Beautiful Sinner (Devil’s Rock #5) by Sophie Jordan

Locked in with the town bad boy . . .

Most women would be scared, but Gabriella’s only worried about resisting Cruz Walsh, who’s even hotter than he was back in high school. Cruz was wrongly accused of the high-profile crime for which he was imprisoned; Gabriella’s desperate for the scoop that will get her career off the ground and get her out of Sweet Hill, where everyone still remembers her as “Flabby Gabby.” Being stuck in a supply closet with Cruz is the perfect opportunity to land an interview. What Bri doesn’t count on is Cruz taking “up-close and personal” to a whole new level.

If there’s a silver lining to the hell Cruz went through, it’s that losing his freedom put everything in perspective. Maybe starting over someplace new would be easier, but after years locked up, Cruz values his family—and his true friends—more than ever. So he’s back home, facing the gossip, dodging reporters . . . and face-to-face with Gabriella Rossi. They’ve both changed: Bri wants a story and Cruz just wants her. Another thing he’s learned? Don’t let a good thing slip away.

About the Book

Beautiful Sinner
by Sophie Jordan

Series
Devil’s Rock Series

Genre
Adult
Contemporary Romance

Publisher
Avon Books

Publication Date
October 30, 2018

Purchase Your Copy Today
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My Review

Rating : 3.5 Stars

I started off really enjoying this book, but it started to fizzle a bit toward the middle. It was still a good read, but I thought it could have been better, I wanted more of a story, more of a romance between Cruz and Gabriella.

Cruz Walsh was the town bad boy and went to prison for the murder of Gabriella’s cousin. After seven years in prison, he was exonerated for a crime he didn’t commit. He grew on the wrong side of the tracks, he was poor and, all his life, he has been judged for his family name. I loved this character so much, he is loyal and protective. Cruz endured years in prison, yet he doesn’t begrudge anyone for it.

Gabriella and Cruz’s relationship was seven years in the making. He was her first crush, her first kiss, but she never expected to see him again. She is a journalist, though and she wants his story. But she must choose between her attraction to him and her career. Betraying Cruz’s trust would boost her career.

Cruz was all brooding sensuality but Gabriella was a tough heroine to like. Their story was smoking hot, with many intense and erotic scenes. And yet, I felt that something was missing, the emotional aspect of the story seemed underdeveloped.  I felt like I didn’t really get to know Gabriella and Cruz because their relationship felt shallow and too focused on sex.

My favorite part of the book was actually getting a glimpse at Piper, Cruz sister’s life. “Beautiful Lawman” is on my TBR, and I will read it soon.

My honest review is based on an advanced reader copy provided by the publisher. Thank you for reading!

Excerpt

“How long have you been wanting to kiss me?”

It was tempting to fling the truth at him—the truth that they had already kissed. It would feel good to catch him off guard and watch him absorb that fact.

She couldn’t do it, of course. After the satisfaction of shocking him wore off, she’d be left with the awkwardness of him knowing she was the idiot who had kissed him in the boathouse while he thought she was someone else.

“You were stroking my lips,” he reminded.

“I was checking to see if you were breathing.”

He whirled her around, sending her colliding into his chest.

“Oh!” Her hands came up to his chest, palms flattening on the very body she had only moments ago felt at her leisure. Now it felt different. Now he was awake. Alert . . .his eyes as sharp as a hawk’s gaze on her. Now his heart pounded swift and hard beneath her touch.

Tour Wide Giveaway

To celebrate the release of BEAUTIFUL SINNER by Sophie Jordan, we’re giving away one paperback set of the complete Devil’s Rock series by Sophie Jordan!

GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS:  Open to US shipping addresses only. One winner will receive a paperback set of the complete Devil’s Rock series by Sophie Jordan.  This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Avon Romance. Giveaway ends 11/12/2018 @ 11:59pm EST. Avon Romance will send the winning copies out to the winner directly. Limit one entry per reader and mailing address.  Duplicates will be deleted.  CLICK HERE TO ENTER!

About Sophie Jordan

SOPHIE JORDAN grew up in the Texas hill country where she wove fantasies of dragons, warriors, and princesses. A former high school English teacher, she’s the New York Times, USA Today and international bestselling author of more than twenty novels. She now lives in Houston with her family. When she’s not writing, she spends her time overloading on caffeine (lattes preferred), talking plotlines with anyone who will listen (including her kids), and cramming her DVR with anything that has a happily ever after.

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram  |  Goodreads  |  Amazon

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The Viscount Can Wait (Reluctant Brides #2) by Marie Tremayne

After five years away, Lady Eliza Cartwick isn’t relishing returning to the whirl of the London season. But the young widow knows to ensure the best future for herself and her young daughter Rosa, she must remarry. If only Lord Evanston, the dashing rogue who has haunted her dreams since she was sixteen, didn’t insist on distracting her with his searing looks and lingering touches at the most inconvenient times…

Thomas, Lord Evanston has wanted Eliza since her engagement ball all those years ago. His best friend’s sister has constantly been out of reach…until now. The forbidden has always tempted him, but when Thomas realizes he wants the object of his fantasies for far more than a dalliance, he must convince her that he’s not just a rake; he’s a viscount who’s worth the wait.

About the Book

The Viscount Can Wait
by Marie Tremayne

Series
The Reluctant Brides

Genre
Adult
Historical Romance

Publisher
Avon Impulse

Publication Date
October 23, 2018

Purchase Your Copy Today!
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My Review

Rating : 3.5 Stars

The hero is a Viscount with little to recommend him as a character, he is a man known for causing trouble and his behavior is questionable. He was so mysterious, he confused me. And I never really got a sense of who he was or what really motivated him, his behavior was perplexing.

Eliza Cartwick has lost her husband, father and brother in a carriage accident. She is dedicated to the idea of ensuring her daughter’s security and happiness and has accepted that marriage is her only option in the long term. The notion of love is a luxury, but she hopes she’ll grow to love her future husband back eventually.

Thomas, Viscount Evanston, cares about Eliza in his own selfish, jaded way, but he is largely clueless about the true nature of his feelings. And yet, this notorious rake is willing to put aside his London pursuits to scare off Eliza’s suitors. Eliza is attracted to him, but she doesn’t trust him. Despite being old friends, their relationship is strained. Her feelings are unsettling and confusing, but Eliza can’t allow them to cloud her judgement. Her family does not approve of him, her own feelings are uncertain.

The story was an enjoyable one of a growing relationship that in the end deserved a happy ending. But both characters went about it all wrong. I enjoy Marie Tremayne’s writing style, but the way she depicted the unconscious changes in thought and character of her heroes was confusing at times.

Many thanks to the publisher and Pure Textuality PR for my copy of this book.

Excerpt

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The ancient grandfather clock in the corner kept a steady cadence as Eliza stood in the open window of the drawing room. She watched in silence as the guests arrived in gleaming carriages to proceed up the front steps of her home. Not that it would be her home for much longer. Or her drawing room either, for that matter.

A light breeze flowed through the casement, toying with the golden curls that hung softly alongside her face, and she enjoyed this rare moment of peace before the evening’s party when the chaos would begin. The chaos had long since started inside her head. At just sixteen years old, she was engaged to be married. It was to be officially announced tonight, and as could be expected, her thoughts were a whirling jumble of emotion. The fact that women were often married at such a young age did little to ease her anxiety, and she wondered how she could reasonably be expected to manage a change of such magnitude, even if her soon-to-be husband was a good sort of man.

The heady fragrance of honeysuckle perfumed the air, and she closed her eyes and breathed in, trying not to think about the difficult adjustments that lie ahead. The move that would take her halfway across the country and away from her family. Her new responsibilities as the mistress of a large estate. The changes she would face in becoming a man’s wife.

Her father had assured her that she would grow to love Hampshire, and her fiancé had spoken kindly of the residents of the closest neighboring estate. There was even a girl who was about her age; the daughter of a duke. Eliza took an unsteady breath and placed a shaky hand over her abdomen. She hoped the girl was nice.

Eliza didn’t quite feel ready—not that any young lady ever did—but her father was convinced she would find no better man. Reginald Cartwick was wealthy and smart. A landed gentleman who was accomplished and had proven himself to be valuable in matters of business. And she was fortunate. Compared to other marriageable candidates, he was relatively young.

She held no burning passion for him, but this was something that could change, she supposed. At any rate, he had the makings of an excellent marriage partner, and she had already come to think of him as a friend despite the brevity of their courtship. Perhaps friendship could transform into love, although this wasn’t necessarily a reasonable expectation.

Eliza’s chest ached at the thought. She longed for love.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

A glimpse of a black-haired man below quickened her pulse. It was Thomas, Viscount Evanston, a good friend of her brother’s and an unabashed rake. He was notorious in the London clubs, and notorious with the ladies, too. Looking at him now, moving deftly around the small group of people who had gathered and waving ahead to someone else, she knew why. He was tall and muscular, broad-shouldered, and handsome like the devil.

Sinful like the devil too.

Eliza moved to the side of the window so she could continue to watch him undetected. At twenty-five years of age, he was a full nine years older than her, a disparity that seemed like a vast chasm of life experience that she did not possess. With his father’s death and the acquisition of his title, Thomas had chosen to live his life by indulging in a few select vices: women, brandy, cards…in that order.

Of course, she’d heard stories from friends—cautionary tales, spoken in hushed and giggling voices—of his prowess among the ton. Had seen evidence of it herself at the start of this year’s season. And even after it had become abundantly clear that Reginald Cartwick was her father’s favored suitor, she still couldn’t help but feel a curious tug of envy each time she’d watched Evanston flirting with a woman, or casting a meaningful glance at a beautiful widow as he took his leave for the night.

In a timely and accurate illustration of her thoughts, Lord Evanston greeted a female guest on the drive below. She couldn’t quite make out the identity of the woman due to her elevated vantage point and the lady’s oversized hat, but the fluttering hand that came to rest upon her heart indicated the lady’s pleasure at his approach. Eliza supposed she was lucky that he’d never shown her the barest amount of interest, for she was half-afraid she might spontaneously catch fire if he did.

She recalled one time her father had caught her gazing a little too long in the viscount’s direction, and that evening, he had been very clear regarding his feelings on the matter; feelings that were loudly echoed by her brother William. Evanston was to be seen as a family friend. Period. Anything more than that was not even a consideration. Tonight, her engagement to Mr. Cartwick would be officially announced and this was absolutely for the best. He was a good man. A responsible, well-respected man. And she was happy.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

There was the clock again, counting down her final minutes as the heretofore unengaged Lady Eliza Halstead. She would miss many things from this place when she left but would be glad to rid herself of that tick-tocking reminder of the impermanence of life. Was there a grandfather clock at Greystone Hall? If so, there wouldn’t be for long.

A sharp knock at the door shook her out of her reverie, and she blinked in surprise. Her moment of privacy was at an end, and someone had come to collect her from her refuge in the drawing room. Eliza inhaled deeply and crossed to the door, then twisted the knob and opened it.

Lord Evanston stood before her.

Tour Wide Giveaway

To celebrate the release of THE VISCOUNT CAN WAIT by Marie Tremayne, we’re giving away three paperback copies of Lady in Waiting!

GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS:  Open to US shipping addresses only. Three winners will each receive a paperback copy of Lady In Waiting by Marie Tremayne.  This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Avon Romance. Giveaway ends 10/26/2018 @ 11:59pm EST. Avon Romance will send the winning copies out to the winner directly. Limit one entry per reader and mailing address.  Duplicates will be deleted.  CLICK HERE TO ENTER!

About Marie Tremayne

MARIE TREMAYNE graduated from the University of Washington with a B.A. in English Language and Literature. While there, a copy of Pride and Prejudice ended up changing her life. She decided to study the great books of the Regency and Victorian eras, and now enjoys writing her own tales set in the historical period she loves. Marie lives with her family in the beautiful Pacific Northwest.

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Manik by Amo Jones : Release Blitz

‘Manik, an all-new standalone Dark Romance from Amo Jones is Available Now!

I’m Beatrice Kennedy, but everyone calls me Beat. I live a low-key life, fresh out of college and drifting from town to town until I find my home.

I love music, and how it stirs even the deepest and untouched parts of your soul. Depending on what you choose to listen to, would depend on what it touches. It’s the drug we all damper in, only different strains. My strain is Jazz. The smooth instrumental strums that take over me. The sound of cigar smoke, bourbon and an old dusty fedora hat. My strain wasn’t rap, and it sure wasn’t laced with some A-class shit like murky blue eyes casted down from the Lord and the Devil’s handcrafted smile. I knew who he was—the whole world did. One fateful night set off a chain of events, events that no one was coming back from. You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved. You can’t pull them up from the ocean when they’ve latched themselves to an anchor. Love was my anchor, destruction was the water that was drowning me, and the rope that was so tightly clamped around my ankles, was woven with the lyrics of Aeron Romanov-Reed, also known as, ‘Manik. He steals hearts from all around the world, but one night, he stole something that wasn’t his to steal.

Me.

Grab Your Copy Today!

Amazon US – https://amzn.to/2xO4RMB

Amazon Worldwide – mybook.to/MANIKAJ

iBooks: https://apple.co/2vXew1A

Kobo: https://bit.ly/2OWmwIh

Nook: https://bit.ly/2OZEYjg

Add ‘MANIK to your TBR – https://bit.ly/2OvrxqX

My Review

 

Rating : 3.5 Stars

Aeron Romanov-Reed, aka Manik, is a sexy, intense and secretive rock star and the son of a Russian mob boss. From the start of the book, Manik was a total mystery and a very dark character. I loved his vulnerability though. He seemed to be always fighting against himself, he is a deeply troubled and damaged man. He is loyal to his mob family, but his actions clearly haunt him.

The heroine, Beatrice Kennedy, is just trying to make something of her life when she is hunted, captured and locked up in a basement, as part of a revenge scheme, by a man who seems to hate her without reason. The way their relationship develops is questionable, the lines between consent and non-consent are blurred.

Obviously, neither one of them is looking for a relationship, but they are drawn to each other. Their forced encounter changes the course of their lives. But there are secrets that threaten to tear them apart. In Manik’s violent world, loved ones are liabilities and could get hurt or killed. Their forbidden love could destroy them.

Manik was a quick and fast read. It was also a tough read because of the dark and gritty subject matter, there is a lot of violence. The story started off a little rocky for me, the characters were at times very confusing, but their connection was undeniable. The story was gripping from start to finish even if it was a little rushed and predictable. Overall, this was an entertaining read.

Many thanks to the author and Social Butterfly PR for my copy of this book!

About Amo Jones

Amo Jones is a small country girl totally winging this author thing (she’s probably doing it all wrong). She likes cake, loves wine, and her religion is magic. She’s a profound work-a-holic, but when she’s not writing, you can find her chilling with her kids & partner at the nearest beach, with a cocktail in her hand.

New Zealand is not a state of Australia and rugby is the best sport ever played.

Follow Amo Jones

Website: http://www.amojonesbooks.com/

Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/amojonesauthor

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Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorAmojones

Instagram: thatcrazykiwiauthor

The Ancient Nine by Ian K. Smith : Blog Tour

Ancient_Nine_Blog_Tour_Banner_900x337

Published September 18th 2018 by St. Martin’s Press

Summary:

Ancient Nine coverSpenser Collins
An unlikely Harvard prospect, smart and athletic, strapped for cash, determined to succeed. Calls his mother—who raised him on her own in Chicago—every week.

Dalton Winthrop
A white-shoe legacy at Harvard, he’s just the most recent in a string of moneyed, privileged Winthrop men in Cambridge. He’s got the ease—and the deep knowledge—that come from belonging.

These two find enough common ground to become friends, cementing their bond when Spenser is “punched” to join the Delphic Club, one of the most exclusive of Harvard’s famous all-male final clubs. Founded in the nineteenth century, the Delphic has had titans of industry, Hollywood legends, heads of state, and power brokers among its members.

Dalton Winthrop knows firsthand that the Delphic doesn’t offer memberships to just anyone. His great-uncle is one of their oldest living members, and Dalton grew up on stories of the club’s rituals. But why is his uncle so cryptic about the Ancient Nine, a shadowy group of alums whose identities are unknown and whose power is absolute? They protect the Delphic’s darkest and oldest secrets—including what happened to a student who sneaked into the club’s stately brick mansion in 1927 and was never seen again.

Dalton steers Spenser into deeper and deeper recesses of the club, and beyond it, to try to make sense of what they think they may be seeing. But with each scrap of information they get from an octogenarian Crimson graduate, a crumbling newspaper in the library’s archives, or one of Harvard’s most famous and heavily guarded historical books, a fresh complication trips them up. The more the friends investigate, the more questions they unearth, tangling the story of the club, the disappearance, and the Ancient Nine, until they realize their own lives are in danger.

Buy Links:

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Powells

My Review

Rating : 3,5 Stars

This book was an opportunity to learn some history of Harvard, while giving me a mystery on top of it. The story is very descriptive and it was a little slow to start. The research was impressive, the premise was clever and imaginative and the central mystery was definitely intriguing. And yet, the thriller aspect of the plot fell a bit flat, in my opinion.

The probability that the history of a Harvard secret society could be true fascinated me. Unfortunately, my interest waned a bit because of the lack of action. The very descriptive historical background does not help in sustaining excitement, even if it is necessary for the plot. However, I quite liked the characters, the codes and puzzles and the final resolve were definitely exciting. The suspense kept me turning the pages, mostly because I wanted to figure out what the big secret was. All in all, this was by no means a bad book, and it definitely improved towards the end. Ian Smith’s storytelling has an old-fashioned elegance that I really enjoy.

Many thanks to St. Martin’s Press for my copy of this book!

Ancient_Nine_Whim_(map)

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

Halloween Night, 1927
The Delphic Mansion
Cambridge, Massachusetts

EMPTY ROPES CLATTERED against flagpoles, and street signs flapped
helplessly in the shadowy night. Two boys sneaked down a cobblestone path
crowded with heavy bushes and enormous signs that warned against trespassing.
They stood there for a moment, their bodies dwarfed by the gigantic
brick mansion

“That’s enough, let’s turn around,” Kelton Dunhill whispered. He had large competent hands and knots of compact muscles that bulged underneath his varsity letter sweater. He carried a long silver flashlight he had borrowed from the superintendent’s office of his residential house.

“I’m going all the way,” Erasmus Abbott said firmly. “I didn’t come this far to chicken out. Just a few more minutes and we’ll be inside.”

Dunhill looked up at the tall wrought-iron fence that had been reinforced with solid wood planks to obstruct any potential view into the rear courtyard. He was a tough, scrappy kid, a varsity wrestler who had been undefeated in almost three years of college competition. He was many things, but a quitter was not one of them. Very little intimidated Dunhill, the son of a banker and elementary school music teacher, but when he looked up at the mansion’s towering spires and turrets set against the ominous sky and the royal blue flag that snapped so loudly in the wind, something made him feel uneasy. At that very moment, if Erasmus Abbott had not been standing next to him, he would’ve turned on his heels and run like hell. The only thing that kept his feet planted was his greater fear of the humiliation he would face once the others got word that the scrawny Abbott had showed bigger nerve.

“If we get caught, we’ll be fried,” Dunhill said in his most persuasive voice, trying to sound rational rather than scared. “Technically speaking, we’re trespassing, and they can do anything they want to us since we’re on their property. I don’t need to remind you of what happened to A. C. Gordon.”

Erasmus Abbott took the milk crates they had been carrying and stacked them in a small pyramid against the fence, then slipped on his gloves and pulled his hat down until it settled just above his eyes. He was dressed all in black. Now completely disguised, he turned and faced Dunhill.

“There’s no proof Gordon ever made it this far,” Abbott contested. “And besides, I never believed the whole business about his disappearance anyway.” Abbott turned toward the platform of milk crates, then back at Dunhill, and said, “So what’s it going to be? I’m making history tonight with or without you. The answer is in there, and I’m not gonna stop till I find it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dunhill mumbled under his breath before pulling down his own skullcap and stepping up to the fence. It all started out as a dare, but Abbott had taken it more seriously than anyone expected. This would certainly not be the first time a student had tried to break into the well-guarded Delphic mansion. There had been many attempts over the years, but according to legend, the farthest anyone had gotten was the external foyer. No one had ever penetrated the interior. What most worried Dunhill, however, was that few had lived to share their story.

“And what’s your plan once we get on the other side of the fence?” Dunhill said.

Abbott ran his hand over the small canvas bag strapped to his waist. “Everything we need is in here,” he said. “Once we get to the back door, I’ll have the lock open in well under a minute.”

Abbott had been practicing on diferent doors all over Quincy House in the middle of the night. His best-recorded time was twenty-nine seconds with a blindfold covering his eyes and a stopwatch hanging around his neck.

Abbott was not particularly athletic, but he scaled the crates easily and in one motion hoisted himself over the top of the fence and its row of pointed spears. Dunhill heard him land hard on the other side, then made a small sign of the cross over his heart, climbed onto the crates, and hurled himself over the fence. He landed on the firm slate tiles with a jolt.

They stood on the perimeter of a large courtyard dotted with elaborate marble sculptures and a fountain whose water sat motionless in a wide, striated basin. There were no lights to guide them, but moonlight cut through the heavy canopy of trees that towered overhead. A formidable, sturdy brick wall that was even taller than the fence they had just climbed surrounded them on two sides. Abbott had correctly chosen their entry point into the yard.

A gust of wind sent small piles of leaves flying sideways from one corner of the courtyard to the next. The mansion was eerily dark except for the dull flicker of a light in a small window just underneath the sloping angle of the tiled roof. The enormous building looked cold and menacing and unforgiving.

“She’s massive,” Abbott whispered. “I didn’t think she’d be this big. Must’ve cost them a king’s fortune to build it.”

“It’s not empty,” Dunhill said, pointing at the lighted window. “I still say this isn’t a good idea. We’ve already proved our point. Let’s get the hell out of here while we still can.”

Abbott pretended he hadn’t heard a word Dunhill said. He walked quietly across the courtyard toward a set of stairs that led to a large door with small panes and a brass doorknob that glistened under the moonlight’s glow. He cupped his face to the glass and looked inside. He turned and waved Dunhill over, but Dunhill remained motionless underneath the fence, still not believing they had actually gotten this far.

Abbott unzipped the canvas bag, pulled out a couple of tools, and quickly went to work on the lock. That’s when Dunhill glimpsed a shadow moving across the courtyard. He looked up toward the lighted window and saw  something that he would never forget. It was the ugliest, scariest, blackest face he had ever laid eyes on. His heart tightened in his chest, and his lungs constricted. He tried to scream but couldn’t get the air to move in his throat. He turned to Erasmus to warn him, but it was too late. The door was open, and he was already inside.

1


Harvard College

Cambridge, Massachusetts

October 2, 1988

IT SHOULDN’T HAVE been enough to wake me, but I had just drifted off on the couch in the common room that separated my bedroom from my roommate’s. It was a short scratchy sound: a pebble or sand being dragged across the linoleum floor. I looked toward Percy’s bedroom. His door was closed and his light off. I sat up on the sofa, swiveling my head in the darkness to see what could’ve made the noise. Mice were not exactly uncommon sightings in these old Harvard houses, some of which had been built more than a century ago, so I was preparing myself for vermin out on a late-night scavenge. But when I turned on the lamp and looked down at the floor, what sat there took me completely by surprise.

Someone had slipped a small cream-colored envelope underneath the front door. There was no postage or return address, just my name and room number elaborately inscribed.

Spenser Collins
Lowell House L-11

I turned the envelope over, hoping to find some indication of who might have sent it, but what I discovered was even more puzzling.

Embossed on the flap were three torches—so dark blue, they were almost black—arranged in a perfect V shape.

I heard footsteps just outside the door, slow at first, but then they began to pick up speed. I pulled the door open, but the hallway was empty. Our room was on the first floor, so I grabbed my keys and ran a short distance down the hall, jumped a small flight of steps, then rammed my shoulder into the entryway door, forcing it open into the cool night. I immediately heard voices echoing across the courtyard, a cluster of three girls stumbling in high heels, dragging themselves in from a long night of drinking.

I scanned the shadows, but nothing else moved. I looked to my right and thought about running across the path that led to the west courtyard and out into the tiny streets of Cambridge. But my bare feet were practically frozen to the concrete, and the wind assaulted me like shards of ice cutting through my T-shirt. I retreated to the warmth of my room.

Percy’s bedroom door was still closed, which was not surprising. He wouldn’t wake up if an armored tank tore through the wall and opened fire.

I sat on the edge of the couch and examined the envelope again. Why would someone deliver it by hand in the middle of the night, then sneak away? None of it made any sense. I opened the book flap slowly, feeling almost guilty ripping what appeared to be expensive paper. The stationery was brittle, like rice paper, and the same three torches were prominently displayed in the letterhead.

The President and members of the Delphic Club

cordially invite you to a cocktail party on

Friday, October 14, 7 o’clock

Lily Field Mansion at 108 Brattle St. Cambridge.

Please call 876-0400 with regrets only.

I immediately picked up the phone and dialed Dalton Winthrop’s number. Fifth-generation Harvard and heir to the vast Winthrop and Lewington fortunes, he was one of the most finely pedigreed of all Harvard legacies, descending from a family that had been claiming Harvard since the 1600s, when the damn school got its charter from the Bay Colony. Dalton was a hopeless insomniac, so I knew he’d still be awake.

“What the hell are you doing up this time of the night?” Dalton said. “Some of us around here need our beauty sleep.” He sounded fully awake.

“What can you tell me about something called the Delphic Club?” I asked.

The phone rustled as he sat up.

“Did you just say ‘the Delphic’?” he said.

“Yeah, do you know anything about it?”

There was a slight pause before he said, “Why the hell are you asking about the Delphic at this ungodly hour?”

“They invited me to a cocktail party next Friday night. Someone just slipped the invitation under my door, then ran.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? The Delphic invited you to a cocktail party?”

“Unless there’s another Spenser Collins I don’t know about.”

“No offense, Spenser, but don’t get your hopes up,” he said. “This is probably some kind of prank someone’s pulling on you. The Delphic isn’t just a club, like any fraternity. It’s the most secretive of Harvard’s nine most exclusive clubs. They’re called final clubs. The Delphic goes all the way back to the 1800s and has some of the world’s most prominent men as members. An invitation to their cocktail party is like an invitation to kiss the papal ring.”

“So, what you’re really trying to say is that they would never give an invitation to a poor black kid from the South Side of Chicago.”

“Spenser, you know I don’t agree with that kinda shit, but that’s how these secret societies operate. They haven’t changed much over the last century and a half. Rich white men passing off the baton to the next generation, keeping their secrets shielded from the rest of the world. Yale has Skull and Bones, but here at Harvard we have the final clubs. It’s no exaggeration when I tell you that some of the country’s biggest secrets are buried in their old mansions.”

“If I don’t fit their image, then why did someone just slip this invite under my door?” I said.

“Because it’s not real,” Dalton said.

“What do you mean?”

“Guys joke like this all the time. This is the beginning of what’s called punch season, which means the clubs are secretly nominating sophomores to enter a series of election rounds. Whoever survives the cuts over the two months gets elected into the club. You’ve heard of the hazing they do in fraternities. Well, this is a little like that, but it’s a lot more formal with much bigger stakes.”

“What makes you so sure my invitation is fake when you haven’t even seen it?”

“Are you alone?”

“Percy’s here, but he’s out cold.”

“Pull out the invite and tell me if you see torches anywhere.”

I was sitting in the chair underneath the window, still eyeing the courtyard, hoping I might see who might’ve dropped off the envelope. The ambient light cracked the darkness of our common room. I held up the envelope.

“There are three torches on the back of the envelope,” I said.

“What about the stationery?”

“There too.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“What color?”

“Dark blue.”

“Is the center torch lower or higher than the others?”

“Lower.”

Dalton sighed loudly. “Now take the stationery, turn it over, and hold it up to a light,” he said. “Tell me if you see anything when you look at the torches.”

I followed Dalton’s instructions, carefully removing the shade from one of Percy’s expensive porcelain lamps that his grandmother had proudly given him from her winter house in Palm Beach. I held the invitation next to the naked bulb. “There’s a thin circle with the initials JPM inside,” I said. “But you can only see it under the light. When you move it away, the letters disappear.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Spense, it’s the real deal!” Dalton yelled as if he were coming through the phone. “The Delphic really has punched you this season. I can’t believe this is happening. Tell me the date of the party again.”

It was rare to hear this level of excitement in Dalton’s voice. Few things got him going, and they typically had to do with either women, food, or his father, whom he hated more than the Yankees.

“Next Friday at seven o’clock,” I said. “It’s at a place called Lily Field Mansion.”

“Lily Field, of course,” Dalton said. “It’s the biggest one up there on mansion row, and it’s owned by the Jacobs family, one of the richest in the country. Stanford Jacobs used to be the graduate president of the Delphic, so it makes sense that he’s hosting the opening cocktail party.”

Secret society, mansions, ultra-wealthy families, an invitation delivered under the cloak of darkness. It was all part of a foreign world that made little sense to me, the son of a single mother who answered phones at a small energy company.

“So, what the hell does all this mean?” I asked.

“That you’re coming over here tomorrow for dinner, so we can figure out some sort of strategy,” Dalton said. “This is all a long shot, but if things go well for you on Friday night, you might make it to the next round. I’m getting way ahead of myself—but one round at a time, and you might be the way we crack the Ancient Nine.”

“The Ancient Nine?” I asked. “Is that another name for the clubs?”

“No, two different things,” Dalton said. “The Ancient Nine are an ultrasecret society of nine members of the Delphic. A secret society within a secret society that not even the other Delphic members know much about. Most around here have never even heard of the Ancient Nine, but for those who have, some swear it exists, others think it’s nothing more than another Harvard legend.”

“What do you think?”

Dalton paused deliberately. “I’d bet everything I own that they exist. But no one can get them to break their code of silence. According to rumors, they are hiding not only one of Harvard’s most valued treasures but also century-old secrets that involve some of the world’s richest families.”


Copyright © 2018 by Ian K. Smith in The Ancient Nine and reprinted with permission from St. Martin’s Press.

About the Author:

Ian Smith

Ian K. Smith is the author of nine New York Times bestselling nonfiction books, several of them, including Shred and Super Shred, #1 bestsellers, as well as one previous work of fiction, The Blackbird Papers. He is a graduate of Harvard, Columbia, and the University of Chicago’s Pritzker School of Medicine.

Social Links:

Facebook: @Dr.IanKSmith

Twitter: @DrIanSmith

Author Website

Instagram: @doctoriansmith

The Governess Game by Tessa Dare : Blog Tour

He’s been a bad, bad rake—and it takes a governess to teach him a lesson.

The accidental governess.

After her livelihood slips through her fingers, Alexandra Mountbatten takes on an impossible post: transforming a pair of wild orphans into proper young ladies. However, the girls don’t need discipline. They need a loving home. Try telling that to their guardian, Chase Reynaud: duke’s heir in the streets and devil in the sheets. The ladies of London have tried—and failed—to make him settle down. Somehow, Alexandra must reach his heart . . . without risking her own.

The infamous rake.

Like any self-respecting libertine, Chase lives by one rule: no attachments. When a stubborn little governess tries to reform him, he decides to give her an education—in pleasure. That should prove he can’t be tamed. But Alexandra is more than he bargained for: clever, perceptive, passionate. She refuses to see him as a lost cause. Soon the walls around Chase’s heart are crumbling . . . and he’s in danger of falling, hard.

About the Book

The Governess Game
by Tessa Dare

Series
The Girl Meets Duke Series

Genre
Adult
Historical Romance

Publisher
Avon Books

Publication Date
August 28, 2018

Purchase Your Copy Today!
Amazon  |  Avon Romance  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Google Play  |  iBooks

My Review

Rating : 3.5 out of 5 Stars
I loved Alex and her courage in the face of adversity. She is a working-class girl and she sets clocks in the homes of wealthy customers. Her true passion is astronomy. She works to achieve her goals and has no time for romantic fantasies.

Chase Reynaud is a rake and has a reputation of libertine. This character can be defined as the person he doesn’t want to be: heir to a dukedom and guardian to two mischievous, mistrustful and strong-willed orphans. He’ll do his duty as guardian, but the kids should not expect more. Chase wants to prevent emotional entanglements.

Alex accepts a position of governess in Chase’s household. He needs a temporary help, someone with a firm hand, and Alex seems to be the perfect candidate. She is a spirited heroine whose charming mixture of innocence and street-smarts endeared her to me. I also enjoyed her firm, loving care of Chase’s wards. She is strong, determined and always speaks her mind. Her charges are rebellious and daring girls who have been passed around from relative to relative. Alex knows everything about being alone in the world and she understands the kids wants to have fun. They just need someone to care for them.

Alex and Chase gave one another a piece of their minds, and their interaction was riveting and even amusing. And yet, the story lacked a bit of spark between them. Overall, even though the plot was rather predictable, this story was an entertaining and easy read.

Many thanks to the publisher and Pure Textuality PR for my copy of this book.

Teaser Graphic 1 - The Governess Game by Tessa Dare

Excerpt

As many women as he’d charmed and seduced in his life, he could honestly say he had never, ever encountered a woman like this one. She rolled a sugar lump back and forth with the tips of two fingers. He wanted to suck those slender fingers into his mouth and run his tongue over them, between them, lapping up the sweetness until she gasped with forbidden pleasure. The fantasy was so vivid, he could taste it.

Good God.

Perhaps the brandy had muddled his senses.

Or perhaps he couldn’t help wondering how it would feel for a rational, clear-eyed woman to see

Him—truly see him—and still find him worth the risk.His heart clawed up his throat and battered his eardrums, and all because a tidy little governess was taking longer than usual to reject him. Absurd. Stupid, really.

“I don’t want you to kiss me,” she said, “now that I’ve thought it through.”

See? There it was. She was clever enough to see the black, rotted mess where his soul ought to be, and she wanted no part of it.

She lifted her tiny, delicate hand to his cheek.

Her gaze drifted over his face like an apple blossom, finally coming to rest on his mouth.

“I think . . .” She wet her lips. “I think I’d rather kiss you.”

Tour Wide Giveaway

To celebrate the release of THE GOVERNESS GAME by Tessa Dare, we’re giving away one hardcover set of The Duchess Deal and The Governess Game!

GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS:  Open to US shipping addresses only. One winner will receive a hardcover set of The Duchess Deal and The Governess Game by Tessa Dare.  This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Avon Romance. Giveaway ends 9/28/2018 @ 11:59pm EST. Avon Romance will send the winning copies out to the winner directly. Limit one entry per reader and mailing address.  Duplicates will be deleted.  CLICK HERE TO ENTER!

About Tessa Dare

TESSA DARE is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of twenty historical romances. Her books have won numerous accolades, including Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA® award (twice) and the RT Book Reviews Seal of Excellence. Booklist magazine named her one of the “new stars of historical romance,” and her books have been contracted for translation in more than a dozen languages.

A librarian by training and a booklover at heart, Tessa makes her home in Southern California, where she lives with her husband, their two children, and a trio of cosmic kitties.

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram  |  Goodreads  |  Amazon

This promotion is brought to you by Pure Textuality PR.

Blog Tour : Dr. Strange Beard (Winston Brothers #5) by Penny Reid

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Dr. Strange Beard, an all-new standalone in the bestselling, romantic comedy Winston Brothers Series by Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author Penny Reid, is available NOW!

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Hunches, horse races, and heartbreak

Ten years after Simone Payton broke his heart, all Roscoe Winston wants is a doughnut. He’d also like to forget her entirely, but that’s never going to happen. Roscoe Winston remembers everything—every look, every word, every single unrequited second—and the last thing he needs is another memory of Simone.

Unfortunately, after one chance encounter, Simone keeps popping up everywhere he happens to be . . .

Ten years after Roscoe Winston dropped out of her life, all Simone Payton wants is to exploit him. She’d also like some answers from her former best friend about why he ghosted her, but if she never gets those answers, that’s a-okay. Simone let go of the past a long time ago. Seriously, she has. She totally, totally has. She is definitely not still thinking about Roscoe. Nope. She’s more than happy to forget he exists.

But first, she needs just one teeny-tiny favor . . .

Dr. Strange Beard is a full-length romantic comedy novel, can be read as a stand-alone, and is the fifth book in the USA TODAY bestselling Winston Brothers series.

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Download your copy today!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2KqqV41

iBooks: https://apple.co/2twGVeA

Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/DrStrangeBeard

Nook: https://bit.ly/2LwwIKa

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Add to GoodReads: https://bit.ly/2KvoGwA

MY REVIEW

Rating : 3.5 out of 5 Stars

Simone Payton is an undercover cop. She is involved in a dangerous murder investigation and hopes to expose a criminal named Razor Dennings, president of the Iron Wraiths MC. Razor’s only known confident happens to be Darrell Winston, the biological father of Roscoe Winston, her teenage crush and best friend. Simone thought she had gotten over the brutal ending of their relationship, but she is still deeply hurt. Roscoe is a unique character, he has eidetic memory and has learned to push painful recollections aside and engage in the present. He is content with who he is and just wants a chance to live his life.

These two were perfect together, but each was wary of admitting their true feelings to the other. They are both disillusioned, confused and heartbroken.

This was a fun, quick read with some action, suspense, and of course some swoony moments. The suspenseful aspect was there but it wasn’t really the center of the story. It was more like an afterthought or a set-up to Simone and Roscoe’s happy ending. They were an awesome couple. The ending felt a little rushed to me, but I loved how this story ended.

Many thanks to the author and Social Butterfly for my copy of this book!

EXCERPT

“Simone, this is not one of our adventures from when we were kids. This is not finding Blithe Tanner’s cat. These men are murderers, drug dealers, thieves.”

“I know.” Boy oh boy, did I know. I didn’t want to be here anymore than he did. I was frightened. Yet allowing Roscoe to be taken on his own hadn’t been an option. “I can handle myself, and I can provide backup for you, if you need it.”

Roscoe gripped my shoulders. “Nothing can happen to you, do you understand?” His words were emphatic, his gaze disoriented, desolate, frantic. “If anything happens to you, I’ll . . .” He swallowed, apparently unable to finish the sentence.

My heart twisted to see him like this. I wished there were some way to show him what I could do, what I was capable of, so he would stop seeing me as a liability.

Well, why can’t you?

“Huh.”

Now there was a thought.

Stepping out of his grip, I walked backward to the other side of the room and took a deep breath. “Okay. Come at me.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I want you to come at me.”

“Simone,” he seethed.

“Come at me, bro.” I did that little movement with my fingers, my palm turned upwards. “Come at me or I’ll start singing again.”

“I’m not doing this.”

“Fine.”Frustrating. “I’ll come at you.”

He stood there, features set, looking raw.

Moving quickly forward, staying light on my feet, I faked right and then went left, hooking him behind the back of his leg, catching his arm to twist behind his back, and sending him to the ground—face-first—with a thud.

I winced as he grunted, my knee at the base of his spine, his arm restrained behind his back. “Sorry! But you wouldn’t listen to me.” Leaning forward, I whispered in his ear, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Roscoe’s back and shoulders rose and fell with an expansive breath, like he was about to respond, but in the next moment he’d spun his legs to the right, leveraged my knee on his back to throw me off-balance, and slipped his wrist from my hold.

In my defense, my grip had been lax as I was purposefully trying not to injure him.

The next thing I knew, Roscoe had me pinned to the ground, air knocked out of me, him hovering above, and my gun digging into my ribs beneath my shirt. He’d been careful to subdue my legs, likely so he wouldn’t end up with a bruised ballsack.

His stare more probing than angry—which I took as a good sign—he said, “I didn’t teach you that. Where’d you learn that?”

Even though I was still coughing, I smiled and rasped, “Since college, take judo.”

He nodded faintly, his eyes moving between mine, looking concerned. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Endeavoring to catch my breath, I said, “I took it easy on you because I didn’t want to hurt you either, but I’m an asset, not a liability.”

“You’re definitely an asset.” Roscoe frowned, his gaze dropping to my mouth. “And a distraction,” he said, his voice rough.

“I’m a distraction?” I asked, my words still breathy.

I bucked, but he held me fast.

“Yes. . .” His stare turned inward. “You are most definitely a distraction.”

Even though I’d had plenty of time to recover and we’d been holding still for close to a minute, I was still breathing hard. This might have been because of my lingering irritation. Or, maybe it was because the length of Roscoe’s lean body was lying on mine. He held my hands on either side of my head, our faces even, his mouth just inches away.

Was it insane that I hoped he kissed me?

Yes?

No?

Let’s go with no.

He gave me his eyes again and I saw something there, a battle. He looked undecided, at war with himself, straining against something I couldn’t see.

“Roscoe?” I whispered.

Roscoe closed his eyes, and I thought he was going to let me go, but in the next second his lips descended, capturing my mouth in a tender kiss.

I moaned.

I kissed him back.

That’s what one does when Roscoe Winston kisses one. Moan and kiss. Repeat. Because not doing so would be a travesty.

His hold on my hands slacked, his fingers seeking and threading with mine. He settled his hips between my legs, his form relaxing. The weight of him was different now, warmer somehow. At least I felt warm. I also felt cherished as his tongue sought mine, again tenderly, stroking, causing my abdomen to twist and tighten into delicious knots.

He broke the kiss and a protest died on my lips as his mouth trailed down my jaw to the sensitive skin of my neck, sucking, licking, savoring me. What had felt warm and cherishing heated, and my hips tilted reflexively as he nibbled on my ear, cradling his rapidly growing erection.

We both gasped as his hips rocked in an answering yet inelegant movement. It felt perfect and essential in the moment.

“Oh God.” His hot breath spilled against my jaw, a ragged sigh. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know, but don’t stop.”

Enter the Giveaway!

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

Meet Penny Reid:

Penny Reid is the Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Winston Brothers and Knitting in the City series. She used to spend her days writing federal grant proposals as a biomedical researcher, but now she just writes books. She’s also a full time mom to three diminutive adults, wife, daughter, knitter, crocheter, sewer, general crafter, and thought ninja.

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Connect with Penny:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PennyReidWriter/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2lakzsD

Twitter: @ReidRomance

Mailing List: http://pennyreid.ninja/newsletter/

www.pennyreid.ninja

Blog Tour : Devoted to Pleasure by Shayla Black

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There’s a fine line between his business and her pleasure…

Devoted to Pleasure, an all-new sexy romantic suspense standalone from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Shayla Black is available NOW!

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BOUND BY DUTY…

Bodyguard and former military man Cutter Bryant has always done his duty–no matter the cost. Now he’s taking one last high-octane assignment before settling down in a new role that means sacrificing his chance at love. But he never expects to share an irresistible chemistry with his beautiful new client.

…TEMPTED BY PLEASURE

As the star of a steamy television drama, Shealyn West knows fame well, but it has come at the expense of her heart. With a blackmailer watching her every move and the threat of career-ending exposure looming, Shealyn hires Cutter to shore up her security and keep her safe, never imagining their attraction will be too powerful to contain.

As Shealyn and Cutter navigate the scintillating line between business and pleasure, they unravel a web of secrets that threaten their relationship and their lives. When danger strikes, Cutter must decide whether to follow his heart for the first time, or risk losing Shealyn forever.

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Download your copy today!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2II7XEG

Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/DevotedtoPleasure

iBooks: https://apple.co/2GNcEfT

Nook: https://bit.ly/2v0RYjl

Kobo: https://bit.ly/2GPiA8p

Google Play: https://bit.ly/2HpQ7Hn

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Audio: https://amzn.to/2KuDTO5

Add to GoodReads: https://bit.ly/2HqI3Gm

My Review

Rating : 3.5 out of 5 Stars

This was an enjoyable read, an uncomplicated romantic suspense. I will be honest and mention that, at times, the plot felt a little thin. I just felt that the book was missing something. But the writing was crisp, with a good balance between the suspense and the romance. The characters were likable and I liked the interactions and the chemistry between them. This story had plenty of sexy moments. Shealyn and Cutter heat up the pages together quite well. Suspenseful scenes give the book a thrilling feel, the tension never lets up until the very end. It makes for good light romantic suspense if you are looking for nothing too dark.

Shealyn is a television star. She is being blackmailed and wants to keep the situation private, she has a lot of secrets, including a fake relationship to help her career. Cutter is an experienced bodyguard. He has been hired to protect Shealyn. Her safety and peace of mind are his top priority.

The connection between the characters felt genuine. The plot was interesting, even though it could’ve done with a little more insight into the characters’ past. Romance was a big part of the story, it was a slow burn that was extremely hot. And once Shealyn and Cutter realized they wanted to be together, their relationship fell into a smooth rhythm very nicely. Their closeness was very sweet. Overall, this was an easy read with engaging characters.

Many thanks to the publisher for my copy of this book!

 

Excerpt:

“That and taking a bullet for you is my job. I do it well. You must believe that, too, or you would have hired someone else.”

“You are one stubborn man. My grandfather’s mules could take
lessons from you. I’ll be out in ten minutes.” She whirled around and headed for her bathroom in the back, then shut the door.

Cutter couldn’t stop the smile from creeping across his face. Had
Shealyn just compared him to an ass?

He’d decided she had when she emerged in a gauzy white dress trimmed in lace that accentuated the hint of gold in her sun-kissed skin. The thin straps clung to the tips of her shoulders, as if threatening to slip down at any moment, and played peekaboo with her blond tresses. The garment stretched tight across her breasts, the three little buttons keeping the bodice shut threatening to pop if she made a too-
sudden move. The flimsy thing also ended well above her knees and, with her white cowboy boots, framed her sleek thighs.

Cutter felt his thoughts evaporate and his tongue go dry. The rest of him turned stone hard. He shouldn’t think twice about Shealyn as a woman, but so far, that seemed to be asking the impossible.

“You’re wearing that?”

She cocked her head at him. “What’s wrong with it? Or are you suggesting this dress is somehow dangerous?”

Her challenge and sass turned him on even more. Hell, everything about her did.
But he was way out of line. The dress portrayed precisely the image she’d cultivated. It was sweetly sexy. Wearing it, Shealyn looked like a gorgeous siren with western flair… and a hint of innocence. The problem—and obviously all the lust—was his alone.

“I’m making you aware that you may attract unwanted male attention in public. But I’ll handle it,” Cutter promised, meeting her gaze and doing his best to shutter the desire burning through his blood.

She stared back, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “You think I’ll attract male attention, huh?”

Was she fishing for compliments? Her green eyes danced with something he couldn’t put his finger on. Mischief? Flirtation? No. Why would she come on to him when she was already in a high-profile relationship? Shealyn didn’t strike him as one of those women who got off on yanking a man’s chain. Then again, he didn’t know her well.
Whatever she was up to, he couldn’t rise to her bait.

“Ms. West?” He kept his voice as inflectionless and polite as possible.

“Mr. Bryant.” Another hint of playful dare rang in her tone.

“I told you, it’s Cutter.”

“All right. Cutter.” She damn near sighed his name. “You going to answer my question?”

What the hell did she want him to say? Some reckless part of him he’d sworn he didn’t possess itched to simply show her, cross the half- dozen steps between them, take that wisp of a garment in his grip, and tear it off. Once he’d exposed every inch of her body, he would love to put his hands on her, his mouth on her, so she understood what a dress like that did to him. Hell, what she did to him.

A sudden pounding on the door broke the moment between them.

“You ready yet?” Tower shouted from outside.

Despite the man’s insistence, she didn’t move to admit him or even answer. She just stared Cutter’s way. “I’m waiting.”

Cutter searched for a discreet reply. “The dress reveals more skin than it hides. It might give a man the wrong idea.”

“What idea is that?”

The kinds of ideas racing through his head with juggernaut speed and jetting blood south to his cock. “That he can touch you. That he can have you.”

“Is that what this dress makes you think?”

The flash of her eyes and the husky voice she used to ask the question torqued him up. She was definitely fishing for his reaction. Was she hoping he bit because she needed the ego stroke… or was she baiting her hook and tossing it his way because she was actually hoping to reel him in?

“What I think about the dress doesn’t matter.”

“Then why does it bother you? You saw me in less on set.”

Oh, he’d seen her damn near naked. Hour after hour of exposed skin had taunted him with all the beauty a country boy like him would never have the right to possess. But this dress appealed to his deepest fantasies. She looked wholesome yet sensual, a woman aware of her appeal. A female who knew exactly what she wanted in her man…

About Shayla:

Shayla Black is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than sixty novels. For nearly twenty years, she’s written contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances via traditional, independent, foreign, and audio publishers. Her books have sold millions of copies and been published in a dozen languages.

Raised an only child, Shayla occupied herself with lots of daydreaming, much to the chagrin of her teachers. In college, she found her love for reading and realized that she could have a career publishing the stories spinning in her imagination. Though she graduated with a degree in Marketing/Advertising and embarked on a stint in corporate America to pay the bills, her heart has always been with her characters. She’s thrilled that she’s been living her dream as a full-time author for the past eight years.

Shayla currently lives in North Texas with her wonderfully supportive husband, her daughter, and two spoiled tabbies. In her “free” time, she enjoys reality TV, reading, and listening to an eclectic blend of music.

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Connect with Shayla:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ShaylaBlackAuthor/

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Website: https://www.shaylablack.com