Late Shift by Alexa Sinclaire (@AlexaSinclaire)

Late ShiftBlurb

She knew his name. He was always on the late shift at the construction site she walked past every night on the way home from work. Beyond that, he was a mystery. None of that stopped her from inviting him up to her apartment every night and letting him give her the best orgasms she’d ever had. She couldn’t trust herself to give him anything else. And he never asked for more.

He knew it wasn’t right—night after night he walked her home during his break and she always let him have her, anyway he wanted. She never said no, never turned him away, and she brought him apple pie to top it all off. He knew she deserved more but he wasn’t sure he could give it to her.

When disaster hits, can they confess that they both wanted more?

Purchase Links

Evernight PublishingAll Romance eBooks | Bookstrand | Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk | Amazon.ca

*****

Excerpt

“So tell me, Tilda, do you often invite men you meet on the street up to your apartment for hot cocoa?” His voice was deep and as he drew out ‘hot cocoa’, she realized how suggestive her invitation must have sounded.

“Oh my God, no, never. Of course not. That’s just stupid. And dangerous. And irresponsible. And stupid. I said that already.” Shit, she was rambling.

Ryan tilted his head to the side, observing her, and she bit her lip to stop herself from spitting out some other moronic reason as to why she shouldn’t invite strangers into her apartment.

“But you invited me up here. And you didn’t even know my name. I could do anything to you. No one even knows I’m here. No one saw us go inside together. You’re a tiny little thing and I could do whatever I wanted.”

He lowered the hot cocoa to the counter behind him and took hers from her hands. Tilda tried not to tremble as his fingers brushed against hers. He was right. Under normal circumstances, she would never bring a strange man up to her apartment, especially in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t have even let him walk her home.

But how she was responding to Ryan was not normal. None of this was normal.

“Don’t you want your hot cocoa?” Her own voice had become husky, and she hated how aroused she sounded.

“I think you know exactly what I want, but first you need to answer me.”

“I didn’t realize you asked me a question.” He smirked and she had to stop herself from reaching out and touching the dimple in his cheek. Shaved head and tattooed paired with a dimple? God, he was lethal combination.

“Why did you invite me up if you know how dangerous it is?”

“Because I know you won’t hurt me.” It sounded so stupid, so ridiculously stupid, but it was the truth. She was drawn to him and she knew by the way he couldn’t stop staring at her that he felt it. “You had plenty of opportunity to drag me into a dark alley on the way here if you wanted to hurt me, and you didn’t.”

He ran his knuckles down her cheek before cupping her face with his large hand. She leaned into it without noticing. He felt so good, so strong, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t crave his touch elsewhere on her body.

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*****

Social Media & Contact

Email: alexasinclairewrites@gmail.com

Website: http://www.alexasinclaireauthor.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AlexaSinclaire

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100010325858012

Tumblr: http://alexasinclaire.tumblr.com/

 

About Alexa Sinclaire

Alexa Sinclaire writes erotic romance: the hotter the better. Originally from the East Coast, she now lives in England with her very own Alpha male British husband.

Hostage Hearts by Rose Wulf (@RoseWulfAuthor)

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Hello and thank you for having me today!

I’m super excited to talk to you about my latest release, Hostage Hearts! This one is a contemporary romance standalone, and a short story as a part of Evernight Publishing’s popular Romance on the Go line!

Hostage HeartsBlurb:

Ace Bufford’s day just went from bad to worse.

All he’d set out to do was a favor for a friend, and he’d somehow found himself barging into a random apartment with a gun in his hand. Except the sole inhabitant wasn’t a stranger; she was Lydia Caldwell. The one that got away.

She wasn’t supposed to want the man who’d pointed a gun at her. But she did. Ace had grown up in all the right ways – well, except for the gun thing. Without knowing how, Lydia suddenly found herself having to decide whether or not to embrace her unexpected attraction. And together they had to find a way to get Ace out of the mess he’d landed in, or their time together would end as abruptly as it had before….

*****

Excerpt:

“Why are you breaking into my apartment and pointing a gun at me after fifteen years?”

Ace released a long breath, slid the duffel from his shoulder, and took a seat on the opposite arm of the couch. “I can’t explain that,” he said as if she’d accept that line. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” she repeated incredulously. She shot to her feet, her adrenaline spiking in equal measure with her temper. “For which part, Ace? For dumping me so you could join the Army? For never returning my letters? For taking my virginity in the dirt behind the bleachers, or for not even giving me an orgasm to show for it? Or are you sorry for taking me hostage with no explanation?”

She thought for a moment she saw him cringe, but then it was gone and the hardened intruder he’d been when he’d bullied his way into her home returned. “Sit down, Lydia,” he said.

“Why? Why does it matter if I sit?”

Releasing a breath, Ace stood and lifted the gun. “Sit. Down.”

Her fury left her in a rush, leaving her feeling deflated and on the brink of tears. But Lydia swallowed that and reclaimed her seat with a grumbled, “Guess it’s not the hostage part, then.”

Running a hand through his hair, Ace replied, “I’m not that clumsy idiot boy you remember, okay? I’ve changed.”

Refusing to look at his eyes again, Lydia said, “Obviously. That boy at least pretended to care about me. He’d never have pointed a gun in my face.”

A soft thump drew her attention and Lydia glimpsed the discarded gun sitting on the farthest sofa cushion a moment before Ace hauled her up by the shoulders and crashed his lips over hers. He slid his tongue into her mouth remorselessly, burying one hand in her loose black hair as the other settled over her hip. He kissed her hard, bruising her lips and stroking his tongue over hers in a wicked rhythm. And, lord help her, she liked it.

Buy Links:

Amazon USEvernightBarnes & NobleAllRomanceBookStrandKoboWebsite

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*****

About Rose:

Rose Wulf is a giant romance fangirl. Hot, protective, sometimes even downright barbaric heroes and spitfire heroines are her favorites. Rose has been writing for as long as she can remember, and over the years she’s only grown fonder of it. The bonds between characters have always captivated her, and as an author those are Rose’s favorite things to play with – not always to the relief of her fictional babies!

Behind the scenes Rose is a quiet personality. She enjoys spending her non-writing time with her four year-old German Shepherd, Shadow, her mom, and her friends. Be it a fun game of Cards Against Humanity or a relaxing movie night, Rose believes everything is better with company. As for her own romance, she’s still searching for her hero (and hoping that, when she does find him, he’ll be willing to cook!).

Where you can find Rose:

Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Amazon | Goodreads | Tsu | Triberr |Instagram

One… and Done by Allyson Young

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Blurb:

When I met Drew at that damn wedding our chemistry was off the charts. All he could offer was the weekend, but uncharacteristically, I jumped at it. When he slipped away like a thief in the night I was blindsided by loss, even knowing people don’t fall in love at first sight! He left me a lifelong reminder though, one to make its appearance in about seven months. Too bad he’d never know…

She was always on my mind, and I couldn’t afford the distraction in this forsaken country where one false move could mean my death. My sniper training dissolved when I thought about Katie and our time together. I was a one and done kind of guy, but this time it was different. I’d be stateside in a few months and offer the apology she deserved. Maybe she’d forgive me, if there wasn’t another man in her life…

*****

One... and DoneExcerpt: 

I woke on Sunday, feeling rode hard and put away wet. I hurt—pleasantly—in mysterious places, and ached pretty much all over, but especially between my legs. The room smelled satisfyingly of our mutual lust and I drank it in, flopping my hand to the side in search of Drew. The linens were cool to the touch and I frowned, then smiled. Probably making breakfast again. He made a hearty breakfast, a good thing, considering we’d spent most of yesterday fucking.

Padding into the bathroom, I took care of business, then turned the shower on. Drew had bathed me twice during our sexathon, but I needed another. As the water heated I brushed my teeth, studying myself in the mirror. I looked much the same, tall and slender, blonde hair tousled from bed and adventurous sex, pale skin now marked with scruff burns and purple stars from teeth and suction, tiny bruises from strong fingers. I traced over one on my hip and smiled with satisfaction, then hustled into the shower. Drew was insatiable and likely had carnal plans for after breakfast.

The apartment was dead quiet. No television, no sounds of activity in the kitchen, nothing. The heavenly smell of coffee embraced me as I neared, the carafe full and a mug beside it. No sign of Drew and I spun in a circle, seeking him out even as I accepted the truth. He was gone. Wow. He’d left without a word, left me used up and yet wanting more in the bed we’d romped in for hours. As well as on the couch, the floor, the innocuous wing chair in the corner and the shower. Rather than focus on the bereft feeling blossoming in my belly, I thought about the fact we hadn’t christened the countertop… Maybe he’d gone out to get a paper or something. An ingredient for breakfast.

I crossed to the front door, expectant as a pup awaiting its master, before catching myself. What in hell was I doing? If he came back, we’d pick up where we left off. There was no need for worshipful anticipation. And if he didn’t… I was seized with a terrible anxiety that I might wait forever, not knowing…

I poured the coffee—one mug—and gingerly lowered myself to a stool. The cushioned chairs at the table were more comfortable, but a part of me needed the penance. My lady parts were really sore, something I’d denied in the shower, and would serve as a reminder of sex I’d never forget, and a warning of never indulging my libido again. Because I had a really bad feeling. There were consequences to every not-well-thought-out action.

*****

Links:

http://www.amazon.com/Allyson-Young/e/B00A9WPAYK

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/allyson-young/

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=Allyson+Young

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22Allyson%20Young%22?Ntk=P_key_Contributor_List&Ns=P_Sales_Rank&Ntx=mode+matchall

http://www.bookstrand.com/allyson-young

https://play.google.com/store/books/author?id=Allyson+Young

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/search?query=Allyson%20Young&fcsearchfield=Author

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/allysonyoung1

*****

About the author:

Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.

Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the darker side of romance.

http://www.allysonyoung.com

allysonyoung45@gmail.com

Cold Night Moon by Naomi Clark (@naomi_jay)

Thanks for having me here on your blog today! I’m really excited to be sharing my latest release, COLD NIGHT MOON – book five in my Urban Wolf Series. This is a series that’s really so close to my heart for a lot of reasons, and it’s great to be back in Ayla and Shannon’s world. I’ve been with these characters for six years now, and I like to think that each installment, whether it’s a short story like this or a full-length novel, has expanded the world and see my werewolf ladies grow. In COLD NIGHT MOON, I get to play with some British folklore (always fun!) and give Ayla and Shannon a romantic break in the woods…well, a sort of romantic break, anyway. I hope you’ll love it!

 

Excerpt

“We’re going home,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as shaky as I thought it did.
“No! Can’t you hear her! It’s so beautiful, Ayla, I have to see… I have to find her…” She slapped uselessly at my arms.
I had to change position. I couldn’t really see past her head and if she started kicking, she could take out my knees with those heavy hiking boots. But I didn’t want to let her go to try and put her in a better hold. With a groan, I sort of rolled her in my arms so we were face to face. Her expression was one of angry hunger, nothing like the Shannon I knew. She slapped me, her gloves stinging my cheek.
“Let me go!”
I growled and hauled her over my shoulder. She kneed me in the stomach and pummeled my back, shouting now.
“Put me down! I have to see her!”
“There’s nobody there!” I cried, frustration boiling over into anger of my own.
“Please, Shannon—”
She kneed me again, knocking the breathe from me, and I stumbled. Her weight overbalanced me, pitching us both into the snow, with Shannon landing on top of me. While I wheezed for air, she tried to scramble off me, but I grabbed her wrists and clung on. The sheer panic on her face scared me. It was the intense, mindless panic of an animal fleeing a wildfire, a human watching a friend die. You couldn’t reason with that, couldn’t snap someone out of it. She twisted and thrashed, trying to free herself, while snow soaked through my jeans and slid into my boots, sending chills through me. I was fighting the elements as well as Shannon, and whilst I could outfight Shannon if I wanted, I couldn’t hold off the cold forever.
I gritted my teeth. “I’m so sorry,” I said, and then I headbutted her.

 

Buy Links
About the Author
Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she’s not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she’s hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn’t available, she’s with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.

 

Find Me Online

Let’s Ride by Rebecca Black (@Northerngirl76)

Hello!

Thanks for having me today so I can give my new book Let’s Ride a shout out.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I really love a good, quick read. Busy lives often don’t leave as much time as we’d like for reading, do they? I’m not always so bothered about the backstory, I just want to live vicariously for a moment through the characters as they experience that first rush of lust and desire in a new relationship – I want to get a little hot and tingly 😉

Well Evernight’s Romance on the Go range is all about fulfilling this reading need and my new release Let’s Ride is a part of that.

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Let’s Ride started life as an erotic short that I wrote for Masturbation Monday (a meme that I write for most weeks). I saw a black and white photograph of this gorgeous, androgynous woman sat on a kick ass motorbike in just a pair of knickers and this piece of flash fiction just fired out of me. Talk about inspiration!

She looked like she wouldn’t take any crap and she looked very capable of sweeping someone off their feet. It got a lot of great feedback so I decided to extend it and lucky for me, Evernight liked it too.

I’ve read some great books with well written dominant male characters, both straight and gay, but I really wanted to write a recognisable archetype with a twist. There isn’t one good reason on this earth why the hero has to be male. Let’s Ride completely rejects that assumption. Jo is confident, self-assured and has a dominant streak a mile wide, but she’s also a beautiful woman, inside and out. She rides into town and sweeps Mary-Beth right off her feet and into her bed. I love her (I know I’m not supposed to say that because I wrote her, but I really do!) and I hope you do too.

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So here’s the blurb:

“I would do just about anything to be on the back of that bike when she leaves this place.”

Trapped in a small town life, Mary-Beth always knew there was something better out there. Then Jo rides into town and walks straight into the diner where she works. Sexy, dominant and self-assured, Jo is everything Mary-Beth wishes she could be. Their hot, intense meeting crashes through Mary-Beth’s small world and offers her the promise of a new start.

Will Mary-Beth leave everything behind and ride with Jo towards the chance of a new life?

Excerpt:

Standing by the window, I’m trying to take a lunch time customer’s order but my attention is caught by a bike riding into the gas pump out front.

I hold my breath. She is pretty much everything that I wish I could be. Tall and lean. Enough fuck you attitude to tame a horde of marauding Vikings. She straddles that bike like she was born to it, like she never rode a trike. Like she just stepped right onto all that horsepower and with a flick of her wrists rode off into the sunset, giving everyone the finger as she went.

I would do just about anything to be on the back of that bike when she leaves this place.

She kicks the stand and moves the bike smoothly into its stationary position, slinging her long leg over the back wheel.

I jump a little when our eyes meet through the window. I’m supposed to be taking this guy’s order but I got distracted, seriously distracted. She smirks when her eyes roam over the redness in my cheeks.

Heat has suffused my body; a fine sweat has broken out on my skin and I know I’m in trouble. So much trouble.

I manage to scramble my brain sufficiently to take his order and drop it off at the kitchen. Moving around the bar, I grab the coffee pot to do refills. I can’t stop looking at the door.

Will she come in? Or has she just come for gas?

Please let her come in.

I want to see her up close—I want to see her eyes—that flawless skin. I want to run my fingers over the black shaved hair on the sides of her head, run them through the longer top that she has greased back. I want to watch her eyes close with the pleasure of it.

I hold my nerve when I hear the bell ring over the door. I’m pouring coffee—it really wouldn’t do to spill it and burn a customer. I’m bent over slightly to reach the cup, and my skirt brushes against the back of my legs when she walks past me.

I smile distractedly as the customer thanks me, turning my head to see she has taken a seat at the bar.

Walking over on shaky legs, I smooth my damp palms down the front of my uniform apron.

She sits tall, resting her elbows on the counter. Her legs are open, one heel of her heavy black boots hooked higher on the stool than the other. Her jeans are tight, riding low on slim hips, well worn with a small rip over one knee. A tight white t-shirt stops a few inches from the waistband of her jeans, showing smooth lightly tanned skin that I desperately want to touch.

Her knowing gaze follows me as I move around the bar to face her. I can almost feel a pressure on my skin where it touches me.

“What can I get for you?”

“What have you got?” she asks in a low, husky voice. Her eyes lock on mine. Her eyebrows are like a raven’s wings, perfectly shaped, drawing my attention across her arresting face.

“Pretty much anything, as long as it’s deep fried and unhealthy,” I say wryly.

She laughs. The sound is low and rough and strokes over my nipples.

“Always tastes good, though, don’t it?” she replies. That smirk plays across her mouth again as her gaze drops to my lips. “I’ll just take a coffee for now. Think I’ll get something sweet in a little while…”

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Thanks for reading!

Purchase links:

Evernight | Amazon | All Romance | Bookstrand

red_lipsAuthor Bio:

Rebecca Black is a Yorkshire girl born and bred. She is first and foremost a voracious reader and lately an author of erotica and erotic romance. She believes that the hottest sex scenes are the ones where emotions are involved (plus lots of dirty talk, lots of spanking, licking and sucking and well… you get the idea). She is the author of A Taste For Three (m/m/f) from Evernight and has several short stories due to be released in erotic anthologies. Rebecca is a regular contributor to the fantastic Cliterati magazine.

Find Rebecca here:

Twitter | Facebook | Facebook Author Page | Tumblr | Goodreads

Susceptible to Him – A Risso Family Novella by Lynn Burke (@AuthorLynnBurke)

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Susceptible to HimBlurb:

Lia Risso walked in on her fiancé and three other women on Valentine’s Day. Two celibate years later, her roommate creates a profile for Lia on a dating website—without her knowledge—and sets up a date. On Valentine’s Day.

Ryan Walsh, a self-made millionaire and libertine, refuses to commit to any one woman. Tossed from foster home to foster home as a child, Ryan is on guard against becoming vulnerable ever again.

One dinner…one night of dancing and flirting with the attraction between them, puts both Lia and Ryan in danger of heart break.

They have a choice—open themselves to the possibility of hurt or walk away, never knowing what might have been.

 

Purchase Links:

http://www.authorlynnburke.com/books.html

 

Excerpt:

My nerve endings stirred as the subtle scent of sandalwood wafted across the table time and again. What man used sandalwood-scented soap anymore? By the cut of his suit and the Rolex on his wrist, Ryan Walsh had money. And plenty of it. Why no expensive cologne? The chick-lure nectar of the gods his type bathed in?

He grinned again, and heat filled the empty place only Mr. Pink had seen or stroked in two years. Ryan’s attention drifted to my lips and lingered as our waiter took his time pouring our wine.

I forced myself to breathe as my treasonous nipples pebbled, begging for attention.

Damnation. I do not want this.

He was too friggin’ sexy for his own good. And by his suggestive grin and the twinkle in his eyes, he knew it too.

“Are you ready to order, Lia?” Ryan asked, his focus staying on my face instead of dipping downward like most men’s did.

Praying my voice didn’t betray my arousal, I turned my attention the waiter. “I’ll have the shrimp Fra Diavlo.”

“And for you, sir?”

Ryan spouted off a few words in Italian, never once breaking eye contact with me.

My lips twitched. Papa would be impressed.

When the waiter ambled away, a smile—a real smile, not the cocky, you-know-you-want-me ones he had offered until then—revealed straight, white teeth.  “So.”

His low voice caressed my ears, and I pressed my thighs together. Thank God I hadn’t shaved. No doubt he had little trouble getting women into his bed. Or their bed. Or against a wall.

Holy shit.

 

About Lynn Burke:

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

Her current work, the Risso Family Novellas, revolves around four siblings from Boston’s North End.

Website:  http://www.authorlynnburke.com/

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Lynn-Burke/555282497937461

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/AuthorLynnBurke

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/38758632-lynn-burke

 

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