Maldeamores by Mara White Blog Tour

     

"Exquisitely sensual, Maldeamores is the most unforgettable forbidden romance I have ever read." Katy Evans, New York Times Bestselling Author of the REAL Series. "Refreshingly 'taboo' - in a community where we're inundated by novels claiming this title, it's wonderful to finally find a book that not only truly lives up to the word, but is also well written, moving, and beautiful in its prose." Stylo Fantome, Best Selling Author of the Kane Trilogy.     

Belén: I’ve loved Luciano ever since I can remember, desired him before I even knew what it meant. He’s always been the only man in my life—my constant protector, and his rejection only intensifies my need. Luciano: I’ve never known a love more fierce than the one I feel for Belén. But I force myself to deny her no matter how much it hurts. Our love is a sickness and both of us are infected. Because there’s no cure for being from the same family ***Warning*** This novel contains graphic sex scenes, including: incest, F/F, and ménage, M/M/F. Some drug use and violence.    

Now that Luciano lives in the same building, he comes over all the time. Both he and Titi have a key, and I have one to their apartment that I keep on my key chain. Our front door opens while I’m sitting at the dining room table doing homework. I look up, expecting to see Mami coming in with the groceries, but instead it’s Luciano and he doesn’t look good. His lip is swollen and bleeding—his eye took a punch too, and it’s almost closed from the pressure. He’s hurt and it startles me. I stand up and my pen rolls to the floor, but I stay silent, waiting for him to say something first. "I didn’t think you’d be home," he says. His face is totally straight, lacking any emotion. "The library was closed for a special event. Was there a fight? Are you okay? You’re bleeding." He nods and says nothing. "Let me get you some ice," I say, running to the kitchen. I put ice in a bowl and run a clean towel under water, then grab some gauze and peroxide from the bathroom and take it all to the living room where he’s sitting. Kneeling down beside him, I put ice cubes in the wet towel and lift it to his face. I ask permission with my eyes and Luciano gives me a quick nod. He winces from either the cold or the pressure and I put my hand on his chest to calm him. It’s an automatic gesture. "Does it hurt?" I ask him. He shakes his head. His chest feels solid under his T-shirt and touching it does strange things to my body. I try to focus on the task in front of me. "Titi will kill you," I say, pulling my mind away from his hard chest. "You should try to stay out of fights," I add, resisting the urge to wrap my arms around him or crawl into his lap. Luciano is, and has always been, the only man in my life. I look to him for reassurance all the time, even though we’re almost the same age. I dab at the gash under his eye that is bleeding the most. "Easier said than done," he says, and then grabs my wrist hard. I stare at the juncture where his hand meets my arm. His knuckles are white and my skin under his grip is turning bright pink. My lips immediately part and my stomach fills with unease. I can always read Luciano, but right now I can’t tell what’s happening. He has sweat on his brow and there’s dirt smudged on his face and his arm. He doesn’t release my hand. "Luciano, you’re scaring me." He drops my wrist disdainfully and his eyes graze slowly down my body. I glance down at my own chest and suddenly remember that I took my bra off when I got in. I’m wearing a white button-down shirt, unbuttoned a little bit. My nipples are hard from the cold ice in the tea cloth. The shirt brushes over my breasts just enough to make shivers skirt up my back. 

   

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Mara White is a contemporary romance and erotica writer who laces forbidden love stories with hard issues, such as race, gender and inequality. She holds an Ivy League degree but has also worked in more strip clubs than even she can remember. She is not a former Mexican telenovela star contrary to what the tabloids might say, but she is a former ballerina and will always remain one in her heart. She lives in NYC with her husband and two children and yes, when she’s not writing you can find her on the playground.

 

         

Dirty Boys of Summer Release Blitz

  

       

  WHO DOESN'T LOVE THOSE DIRTY SUMMER BOYS? Alphas, Billionaires, Bikers, Bad Boys, Stepbrothers, and Jocks 99 cent Mega NA/YA Romance Bundle Sale. Limited Time Only! Note: Sunglasses required   Grab this set of 16 Young/New Adult stories in one single volume and at one amazing price. Fill up a bucket with ice and prepare for a heat wave as the DIRTY BOYS OF SUMMER hit your e-reader giving your romantic minds a scorching thrill like no other.   Are you ready to lose your v-card, fall in love, get naughty, and say good-bye to your good girl persona with these ohhh so dirty summer boys? Intended for 17+, we've packed the box with the best in upper young adult, naughty new adult, sweet contemporary, and wicked paranormal.   Stories from:

1. Gennifer Albin

TEACHING ROMAN

2. Evangeline Anderson

THE ACADEMY

3. Avery Aster

LOVE, LEX

4. Jamie Blair

LOST TO ME

5. Opal Carew

TAKEN BY STORM

6. Marisa Cleveland

ACCIDENTAL BUTTERFLY

7. Carey Corp

THE HALO CHRONICLES: THE GUARDIAN

8. Julie Cross

LETTERS TO NOWHERE

9. Jen Frederick

UNSPOKEN

10. Rachel Higginson

BET ON US

11. Tamara Mataya

THE SOWING

12. Dawn Rae Miller

CRUSHED

13. Julie Prestsater

BEFORE SOMEDAY-PART ONE: THE WAIT

14. Becca Ritchie & Krista Ritchie

KISS THE SKY

15. Lynn Rush

FROSTBITE

16. C.L. Stone

LIAR: THE SCARAB BEETLE SERIES: #2    

http://amzn.to/1doAQG6

      

LOST TO ME, Jamie Blair www.jamieblairauthor.com Thunder rumbled and shook the house. The rain picked up again, falling in sideways sheets that blew through the balcony doors. A few cool drops landed on my legs, sending shivers through me. Kolton got up and closed the doors. With his face silhouetted in the candlelight’s flicker, he took my breath away. He grinned. “What?” “Nothing.” I picked up the dice and rolled as he lay back down on the bed. Under his t-shirt, the muscles in his chest and arms shifted, as he got comfortable with my pillow again. An overwhelming urge to run my hand over his chest made me shut my eyes for a second. My lips tingled with anticipation of feeling his again. I wanted to chuck the game onto the floor and grab him. But, I didn’t. I couldn’t. When his eyes captured mine, I knew he would. “You win,” he said, and shoved the game pieces off the board. He took my arm and led me over to him, rolling onto his back and scooting under me. “Lure me up here and make me play games with you.” He shook his head, smiling.   

FROSTBITE (Touch of Frost #1), Lynn Rush www.lynnrush.com “You barely know me, Zach.” And I was so the wrong girl. He just didn’t know it. “I’m trying to get to know you. You won’t let me.” His dark eyebrow quirked up, and his dimple flared as he offered me his totally addicting half-smile. He was right, though. So trained to stay protected I’ve pretty much forgotten how to…be. So controlled. So… I inched closer, which probably looked ridiculous as I scooted across the sand, but if I was going to take a chance, Zach was going to be that chance. His eyes widened, and he leaned forward as his grip on my hand tightened. Despite the sand mixed in with our hands, his warmth still crept up my arm. But it also left a trail of goosebumps. Do. Not. Freeze. Him. I drew in a breath, then pushed that last inch separating us. My reward was the softest pair of lips. The contact, as light as it was, sent a shockwave through my chest, rattling down my spine.     

CRUSHED, Dawn Rae Miller www.dawnraemiller.com Calista pounces on my lap, but not before messing up my hair. Her wild curls tickle my skin and smell like chlorine. Like summer. It’s so hot. The sun beats on us. I want to go back under the umbrella, but she won’t let me, so I nuzzle her neck and tell myself to remember this. The smell of sunblock and the weight of Calista pressed against me. In a week, we’ll be back at Harker, and Cal and I will go on like we always do: friends but nothing more. With sure fingers, I tug on the strings of her bikini top and it falls off. She giggles and tosses it aside. I cup my hands over her firm tits. The camera she set up clicks. Keeps clicking as we fall backward onto the chaise, not talking. Every breath I take mirrors hers, and our naked torsos move in unison. My eyes close, and I focus on the feel of her hands on my skin. They leave sparks of electricity in their wake. A lazy smile stretches across her face as she lifts my hand to her lips and sucks on the tips of my fingers. My body explodes with fire. She notices and traces her fingers lower, teasing me. I close my eyes again and inhale deeply. One breath. Two breaths. Three. Calista rolls off me and kneels next to my elbow. She lays her head on the edge of the chaise and bats her blue eyes. I should stop her, but I don’t. I never do.  

  THE ACADEMY, Evangeline Anderson http://www.evangelineanderson.com That night I changed in the closet as usual and skipped the evening shower time before RLO. North made a comment about how I would start to stink if I kept this up but I ignored him and tried not to watch when he casually disrobed in preparation for his own shower. I couldn’t help noticing, though, how broad his shoulders were and how muscular his back was. And when he came back to the room, his dark blond hair slicked back and beads of water dotting his chest, I admit I looked a little longer than was proper. Luckily for me, North seemed oblivious to my scrutiny. We said goodnight and crawled into our respective beds after he turned out the light. Then I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally I heard the tiny chirrup of my chronometer and knew it was time. Slowly, being careful not to make a sound, I slipped from beneath my covers. Reaching under my bed, I got my towel which was rolled into a tight cylinder and found the tiny shampoo pellet I’d hidden there earlier—one of the few luxuries I’d brought from home. Moving as silently as a mouse, I crept to the door, put my hand on the knob and— “That’s a really bad idea, you know.” North’s soft, deep voice from the darkness startled me so much I nearly screamed. I turned slowly to see him sitting up in bed, his tiny handheld light illuminating his face. “What are you talking about?” I tried to sound sleepy and cross. “I’m just going to use the fresher. I had too much fruit drink at dinner.” “Liar. You’re going to try and sneak a shower.” North frowned at me. “But now isn’t a good time.” “Why not?” I demanded, too exasperated to lie anymore. “It’s past midnight—everyone should be asleep.” “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” he said dryly. “But they’re not. The dorm monitor never goes to bed before one AM and he always makes one more round of the freshers before he turns in. If he catches you out after RLO for any reason other than to take a quick piss, you’ll get licks. Not to mention the fact that Broward could show up at any time and catch you naked and alone—not good.” I felt the most unladylike urge to swear. Instead I bit my tongue until I tasted a faint coppery hint of blood. “What am I suppose to do then?” “You’re supposed to shower with everyone else like the rest of us do.” “Well, I can’t,” I snapped. “And I won’t. If I would’ve known about the facilities here, I never would have come in the first place.” “So you’d give up your chance to be in the Space Corps just because you don’t like showering with other guys?” North raised an eyebrow at me. “Yes…no…I don’t know.” I ran a hand through my short hair in frustration. My short, dirty hair. Honestly, if I didn’t get a shower soon I felt like I was going to go out of my mind. I couldn’t stand this state of filth and grime much longer. “This isn’t really about modesty, is it?” North’s voice got softer and his eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “It’s something else, isn’t it, shrimp?” “It’s nothing,” I said shortly. “Just go back to bed.” He frowned. “So you can get murdered by Broward or caught by the dorm monitor? I don’t think so.” “You can’t stop me,” I said, giving him a fierce glare. “So just turn over in bed and pretend you don’t see me.” “No.” He shook his head. “Look, just wait a little longer and I’ll go with you.” “North,” I said in exasperation. “I appreciate your concern but I don’t want to take a shower with you anymore than I want to take one with the rest of our dorm-mates.” “I’m not going to shower with you.” He was the one who sounded exasperated now. “I’m going to watch your back.” “What? Why?” I put a hand on my hip. “Why would you do that for me? Because I helped you with that equation?” “Maybe.” North shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Or maybe because I know about having something you want to hide—something about your body you’re ashamed of.” “I’m not ashamed,” I said stiffly. “I’m just…different. That’s all.” “I know about being different, too,” he said in a low voice. “How could you know about being different or ashamed?” I demanded. “Just look at you—you’re perfect.” He laughed dryly. “Thanks, shorty. But I wasn’t talking about myself.” “Who then?” I came back to my bed and sat on it facing him. He shrugged again and looked away, not meeting my eyes. “Someone I used to know. Someone I…cared about.” “Who—?” I began but he cut me off. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” His eyes blazed fiercely in the dim light. “I’m offering to help you break the rules and get a shower—do you want my help or not?” I bit my lip and looked at him uncertainly. “And you won’t…won’t look at me?” North barked a laugh. “You may have a pretty face, shrimp, but I don’t think I’ll have to hold myself back from checking out another guy. No, I won’t look.” “All right, then,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster. “I accept your offer.”   

  LOVE, LEX, Avery Aster http://averyaster.com   *set-up: Lex has been arrested and is in jail. Officer Ford Gotti is making her nervous.   He kept on watching me. A guard walked back and forth checking the cells. I used that time to ask myself two important questions. One, was I nervous to talk to him by myself? Hells yeah! And two, could I keep my mouth shut, not telling the truth without my besties here to talk for me? Maybe. Maybe not. Suddenly, from the top of my head to my tippy toes, a tingle started. It wasn’t from the synthetic orange fabric I wore. Oh no. This was a sensation of hyperawareness. I’d felt self conscious before but this was ridiculous. His expressive face, catalog model-worthy for sure, talked to me. His mind was racing in judgments about who I was and what I’d done. His accusatory stares infuriated me. For some unknown reason, I wanted his approval more than anything. I ached for him to believe me and that today was an accident, a misunderstanding. Fudge, I didn’t even know him. I shouldn’t give a flip what he thought about me. I didn’t care how the TV portrayed me or what Birdie and her fans thought of me either. This explosion wasn’t only putting my plus-sized bum on the line but my besties boney butts as well. I had to stick to the story. After the guard had gone and it was just me alone in my cell, Officer Gotti stepped closer. Both of us remained silent. The room spun as my WWF, Scorpion King, Hulk on a Harley, inked up demi-god mirage in the desert returned. My vision blurred. Confused? Heck yeah. Tummy tossing? I felt oddly aroused. I know! At a time like this, how could I be…horny? I just blew up Mom, and my two besties had left me. My hormones rocketed into overdrive. I forced a smile to show he didn’t make me nervous. Heat came off my skin. Slowly I wiped the perspiration off the back of my neck by knotting my hair into a bun. That was a ladylike trick I’d learned at Avon Porter. “You okay? Now that your friends are gone.” “Woo, it’s warm in here is all.” I was scared as hell but I wouldn’t show it. “It sure is.” He grinned, focusing on my face. 

KISS THE SKY, Krista & Becca Ritchie http://kbritchie.com I wrap the cloth around my waist. It hangs low so she has view of my defined muscles. I make time for the gym with Loren and his half-brother, but I’ve always been in good shape. I grew up wanting to reach the peak of physical and mental perfection. It’s an unattainable goal. But one I set. One I seek. People hope to touch the sky. I dream of kissing it. Rose spins back towards the sink. She uses the iron to curl loose waves in her straight hair. Most men would be scared of her—gripping a hot weapon. My cock begins to throb as I watch her through the mirror. She breathes heavily, trying not to pay attention to me, but it’s a little difficult. I’m six-foot-four. I’m twice her size. She’s small, feminine in comparison to my body that could cloak her easily.       

Authors / Books Involved: C.L. Stone: Liar: The Scarab Beetle Series Lynn Rush: Frostbite Krista & Becca Ritchie: Kiss the Sky Julie Prestsater: Before Someday – Part One: The Wait Dawn Rae Miller: Crushed Tamara Mataya: The Sowing Rachel Higginson: Bet on Us Jen Fredrick: Unspoken Julie Cross: Letters to Nowhere Carey CorpC: The Halo Chronicles: The Guardian Marisa Cleveland: Accidental Butterfly Opal Carew: Taken by Storm Jamie Blair: Lost to Me Avery Aster: Love, Lex (Undergrad Years) Evangeline Anderson: The Academy Gennifer Albin: Teaching Roman          

Taste Me Release Blitz

     

122,000-WORDS OF DARK ROMANCE AND DANGEROUS ENCOUNTERS! TASTE ME is a collection of twenty-seven sexy scenes from the hottest releases of 2015, both newly released and coming soon. This all-star lineup of bestselling authors includes... Tijan, Alessandra Torre, Lauren Blakely, Skye Warren, CD Reiss, Anna Zaires & Dima Zales, Red Phoenix, Cherise Sinclair, Kendall Ryan, Chelle Bliss, TK Leigh, Toni Aleo, Sam Crescent, Jenika Snow, Julia Sykes, Nina Levine, Cari Quinn& Taryn Elliot, Ainsley Booth, Katy Regnery, Shari Slade & Amber Lin, Shoshanna Evers, Pam Godwin, Carolyn Crane, Molly Joseph, Ella Sheridan, Karla Doyle, and Brooke Cumberland Download TASTE ME now for a sneak peek of Hold Me, the highly anticipated third book in the dark romance Twist Me series from Anna Zaires. Push your boundaries with a twisty scene from Tight by Alessandre Torre, one of the blockbuster books of the year. Sink your teeth into an alpha rocker bad boy in the not-yet-released Second Chance with a Rock Star from Shari Slade and Amber Lin. Note: This compilation is intended as a FREE preview of this year’s hot releases to help readers find their next scorching read. ADD TO GOODREADS              

AMAZON US - AMAZON UK - AMAZON CA          

Three Hard Lessons by Nikki Sloane

      

The Hard lessons ( The BlindFold Club Book 2) Amazon US-http://amzn.to/1GBPepc Amazon UK- http://amzn.to/1GvSfYi 

Three Simple Rules Amazon US -http://amzn.to/1yXQ0bG Amazon UK - http://amzn.to/18sjftT 

I am the woman men pay thousands of dollars to sleep with. I do what I love and what I'm so very good at. Then he walks in and drops $30,000. He wants to talk. And kiss. And take me home. In a single night, this man turns everything upside-down and has me breaking every rule I've lived by to keep men at a distance. I'm about to learn some lessons the hard way. Don't tease him. Don't give him boundaries. And don't think you get a choice in who you love. 

I followed him toward the bathrooms, weaving my way through the throng of people until we were past them and in a quiet, dark corner of the deserted game room, wedged between two pinball machines that had seen less action than Dominic had in the last year. He pressed me up against the wood paneled wall and brought his face in close so I could hear his rough voice over the loud, jovial bar atmosphere in the next room over. "This ass is mine for the next two weeks. I thought I made that clear." There was a rush of heat between my legs. I looped a hand behind his neck and yanked him in to my kiss. Yeah. My kiss. The more dominating he got, the more I responded to it. "You made it crystal clear. But let me make something clear, Dominic. Don't get attached to me." I took one of his hands and shoved it between my legs. "Or this. Two weeks, and I'm moving on." The hand massaged me through the skinny jeans I was wearing. He took one of my hands and put it on his crotch, where he was already half-hard. "Better not get attached to this, then." Normally over-the-clothes bullshit wouldn't do a thing for me, but I fucking loved being an exhibitionist. The idea of someone catching us groping each other back here was arousing. I used both hands to undo his belt buckle and drop his zipper so I could wrap my hands around his cock, which was now at full attention. To my delight, he didn't protest this new level of naughtiness. I was against the wall, between the two pinball machines, and his large back was to the door, blocking the view of anyone who might come in. "Yeah," he said, his gaze watching my hands stroke him. "Harder." He blew out a breath through his teeth when I did as told, and his hand went to undo my pants, but I shifted away. "Uh, uh. This ass isn't officially yours until we're over international water. Right now," I tightened my grip further, "you're mine." Heat flashed in his eyes, and he allowed it. He set his hands on the glass tops of the machines at our sides and submitted to me. Oh, god. It was so hot. I pumped faster on the pulsing cock in my hands, spreading the drops of wetness around when he started to get close. In the dimly lit game room, his strikingly blue eyes looked less like the deep ocean and more like shallow, sandy waters. "Are you going to come for me?" I demanded. Alarm filled his face. "In your hands?" "Worried you'll make a mess?" I knelt before him and tugged the sides of his open fly out of my way. "You're going to blow me right here?" He glanced around. Yeah, I was. I licked the crown of his cock and held it steady as he twitched in reaction. I closed my mouth around him and sank down, taking him as deep as I could. The power this gave me, the command over him, I got drunk off of it in an instant. I slipped him between my tight lips. My tongue did somersaults. I sucked as hard as I could and steadied one hand on his hip, controlling the pace. "You dirty, little slut. You like the way that cock tastes?" I froze, the filthy talk from him was so unexpected I momentarily forgot what I was doing. I looked up. His face was red. "I’ve watched way too much porn in the last year. I'll be quiet." I pulled back off of him, keeping my grip firm around the base. "No, don't fucking do that." My breathing was rapid and I could feel my soaked panties clinging to me. "You're making me so wet. I love the way you taste." I leaned back and swirled my tongue over his saliva-drenched flesh. "I've been wanting to suck you off all damn day." Add to Goodreads - http://bit.ly/1BVqIOw 

Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is married and has two sons, writes dirty books, and couldn't be any happier. 

Twitter - http://bit.ly/18sx0ZR Facebook - http://on.fb.me/1CQaZSg Goodreads - http://bit.ly/1A4fHEQ  

Three Hard Lessons by Nikki Sloane

   

 I am the woman men pay thousands of dollars to sleep with. I do what I love and what I'm so very good at. Then he walks in and drops $30,000. He wants to talk. And kiss. And take me home. In a single night, this man turns everything upside-down and has me breaking every rule I've lived by to keep men at a distance. I'm about to learn some lessons the hard way. Don't tease him. Don't give him boundaries. And don't think you get a choice in who you love.  

 The Hard lessons ( The BlindFold Club Book 2)  

Amazon US-http://amzn.to/1GBPepc Amazon UK- http://amzn.to/1GvSfYi  

Three Simple Rules (The BlindFold Club Book 1)  

Amazon US -http://amzn.to/1FvsJRt Amazon UK - http://amzn.to/18sjftT   

With the curtains closed, it was impossible to tell how long we slept, and the alarm clock was on his side of the bed. I knew he was awake, though. Fingers traced a line down the bare skin of my back, easing the covers down with it until he reached the hollow at the base of my spine. Then, kisses. His hot mouth moved over my shoulder blades, his stubble scraping my skin like fine sandpaper, working his way toward my neck. Goosebumps pebbled on my legs and I shivered. "Want me to warm you up?" his rough voice asked. He didn't wait for an answer. His hand skimmed over my hip, gliding up my belly and through my cleavage so he could use his fingertips to turn my face toward him. Dominic's kiss was slow and sultry; his tongue's wicked stroke was slower still. I was determined to do better this time. To not take over and let him go slow, but this kiss was like flooring his foot on my accelerator. "No." A hand was firm on my hip, stopping me from turning on the bed to face him. "No?" I let my voice go teasing. His chest was up against my back, and I shifted, rubbing my ass against him where only cotton stood between us. He was already raring to go. Good, me too. The hand went tighter still, fingers pressing into my flesh. "We're doing this my way." He pushed his hard cock back against me. "Slow. Long. Neither one of us is going to come unless I want it." I shivered again, excited by his aggressive words, but my controlling personality instinctively kicked in. "Good luck with that." The hand yanked me flat on my back and he was up on an elbow, peering down at me with a stern look. "I don't need luck." His injured eye wasn't too bad, but it was swollen and bluish, and the added day's worth of stubble covering his strong jawline and the dark look made this handsome man appear dangerous. Hotter than the leather seats of my Jaguar in August. He harmlessly slapped my hand away when it tried to grip him through his boxers, and he raised an eyebrow, challenging me to try again. My next attempt was just as unsuccessful and a wicked smile warmed on my face. I pretended to lead with my right, and while he was occupied with that, my left closed around him. "Fuck," he groaned, his hands wrapping around my wrists and slamming them up above my head, pinning them to the mattress. It forced him over me, bringing us chest to hard chest. My nipples tightened. Legs settled around his hips, drawing him up against me. Could he feel how wet he'd made me with those thin boxers on? His head dropped down, bringing his lips beside my ear. "Slow, Payton." I blew out a frustrated breath when his mouth brushed over my sensitive skin. I'd never had this before. Outside of the club, I was always the one in charge. Guys were too turned on, too lazy, or lacked the balls to take control away from me. Not this one. His tongue slid down my neck, his hot breath cool in its trail. Dominic had given me the smallest peek at his dominant side at the club, and I could tell the more comfortable he became with me, the more likely it was to come out and play. "I lied before, when I said I can go slow," I said. He sort of laughed, his face in the valley between my tits. "Yeah, I learned that lesson the hard way." Add to Goodreads - http://bit.ly/1BVqIOw  

 Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is married and has two sons, writes dirty books, and couldn't be any happier. Twitter - http://bit.ly/18sx0ZR Facebook - http://on.fb.me/1CQaZSg Goodreads - http://bit.ly/1A4fHEQ 

 

Love The Way You Lie by Skye Warren Release Blitz

 

A dark romance about the lies that lead us down… I’ll do anything to get safe, even if that means working at the scariest club in town. I’ll do anything to stay hidden, even if it means taking off my clothes for strangers. I’ll do anything to be free. Except give him up. When he looks at me, I forget why I can’t have him. He’s beautiful and scarred. His body fits mine, filling the places where I’m hollow, rough where I am soft. He’s the one man who wants to help, but he has his own agenda. He has questions I can’t answer. What are you afraid of? You.

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1CiX5oz Photographer: Sara Eirew (http://on.fb.me/1yq0nSa) 

Amazon:http://amzn.to/19ddUrS BN: http://www.skyewarren.com/love-the-way-you-lie-bn/ iBooks: http://www.skyewarren.com/love-the-way-you-lie-ibooks/ 

In the first moments onstage, I’m always blinded. The bright lights, the smoke. The wall of sound that feels almost tangible, as if it’s trying to keep me out, push me back, protect me from what’s going to happen next. I’m used to the dancing and the catcalls and the reaching, grabbing hands—as much as I can be. But I’m never quite used to this moment, being blinded, feeling small. I reach for the pole and find it, swinging my body around so the gauzy scrap of fabric flies up, giving the men near the stage a view of my ass. I still can’t quite make anything out. There are dark spots in my vision. The smile’s not even a lie, not really. It’s a prop, like the four-inch heels and the wings that snap as I drop them to the stage. Broken. A few people clap from the back. Now all that’s left is the thin satin fabric. I grip the pole and head into my routine, wrapping around, sliding off, and starting all over again. I lose myself in the physicality of it, going into the zone as if I were running a marathon. This is the best part, reveling in the burn of my muscles, the slide of the metal pole against my skin and the cold, angry rhythm of the song. It’s not like ballet, but it’s still a routine. Something solid, when very few things in my life are solid. I finish on the pole and begin to work the stage, moving around so I can collect tips. I can see again, just barely, making out shadowy silhouettes in the chairs. Not many. There’s a regular on one side. I recognize him. Charlie. He tosses a five-dollar bill on the stage, and I bend down long and slow to pick it up. He gets a wink and a shimmy for his donation. As I’m straightening, I spot another man on the other side of the stage. His posture is slouched, one leg kicked out, the other under his chair, but somehow I can tell he isn’t really relaxed. There’s tension in the long lines of his body. There’s power. And that makes me nervous. I spin away and shake my shit for the opposite side of the room, even though there’s barely anyone there. It’s only a matter of time before I need to face him again. But I don’t need to look at him. They don’t pay me to look them in the eye. Still I can’t help but notice his leather boots and padded jacket. Did he ride a motorcycle? It seems like that kind of leather, the tough kind. Meant to withstand weather. Meant to protect the body from impact. The song’s coming to a close, my routine is coming to an end and I’m glad about that. Something about this guy is throwing me off. Nothing noticeable. My feet and hands and knowing smile still land everywhere they need to. Muscle memory and all that. But I don’t like the way he watches me. There’s patience in the way he watches me. And patience implies waiting. It implies planning. I reach back and unclasp my bra. I use one hand to cover my breasts while I toss the bra to the back of the stage. I pretend to be shy for a few seconds, and suddenly I feel shy too. Like I’m doing more than showing my breasts to strangers. I’m showing him. And as I stand there, hand cupping my breasts, breath coming fast, I feel his patience like a hot flame. This time I do miss the beat. I let go on the next one, though, and my breasts are free, bared to the smoky air and the hungry eyes. There are a few whistles from around the room. Charlie holds up another five-dollar bill. I sway over to him and cock my hip, letting him shove the bill into my thong, feeling his hot, damp breath against my breast. He gets close but doesn’t touch. That’s Charlie. He tips and follows the rules, the best kind of customer. I don’t even glance at the other side of the room. If the new guy is holding up a tip, I don’t even care. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who follows rules. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about him or letting him affect me. Maybe my run-in with Blue made me more skittish than I’d realized. All I have left is my finale on the pole. I can get through this. This part isn’t as physically strenuous as before. Or as long. All I really need to do is grind up against the pole, front and back, emphasizing my newly naked breasts, pretending to fuck. That’s what I’m doing when I feel it. Feel him. I’m a practical girl. I have to be. But there’s a feeling I get, a prickle on the back of my neck, a churning in my gut, a warning bell in my head when I’m near one of them. Near a cop. My eyes scan the back of the room, but all I can see are shadows. Is there a cop waiting to bust someone? A raid about to go down? My gaze lands on the guy near the stage. Him? He doesn’t look like a cop. He doesn’t feel like a cop. But I don’t trust looks or feelings. All I can trust is the alarm blaring in my head: get out, get out, get out. I can barely suck in enough air. There’s only smoke and rising panic. Blood races through me, speeding up my movements. A cop. I feel it like some kind of sixth sense. Maybe he feels my intuition about him, because he leans forward in his seat. In one heart-stopping moment, my eyes meet his. I can see his face then, drawn from charcoal shadows. Beautiful, his lips say. All I can hear is the song. I’m not even on beat anymore, and it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because there’s a cop here and I have to get out. Even if my intuition is wrong, it’s better to get out. Safer. I’ll never be safe. The last note calls for a curtsy—a sexy, mocking movement I choreographed into my routine. Like the one I’d do at the end of a ballet recital but made vulgar. I barely manage it this time, a rough jerk of my head and shoulders. Then I’m gone, off the stage, running down the hallway. I’m supposed to work the floor next, see who wants a lap dance or another drink, but I can’t do that. I head for the dressing room and throw on a T-shirt and sweatpants. I’ll tell them I feel sick and have to leave early. They won’t be happy and I’ll probably have to pay for it with my tips, but they won’t want me throwing up on the customers either. I run for the door and almost slam into Blue. He’s standing in the hallway again. Not slouching this time. There’s a new alertness to his stare. And something else—amusement. "Going somewhere?" he asks. "I have to… My stomach hurts. I feel sick." I step close, praying he’ll move aside. He reaches up to trace my cheek. "Aww, should I call the doctor?" His hand clamps down on my shoulder. "I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you." I grip my bag tight to my chest, trying to ignore the threat in his words. And the threat in his grip. I really do feel sick now, but throwing up on him is definitely not going to help the situation. "Please, I need to leave. It’s serious. I’ll make it up later." He’ll know what I’m saying. That I’ll make it up to him personally. I’m just desperate enough to promise that. Desperate enough to promise him anything. And he’s harassed me long enough that I know it’s a decent prize. I’m sure he’ll make it extra humiliating, but I’m desperate enough for that too. "Please let me go." The words come out pained, my voice thin. It feels a little like my body is collapsing in on itself, steel beams bending together, something crushing me from the outside. Regret flashes over his face, whether for refusing my offer or forcing me that low. But this time he doesn’t let me go. "There’s a customer asking for you. He wants a dance."

Inseparable Strangers by Jill Patten

 

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Lennox Collins is a spoiled and pretentious twenty-something; believing anyone living below the poverty line should be extinguished from the earth. In reality, she’s no different from those she thinks are beneath her since she pathetically reaps from her father’s wealth. After reluctantly saving a strange homeless man from his demise, she slowly discovers a new being within herself. While she nurses him back to health, her daily ritual and sleeping patterns begin to evolve into a life she could never fathom. There’s only one problem though; the deeper she goes, the less she can differentiate between reality and her own mind. *This is a contemporary romance with supernatural elements*

A hand scanted along my thigh leaving a hot sizzle in its path. A gasp passed through my lips as fear trickled up through my chest. My eyes flashed open, but I was unable to see who was drudging up a desire from my core. His calloused finger pressed over my lips. "Shh… it’s okay. It’s me," he whispered, his breath tickling my neck. He didn’t have to say who it was; I knew his voice well by now. After all, he’d invaded my life and I seemed to have lost all control over my mental state. Aaron was hovered over me with both arms stationed on each side of my head. The moonlight streamed through the curtains generating enough light to illuminate the shadow across his face. His eyes stared at me hungrily with lust. I reached up to skim my fingertips over his injured ribs and found his skin bare. His eyes widened along with mine as I realized his entire body was bare. A tingling sensation seized my core and I lifted my hips in seek of relief. That was all it took for Aaron. He lowered his head and his mouth was on mine, stealing my breath, my sounds, my sexual thirst. Taking his knees, he pushed my legs apart and his toned quads pressed down between my thighs. The feeling of skin on skin was exhilarating. I could feel his hardened length graze along the top of my inner thigh, teasing the sensitive lips below. My breathing became shallow with need. 

Jill Patten was born a Yankee, but raised a southerner. She lives in the small town of Mayberry, North Carolina which was made famous by a popular TV show back in the sixties. (Maybe there will one day be a statue of her at the end of Main Street. Ha! A girl can dream, right?) Jill has always loved to read, even during reading labs in middle school for reading comprehension. Judy Blume was her first author she hero-worshipped, maturing to revere the works of Stephen King. With all the fantastic authors today, she simply cannot choose a favorite. Her taste is very eclectic and she loves almost all genres. When she's not captivated by her fictional characters, she spends time with her sweet husband and two beautiful children. Music is her muse. Jill also loves elephants, sarcasm, and anything made with sugar, especially sweet tea. She enjoys all things rude and crude and laughs at stuff she probably shouldn't. She has been accused of being bossy a time or two, but doesn't really see it herself. All in all, Jill is just a small town girl in this great big world trying to enable your book addiction. Oh, and if you read her book, please leave her a review - good or bad, she'll love you forever. 

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Three Simple Rules by Nikki Sloane

 

I would do anything for my dream job. Now I have to. In order to save my skin at the office, I'm forced to sell it at an exclusive and illegal blindfold club. He paid thousands of dollars for one night to own me, but when my blindfold comes off, I want more. More nights, more rules, and more from this unavailable and uncompromising man. Rule number one, no questions. Rule number two, no lies. But, rule number three? That's the hardest one to obey. This book contains strong sexual content and is intended for mature audiences only.

  “Would you like a taste?” Tara asked him. What did that mean? Then her breath was warm on my neck. “I'm going to touch you now.” I jumped when her fingers dragged across the skin of my stomach. Lower, and lower. Was she going to–? Soft, delicate fingers stroked me. I tried to jerk away, but the straps kept me in place. I'd never fooled around with another woman. I could appreciate the beauty of the female body, but I never had any desire to explore anything outside of my own. I liked good, ole-fashioned sex, and knew I still had a lot to learn there. Adding women into the mix seemed overwhelming It didn't matter. Her fingers were stirring my folds where I was shamefully wet, and the slightest of moans slipped out before I could choke it back. She drew her hand away from in between my legs, and there was a noise I couldn't place, like a kiss. No, I figured it out. He was sucking on her fingers. “Does she taste good?” Tara asked. Heat poured through my body. “I'd like to drink straight from the tap,” he said. Oh god. Oh my god. “There's a fee for that, but I'll waive it if we reach a deal.” I assumed that was acceptable to him because Tara again leaned over me and whispered in my ear. “Slide down near the edge of the table, and enjoy.” She sounded envious. I did as asked, my trembling body gliding over the leather. When I was down far enough and my feet dangled awkwardly over the side, Tara's warm hand closed around an ankle and lifted it, setting my foot on the flat surface of the tabletop so my toes curled over the edge. She guided the other ankle so I was laid out before him, my knees bent up in the air. Sliding down had also forced my arms to be bent up by my head. The pads of his fingers were cold when they touched the inside of my knee and gently urged it to the side, opening me to him. My bottom lip quivered. No, my whole body quivered. The fingers dragged across the inside of my thigh until they reached the hollow where my legs joined my body. I wanted him to say something. I wanted him to— “Fuck,” he said in a low, deep voice when his finger brushed over me where only a few men, and now Tara, had touched me, making me shudder. “You're so wet.” His touch was gone and replaced by warm air as his mouth hovered over my sensitive flesh. He kissed the hollow there, then just above my slit, then the inside of my thigh on the other side. Teasing me. Delicious anticipation grew and strangled my breath. I bucked hard on the table when his tongue grazed me. One of his large, cold hands clamped down on a hip to hold me in place. The sensation wasn't like anything I'd felt before. The blindfold focused everything on the pleasure that was spreading outward through my body from his indecent kiss. He licked me again, starting at the bottom of my entrance and all the way up to my clit. “Oh my god,” I said out loud, and then went wooden. I wasn't supposed to speak until spoken to, according to the contract. “You like that?” He didn't wait for me to answer, he just did it again. And again. The beginning of an orgasm developed off in the distance and then was right upon me when he eased a finger where I was soaking wet. “She’s yours for twenty thousand,” Tara said.    

PLAYLIST

Like most authors, listening to music while writing is an absolute must for me. Sometimes I listen to the same song on repeat when I work on a specific scene because either the lyrics match the emotion I’m trying to get on the page, (like “Strange & Beautiful”) or the general mood of the song has a great atmosphere. (“Paradise Circus”) It’s important to note this has side effects. One of the bigger, ahem, “set pieces” was written to Gotye’s “Heart’s A Mess” and now I can’t listen to it without getting horribly turned on. I have a complete Pavlovian response, which is all sorts of awkward when it comes on Pandora while I’m at the office. J Anyway, here is the somewhat eclectic, sexy mix of music I had playing endlessly on my laptop into the wee hours of the night while I drafted “Three Simple Rules.” Hope you enjoy! 

  

Casting

Casting isn’t easy for me. Sometimes I have a character or two that I know immediately going in, but most of the time when writing I picture them as real people who don’t look like celebrities. But if I got to cast my book, here’s who I’d love to see in my super sexy “Three Simple Rules,” complete with character bios.  

Evelyn “Evie” Russell

-A few years out of college and a graphic designer, who’s broke and desperate to succeed at her career.  

Logan Stone

-Evie’s abrasive, marathon-running boss, who demands perfection from his employees.  

Payton McCreary

-Evie’s best friend and a professional escort, who doesn’t give a fuck what other people think.  

Blake Haluson

-Evie’s college friend that she’s not-so-secretly been in love with, who isn’t single.             

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 Nikki Sloane fell into graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is married and has two sons, writes both romantic suspense and dirty books, and couldn’t be any happier. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Nikki-Sloane/722341781171038 Twitter: @AuthorNSloane Website: http://www.nikkisloane.com/ Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8476149.Nikki_Sloane