Blog Tour & Giveaway: Leave The Night On (Cottonbloom #4) by Laura Trentham

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Summary:

Love, betrayal, and sweet revenge—life in Cottonbloom is about to get a whole lot hotter . . .

Sutton Mize is known for lavishing attention on the customers who flock to her boutique on the wealthy side of her Mississippi town. So when she finds a lace thong in her fiancé’s classic cherry-red Camaro, she knows just who she sold it to: her own best friend. In an instant, Sutton’s whole world goes up in flames. . .

Wyatt Abbott has harbored a crush on Sutton since he was a young kid from the other side of the tracks. He witnessed Sutton’s shocking discovery in the Camaro at his family-owned garage—and it made him angry. What kind of man could take lovely, gorgeous Sutton for granted? But then Sutton comes up with an idea: Why not give her betrothed a taste of his own medicine and pretend that she’s got a lover of her own? Wyatt is more than happy to play the hot-and-heavy boyfriend. But what begins as a fictional affair soon develops into something more real, and more passionate, than either Sutton or Wyatt could have imagined. Could it be that true love has been waiting under the hood all along?

Leave the night on

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My Review

Rating : 4.5 Stars out of 5 Stars

I was so happy to be back in Cottonbloom! Leave The Night On is definitely a great addition to the series. New characters are introduced, promising more stories to tell, and there are some cameo appearances of the Fournette family. Laura Trentham’s writing is fantastic. This author really has an impressive way of evolving her characters until you feel you’re reading about people you know. Her characters are vibrant and easy to love (I’ll make an exception for the villain of the Abbott family).

Sutton Mize is the daughter of a prominent family from the posh Mississippi side of Cottonbloom. Wyatt Abbott is a car mechanic from the working-class Louisiana side. When Sutton is betrayed by both her fiancé and her best friend, Wyatt offers his help to get even with them. Sutton and Wyatt are no strangers to each other, but have never been on friendly terms, partly due to Wyatt’s awkward attempts to attract Sutton’s attention when they were teenagers. More separated them than just the river, they never moved in the same circles.

Sutton feels vulnerable and hurt. When she rather thoughtlessly tells her cheating fiancé that she is romantically involved with Wyatt, they start a fake relationship they both consider as a short-lived business arrangement. I enjoyed the slow burn building of their relationship. Sutton is irresistibly drawn to Wyatt by feelings that have nothing to do with logic or reason. She enjoys his luminous personality, his honesty and his kindness. But she doesn’t trust easily and needs time to heal the pain from the betrayal. Wyatt is willing to wait, he isn’t one to back down from a challenge.

This sweet and charming look at love, set in a quirky small town, was a delightful read and a definite keeper on my shelf. I loved everything about this story, the characters, the storytelling, the pace, the perfect balance between emotions and humor. The cast of secondary characters add depth and warmth to the story. Wyatt’s twin aunts are something else and I can’t wait to read more about the Abbott brothers, although I’m not sure if Laura Trentham will manage to redeem the eldest one, Ford Abbott. If you enjoy small town romances, I highly recommend this book! If you haven’t started the series yet, this story works perfectly well as a standalone.

Thanks for visiting and read on for an excerpt from this book!

ARC generously provided by the publisher, via NetGalley.

Chapter Two

Sutton stared at the lace concoction. From La Perla’s fall collection. Fine Italian lace. Ridiculously expensive for something so small. A special order with the addition of a small embroidered heart to sit at the owner’s hipbone. Oh yes, she was acquainted with the underwear but not intimately acquainted. She’d ordered them through Abigail’s Boutique, but not for herself. She was too practical.

Wyatt Abbott shook them even closer to her face, obviously expecting her to take them. The thought of touching the lace made her shrink against the driver’s door, and she fumbled for the handle, finally finding it and yanking. The door opened and her momentum sent her to the shop floor on her butt.

Her skirt bunched around her thighs, probably high enough for Wyatt Abbott to see her simple cotton pink panties from Victoria’s Secret. The fact they weren’t white was the wildest she got. She’d even waited for them to go on sale. With a bruised ego and bottom, she scrambled up.

Wyatt hadn’t moved. His mouth was parted, still in a slight smile, the panties dangling from his fingers. Instead of the roil of emotions gaining steam inside of her, she concentrated on his hands. They were rough-looking and callused. The nails were short but lined with grease. And they were big. They built things. Fixed things. Put things back together.

A darkness came over his face, clouding his earlier good-humor and giving him an edge of danger she hadn’t sensed through his teasing. Instead of getting out of the car from the door, he stood up on the passenger seat, stepped to the driver’s seat, and hopped next to her, the black lace of her betrayal dangling in his hand.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

A jackhammering noise from the other bay filled the space so she didn’t have to. The crazy thing was that she had sensed something wrong. Something had been wrong pretty much since she and Andrew had gotten engaged.

She’d tried to put it down to nerves or how busy they both were with work. But the truth was she’d been dragging her feet with the wedding preparations. Between the two of them pulling away, the distance had grown until only an echo of what had drawn them together remained.

The hum of a motor and the flash of sunlight on metal drew her attention to the open bay door. Her best friend, Bree Randall, stepped out of her BMW coupe dressed in heels, grey slacks, and a sleeveless silk shell, the pink contrasting beautifully with her dark brown hair and ivory complexion. She was a lawyer for Cottonbloom, Mississippi’s city government and had been Sutton’s best friend since first grade.

No way could Sutton smile and pretend everything was fine. She grabbed the front of Wyatt’s coveralls and looked up at him. The boy she remembered had been too cool and a borderline jerk, teasing her incessantly, almost to the point of tears. The man was still too cool, yet something new lurked behind his ease. She hoped it was akin to kindness.

Bree drew closer. Stuck between a devil she knew and one she didn’t, Sutton took a chance. Her voice was hoarse and begging and she didn’t care. “Get me out of here. Please.”

Without taking his eyes off her, he called out, “Yo, Jackson. Could you put the lady from the Beemer in the waiting room? Tell her Miss Mize isn’t feeling well and stepped out back for some fresh air.”

If his brother answered, she didn’t hear him. Wyatt put a strong, stabilizing arm around her shoulders and guided her around various pieces of equipment and mechanical parts to a door tucked away at the back of the shop floor. She stepped outside, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. The freshness of the air counteracted the bile rising in her throat.

Her knees wobbled as the stark reality of the situation and the fallout took shape in her mind. She glanced at the man by her side. What was Wyatt Abbott thinking right now? Probably that she was borderline psychotic.

A huge red barn sat behind the shop, and they passed from sun back into shadows. A body-sized punching bag twirled from a high beam as they passed by. That explained why the arm at her back was so solid. Her heels tapped on the wide-planked floor. The smell of weathered wood was overlaid by something sweeter. Honeysuckle, maybe.

No hay was stored in the Abbott’s barn. Two tarp-covered cars, the bottom curves of their tires the only part visible, formed a path to the back where a scratched up leather couch and mini-fridge sat.

“Sorry it’s so dusty in here. We like to keep the doors open if the weather’s nice because of the views and cross breeze.” He took a blue towel from his back pocket and wiped off a section of the couch, leaving yellow streaks of pollen. Getting a little dirty was way down on her list of worries and she plopped down, wrapping her arms around her stomach and leaning over so her forehead nearly touched her knees.

“You want a Coke or tea or something?”

She raised her head enough to see his big hand holding out a bottle. He shifted back and forth in his black work boots, the hem of his coveralls ombrèd black to grey with grease.

“It’s a little early for whiskey, but I’ve got that too if you’d rather.” He sounded so worried and unsure, she straightened, took the Coke and pressed the cool plastic against her cheeks and neck.

“You must think I’ve gone batty.” She rarely drank alcohol and never whiskey, but for a moment she considered it as a viable option, even though it was still technically breakfast. It was five o’clock somewhere, right?

“I think something really bad happened,” he said. “I’m not sure what, but I suspect it has something to do with the restaurant receipts and the underwear.”

“Oh God. The receipts.” Her mind hadn’t even circled back around to those, but everything notched into place like a puzzle whose missing piece turned up stuck on the bottom of a shoe covered with chewed up old gum and bug guts.

His late nights working. Breaking dates at the last minute. His distraction. How long had it been since they’d shared the same bed? Two months? Three? She’d put it down to the natural progression of a committed relationship and the busyness of their lives, assuming things would be better once they were living under the same roof.

“I’m a moron.” Tears crawled up her throat and choked off her feeble attempt of a laugh.

She closed her eyes wishing she could teleport herself back under the covers. The cushion sagged next to her, and she tipped towards him, her shoulder bumping his biceps. A moment passed before his arm came around her shoulders, and they sank back into the couch together.

She turned her face into the space between his neck and shoulder and took a deep breath, desperately trying to get a handle on her out-of-control emotions. Pain was to be expected, but the flashes of fierce fury took her by surprise.

Easygoing and nice and cheerful were bandied about when people passed compliments her way. At least, she’d always taken them as compliments. Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe all those things were code words for weak and gullible.

Another breath. She concentrated on Wyatt’s warmth and scent. So different from the expensive cologne Andrew wore. Wyatt smelled like pine trees and the garage. His dark, almost black hair, tickled her nose. A tear slipped out and she wiped it away with the heel of her hand.

“You want me to go get your friend?” His chest vibrated against her, deep and rich.

Friend? She didn’t want to examine the other half of the betrayal. Worse than Andrew cheating on her was who he’d been getting down and dirty with. Her best friend. No. A friend wouldn’t sleep with her fiancé behind her back while helping her plan the wedding with an enthusiasm that oftentimes exceed her own.

Sutton ransacked her brain for moments she could point to and say Aha! but none came to mind. Bree had been supportive and helpful over the last few months. Lies. How many lies had Sutton accepted as gospel truth? A few more tears escaped along with a ragged breath.

Wyatt made a humming sound that was distinctly uncomfortable, and he pulled away. “Let me—”

She grabbed his coveralls. “No. Don’t you get it? That was her thong.”

He shifted to face her. “Is identifying underwear in a single glance your superpower?”

Despite her life crashing down, a shard of humor sliced through the shock, and her lips twitched. “Expensive underwear. The heart on the panties matches her tattoo. A special order.”

“You fiancé and your best friend?”

Put like that, she felt even dumber. “My life has turned into a cliché.”

“It’s a cliché because of how often it happens. Nothing for you to be ashamed of. It’s them that should feel like chickenshit.”

“You don’t understand how people like to talk.”

“I understand, alright. I just don’t care what people say.” The defiant edge in his voice spoke of his own pain and sorrows, but right now she only had room for her own. He was quiet for a moment. “You want me to get rid of her?”

Sutton sank back and took a swig of Coke, the burn bringing a different, more welcome, sort of tear to her eyes. “I need to talk to her. Confront her.”

“Yeah, but not hurt and crying. You need to prepare. Get mad then get even.”

His advice made her sit up straighter. She’d been raised to smooth feathers, not ruffle them. Her mother had taught her how a smile and pleasant word could diffuse most situations. The lessons had contributed to her business success but hadn’t done her personal life any favors. Another whip of red-hot fury flayed her heart.

“She’s my ride back over the river.” Her voice sounded even and strong, her anger a mast to cling to amid the wreckage.

“I can be your ride.”

“But you have work to do.”

The look he cast her was full of disbelief. “You’re not going through with the restoration, are you?”

The Camaro, the red harbinger of her ruin, had already slipped her mind. She didn’t even like the stupid car. Her daddy and Tarwater senior had hatched this surprise over a round of golf with Ford Abbott after she’d confessed she couldn’t think of anything to give Andrew as an engagement present. Only when her daddy had anted up half the money had she agreed. Their “go big or go home” mentality had seemed a ridiculous waste to her.

Dear Lord, her family. What would her daddy say? As a long-standing judge, he was sort of a colleague of Andrew’s. She closed her eyes and rocked forward and back on the edge of the couch.

“What if I’m overreacting?” If only this was a bad dream. Yet, did she really want that? An undercurrent that felt vaguely like relief trickled through the anger and humiliation and doubts.

“About which part, your fiancé cheating or who he was cheating with?” Wyatt stuck a hand into his pocket, came out with the thong and tossed it on her lap.

She leapt up and brushed it off as if she were Miss Muffet and it was a venomous, hairy, black spider. She kicked at it with the toe of her shoe. The red heart mocked her from the black lace. Yet the little girl who’d shared her pimento cheese sandwich with Bree every day during kindergarten wanted to be wrong.

She sank back down to the edge of the couch, feeling like she was shoring up the situation with Scotch tape. “There could be a reasonable explanation. Like she and Andrew went to lunch and for some reason she had them in her purse and they fell out. Maybe I’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. She appreciated the fact he wasn’t calling her on her BS excuses even though his face was the definition of skeptical.

“You sure you don’t mind giving me a ride?” she asked.

“I’ll get rid of your friend and take you home. That should buy you some time to figure things out. Confront her on your terms.”

Her initial impressions of Wyatt Abbott were from the viewpoint of a preteen girl. Back then, she’d been self-conscious of her skinny arms and legs and flyaway hair, and whenever she’d come to the garage with her daddy, Wyatt had made it his mission to tease her mercilessly.

What was he now? On the surface, she’d label him a good old boy. Fun, flirty, simple. Except, his gray eyes were anything but. Not flat like shale, but ready to spark a fire like a flint. Raw emotions provided a sharp awareness. Her memories of him urged her to be cautious with her trust, yet his jaw was set and his shoulders were rolled forward as if ready and willing to go into battle.

“Why?” she finally whispered.

“Why what?”

“Why are you being so nice to me? You hated me as a kid.”

Hated you?” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and tipped his head enough to shutter his intensity of his eyes. “I never hated you, in fact . . .” He shook his head.

“In fact what?”

“Not important. Simply put, unlike your fiancé and your friend, I’m not an asshole. If you don’t need me—”

“No, I do need you.” She stood but misjudged how close he was. They weren’t touching, but she could feel his heat and appreciate his strength. “I just . . .”

Wyatt Abbott was handsome, but even more potent than his looks was an intangible confidence and ease with himself. The man probably talked a different woman out of her panties every weekend. Would he cash in on her humiliation for a good story to tell brothers and drinking buddies? Did it even matter? Whether it was him or someone else, rumors would rush through the town like their river after a storm

Insecurities pinged between her head and heart, the message clear. Protect yourself. But surely, she could at least trust him to get her home. “I would really appreciate a lift home.”

He chaffed her arms like a coach might comfort a little kid after a loss. “It’ll be okay. You wait here while I handle your friend, okay?”

She nodded, and he strode back toward the garage. Highlighted in a shaft of sunlight, he hesitated at the metal door they’d ducked through and glanced behind him. A zing of warning—or premonition?—skittered down her spine.

Her life had been spun into chaos, yet in that moment, she felt connected to Wyatt in a way that terrified her. Then he disappeared, and she waited to discover out if her trust had once again been misplaced.

Copyright © 2017 by Laura Trentham and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

Giveaway

Laura Trentham is doing a giveaway for a beach bag prize pack with Cottonbloom books! Enter here :

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About the Author

Laura Trentahm IIAn award-winning author, Laura Trentham was born and raised in a small town in Tennessee. Although, she loved English and reading in high school, she was convinced an English degree equated to starvation. She chose the next most logical major—Chemical Engineering—and worked in a hard hat and steel toed boots for several years.

She writes sexy, small town contemporaries and smoking hot Regency historicals. The first two books of her Falcon Football series were named Top Picks by RT Book Reviews magazine. Then He Kissed Me, a Cottonbloom novel, was named as one of Amazon’s best romances of 2016. When not lost in a cozy Southern town or Regency England, she’s shuttling kids to soccer, helping with homework, and avoiding the Mt. Everest-sized pile of laundry that is almost as big as the to-be-read pile of books on her nightstand.

Social Links:

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Author Website

Review : Luca (Ruin & Revenge #2) by Sarah Castille

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Published June 27th 2017 by St. Martin’s Paperbacks

Blurb

Luca Rizzoli was nearly destroyed by a brutal betrayal that cost him his family. Now a ruthless crime boss in the city of sin, he lets nothing touch his frozen heart–until a smoldering encounter with a beautiful stranger ignites his passion. One night isn’t enough for a man who takes what he wants, but his mysterious temptress has slipped away.

For two years police detective Gabrielle Fawkes has lived for revenge. But a night of indulgence with a sexy stranger changes everything. Powerful, charming, and deliciously dangerous Luca, has his own private reasons for offering to help her pursue the drug lord who killed her husband. There’s a lot Luca isn’t telling her and the more she finds out the less she wants to know.

When Gabrielle becomes the target of the drug lord she has vowed to hunt down, she must do the unimaginable: place her life in a mobster’s hands. To save her, Luca must break his Mafia ties–or risk losing Gabrielle forever.

My Review

Rating : 4.5 out of 5 Stars

Danger, angst, deception, passion, Sarah Castille delivered a thrilling read with the second installment in her Ruin & Revenge series. This dark and fast-paced ride into the mafia underworld is centered on Luca Rizzoli and Gabrielle Fawkes, two intriguing heroes on opposite sides of the law.

Luca is the loyal capo of his closest friend, Nico Toscani, head of one of the big Italian crime families in Vegas. Gabrielle is a detective responsible for an investigation into the activities of a drug cartel. After her husband’s murder, she has set herself the goal of avenging him. Luca and Gabrielle are both shooting victims and find themselves in the same hospital room. They have this insta-attraction going on from the first meeting.

I loved the conflicting emotions in this story, the heroes see justice in a very different way, Gabrielle is a rule follower, Luca follows the rules of his crime family. According to mafia rules, association with cops is forbidden, and the punishment for infringing them is extreme. And yet Luca can’t stay away from Gabrielle, she has become his obsession. He is torn between his loyalty to his family and his love for Gabrielle. The mirror has two sides: he is dark, brooding, dangerous and a cold killer, and yet he is tender, protective and loving with her.

Gabrielle is strong, assertive and honest. She doesn’t understand the social hierarchy in his crime world, and, obviously, she doesn’t care. She can’t accept the submissive role of a mafia wife, but she makes him believe he is capable of feeling. To save Luca, Gabrielle is ready to go rogue and break a lot of rules.

This sexy romance and edge-of-your-seat suspense with some breathtaking twists was a captivating read. It started a bit slowly, but Sarah Castille did a great job of building up the tension and I was hooked until the very last page! She introduced several intriguing secondary characters, and I’m really looking forward to Rocco’s story. I recommend this book (and this fantastic series) to all mafia romance lovers.

ARC generously provided by the publisher, via NetGalley.

Release Day Blitz : The King (Masterpiece duet #1) by Skye Warren

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The King by Skye Warren is NOW AVAILABLE
long live the king…

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The highest stakes…

My father gambles every night, falling deeper and deeper into debt. When he hits the bottom, he places a new bet: his daughter. I’m his entry bet to the biggest underground poker game.

Every kind of danger circles the velvet-covered table, but only one man makes me tremble.

A trailer park princess.

The son of a criminal king.

We don’t belong together, but I’m caught in a twisted game.

His eyes meet mine with dark promise. And when he puts down his cards, I know I’m going to lose more than my body. I’m going to lose everything.

* * * * *

THE KING is the first book in the new Masterpiece duet about risking your heart and finding yourself. It’s a spin-off from the USA Today bestselling trilogy but can be read separately.

My Review

Rating : 4.5 out of 5 Stars

I have read and loved the Endgame series, but The King completely blew my mind and left me with a serious case of book hangover. It’s the first installment in a new series, a spinoff of the Endgame. I devoured this book in a matter of hours, it was compulsively readable and sinfully addicting. I loved the characters, their mutual affection and tenderness was heart melting. Despite their age difference, Penny is fifteen and Damon is twenty five, their connection felt real.  The author does a great job of building up the sexual tension, but they only kiss and cuddle in this first part of their epic story.

Penny is from the wrong side of the tracks. She lives in a trailer park with her father and he is often gone for a long period of time, leaving her behind.  Her father plays cards and gambles with dangerous people, borrowing them money he can’t repay.

Damon Scott is the son of the devil incarnate, Jonathan Scott, the man who rules a part of the city’s underworld. Damon has been abused, harmed and corrupted by his father. He could have escaped, but he has sacrificed himself to protect Penny, his baby genius, from his evil father. And yet Penny doesn’t trust him. Damon is a dangerous man, fierce and powerful. He is used to getting his own way and always has the upper hand. But with Penny, he has his work cut out for him. She is smart and has a sharp mind. She wants to control her own fate and keep her dignity, despite her dire material circumstances.  Damon is protective and kind to her, in turns coaxing and commanding. But Jonathan Scott has his eye on her and she is in danger.

This book was a flawless read, from the vibrant characterization to the intriguing storyline, with deep layers of emotional complexity, angsty feels and palpable tension. This story will grab you from the first page. It includes the prequel to Penny and Damon’s story, The Prince, and ends on a cliffhanger.

ARC generously provided by the author and L.Woods PR

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Preorder THE QUEEN now!

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About the Author:

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of contemporary romance such as the Chicago Underground series. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, two sweet dogs, and one evil cat.

Contact Skye:

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Launch Day Blitz : All I Am (A This Man novella) by Jodi Ellen Malpas

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ALL I AM: DREW’S STORY (A THIS MAN NOVELLA) by Jodi Ellen Malpas (June 18, 2017; Forever Yours ebook; $2.99)

From #1 New York Times bestselling author Jodi Ellen Malpas comes a new novella in the This Man series. You don’t need to read the series to enjoy this story, but if you’re already a Jesse Ward fan, just wait till you see the advice he gives Drew about falling in love.

I thought I had control.  I was so, so wrong…

I don’t need a relationship.  I have Hux, a decadent club where I quench whatever raw desire I choose.  I take pleasure and I give it – no strings attached.  So when Raya Rivers comes in asking for someone cold, emotionless, and filthy… well, no man ever takes his wicked pleasure quite the way I do.

Only Raya is different. Vulnerable. And carrying some deep sorrow that gets past all my carefully constructed walls and inexplicably makes me care.  Now craving controls me.  Ice has given way to red-hot need.

But Raya has no idea about my other life – my real life.  That I’m daddy to an adorable little girl.  My two worlds are about to collide with the force of a supernova.  Once Raya knows the truth, will she be able to accept all I am?

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My Review

Rating : 4 out of 5 stars

I love it when an author allows her readers to revisit beloved characters after the passage of years and to see them subtly changed. And, frankly, how could I resist knowing it involved a very sexy single dad! I quickly re-read some passages of the This Man trilogy, though, because it’s been a while! All I Am is Drew’s story. He is Jesse’s best friend and the devoted single father of 7-year- old Georgia. She stays with him half the time, in shared custody, and he is good at dealing with Georgia’s scheming mother. His daughter is his biggest passion and his main focus.

Drew has no time to date and never gets attached, he is fine on his own, with his daughter. He doesn’t trust easily, he was deceived by Georgia’s mother. Hux is the place where he can relax and come to terms with his darkest and deepest desires. But he always keeps his life as a father separated from his one-night stands.

Raya is a newbie at the club. She is mysterious and temptation personified, she gets Drew hooked by being so intriguing and wanting a cold and emotionless tryst. Not to mention that their chemistry is off the charts. I could sense and  feel the connection
between them. Because of her, he feels he is at a crossroads in his life. For the first time, he feels the need to step outside of his comfort zone. In that sense, Raya is his game changer.  Neither of them wants to get attached, and yet they both deserve to achieve joy in their life and grab their chance at happiness.

The novella format doesn’t always allow for sufficient story and character development, and yet, in this case, it worked for me. Jodi Ellen Malpas’ writing is evocative, her fully fleshed out characters are established with quick strokes and they come across as likeable and genuine. I was fully invested in their story. And this author sure does know how to turn up the heat!

An advanced copy of this book was generously provided by the publisher

Excerpt

‘What do you want, Raya?’

She steps toward me tentatively, as if she’s questioning what she’s doing. And when she reaches me, her chest pressed to mine, she gazes up at me. ‘I don’t know.’ Her eyes are wild and unsure. ‘But I know that every time we’re close, something powerful takes over. And you’re trying hard to fight it. You’re warm and cold. What are you scared of?’

‘You.’ My mouth is on her before I can think better of it, and I’ve lifted her from her feet before my tongue breaches the seam on her lips. We should talk, but this is the only thing I know what to say right now, and when her arms circle my shoulders, her mouth opening up, inviting me in, I know she’s okay with it. I know she gets it.

With one arm around her waist holding her to me and one secured on the nape of her neck, I walk to my office, my kiss deep, my blood racing, my heart bouncing off my ribcage. I set her on her feet and take the hem of her dress, pulling it up over her head, losing her lips for just a second in the process. She wrenches my shirt open, scattering buttons in the process, her hands immediately finding my skin beneath. My forward steps encourages her backwards, our kiss deepening as she unfastens my trousers and I push her knickers down her thighs.

We’re all over the place, desperation getting the better of us, a mess of tongues, hands and bodies. I pull some strength from nowhere, seize her hands and break our kiss, breathing heavily. Her unsure brown eyes soon prompts me to start ridding myself of the rest of my clothes, all under her watchful gaze. Until I’m naked.

‘This wasn’t supposed to happen,’ she whispers.

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About the Author

Jodi Ellen Malpas author photosJodi Ellen Malpas was born and raised in the Midlands’ town of Northampton, England, where she lives with her two boys. Working for her father’s construction business full-time, she tried to ignore the lingering idea of writing until it became impossible. She wrote in secret for a long time before finally finding the courage to unleash her creative streak, and in October 2012 she released This Man. She took a chance on a story with some intense characters and sparked incredible reactions from women all over the world. Writing powerful love stories and creating addictive characters have become her passion, a passion she now shares with her devoted readers.

Social Media Links

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Giveaway

Enter to win 1 of 15 free ebook downloads of All I Am: Drew’s Story (A This Man Novella)! http://bit.ly/2nTm0x9

Review : The Idea of You by Robinne Lee

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Published June 13th 2017 by St. Martin’s Griffin

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Solène Marchand, the thirty-nine-year-old owner of an art gallery in Los Angeles, is reluctant to take her daughter, Isabelle, to meet her favorite boy band. But since her divorce, she’s more eager than ever to be close to Isabelle. The last thing Solène expects is to make a connection with one of the members of the world-famous August Moon. But Hayes Campbell is clever, winning, confident, and posh, and the attraction is immediate. That he is all of twenty years old further complicates things.

What begins as a series of clandestine trysts quickly evolves into a passionate and genuine relationship. It is a journey that spans continents as Solène and Hayes navigate each other’s worlds: from stadium tours to international art fairs to secluded hideaways in Paris and Miami. For Solène, it is a reclaiming of self, as well as a rediscovery of happiness and love. When Solène and Hayes’ romance becomes a viral sensation, and both she and her daughter become the target of rabid fans and an insatiable media, Solène must face how her romantic life has impacted the lives of those she cares about most.

MY REVIEW

Rating : 4.5 out of 5 Stars

The Idea of You is a love story with a twist between a rock star and a woman next door. Robinne Lee has created two interesting characters who are almost twenty years apart in age. Solène is thirty nine, she is recently divorced and the mother of a teenage daughter. Hayes is twenty and a member of a world famous boys band. They meet during a fan meet-and-greet session organized after a concert. What starts as a harmless flirtation quickly becomes a passionate love affair. Their journey is a bittersweet one, there are a lot of circumstances that pull them apart, despite their intense chemistry.

Hayes is a hottie with millions of fans. His life is consumed by touring, writing music and recording it. He has developed a kind of character-splitting between his celebrity self and his authentic self as a survival technique. With Solène, Hayes is sweet and open with his feelings, he knows what he wants. Solène can’t ignore his celebrity, she isn’t prepared for the side effects of fame, the media frenzy and the lack of personal privacy. She feels uncomfortable being seen with him and wants to keep their relationship a secret as long as possible. Her story with Hayes should be a meaningless fling, a way to move on after her divorce. But she is falling hard for the real guy behind the star.

What transpires between them was brilliantly written. Right from the first page, I was fully invested in their poignant story. I was transfixed by their dilemma, their intense chemistry and their heartbreak. I rooted for them and I hurt for them. I recommend this book, even though I didn’t get the ending I wanted. This is a story that will stay with you long after you finish reading it.

An advanced copy of this book was generously provided to me by the publisher, via NetGalley.

Release Blitz : Royal Treatment (Royal Scandal #3) by Parker Swift

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ROYAL TREATMENT by Parker Swift (June 11, 2017; Forever Yours eBook; $3.99; Royal Scandal Book 3)

All this duke needs is his duchess…

For five blissful months I’ve been engaged to Dylan Hale, the most handsome, commanding, and wickedly sexy duke in England. For five months I’ve woken up next to the man I love, indulged in secret trysts, and submitted to every delicious desire. Even better? We’ve managed to keep it hidden from everyone. That means no paparazzi scandals, no snide comments from Dylan’s mother, and no harsh public scrutiny. It’s been heaven, but with Dylan’s royal responsibilities looming, our time alone is running out. And while I can’t wait to be Dylan’s wife, I’m terrified that becoming Dylan’s duchess might mean losing myself.

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My Review

Rating : 4.5 out of 5 Stars

Lydia and Dylan have been engaged for 5 months and they have managed to keep it a secret. After his father’s death, Dylan has become the Duke of Abingdon. He has a lot on his plate, with two companies to run and the duties and constraints of his title. His cooperation with members of MI6 puts additional pressure on his shoulders, but is necessary to save his family pile. His father nearly bankrupted their family company and had dubious connections with the Russian mafia.

Lydia is still afraid she will never fit into Dylan’s life. She is neither a socialite nor a kept woman and doesn’t want to be laden with the trappings of wealth and status. Decisions need to be made, feelings need to be expressed. She wants her next career move to be an asset for their future married life, not a liability. Obviously, they can’t keep everything under wraps and live in their happy bubble for very long anymore. Lydia is aware of Dylan’s difficulties, but she trusts they will figure out the life they both want. Dylan is a reformed bad boy, Lydia has changed his outlook on major life decisions. He is bossy and yet so attentive and caring.  I loved Dylan and Lydia together, there is no doubt that these two are soulmates. Their story had its ups and downs, but they always find strength in each other.

This final installment in the Royal Scandal series was the icing on the (wedding) cake. I felt that Parker Swift has given the closure that the characters deserved. This book had everything I love in a romance novel, the emotions, the spark, the swoon worthy moments, the sexy times, the tension and, of course, a perfect happily-ever-after. The story was well paced and a real page turner. The great cast of secondary characters adds warmth to the story, I hope Parker Swift will write their story next.  I really enjoyed this author’s flair for vibrant characterization and fluid storytelling. If you enjoy a contemporary fairy tale with a twist, I highly recommend this trilogy!

Thank you for visiting and happy reading!

I received an advanced copy of this book from the publisher, via NetGalley.

Giveaway

Enter to win 1 of 15 free ebook downloads of Royal Treatment! http://bit.ly/2rmcXdt

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Excerpt

For the past five months, I’d taken my mission to heart: Put yourself first. Enjoy the freedom of life out of the spotlight. Get your career off the ground before it competes with running an ancient estate and being on your husband’s arm.

For five months, I’d said yes to all things. Late nights dancing with Fiona and Josh. Girlie nights with Emily. Paris for Fashion Week. Long runs in the park by myself without paparazzi trailing me. Late nights working on the launch of Fiona’s online store. Dylan and I had kept our relationship low profile so that I could do all those things, so I wouldn’t get sucked into the aristocratic machine, so I could move freely and make choices without fear of how it would look or who would be watching. And it had been great. It did feel freeing, like I’d been slipping into a version of adulthood I’d always been waiting for, figuring out who I wanted to be in the world, taking a deep breath while I thought about the reality of being a duchess. But no matter what I did, I was always happy to go home to Dylan, to find him there, to let him find me there. Nothing had changed in that regard—I wanted to be with him.

I had figured I’d wake up one day and just know, now’s the time. And on that day I’d replace soon with yes. We’d make a big announcement, open the door, I’d officially be Dylan’s fiancée and soon after his wife, with everything that came with it. But that aha moment hadn’t happened yet, and now there was this. This decision, going to New York for six months, would change everything. If I said no to Hannah’s offer and stayed in London, I knew that, in some plates-shifting kind of way, it meant that I was ready to say yes to Dylan, to all of this, to everything he was asking for. But if I said yes to Hannah, to effectively leaving behind everything I’d built in London for a half a year in New York, my long engagement would be longer than I’d ever really wanted it to be.

With each block I passed through, my mind changed, I swayed back and forth. Yes, I’d go to New York for six months. No, I’d stay in London with Dylan. Yes. No. Yes. No. It felt like everything was pitted against one another. London versus New York. My career versus my relationship. My present versus my future.

I was swimming so feverishly in my own mind, my heels clacking on the pavement, my bag swinging against my hip, that didn’t realize I was standing in front of our house.

Our house.

I hadn’t walked to the store. I’d walked home.

As I looked in the window, I could see Dylan in the library on the ground floor. It looked like he was searching for a book, his arm stretched up to one of the higher shelves. He’d been working on a restoration recently and had been researching like a madman. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that fitted his muscular frame perfectly. His hair was tousled, uneven from running his fingers through it. He looked at the book in his hands and then stared into the room, thinking. I knew that in a moment he would begin absent-mindedly spinning the pencil in his hand, tapping it against his shoulder, deep in thought. I knew, without looking, that his feet would be bare. I knew there was probably a half-consumed cup of tea on a stool by his drafting table. I knew him.

The beauty I saw when I looked through that window made my chest tighten. I was looking into a home that had become mine, ours. I was looking at my future.

About the Author

SwiftROYALAFFAIRParker.JPGParker Swift grew up in Providence, Rhode Island, and then grew up again in New York, London, and Minneapolis and currently lives in Connecticut. She has spent most of her adult life examining romantic relationships in an academic lab as a professor of social psychology. Now, she’s exploring the romantic lives of her fictional characters in the pages of her books. When she’s not writing, she spends her time with her bearded nautical husband and being told not to sing along to pop music in the car by her two sons.

Social Media Links

www.twitter.com/the_parkerswift

www.Instagram.com/parker.swift

 

 

Blog Tour : The Chase (The Icon Trilogy #1) by Vanessa Fewings

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The Chase, an all-new sexy first story in the Icon Trilogy from Vanessa Fewings is available now!!!

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The Chase by Vanessa Fewings

Release Date Reveal: Jun 6th, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

A rising star in one of London’s top art investigation firms, Zara Leighton’s talent for seeing deep into paintings is in her blood. She’s chosen to help track down Icon, an enigmatic international art thief whose heists are methodical, daring, baffling. To Zara the case is maddening—bordering on an obsession.

She finds distraction in the chiseled form of top-shelf client Tobias Wilder, a magnetic American billionaire who demands her expertise, her discretion—and her secrecy. Wilder doesn’t ask questions. He gives orders. His gaze alone ignites her deepest fantasies. And his touch…

The sudden whirl of exclusive exhibitions and decadent parties that Wilder introduces her to is a potent aphrodisiac. But surrender soon becomes tinged with suspicion. Is Zara’s tryst with Wilder the real thing…or just a convincing forgery?

My Review

Rating : 4.5 out of 5 Stars

Addictive and thrilling, The Chase is a spectacular blend of mystery, deceit, dark secrets and sultry romance. The plot revolves around a series of thefts of prestigious and priceless paintings in private estates. They are attributed to Icon, an international art thief known for his audacity, attention to detail and inventiveness. So far, he has outwitted the police and Interpol.

Zara Leighton works for an art consultant, authenticating pieces for customers. She has been chosen to help track down Icon. Zara has a knack for identifying fakes, her father was a famous art collector and had instilled in her a rare insight into art. Although she is a newbie with no field experience, she has been hired by Tobias Wilder, a famous business magnate and inventor, to help him with an acquisition.

Tobias is a man who seemingly has it all, he is smart, sophisticated, successful and worth billions. He is also enigmatic, mercurial and private. Zara and Tobias find themselves on a collision course of suspicion, attraction, seduction and deceit. Their story starts out strong and I was hooked into their intense game of cat and mouse. The chemistry between them is enhanced by witty dialogue and highly sensual scenes.

Zara is entirely out of her depth and Tobias wants her to step out of her comfort zone. He admires her ambition and savviness. Zara is a breath of fresh air in his hectic life. I loved the romance between these two characters, expertly interlaced with suspense. They start to forge a connection, but Zara has reason to doubt everything, including Tobias’ motives.

The engaging characters, the elegant and pacy writing, the gripping and well-developed plot, filled with page scorching heat, contribute to making this book a winning read for romantic suspense lovers. It ends on a mild cliffhanger and I can’t wait for the next installment.

Thank you for reading!

An ARC was generously provided by the publisher.

Excerpt

Zara, within the texture lies the truth, he’d told me as he nudged me closer to the canvas. Can you see?

As I’d taken in—or at least tried with the perception of a ten-year-old—the brilliance of that French artist on that cen­tury-aged painting, I’d sensed life would never be the same.

I’d known in the depths of my soul art would always be my one true love.

Tonight, I’d been so fazed about coming here that I’d for­gotten to wear a coat that would have offset the chill of a Lon­don autumn and the cold temperature the gallery was kept at to preserve its treasures within.

Art galleries were quiet places with hushed whispers as re­spectful visitors paid homage to the genius of artists who’d left their indelible mark. Many of these painters had languished in poverty even after giving so much. As a child I’d always wanted to travel back in time to watch them work and tell them their talent had been worth all they’d sacrificed.

My stilettos clicked along the marble uncomfortably loudly as I neared Madame Rose Récamier. She’d hung in my bed­room and watched over me for years.

Stepping closer, my gaze roamed over her, marveling at those pristine strokes giving Rose a stunning realism.

I gave the softest sigh.

The year was 1803 when Jacques Momar had captured a moment in time with this Parisian socialite and, as I trailed my fingers through my auburn locks, I recalled how I’d wanted to be her. Chestnut irises, we had that in common, but her fiery gaze reflected a life of daring—one she’d chosen to live on her terms. Madame Rose Récamier had been known for her love of neoclassical fashion and her controversial interest in politics. She’d stunned Paris with her tenacity. Her reputa­tion to enamor with her smart wit and intelligence had been expressed so beautifully as she reclined on that satin chaise lounge, her head thrown back and her gaze held firmly on the artist Monsieur Momar. In her expression there was love. As time went on I’d realized that look proved an affair had transpired between them. The kind of passion I’d only ever read about.

I saw something I’d never noticed before—uncertainty—the emotion starkly vivid and painfully real.

In his will my father had left Madame Récamier to me. And now I was leaving her here.

“She’s haunting,” Clara whispered, shaking me from my daydream. It was just like her to know I needed a few mo­ments alone with Rose to say goodbye.

It felt comforting having my best friend here.

No matter how many months went by without seeing Clara, it felt like mere minutes had passed between us. She’d always come through for me, and I for her.

Her diamante-crystal, halter-neck dress made her look gor­geous, as always. She had a couple of inches on me and her thick blond curls were a contrast to my long auburn hair. Her high cheekbones were a reflection of the confidence that had helped her succeed as an advertising photographer. Her vo­luptuousness was a contrast to my smaller curvy figure. “Ru­binesque,” she’d called herself, which matched her vibrant personality, and her bright eyes and warm smile were always welcome in my world that always seemed more complicated than hers.

As if sensing I needed it, she came over now to give me a hug. “She’s beautiful.” Clara squeezed me into her side.

“First time I saw her I was wearing my favorite floral dress.” I rested my head on Clara’s shoulder for a moment. “Red shoes. I loved those shoes.”

“Oh, Zara, this was a good decision.”

“Yes. She’s meant to be here.”

She paused for a moment and studied me as though careful with her words. “What about the others?”

The three other paintings we’d saved that night…

Flames rising from our house and licking the air with those monstrous oranges and reds; a hellish glow…

The stench of toxic smoke in my clothes. My hair. My skin. My doll lost to the flames.

Stubbornly, I shook my head not wanting to remember any­thing more about that night. “There was always this sense we were protecting Madame Rose by hiding her away.”

Now it was time to step away.

Let it all go. And move on.

“You okay?” came Clara’s reassurance.

I nodded to let her know I was.

It was behind me now, all that grief of dealing with the complex issues of my father’s estate and those endless meet­ings with softly spoken solicitors where coffee was my only friend. And those journalists who’d begged for a scoop on what plans I had to take the Leighton family legacy into the twenty-first century.

I had no real plans for anything, not really.

Other than settling into my new career. Moving on felt cathartic.

Clara tutted. “Dreadful thing.”

Shaken back into the room, I asked, “What is?”

“No one’s reckless enough to steal from a gallery. Not with all this.” She peered up at one of the discreet cameras.

She was referring to that theft in Chelsea, a portrait by Henry Raeburn had been stolen from a private estate.

“You’re right,” I agreed.

She patted my arm. “You’ll sleep better knowing she’s here.”

“You don’t think it’s connected to what happened in France, do you?”

Rumors had reached the community that some of the wealthiest families in Paris had suffered at the hands of an art thief and that news had set the city’s private dealers and their customers on edge.

“Let’s get some bubbly.” Clara led me back down the hallway. “You have some hobnobbing to do with these art-lov­ing crazies.”

“Thank you for being here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

I forced myself not to look back.

Making our way down the hallway we continued to ad­mire the collection, pausing here and there until I sensed Clara’s restlessness.

“That’s a nice blouse,” she said. “Gold brings out your eyes.”

I tugged on my pencil skirt. “Marks and Spencer.”

“I thought you were going to say some posh designer. You’re getting close to that birthday.”

Which was Clara’s tactful way of saying my inheritance would kick in on the eve of my twenty-third birthday. Pride had turned my thoughts away from it but these rising costs of living in London had me rethinking that. The idea of having to decide what to do with fifteen million pounds made me nervous. That decision wouldn’t come until next year and I still had time to nudge that thought far away.

A wave of guilt settled in my gut that my inheritance came from my father’s will. I spun round to face Clara. “I got the job!”

“What? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful!”

“I’m officially a forensic art specialist at Huntly Pierre.”

I’d landed my dream job at a high-end firm in the middle of The Strand, and I couldn’t wait to start.

“Zara, that’s wonderful.” She leaped forward and hugged me. “I’m so excited.”

Years of studying art and I was finally being let loose.

“They know about your dad’s penchant for collecting price­less art, then?”

“No, I got this on my own merit.” I lowered my brow, hop­ing my family name of Leighton wouldn’t follow me around forever. “Have a knack for detecting forgeries apparently.”

Within the texture lies the truth.

Everything Dad knew he’d taught me; an education like no other. It wasn’t only studying at the Courtauld that had given me the talent for knowing the difference between an Uccello and a Masaccio, but my education had begun when my father had instilled in me his rare insight into art before I could even walk, hoping I’d follow in his footsteps.

“It’s in my blood.”

She winked. “The commission you’ll make when you con­firm a piece is real should be quite something. These things are worth a fortune.”

“You can’t place a value on pieces like this,” I said wist­fully, admiring Constant Troyon’s oil on canvas A Clump of Trees, with its soothing layers of greens and yellows. “For the first time I feel like I’m putting my knowledge to good use.”

“You know what else needs to be in your blood? Booze. More specifically, champagne.” We laughed too loudly as we neared the lift.

Standing back a little, I watched Clara hit the down but­ton and the silver doors slid open. Peering inside that gaping chasm of metal, I felt my haunting phobia of lifts returning, the light inside flickered to taunt me, and my feet refused to move forward as that familiar fear swept over me.

Terror spiked my veins. “Let’s take the stairs.”

She raised her left foot to show off her heels. “I’ll break my neck.”

“You sure?”

“Zara.” She sounded baffled.

“Meet you down there.”

“This is why you have great legs,” her voice echoed after me. “You’re always taking the stairs.”

Her laughter followed me down the stairwell.

I peeled off each shoe and in stockinged feet burst through the fire escape door. I descended fast, round and round, count­ing the floors as I went.

Breathing in the chilled air, I rekindled the feeling that what I’d done tonight was one of my better decisions. Clara was right. The security was great and the responsibility of pro­tecting all of Dad’s other pieces would soon be lifted as they made their way here.

It made me happy to think of other people getting to enjoy them too, and my feet flew down with a bounce in my step.

With a shove on the security rail I pushed open the heavy fire door and went on through into the dimly lit hallway.

Realizing I’d gone too far I turned to go back. The door was locked from this side.

Ouch.

As if right on cue my garter belt snapped off my thigh-high stocking and I hurried onward to find somewhere pri­vate to fix it.

My feet carried me away from the lift and along the hall­way. At the end was a door stamped with a sign: Staff Only.

I went on in and saw the long mirror right in front of me. I neared it and gave myself a reassuring smile. I looked pretty tonight and was actually a little less geeky than usual, having switched out my cardigan and flat heels for my favorite gold silk blouse and black skirt and even my hair was miraculously behaving. After putting my shoes down, I eased up my hem and attempted to reattach my stocking top.

Fiddly thing.

My fingers slipped so I hiked my skirt higher to better work the intricate reclipping. With that accomplished, I straight­ened my eggshell-blue high rise panties.

And then I spotted a movement across the room—

I yanked my skirt down, my mouth forming words of apology but failing to say them. I bent over to scoop up my shoes and rushed toward the door, my hand reaching round to neaten my skirt.

Oh no, my hem still exposed my bum.

Cheeks reddening further as I grappled with the unrea­sonable material and sucked up my embarrassment so I could throw a wave of apology to the stranger.

My gaze fixed on the living, breathing sculpture.

Making it to the door, I tried to force my stare away from the strikingly beautiful specimen of a man who was looking at me with a mixture of surprise and delight.

Finally exhaling, I was riveted by his sun-kissed torso with its finely chiseled abs, his black trousers low and revealing a hint of a V. An intricate tattoo on his left upper arm that vaguely reminded me of a Polynesian design, with its swirls in black ink and an image in the center.

My heartbeat quickened as I searched my memory for where I knew him from. I was awestruck by this breathtaking Adonis, who was reaching for a white shirt hanging on the back of a chair. He was tall and devastatingly handsome in a rugged kind of way. Thirty, maybe? Those short, dark golden locks framing a gorgeous face, his three-day stubble marking him with a tenacious edge and that thin wry smile exuding a fierce confidence. His green irises were a startling contrast to his lightly tanned complexion; his intense, steady glare stayed on mine as he calmly pulled his arm through a sleeve and cov­ered that tattoo before I could make out more.

A gasp caught in my throat as it came to me that we’d never actually met, probably because this was Tobias Wil­liam Wilder, a billionaire. He moved in the kind of refined circles one would expect from a business magnate and inven­tor who owned TechRule, one of the largest software com­panies in the world.

And I’d given this playboy mogul his very own peep show.

He’d popped up on my radar a year ago when I’d read an article on him in Cosmo, featuring his Los Angeles–based art gallery, The Wilder. It was an acclaimed museum that was one of the most prestigious in the world and it was also right up there on my wish list to visit.

Wilder was even more dazzling in person.

I’d imagined one day I might bump into him with the art world being relatively small, but never had I imagined a sce­nario as racy as this.

Why the hell hadn’t I worn my sexy panties?

“I’m looking for the stairs,” I managed.

“That way.” His refined American accent felt like another blow to my reason.

That alpha-maleness made him look like he’d just returned from a dangerous adventure in the Himalayas or even the jungles of Peru—

Where he’d spent his days hunting in the wilderness, or naked while fishing in a fast-running stream, and then mak­ing a campfire at night with those elegant hands, and then saving his friends from beasties that attacked our campsite.

His smile reached his eyes. A blush burned my cheeks.

He arched an eyebrow, amused.

Was he mocking me?

“I was looking for a signal.” I broke my gaze to hide my lie. “For my phone. You know, WiFi.”

“Try the foyer. It’s a security issue.”

“I know that.” Which made no damn sense.

It was impossible to think straight because someone had made the executive decision to suck out all the oxygen from the room, or so it felt.

With a tug of his shirt he hid that other tattoo to the right of his lower abdomen, a Latin inscription leading to his groin immortalized in italic black ink.

“Excuse the—” he gestured to his state of undress “—I’m running late.”

This kind of manly perfection obviously knew just how beautiful he was, the way he blinked at me casually, the way he firmly weaved that bow tie around his collar without using a mirror and making quick work of forming that silk into a neat knot, and all the while his eyes not leaving mine.

Until I dragged my gaze from his to look around the room. On a table close by to him rested a black motorcycle helmet with its tinted visor down. Leather gloves beside it.

He moved with a sophisticated elegance that had me doubt­ing I’d caught his body inked so seductively. A waft of expen­sive musky cologne reached me with its sensuous allure and did something crazy to my body. Trembling slightly, I shifted my gait and leaned further back against the door, spellbound.

Nature might have bestowed this man with the ability to leave a trail of heartbreak in his sexy-arse wake but it had also provided me with the ability to detect danger.

“You might want to put some clothes on,” I said firmly.

“Well, now I’m dressed.”

Yes, he was, and this was a changing room, apparently, and I’d not exactly represented a pillar of virtue.

“Well that’s good.” I swallowed my pride. “Please keep it that way.”

His gaze lowered to my feet.

And I remembered my strappy stilettos were flirtatiously dangling from my left hand, those spiked heels hinting at a sexy side I wished I had.

Intrigue marred his face, and then his expression softened again as his jade gaze returned to hold mine and he broke into a heart-stopping smile.

The seductive dazzling kind that threatened to melt my panties. I left in a rush—

Shaken with just how this man had affected me merely with a smile, my heart racing, I reconsidered risking the lift to take me as far away from him as possible. Embarrassment scorched my cheeks and made me glad I’d not worn a coat.

Taking a second, I leaned against the wall and stared back.

That alluring inked-up vision had taken my mind off the reason I was here. I felt an inexplicable need to run back in and continue to bathe in the aura of the most enigmatic man I’d ever met.

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Blog Tour

About the Author:

Vanessa Fewings is the USA Today bestselling author of the ENTHRALL SESSIONS.

THE CHASE is the first in her sizzling new romantic trilogy from HQN Books and will be released in June 2017, followed by THE GAME & THE PRIZE.

Vanessa is also the author of The Stone Masters Vampire Series. Prior to publishing, Vanessa worked as a registered nurse and midwife. She holds a Masters Degree in Psychology. She has traveled extensively throughout the world and has lived in Germany, Hong Kong, and Cyprus.

Born and raised in England, Vanessa now proudly calls herself an American and resides in California with her husband.

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