmed beard. Tanned. All wet from the sea, his muscles bulging and glistening, his dark blond hair bleached by the sun. And that permanent roguish smirk on his face, like he was flirting with life.      She'd bet any-frigging-thing all the women on the beach had their girlie parts tingling, just from looking at him.
     After wrapping things up, Max turned around and moved toward Annie, smiling. The women in front of her were already breathless, waving at him. He passed the groupies without a second look and went straight to her, taking her in his arms and kissing the living wits out of her.
     "One zero for the whale," she whispered when he let her up for breath.
     "What?" he asked, totally oblivious to the way the groupies glared and pouted.
     "You missed a turn. Your fans there thought you were walking to them."
     He snorted. "Don't give a fuck what they thought. I want you. Only you. Haven't you realized it yet?"
     Yes, she had. The first day of the shooting, Annie would had preferred to stay behind, intimidated as she was with all the gorgeousness around, but he hadn't allowed it; he'd kept her by his side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Kissing her and being sweet in front of God and everyone.
     Lots of jaws had dropped.
     "You done?" she whispered to him.
     Max nodded. "I'm all yours now."
     All hers. She loved the sound of that.
     "So now what?"
     "Now we get ready to celebrate Valentine's," he stated.
     "Are we celebrating it at the hotel?"
     "Where then?"
     "You'll see."
     Damn, he'd been so close-lipped about the whole thing. Their kick-ass, top-of-the-line hotel had been fully paid for until the next morning. And by the looks of it, they were pulling out all the stops preparing for the event.
     "I need to know what to dress for," she insisted. "Beach picnic? Amusement park? Fancy restaurant? Naked date in the Jacuzzi?" It could be anything, considering who her Valentine was.
     He brushed his lips with hers. "Dress how you want, Ace. You'll be stunning anyway and everybody will think I'm the luckiest bastard alive for being allowed to walk by your side. I'm holding you to the naked part for later, though," he added with a wink. "Now let's get going. We're expected soon."
     Annie was relieved when she noticed Max had on jeans and a T-shirt. If he would had broken out the tuxedo, she would have been in trouble, seeing as the only outfits she'd packed were maternity swimsuits and flowy summer dresses.
     Once ready, he clasped her hand in his and walked her to the car. At her inquiring look, he just said, "Trust me. It'll be memorable."
     She had no doubt about it. So far, everything with Max had been.
     They drove for over an hour. When he parked the car, she looked at her surroundings and broke into laughter. "The Eternal Sun resort?"
     He nodded. "I promised you memorable, love. This is the place to have it, surrounded by couples averaging fifty years of marriage."
     She'd heard so much about this place she was giddy with excitement. And a bit terrified, because there was a crowd at the entrance, already waving at them.
     She turned to him. "Are they waiting for us?"
     He waved back. "Yep. They are all very excited to meet you. We have a busy schedule, I hear. Bingo. Then romantic dinner. Then dancing under the stars and poker for the two-left-feet ones."
They had barely made it out of the car when those senior ladies were hugging and smooching them. Congratulating them on the baby and treating her as if they'd known her for freaking ever.
     Bingo was a blast, not to mention the outrageous way those seniors tried to cheat. Dinner too. The common area had been transformed into a very romantic outdoors restaurant, with candles and roses and tables for two, but those seniors didn't believe in privacy, and before they made it to the second course, most tables had been pushed together, and Annie and Max were eating with a loud bunch who, in spite of their nosiness, were adorable.
     Annie'd heard the Bowen brothers were very well liked at the Eternal Sun, but she had no clue how much.
     Everybody there knew him and treated him like he was part of the family. And Max was so at ease with them too.
     By desert Annie's side hurt from laughing so hard. Apparently fifty years of marriage gave for a lot of Valentine's anecdotes, all of them hilarious.
     "I've had all sorts of Valentine's dates, from the totally awesome to the totally horrendous," Annie whispered into Max's crook after dinner, as they danced. "Nothing compared to this. This is off the charts."
     "Off-the-charts horrendous or off-the-charts awesome?" he asked, spinning her around to the slow music.
     She laughed. "Awesome, of course."
     "I'm glad you're pleased."
     Pleased? They were in the Eternal Sun resort on the dance floor, surrounded by couples who had been together for more than half a century, yet they were still holding hands. Cooing at each other. Laughing at each others' jokes.  
     "They loved you," Max continued. "I got the third degree for not bringing you here until now."
     "You got the third degree? Because I did too."
     A frown marred his beautiful face. "What do you mean?"
     "I was asked what were my intentions toward you." Several times, actually, during bingo and dinner. "Everybody loves you here." They'd been singing Max's praises all night long. And warning her about hurting him.
     Max laughed. "And what are your intentions?"
     "Well, I told them I plan to use you as a sex toy and then dump you to the curb," she joked.
     His amused snort was loud and clear. "You can use me as a sex toy all you want, no objections whatsoever. You know my cock will always be hard for you, but you won't dump me to the curb, I won't let you."
     The intensity in his words and his erection pressing against her abraded her senses. Man, even in the middle of a senior community he could turn her on, just by whispering into her ear.
     They danced until the wee hours and then, as promised, she ended up naked in the Jacuzzi.
     Best way to spend Valentine's Day? Or any other day of her life for that matter? With Max. Hands down.

Author Bio:
After a colorful array of jobs all over Europe ranging from translator to chocolatier to travel agent to sushi chef to flight dispatcher, Elle Aycart is certain of one thing and one thing only: aside from writing romances, she has abso-frigging-lutely no clue what she wants to do when she grows up. Not that it stops her from trying all sorts of crazy stuff. While she is probably now thinking of a new profession, her head never stops churning new plots for her romances. She lives currently in Barcelona, Spain, with her husband and two daughters, although who knows, in no time she could be living at the Arctic Circle in Finland, breeding reindeer.


To the Max

Bowen Series:  GOODREADS TBR

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