New Release/Giveaway/Excerpt

Title: I Hate You
Author: Ilsa Madden-Mills
Genre: Enemies-to-Lovers Football Romance
Release Date: August 19, 2019
Blaze Townsend: I hate you.
Charisma Rossi: I hate you more. 
She’s been expecting this ever since their latest showdown. She had good reason.
Hottest guy she’s ever seen.
Former fling.
Dumped her in front of her friends.
At her own party.
So no, she’s not about to forgive and forget just because he sits next to her in class.
He thinks all he has to do is turn on those baby blues, and she’ll melt right back into his arms. Please. She’d be crazy to let this cocky player affect her again. (Tell that to her body.)
Charisma Rossi.
Nerd girl with a dash of bad.
The one who got under his skin.
The one he cut loose.
Blaze knows she’s the riskiest prospect at Waylon University, but none of the interchangeable girls he hooks up with have ever made him feel the way she did. There’s absolutely no way he can have the girl and the game.
So why can’t he stop trying to win her back?
 
Can this wide receiver score the girl or will he make the biggest fumble of his life?

 
Signed Paperback Giveaway click here
“Need some help?”

I’m on my tiptoes when the question comes, trying to reach a book on the top shelf in the bookstore at the student center. 

My heart does a nosedive off a cliff as that familiar gruff voice washes over me, his accent a smooth drawl that’s reminiscent of hot summer nights and slow kisses—kisses we never had…well, except for that one time freshman year. 

I ignore him and try to grab the book.

“You’re too short. Let me,” Blaze says, this time closer, his voice soft.

I ease back on my feet and whip around, internally wishing I’d worn something more I hate you and don’t you wish you still had me, but sadly, I’m not in my kickass shoes and itchy dress. Today it’s flat-soled red Converse, black joggers, and a Yankees sweatshirt. I blow at a piece of hair in my face. Shit.

Of course, he looks magnificent in a tight long-sleeved black shirt that clings to his broad chest and tapered jeans molded to those leg muscles. His face is unshaven, the darkness on his jawline adding a broody look.

Curse him and his hotness. 

I stare at him a little too long, until I snap out of it.

“I don’t need help,” My voice is strangled as I move to brush past him—forget the textbooks—but he reaches out and takes my elbow.

“Charisma—”

His fingers are a hot brand on my skin—it’s the first time we’ve touched in three months—and I pull away. A tremble starts in my legs. How dare he? It was one thing to see him in a social setting and pretend I was fine, but when we’re face to face without people watching… “Don’t put your hands on me. I’m not your hookup anymore, football player.”

His face reddens, and he drops his arms. “I didn’t mean—” he stops, not finishing as he studies my face.

I wonder what he sees. You know what he sees, Charisma—someone who wasn’t up to his usual standards.

Everything I didn’t say last night rushes out. “Didn’t mean to what? Dump me in the middle of my own sorority’s party in front of all my friends and half of campus? And you know, that’s totally fine. We both knew I wasn’t enough to keep your attention.” 

His jaw clenches and he frowns, his brow furrowing. “I didn’t plan for things to happen that way.”

“How did you want to break up with me? Over candlelight? A text would have worked just fine,” I bite out.

The silence builds between us, and he watches me intently, as if trying to figure me out. He starts at my hair and works his way down to my feet, then comes back to my face. Just when I think I might combust from the intensity of his eyes, he looks away. 

“What?” I cock my hip. “You look like you want to say something.”

He taps his hand against his leg. Ice-blue eyes, ones I used to stare into and get butterflies from, glitter down at me. “You just can’t handle that I ended things, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart.” 

“Never were.”

Shit…shit…my heart feels like an anvil just landed on it, heavy and hard, and I can’t breathe for a second at his words, part of me pissed, the other part devastated. I wanted to be his sweetheart, I did, but he…

You’re not my type. 

“Thanks for the reminder,” I say quietly, my anger folding away piece by piece and slipping into that horrible self-pity I despise. 

He closes his eyes and scrubs his face with those talented hands, strong and big and capable, skillful with a football. 

He steps in front of me, much like he did last night, and I tilt my head back to take him in. At my height of five feet, three inches, it’s hard to glare at a guy who towers over you and not look ridiculous, but I manage—until his eyes flicker with lingering emotion. 

I dart my eyes around the store, searching for a way out, but I’m stuck between him and a bookshelf. “You’re blocking my path.” I focus on his legs. No sexiness there—well, except for the tight muscles under that denim. 

“This is what I know,” he says in a low voice, ignoring my statement. “You told me we were just messing around. You set all the rules. Isn’t that how you operate? So why does me ending things with you even matter?”

“You never asked for more. You could have.” The revealing words fall around us, tinged with hurt, and I want to pull them back. 

The silence between us crackles, yet I’m aware of other people around us. There are a few girls on another aisle, and I glance over as one of them pulls out her phone. No doubt she’s taking a picture of him. Part of me retreats, anxious she’ll get me in that photo—a girl who clearly doesn’t belong. He doesn’t notice. Everyone knows who he is, and they’re probably wondering why he’s talking to me. 

“No, I didn’t,” he finally says, the words taut as if pulled from him unwillingly. He taps his leg, his tell that he’s anxious or angry. We weren’t together long, but every moment we spent together, I studied him like a wine connoisseur given a glass of rare cabernet. I know what makes him laugh, usually random things that make no sense. I know that groan he makes deep in this throat when he slides inside me, like he’s home. I know the feel of his hand when he cups my face and stares at me, a hesitant expression on his face—

“You can’t even look at me anymore. I wonder why,” he says, his voice a challenge. 

Steeling myself, I face those baby blues. “You know why. I wish we’d never met up last fall. I wish you’d never flirted with me. I wish I’d never fucked you that first time in the library—”

“Same page. Same fucking page, Charisma.” And then he’s walking away, broad shoulders swaying as he stalks down the aisle…
Wall Street Journal, New York Times, and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills is best known for her angsty new adult romances and romantic comedies.
Eight of her eleven novels have placed in the Amazon Top 10 Best-seller List: Dirty English #1; Fake Fiancée and I Dare You #2; I Bet You, Filthy English, and Very Bad Things #6; Boyfriend Bargain #8; The Last Guy, her collaboration with Tia Louise, #4. 
 
A former high school English teacher, she adores all things Pride and Prejudice, and of course, Mr. Darcy is her ultimate hero. 
 
She’s addicted to frothy coffee beverages, cheesy magnets, and any book featuring unicorns and sword-wielding females. Feel free to stalk her online.
➜ Sign up for phone alert for book releases (only sent three times a year) Text ROMANCE to 21000
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Cover Reveal

Title: I Hate You
Author: Ilsa Madden-Mills
Genre: Enemies-to-Lovers Football Romance
Release Date: August 19, 2019
Cover Design: Letitia Hassar, RBA Designs
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Model: Eddie
Blaze Townsend: I hate you.
Charisma Rossi: I hate you more. 
She’s been expecting this ever since their latest showdown. She had good reason.
Hottest guy she’s ever seen.
Former fling.
Dumped her in front of her friends.
At her own party.
So no, she’s not about to forgive and forget just because he sits next to her in class.
He thinks all he has to do is turn on those baby blues, and she’ll melt right back into his arms. Please. She’d be crazy to let this cocky player affect her again. (Tell that to her body.)
Charisma Rossi.
Nerd girl with a dash of bad.
The one who got under his skin.
The one he cut loose.
Blaze knows she’s the riskiest prospect at Waylon University, but none of the interchangeable girls he hooks up with have ever made him feel the way she did. There’s absolutely no way he can have the girl and the game.
So why can’t he stop trying to win her back?
 
Can this wide receiver score the girl or will he make the biggest fumble of his life?
Wall Street Journal, New York Times, and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills is best known for her angsty new adult romances and romantic comedies.
Eight of her eleven novels have placed in the Amazon Top 10 Best-seller List: Dirty English #1; Fake Fiancée and I Dare You #2; I Bet You, Filthy English, and Very Bad Things #6; Boyfriend Bargain #8; The Last Guy, her collaboration with Tia Louise, #4. 
 
A former high school English teacher, she adores all things Pride and Prejudice, and of course, Mr. Darcy is her ultimate hero. 
 
She’s addicted to frothy coffee beverages, cheesy magnets, and any book featuring unicorns and sword-wielding females. Feel free to stalk her online.
➜ Sign up for phone alert for book releases (only sent three times a year) Text ROMANCE to 21000
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SUBMIT

New Release/Giveaway

Title: HEAT
Series: The Callaghan Green Series
Author: Annie Dyer
Genre: single dad, enemies to lovers, hot dad
Release Date: May 24, 2019

Steam isn’t just for the kitchen…
Hot headed, no social skills and she knew more swear words than a sailor. I was beginning to think I had a thing for my boss.
It didn’t matter that she barely knew the name of her employees or that she worked more hours than there were in a day running her restaurants, as soon as I knew she liked to dance, I wanted a taste of more than just her summer menu.
But what you want isn’t always what you get, and the courses fate had lined up weren’t guaranteed to be tasty.

Heat is a sexy single dad standalone in the Callaghan Green series.
Keep a fan handy.
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Cover Reveal/Giveaway

Title: HEAT
Series: The Callaghan Green Series
Author: Annie Dyer
Genre: single dad, enemies to lovers, hot dad
Release Date: May 24, 2019
Steam isn’t just for the kitchen…
Hot headed, no social skills and she knew more swear words than a sailor. I was beginning to think I had a thing for my boss.
It didn’t matter that she barely knew the name of her employees or that she worked more hours than there were in a day running her restaurants, as soon as I knew she liked to dance, I wanted a taste of more than just her summer menu.
But what you want isn’t always what you get, and the courses fate had lined up weren’t guaranteed to be tasty.
 
Heat is a sexy single dad standalone in the Callaghan Green series.
Keep a fan handy.

 

Engagement Rate is ONLY $0.99
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Release Tour

Title: Stirred
Series: Severton Search & Rescue
Author: Annie Dyer
Genre: Enemies to Lovers Romance
Release Date: March 29, 2019

 

Enemies. Foes. Until one night changed them forever.
 
The small town of Severton doesn’t have many secrets. One of the few is exactly why Scott Maynard, bar owner and search and rescue hero, refuses to speak, acknowledge or even breathe the same air as Keren Leigh. 
 
Keren has been Severton’s dentist for far too long and now she’s ready to move to the city, escaping the war with Scott and broadening her dating circle in the hope of a future that doesn’t just consist of evenings at home alone with a book, ancient pyjamas and a glass of wine.
 
All it takes is a one-night ceasefire for all of her plans and their decade-long feud to be stirred up. But they’re not the only ones to be shaken: Severton has acquired its own arsonist and other secrets are being exposed, leaving a completely different battle to be fought.
 
Warning: contains alpacas, retired ladies who make their own gin and have an eye for younger gentlemen plus an alternate use for a bath.
 

 
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Cover Reveal/Pre-Order/Giveaway/Excerpt

Title: Going Deep
Author: Nikki Ash 
Genre: Enemies to Lovers Romance
Release Date: April 6, 2019
Cover Design: Juliana Cabrera
Cover Image: Sara Eirew Photography

Going deep: In football it means running down the field for a long pass. You’re serious. Committed. Unstoppable. As a wide receiver, it’s a term I’m all too familiar with. It’s who I am, at least when it comes to my career.
 
For the past decade, football has been the only thing I’ve allowed myself to commit to. That is until a beautiful, blue-eyed temptress steps into my limo to escort me to a charity function.
 
She’s strong, independent, and quick witted. Everything I want in a woman. There’s just one problem. She’s not mine for the taking. But that’s not going to stop me from winning her heart.
 
I’m in deep with this woman. I’m running down the field with my arms and heart open, ready for the catch. Now all I need is for her to throw the ball.
 

Gently moving her body off mine, I get out of bed and go to the kitchen to start the coffee. While it’s brewing, I hear the sound of feet padding across my wood floor. Giselle appears in the doorway, still wearing my shirt and boxers. Her hair is messy from sleep, her face free of all makeup, and she looks gorgeous as hell. She grants me a shy, nervous smile. I know she wasn’t drunk last night, but my guess is she’s wondering if I regret everything we talked about. Needing her to know I don’t regret anything, I grin back. Her smile widens and then she throws her head back with a laugh, and fuck if it isn’t the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“What?” I question.

“We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad,” she says through a fit of giggles, and the melodic sound has me grinning hard.

“An Alice in Wonderland quote?” I ask, even though I already know it is. After she told me to read the book, I googled ‘Alice in Wonderland quotes,’ and came across several. Who knew the author of children’s books could be so poetic?

“Yeah.” She nods with a smile.

I pull a mug down from the cabinet and hand it to her. She goes to take it, but I don’t let go. Instead, I use her grip on it to pull her closer to me. Her body presses against mine, and I tilt my chin down to kiss her. Only she turns her head to the side at the last second and my lips land on her cheek. Without letting go of her, I whisper, “I’m afraid we are mad. But I’ll tell you a secret. All of the best people are.” I have no idea if the quote is from the book or the movie. It’s one of the ones I found when I googled, but I’m sure she’ll tell me.

Giselle backs up, and shaking her head with a large grin splayed upon her face, says, “That’s from the movie, and I’m pretty sure, you didn’t even say it right. Read. The. Book.” Then, plucking the mug out of my hand, she goes about making her coffee.

I study her as she flits around my kitchen like she belongs here. She grabs the milk and sugar from the fridge and adds them both to her coffee. Then she turns around and leans against the counter. Her foot pops up against the cabinet, exposing her sexy thigh. She lifts the hot coffee to her lips and blows on it. Her eyes come up slowly, and she peers up at me through her thick lashes.

“Thank you for last night,” she says softly. “It felt really good to be able to talk to someone about everything. Thank you for not judging me.” 


© Nikki Ash

Author Nikki Ash

★ COVER REVEAL GIVEAWAY★ GOING DEEP is coming April 6th! If you love hate-to-lovers romance, this book is for you! ★ TO ENTER to win a signed paperback of GOING DEEP, show this post some LOVE &…

 

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New Release

Title: In Too Deep
Series: Winter Games #4
Author: Dr. Rebecca Sharp
Genre: New Adult, Single-Dad, Enemies-to-lovers
Release Date: February 5, 2019
Nick
My life had been a series of unfortunate events:
Some of them out of my control, some of them entirely my fault.
I was only weeks away from being able to take my daughter and 
finally be free from the past that had imprisoned us.
And then Tamsin Lucas showed up on my doorstep,
looking every inch the innocent angel yet begging to be ruined.
I told myself I could live not knowing her secrets or the reason for her hurt.
And I swore I could survive never touching her again.
Until I needed her to homeschool my daughter.
Now, I’m fighting to rein in my desire for the woman who’s always been perfect
and protect her from those who are out to destroy me.
Tammy was too good to want someone like me.
But what if I was too bad to care to stay away?
 
Tamsin
 
Making the right choice was the slogan for my life and the motto for my soul,
until all the right decisions led to a very wrong result.
In the moment when life felt like a catastrophe, 
I ran to him. Nick Frost. 
The callous man who was colder than the mountain 
and possessed more secrets than it did snowflakes.
For one night, I traded sense for sensibility 
and my well-kept order for his comfortable chaos.
I thought one night and one wrong choice would be enough 
until he became my boss and wrong began to look a lot like right.
With every day that passes, I learn there’s more to his story than the world knows
and more to the unquenchable desire being written between us.
Nick was too bad to want someone like me.
But what if what we had was too good to keep me away?

I’d had too much to drink – which was saying a lot because I’d only had one drink, a Jameson and ginger ale, half of which still resided in my glass on the table in front of me. I silently chided myself that this was why I didn’t drink, but part of me was afraid, very afraid, that how I felt had nothing to do with the alcohol.
 
I looked out through the fog at the sea of smiles and laughs at the other patrons currently enjoying Karaoke night at Peak’s Pub, including my best friends, Jessa and Ally. Karaoke nights were always pretty busy at the pub but thankfully, we’d gotten here in time to grab a table by the front windows and relatively close to the stage; there was no way I could stand without crumbling over right now. There was a large, dark mahogany bar in the center of the room manned by the three usual bartenders who kept the crowd there under control.
 
I sucked in a loud breath as pain tightened the noose around my lower stomach, every beat from the speakers fell in time with the throbbing inside me. Any other day, I’d make my apologies and call a cab home, but tonight we were out celebrating Ally’s birthday. All day I’d hoped my body would fall in line with the general celebratory sentiment – just for one night – but of course, it hadn’t.
 
I sent my girls a reassuring smile as they glanced over at me from the floor in front of the stage with worry marring their happiness. Sitting up taller, I held up my glass as a small salute, and did my best to look like I wasn’t dying on the inside. 
 
Everyone had their own trials in life, I just wished that mine were the kind that would still let me enjoy a night out. Instead, all I had to look forward to was more tests, more bloodwork, more fears, more words that I hated hearing, and leaving the doctor’s office with more questions than answers. The only thing I knew for sure was that something was very, very wrong.
 
‘We are going to talk about this, you know,’ Ally said to me earlier tonight and I promised her that I would, but it was a promise I didn’t want to keep. I’d been having a lot of pain lately and because of it, I’d spent so much time at the doctor’s, I was surprised no one started mistaking me for a member of the staff. Unfortunately, they still didn’t have answers and I didn’t have the strength to try to find some for Ally – or Jessa for that matter.
 
My hand stole over my stomach. Gosh, I really felt like crap. Why tonight of all nights? I just wanted to go out and have a great time with my girls for Ally’s birthday. Just one night…
 
But when it rains, it pours – or so it seemed lately.
 
I glanced up to see Ally’s older brother, Chance, and one of his best friends, Nick Frost strolling through the bar liked they owned the place – the locals might say that they did, being the SnowmassHoles and all…
 
The SnowmassHoles was the nickname given by a good portion of the town of Aspen to Chance Ryder and his best friends, Nick Frost and Emmett Jameson. They were the local snowboarding rulers of the Snowmass Resort and their attitudes garnered their infamy. 
 
It started in high school when they would host late night snowboarding competitions that they called the ‘Winter Games’ at Snowmass after the resort had closed for the evening. They broke the rules but never got caught. The Games ended with graduation but they still referred to each other by their nicknames, even almost a decade later. Chance was dubbed ‘Pride,’ for being on his way to becoming the greatest snowboarder in the world, and, like the name, he’d fallen and was still trying to pick up the pieces. Emmett was deemed ‘King’ after beating Chance in one competition that Chance insisted he threw. And Nick… Well, Nick Frost was just called ‘Frost’ because the shimmering ice fit his person and his personality.
 
And it was a cold that always made me shiver.
 
You don’t care what he thinks about how you look, a small voice inside my head whispered as I averted my gaze from the most gorgeously cold man I’d ever known.
 
Nick Frost was a Casanova on ice – shaken, not stirred. And to me, he was the most breathtaking of them all. Messy, short brown hair, a jawline that was as dangerous and as sharp as his smile, and a body that I didn’t need to see without clothes on to know that it was as hard and as carved as an ice sculpture. 
 
I wanted to see it, though, and sometimes, I dreamt about it – about him, the man whose chilling and unimpressed stare made my body melt.
 
He was so painfully beautiful. Unique. Just like a snowflake.
 
And just as exquisitely cold and crystalline.
 
Untouchable – disintegrating at the barest brush of real feeling.
 
And always falling. Always unable to be caught.
 
Harmless in singularity, except when I waited and watched and wished for too long. Then, he became an avalanche swallowing every perfectly ordered piece of me and spitting me back out into a mess of chaos that I couldn’t handle. 
 
So, I mostly ignored and avoided him. It wasn’t hard; I liked my world the complete opposite of how it seemed he needed his.
 
His life was the lovechild of excess and cliché. Beautiful, rich boy who wanted for nothing, yet couldn’t seem to ever get enough – parties, women, drugs, and alcohol. And then, he went from high school cliché to sob-story when his dad died unexpectedly right at the end of high school; after that broken didn’t even begin to describe him. At that moment, what happened next was so critical to his future and healing – but whatever was needed to make him whole again, he didn’t get. And the things he shouldn’t want, but couldn’t seem to get enough of were poured on him like buckets of ice water on a football coach after winning the Super Bowl. 
 
The parties were the kind that would have made Prince Harry take off his clothes. The girls, well, I guess I’ll just say there was a rumor that sleeping with Nick Frost was a graduation requirement since almost every girl had done it. Except me; and therein proof that the rumor was false. And the drugs… those got bad after graduation. I didn’t see the result… I didn’t want to. He’d gone from the bunny slopes of weed to the black diamonds of crack in world-record-setting time.
 
I’d never been to his house or his parties, so maybe these were all exaggerations… but I didn’t think he was that lucky. I, on the other hand, preferred to stay in the background, quietly watching from afar as the most beautiful man I’d ever seen was cut open by life and then proceeded to rip his own guts out. My only explanation for it all was that almost dying was the only thing that made him feel alive.
 
Chaos fed him; chaos sustained him. Whereas I needed structure and calm and security. I needed it in every aspect of my life because it kept being slowly stripped away from my body.
 
Tight jeans and a V-neck shirt. Hair that looked like a female had just had her hands buried knuckles deep in it while he was buried… I shook my head. His hair was sexy messy, let’s just leave it at that. In all, he could have passed for a rockstar – the look completed by the joint that half hung out of his front pocket.
 
I watched them greet the birthday girl, shocked a little when even Frost gave Ally a hug. The shock dissipated when he didn’t look twice at me. It was probably for the best. 
 
“Are you actually drinking tonight, Tamsin?” Maybe I wasn’t that lucky. His voice was smooth, whiskey-covered words burned as I took them in. I didn’t like it when he spoke to me. It was rare – thankfully – but when it happened, my entire body forgot how to function.
 
I looked for someone to save me, but Chance had said something to Jessa and Ally seemed completely entranced by their interaction. Meanwhile, Nick had stepped right next to me so I doubted any of them could’ve heard what he said.
 
I shifted in my seat, momentarily forgetting about my stomach cramps. His face was so close – too close – to mine.
 
“I am,” I gulped, taking another sip of the drink that I shouldn’t be drinking. In punishment, the pangs in my lower abdomen returned with full force, but I definitely wouldn’t let him see my discomfort. 
 
“So, you’re going to let me take you home, then?”
 
I almost spit out my drink. “Excuse me?” 
 
My whole body trembled. I must have misheard. Nick Frost would never have said that to me. Of all the women in the world, I was not the one that he wanted.
 
“Tonight,” he repeated calmly. “You’re going to let me take you home, wrap those long legs around my waist, and let me find out if your pussy is as tight as the lid you lock over your control.” He looked down at the drink in my hand. “I figure if you are drinking, tonight is my best shot at making that happen.”
 
I stared for an awkwardly long amount of time. I couldn’t be hearing him correctly. Nick Frost. Who never had two words to rub together for me, let alone two nice ones, just calmly requested to spend the night inside of me. Technically, he didn’t really request…
 
“I… umm…” I shook my head. “N-no. No, thank you. Sorry.”
 
Did I just say ‘no, thank you’ to having sex? Excuse me – to having sex with the hottest jerk this side of Snowmass? Maybe I was drunk. That would explain all of this. It was the only thing that would explain all of this. I was drunk and delusional.
 
“Alright, Miss Priss.” He swallowed a sneer, enjoying his nickname for me far more than I liked, and shrugged like my answer made no difference to him; he’d just find someone else to sleep with tonight. I felt a small twinge in my tummy – a different kind of twinge from the cramps I’d been experiencing all night, but still painful. 
 
Sadness. Jealousy. Longing. An ache for every dirty and delicious thing that I’d ever heard about him to be done to me. 
 
He nodded to the crowd forming by the stage, saying, “Then pick her.”
 
Was it the alcohol or was I always this obtuse when he tried to talk to me?
 
“Pick who?” I squeaked out, bringing my cup to my mouth for another sip. Someone needed to take this drink away from me.
 
A smirk spread over his face like water slowly freezing. “Pick the woman I’m going to fuck tonight while I’m thinking of you.”
 
My mouthful of watered-down cocktail spewed back into my glass, only serving to widen his smile, as my cheeks flamed at his insinuation. It was horrible and wrong.
 
Yet, the part of me that only I had ever touched clenched at the notion that he wanted to think of me while he was screwing someone else. It was a horribly satisfying feeling – dirty and bad and everything that I shouldn’t want to feel but craved more of.
 
His amused pale blue eyes fell from mine with a sigh. I knew what he thought. That I was all prim and proper and dutifully horrified by his suggestion. Most days and for most people, Tamsin Lucas would have scoffed and scolded. But today was not most days – today a part of me knew I was getting sicker and today I’d ordered a cocktail to try to forget. And most days, Frost wasn’t most people. In fact, at times like this, he was the only person.
 
All that to say, “Her.” 
 
I felt the spark pass between us as the word slipped from my lips. His head jerked to mine and his eyes narrowed, disbelieving what his ears had heard.
 
“Her,” I repeated, my eyes gliding over to a buxom blonde who had a t-shirt on that said ‘#askingforit.’ Because that was so classy. Perfect choice for Frost. I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling, both because of her careless choice of attire and then as I watched his eyes drip languidly over her body.
 
Looking back at me, his slight nod was cut off by Chance, who was still talking to his sister but moving in the direction of the bar.
 
“When you decide you’re tired of being so put together, give me a call. I promise, I will make falling apart be the best fucking thing to ever happen to you,” he rasped; but it was the look in his eyes that strangled the breath coming from my lungs – the one that said it was all he was ever waiting for.

 

    
Rebecca Sharp is a dentist and International Best-Selling author living in a small town in northeastern Pennsylvania with her husband, the love of her life. After graduating Cum Laude from Lafayette College in 2011 with two degrees (one in Business & Economics and one in French), she pursued her doctoral degree at the University of Maryland School of Dentistry. Graduating in 2015, she has since been working in her family’s dental practice that has serving the local community for over 60 years.
While she enjoys the practical and challenging academic aspects of her career and the fulfillment of providing care to her patients, Rebecca desired to pursue something more creative in her free time. Starting with her love of Jane Austen, she began writing. While she enjoys all types of books, romance novels have always held a special place in her heart. (True story: She listed a Sabrina Jeffries novel on her 8th grade summer reading list. Much to her surprise, the teacher didn’t even notice!) She has currently published numerous contemporary romance titles.
When she isn’t taking care of her patients or writing/publishing her next book, Rebecca loves to read, cook, draw, and snowboard. She has a small addiction to coffee and the TV show ‘Friends.’ She and her husband are avid travelers, determined to visit every corner of this beautiful planet!
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