Dirty Boxing by Harper St. George and Tara Wyatt (spotlight, excerpt, and GIVEAWAY) ADULT title

DIRTY BOXING 

The Blood and Glory series

Volume 1
by

Harper St. George and Tara Wyatt

ADULT title




Pocket Star EBook

September 18, 2017

ISBN 9781501170195

$1.99

Romance

 

“St. George (A Marriage Deal with the Outlaw) and Wyatt (Necessary Work) have written a fast-paced romance filled with sizzling chemistry, which will have readers rooting for Jules and Nick to find their way back to each other. Verdict: This novel will have broad appeal for readers of sexy contemporary romance, not just those who have an interest in MMA.”

—Library Journal

“A heartfelt story of second chances set in the high stakes world of MMA fighting…a satisfying blend of emotional drama and sizzling love scenes…Dirty Boxing embraces the swirl of confusing emotions that inundate its leads, using the turmoil to deepen their characters and complicate their relationship…Wyatt and St. George also devote considerable space to Nick's close-knit family and Jules' strained relationship with her father, ensuring that the leads' families are complex figures with their own biases and flaws. The result is a romance with a happy ending that, in allowing for the work still to be done, feels all the more rewarding.”

—BookPage

After an unstable childhood, Jules Darcy is very familiar with the risks of falling in love. And as an adult, she’s never let herself forget just how high those stakes can be. That’s why she ran away a year ago after her fling with MMA fighter Nick Giannakis quickly got serious. But when she jumps at the opportunity to reconnect with her dad by accepting a job with his growing fight league, she’s stunned to learn the abs, the chiseled arms, and the rock-solid punches she has to market belong to none other than her former fling. Unable to run away from the sexy middleweight this time, Jules vows to keep things strictly professional. But one look at Nick, and her resolve starts to crumble….

The last thing Nick expects when he signs with the prestigious World Fighting Championship is that he’ll have to work with the only woman who ever broke his heart. Desperate to hide the pain she caused him, Nick vows to keep his distance from his gorgeous ex. But when he realizes their intense chemistry hasn’t faded after a year apart, he wonders if they could have a future together, even if dating the boss’s daughter could complicate his bid for the championship belt.

Under the bright lights of Las Vegas, in the world of high-stakes prize fighting, they’ll have to take a risk and decide if their love is worth fighting for.

Excerpt:

Jules tugged Nick into a dark, semisecluded corner, as far away from Mia and Lana as possible. A large palm mostly sheltered them from view, but they were far from alone. “You’re already on thin ice here, Giannakis. My father has it out for you. He signed you because of your fan base and your marketability, but he doesn’t like you. You need to behave.” She leaned toward him, practically hissing out the last few words. Damn, that closeness felt good.

He crossed his arms, snorting out a chuckle. “You dragged me away from those women because you’re worried about what your father thinks?” Before she could respond, he backed her up against the wall, caging her body with his. “I think you didn’t like watching me flirt.”

Her jaw clenched and her eyes flashed—lust and anger and need all shining out at him. “I went over there to save you from yourself, but it’s clear you don’t want my help.”

“You’re right. Help isn’t even close to what I want from you.”

Her body flared—her eyes, her nostrils, her chest—and her lips parted. “I refuse to do this with you right now, Nick. I’m working.”

“That’s pretty goddamn ridiculous, seeing as you’re the one who hauled me into this corner because you couldn’t stand watching me have a good time with someone else.”

“You have an ego the size of Texas,” she ground out, and he inched closer.

His eyes closed for a second as he inhaled. Lavender. “But I’m right. Go ahead. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She planted her hands on his chest, and he could tell she’d meant to push him away, but at the contact she’d stilled, leaving her palms flat against his pecs. His skin warmed at her touch. “Move.”

“No.”

“You’re a man-child.”

He dipped his head and nipped at her earlobe. She let out a surprised gasp and shuddered. “And you’re the most frustrating, infuriating, gorgeously sexy woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Someone stumbled into Nick as they passed, and he pressed into Jules, taking the impact and sheltering her, but erasing all distance between them. Their eyes locked, and he knew she could feel how hard he was, his cock straining against his zipper as it pressed against her hip.

He eased back just a little, and her brow furrowed, as though she didn’t want him to move away. Electricity charged through him, and before he could talk himself out of it, he covered her hand with his, slowly dragging it down his chest. Her breath caught, the black of her pupils almost completely eclipsing the blue of her eyes. His heart galloped in his chest as he waited for her to tug her hand away, but she didn’t. He slid her hand over his stomach, lower, lower, and stopped when it rested over the bulge in his pants.

“I may have been talking to other women, but none of them do this to me.” He moved her hand over him, a tiny stroke. “That’s all because of you.”

He braced his hands on the wall on either side of her, not to cage her in, but to keep himself upright. She didn’t take her hand away, and he smiled, a victorious thrill rushing through him. Dropping his head, he kissed her neck. For a year he’d thought he’d never feel her skin under his mouth again, and he closed his eyes against the sudden onslaught of emotion churning through him. She moved her hand over him in another little stroke, and he flexed his hips into her touch.

He managed to pull his head up, away from her. “Admit it, Jules. You want this.”

She rubbed her palm over him. “I think you’re the one who wants this.”

Their gazes locked again and the party swirled around them, music throbbing, voices shouting. Her fingers went to his zipper, and as she pulled it down with agonizing slowness, his balls tightened in anticipation.

Amazon


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About the authors:

Harper St. George was raised in rural Alabama and along the tranquil coast of northwest Florida. It was a setting filled with stories of the old days and it instilled in her a love of history, romance, and adventure. By high school, she had discovered the romance novel, which combined all of those elements into one perfect package. She has been hooked ever since. She currently lives on Florida’s Emerald Coast with her family and loves to connect with readers. She would love to hear from you. Please visit her website at HarperStGeorge.com or connect with her on Facebook at Facebook.com/HarperStGeorge.

 

 Tara Wyatt is a contemporary romance and romantic suspense author who has won several awards, including the Unpublished Winter Rose, the Linda Howard Award of Excellence, and the Heart of the West. A librarian by day and romance writer by night, Tara lives in Hamilton, Ontario with the world’s cutest dog and a husband who makes all of her heroes look like chumps. Find her at Tara-Wyatt.com.

 

 

Blog Tour Schedule:

September 15

USA Today’s Happy Ever After – EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT

September 17

Ramblings from this Chick – GUEST POST

September 18

The Reading Frenzy – INTERVIEW

BookPage October Digital Dalliance – REVIEW

KT Book Reviews

A Midlife Wife

Mrs. Leif’s Two Fangs About It

September 19

Abigail Books Addiction

Satisfaction for Insatiable Readers

Toot’s Book Reviews

September 20

Reviews by Crystal

Bookaholics Romance Book Club

Jenerated Reviews

Collectors of Book Boyfriends

Straight Shootin’ Book Reviews

September 21

Dirty and Thirty

Stephanie’s Book Reports

Celtic Lady’s Reviews

September 22

The Reading Addict

EBook Obsessed

Smut Book Junkie Book Reviews

Romance Reviews Today

Valeen Robertson

September 25

The Staircase Reader

Collectors of Book Boyfriends

September 27

An Asian chick & her cat walk into a book blog

September 29

Reading Diaries

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GIVEAWAY

To celebrate the first in the Blood and Glory Series, we’re giving away one promo code for a download of DIRTY BOXING!

To enter, please leave a valid e-mail address and a comment about either your favorite sport (and why it's your favorite) or what your favorite elements of MMA or boxing are. Using Randomizer, a winner will be chosen from eligible entries after September 30, 2017

Nightlife series by Matthew Quinn Martin (spotlight)

This Summer, Read The Stars!

 

 

And Enjoy Nightlife Like You Never Have Before….

 

 

“Thrilling, edgy, and scary as hell, Nightlife is an outstanding debut and––along with Justin Cronin’s The Passage and Charlaine Harris’s Sookie Stackhouse novels––it's also one of the most original takes on the vampire novel I’ve ever read.”

—Jason Starr, Bestselling Author of The Pack

 

 

Matthew Quinn Martin first terrified horror fans with Nightlife: Night Terrors (Pocket Star EBooks; October 2013; $5.99), the captivating story of two unlikely monster hunters determined to save the city of New Harbor from the Night Angels—bloodthirsty creatures that feed on the forgotten. Jack Jackson and Beth Becker are among the few who can see these creatures for what they really are, but as they hunt the creatures, a mysterious organization known only as The Division is hunting them.

 

 

In the novella Nightlife: Hazardous Material (Pocket Star EBooks; May 11, 2015; $.99), we get a glimpse of The Division’s origins and aims, when a young man stumbles onto a long-abandoned video arcade—which three decades ago was the site of the largest mass shooting in New York history—and unwittingly uncovers a relic of unimaginable power and mind-altering terror.

 

 

 And in Nightlife: Night Terrors (Pocket Star EBooks; July 27, 2015; $1.99) readers will discover the never-before-released As the Worm Turns, where Jack and Beth are back, along with their faithful dog, Blood. For months they’ve been keeping just one step ahead of The Division, whose enigmatic leader has been pursuing them with the single-minded obsession to capture them by any means necessary. But as Jack and Beth continue their quest to rid the world of the creatures once and for all they find themselves facing off against something even more terrifying than the Night Angels––something that could hold the key to humanity’s salvation…or its doom.  NIGHTLIFE: NIGHT TERRORS is three amazing horror stories in one chilling bundle...the only thing you won't fear is the price!

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 Author info

Matthew Quinn Martin was born in Allentown, Pennsylvania and raised in New Haven, Connecticut, it wasn’t until Matthew moved to Manhattan that he realized he was a writer. These days, he lives on a small island off the North Atlantic coast of the United States where it gets quiet in the winter…perhaps too quiet…

Website

Twitter

Game On by Gabra Zackman (release announcement)

I am happy to help announce the release of a debut author's new title, which sounds like it will be a fun read.  Even better, it is available for a special price for a limited time!

 

Out of the gates with Game On!  Now only $1.99 from April 6^th – 20^th!

 

“GAME ON is a thrilling romantic caper filled with double crosses, gadgets, and just the right amount of heat…Zackman’s debut mixes romance, pop culture, and espionage into a page-turner that plays with expectations. Readers will find a fast-paced story that is equal parts action and romance.”

—Library Journal

“Game On is delightfully intriguing…Gabra Zackman interweaves the best of comedic romances plus zany adventures to create a constantly entertaining story…This is only the first book in the Bod Squad series, and I am eager to see the types of exploits that await this group of extraordinary individuals. Game On is imaginative and appealingly different.”

—Single Titles

 

Part caper, part romantic comedy, the hilariously entertaining book Game On by Gabra Zackman is first in the Bod Squad series, featuring a sassy and sexy undercover operative, Susannah “Legs” Carter, and her Ocean’s Eleven–style team of private investigators. 

 

Game On

Gabra Zackman

Pocket Star Ebooks

April 6, 2015

$4.99 (Only $1.99 from April 6^th – April 20^th!)

From Washington, DC, to Paris, Legs is tailing Charles Oakley Palmer III, a white-collar criminal she’s determined to bring to justice. But will romance or betrayal blossom along the way? Find out in the first in a sizzling new series about a team of highly skilled investigators who go undercover to catch criminals—while juggling romance, world travel, and danger around every corner.

 

Debut author and actor Gabra Zackman knows romance.  Game On was inspired by the more than one hundred romance and women’s fiction titles that Zackman has narrated for audio. She divides her time between her native New York City and Denver, Colorado. @GabraZackman

 

 

Upcoming Bod Squad titles: All In will publish on July 13, 2015 and Double Down will publish on November 2, 2015

Author's website

Barbarian's Concubine by Lisa Cach and Tempt Me Eternally by Gena Showalter (ADULT titles) (Excerpts and GIVEAWAY)

These are ADULT titles

 

1,001 Erotic Nights, Part 2: Barbarian's Concubine by Lisa Cach

SUMMARY:

After Clovis becomes king of his tribe of Salian Franks he reunites with Nimia. He soon realizes how useful her Phannic gifts will be, and with her help, plots to take down Soissons. She is in love with Clovis, however, and while he says he loves her, too... there is a calculating coldness in his eyes sometimes that makes her wonder if he knows what love is.

Sygarius, meanwhile, is outraged that Nimia fled, and he too has realized that she has useful powers. He wants her back. And he is prepared to fight for what’s his.

 

EXCERPT:

Terix heaved a put-upon sigh. We’d had this same argument a hundred times over the past month and a half as we fled from Sygarius and toward . . . toward . . . Well, that was the issue. Toward what? The only answer that had any meaning—to me, at least—was to find my lost people, the Phanne. And the only clue I had to finding them was the story that a tattooed man named Maerlin had once met my onetime lover (and only one time, gods rot his betraying heart), the Frankish prince Clovis, on the shore of the channel. Maerlin had told Clovis that he was of the Phanne and going to Britannia, and that Clovis must remember this fact, for someday it would give him what he sought.

An annoyingly mysterious statement, that.

“He’ll want more from you once we’re on his boat. You’ll have to give it to him, too,” Terix tried.

I hoped so.

Hades, what had come over me? This was not the Nimia I was familiar with, for most of her life untouchable and untouched, the consecrated sexual-toy-to-be of Sygarius.

Or maybe I was the same Nimia: I had spent those untouched years lusting for the feel of another’s hand on my skin. Perhaps it should be no surprise to anyone, least of all myself, that once my virginity was gone I would seek to gorge myself on that which I had so long been denied.

Jax was the first attractive opportunity to do so. How convenient for me that we needed his help.

“Better a cock rubber . . .” I said, reviving an old joke between us.

“Than a pot scrubber,” Terix answered, but then made a face. 

“That was only funny when we were slaves with no choice.”

“There’s never a choice for the likes of us. Not here in Gaul, anyway, with Sygarius hunting us. We have to get beyond his reach.”

Terix threw up his hands. He knew I wasn’t going to be dissuaded. 

“It’s your cunny.”

“My cunny isn’t part of the deal, you know that.” At least, not yet it wasn’t. One look at my tattoos, and no matter how horny Jax was for me, he’d be a lot hornier for the ten-soldi reward. “It’s the only way, Terix.”

Terix turned his shoulder to me, and made grumbling comments to his cup of mead that I chose not to decipher.

I slid my gaze to Jax, and sent him my answer in a small smile and a nod.

Jax rose at once, leaving his friends to their dice and drink. He wove through the crowd, coming toward me with an easy, natural confidence, his arms relaxed, his narrow hips and sinewy frame moving without hurry, but with purpose. A sudden certainty came to me that a man who moved through a crowd like that, with no sign of either arrogance or caution, was a man who didn’t blink at killing anyone who got in his way.

A shiver ran down my spine and landed in my loins. I was a fool if I thought I was in control of this situation.

My cunny pulsed in response to the thought.

“All is agreed?” Jax asked when he reached me. His Latin had an accent I couldn’t place; I guessed that he’d not grown up amid Romans. How old he might be, I couldn’t say: deep crow’s-feet spread from his eyes, and grooves ran from the edge of his nose to the corners of his mouth, but a life on the water would do that to even a young man. His hair hung thick and dark brown, and his teeth flashed white in his tanned skin.

I nodded.

He took my elbow in a gentle grip and guided me from the tavern into the scorching heat of the day. The sun felt like flames on my skin. My stomach fluttered as I realized this was happening; I was going alone with Jax to the stables. I had agreed to suck his cock in exchange for his agreeing to take us on as paying passengers, and he was not a man who would let me change my mind.

 

Link continuing the excerpt to XOXOAfterDark

 

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TEMPT ME ETERNALLY
by Gena Showalter

SUMMARY:

 The huntress becomes the hunted in this sizzling paranormal romance from New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Gena Showalter, previously published as part of the Deep Kiss of Winter anthology with #1 New York Times bestselling author Kresley Cole, now available as a stand-alone ebook!

With only skin-to-skin contact, Aleaha Love can change her appearance, assuming any identity. As an AIR (Alien Investigation and Removal) agent, her newest mission is to capture a group of otherworldly warriors. So imagine her surprise when the hunter becomes the hunted, and she’s taken captive by dangerously seductive Breean, a golden-skinned, iron-willed commander, who threatens everything Aleaha stands for—and makes her want to be only herself, for the first time in her life.

EXCERPT:

They were coming.

Warriors unlike any other. Monsters of unimaginable power. Otherworlders. Fierce creatures with the ability to look inside your soul, glimpse your greatest fear, and present it to you with an unrepentant smile.

 

Should’ve stayed home, Aleaha Love thought. ’Cause we’re gonna get spanked. Hard. And not in a good way. Instead, she’d answered her cell and her captain’s call to action, and now found herself crouched in the middle of a gnarled forest, staring into a snow-laden clearing, moonlight shooting bright amber rays in every direction as flakes wafted in the breeze like fairy dust.

Though she wore white from head to toe, had a pyre-gun stretched forward, and was burrowed in a drift as cover, she felt exposed. Vulnerable. And yeah, damn cold.

 

What in the hell did I get myself into?

“Everyone in position?” a voice whispered from her headset.

A whisper, yeah, but it startled her. She managed to cut off a yelp, but couldn’t stop tremors from sweeping through her. Steady. 

She’d never hear the end of it if she accidentally fired her weapon before the fight had even begun.

“Premature weapon ejaculation,” they’d say with a chuckle, and she wouldn’t be able to deny it.

One by one, twenty teammates uttered their assent. They had wicked cool nicknames like Hawk Eye and Ghost. Her turn, she said, “Lollipop, in place.”

She rolled her eyes. “Dress her up and watch her play bad alien, delicious cop,” the boys had laughed before giving her the stupid moniker her first day on the job. “Naughty lawbreakers will want to taste her, not outrun her.”

That had been, what? Five weeks ago, she realized with a jolt. Oh, how life had changed since then. From hiding in the shadows, afraid of what she was, to working cases with New Chicago’s elite team of smart-asses, content with her somewhat pampered existence. A pampered existence she didn’t deserve and hadn’t earned, but whatever. No guilt for her. Really.

“Need someone to snuggle against, Lolli?” a quiet, amused male voice asked. Devyn, supposedly a king of some sort and a self-proclaimed collector of women. He wasn’t really a member of Alien Investigation and Removal but was a special contractor, as well as the man who’d once wired her gun to blow bubbles rather than fire at target practice.

Word on the street, he was more powerful than God and deadlier than the devil, though no one would tell her outright what he could do. He was an otherworlder, that much she knew. That, and most of AIR’s flunkies kept their distance from him. They feared him, which only heightened Aleaha’s need to keep her own secrets.

She, too, was different.

She didn’t know whether she was human or alien. Or both. She didn’t know whether there were others like her or not. She didn’t know who her parents were or why they’d abandoned her on the dirty streets of the Southern District—a.k.a Whore’s Corner—of New Chicago, and she didn’t care. Not anymore. All she knew was that she could assume anyone’s identity with only a touch. That person’s face became hers; their height became hers; their body became hers.

For years, she’d lived in fear of being found out, of being hunted and tortured for her unnatural ability, afraid that everyone who looked at her saw the truth and knew she wasn’t who she claimed to be. But she couldn’t drop the mask. As herself, she was wanted for theft, assault against a police officer, and more theft. And then maybe kinda sorta murder. Not that she was culpable. He’d deserved it.

She’d rather lose a limb than spend any more time in jail.

Her fear of discovery was waning, though, and she was settling comfortably into her newest life as Macy Briggs. Maybe one day I’ll even be worthy of it. Again, not that she felt guilty. Really.

But with Christmas only a few weeks away . . . ugh. Worst. Holiday. Ever. Her “friends” would bake Macy’s favorite foods, not Aleaha’s. They would give her gifts meant for Macy, and reminisce fondly about good ole days she knew nothing about, and she would have to smile through every minute of it. And yeah, okay. Fine. Then she would feel guilty.

“What, ignoring me?” Devyn said with another of those snarky laughs. “Wasn’t like I was going to ask to feel you up or anything. I mean, I was just gonna surprise you with my handsiness.”

God, she was on the job, yet she’d lost track of her thoughts. 

Mortifying. “Can you take nothing seriously?”

“Hello, have you met me? I take making out very seriously.”

All the men on the line snorted in their attempts to muffle their laughter. They might be wary of him, but they couldn’t help but enjoy his perverted sense of humor.

“Fuck you, Chuckles,” she said, trying not to reveal her amusement. Irreverent bastard.

“Excellent. We’re on the same page, because that’s exactly what I’m trying to do to you.”

Give herself to Devyn? Not in this lifetime, and not because he wasn’t attractive. If anything, he was too attractive. Hell, he was total screw-like-ananimal perfection. Tall, with dark hair, wide amber eyes, and skin that glittered like a jewel; there was no one else like him. There was a recipe for his smile, though: wicked desire dipped in acid, wrapped in steel and sprinkled with candy. The recipe for his laughter? Well, that was wicked desire tossed in the gutter, wrung out in a whorehouse, and slathered with scented body lotion. 

Women threw themselves at him constantly, and he ate it up like they were his own personal smorgasbord.

They probably were. Thank God she wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend. Or, rather, a lover, since that’s all someone as fickle as Devyn could ever amount to. Macy—the real Macy—had been dating a piece of scum Aleaha was still trying to lose and she didn’t have the time or patience to throw anyone else into the mix.

“Temper, temper,” Jaxon Tremain chided. He was one of two agents who hung out with the sexy otherworlder, and the resident smoother. There was something unnaturally calming about his presence, as if he could slink inside a person’s psyche and wash away her fears. “Would you kiss me with that mouth?”

“Funny,” she said dryly.

She could hear the others chortling and snorting with more surprised amusement. Someone said, “Soliciting kisses from women, Jaxon? Mishka will kill you for that.”

“If by kill you mean seduce, then yeah,” Jaxon replied. “You’re right.”

Mishka was Jaxon’s wife and a hired killer who possessed a robotic arm. Aleaha had only seen her once, but that had been enough to scare ten years off her life. Never had she seen eyes so cold or heard a voice so uncaring. Of course, the moment Mishka spied Jaxon, her entire demeanor had changed. So had Jaxon’s, for that matter. Usually he was as con- servative as a priest. One glance at Mishka, though, and he’d morphed into gutter man.

Aleaha had marveled at the change in him, a change she was witnessing once again. Empathetic as he was, perhaps he was veering onto the perverted track now to get her mind off the bloody massacre sure to begin. Apparently, though, she didn’t need help today. She couldn’t concentrate worth a damn. What was wrong with her?

“Well,” Devyn said, drawing the spotlight back to him. As always. 

“Be a good lollipop and answer the man. Will you kiss him or not?”

“I could give you a list of all the things I’ll never do to you with my mouth,” she muttered. “How ’bout that?”

Devyn laughed, and, yep. It was wicked desire. “She reminds me of Mia when she talks like that. Tell us, Lolli, is that list for everyone or just Jaxon?”

“All right, team,” Mia Snow herself interjected before Aleaha could reply. “Save it. You know I only want you to stun these men. Do not burn them. I repeat, do not burn them. An open wound will bleed and that will spread their infection. And believe me, I will kill every single one of you myself if that happens.”

There was a moment of frightening silence. Infection. What a delightful reminder. Not only were the warriors coming here vicious, there was a possibility that they were bringing the plague with them.

“Good,” Mia continued. “I’ve got your attention. Solar flare approaching in ten.” She was inside a van about a mile away, watching the action on a night- vision monitor with a handful of backup agents. “Nine.”

Aleaha tensed. A few months ago, a big case had busted wide open and AIR had learned that otherworlders were traveling to Earth through interworld wormholes that initiated with solar flares. Then, a few weeks after that, another case had come to light. Members of a race of aliens known as the Schön had descended, their bodies carriers of a virus that passed to humans through their blood and ejaculate. This virus turned men and women into cannibals. Their queen—or living host of this sickness—was on her way here, due to arrive in the near future.

Tonight, ten members of her horde were supposed to utilize one of those wormholes. Their purpose: to smooth the way for her. Which meant, destroying AIR.

“Six.”

Shit. The countdown. Despite the frigid temperatures, sweat beaded on Aleaha’s brow, dripping from the brim of the white cap she wore. Stay calm. You have to stay calm.

“Five.”

Though her résumé claimed she’d worked as a cop for more than two years, this was actually Aleaha’s first mission.

What seemed forever ago but had only been a few months, she’d stumbled upon the body of a woman who’d been raped and killed in a back alley—a woman she’d recognized as Miss New Chicago’s Finest in Uniform calendar girl, Macy Briggs.

 

She’d almost walked away. The higher the public profile, the more scrutiny she received. But . . .

Already tired of the adult-toy-store clerk identity she’d previously stolen, Aleaha had seized the chance to better herself, hiding the body and shifting so that she was an exact match to Macy’s appearance, thereby claiming the woman’s life as her own.

Only later had she learned that Macy had applied to AIR and been accepted. To back out would have looked suspicious and changing identities yet again hadn’t appealed. So she’d done it. She’d attended that first day, then the next. And the next. They’d watched her suspiciously, as if they knew the truth, but they had never accused her and she’d realized she was probably paranoid. 

Soon they’d even relaxed, accepting her as one of their own. Now, here she was, done with trials and on mission one.

“—was actually your warm-up,” Mia said, cutting into her thoughts. 

“Ten. Nine.”

Shit. She’d missed the end of the first countdown? She was practically begging to be killed tonight.

“Seven. Six.”

Oh, God. What if she did, in fact, die out here? What if she lost everything she’d worked so hard to gain? Her gun hand shook. You have to stay calm, damn it.

With bouts of extreme emotion, she shifted from one identity to another without any control. 

“Four. Remember, guns set to stun and only stun.”

Her pyre-gun was already dialed to the proper setting, so she curled her index finger around the trigger and swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Breathe in, breathe out. You do know how to fire a weapon, at least. A skill she’d learned from her only true friend, Bride McKells. A vampire, and her champion. They’d been separated more than a decade ago, chased apart by cops who’d caught them breaking into homes for food, and Aleaha hadn’t been able to find her since. She’d never stop looking, though.

“One.”

 

Link continuing the excerpt to XOXO After Dark:

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GIVEAWAY

Please leave a valid e-address and a comment on which of these stories you prefer and you might have the chance to win a copy!

Hollow by Ava Conway and Cracks in the Armor by Helena Hunting (Pocket Star-ebooks spoltlights and GIVEAWAY)

 

Hollow by Ava Conway

SUMMARY:

 Girl, Interrupted meet Beautiful Disaster in this thrilling and sexy debut novel, in which a college student learns her perfect life is a lie and finds new love where she least expects it—a mental institution.

Freaks, misfits, and psychopaths. Those are the kinds of people found at Newton Heights Psychiatric Hospital, and high-society girl Lucy White’s new home.

Freaks, misfits, and Jayden McCray. Jayden has his own set of rules for life at Newton Heights, and in this enigma, Lucy finds a way to live with the events that left her cheating boyfriend and best friend dead—and Lucy in the middle of the investigation into their demise.

The problem? Jayden makes her want things she’s not supposed to have, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality and making Lucy feel more at home in Newton Heights than she ever did at home. But this isn’t how her life is supposed to be…

EXCERPT:

“AFTER I PRESSED the accelerator, things get a little fuzzy,” I said.

“Hmm . . .” The lawyer twirled his monogrammed pen between his fingers and scribbled something into his notebook. “The same thing’s written in the police report.”

I tried to move my hands, but remembered they were strapped to the bed. After I ripped all the lifesaving tubes out of my arms last night, the hospital staff wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything so stupid again.

“Does it look as bad as the papers are suggesting?” My father pushed his fingers through his hair, which had turned more salt than pepper since I had gone to college.

The lawyer slapped his notebook shut and slid it into his leather briefcase. “You know the media will exaggerate anything to get a story. Although I have to admit, an attempted suicide one week after the accident won’t help her defense.” He clicked the briefcase shut with a loud, purposeful snap and smoothed his designer suit. “The jury will think she has a guilty conscience.”

“Come on, honey. Think.” My mother drew her neatly trimmed brows together, bringing attention to her large, round eyes. Normally my mother’s baby blues were her best feature, but the clumpy mascara and bronze eye shadow she’d chosen that morning made her look tired and worn out.

“There must be something else you remember. Some little bit of information that could help the police drop the charges.” She took my hand with her long, manicured fingers. People said that we looked alike, but besides the raven-colored hair and blue eyes, I didn’t see very much in common. It was almost as if we came from two different worlds. Hers was stoic and orderly. Mine was a neurotic mess.

I shook my head and turned to the lawyer. “There’s nothing more.” My voice sounded hoarse and strained.

Probably because of all the tubes they had to jam down my throat while trying to keep me alive.

My father swore and started pacing the hospital room. Even tired he looked magnificent, like some great stallion in an Armani suit. His angular features, tanned skin and outgoing personality drew people to him and made him an outstanding lobbyist. It was a damn shame that it was for show. Only my mom and I knew that the charismatic lobbyist waged an inner war with himself every night, armed with his trusty bottle of bourbon and a Cuban cigar.

“Your friend was right. You shouldn’t have been driving that night.” The lawyer leaned against the bottom of the bed and arched his brow. “None of you should have.” The highhanded tone grated on my nerves. All my life I had been trying to live up to my parents’ impossibly high standards.

The last thing I needed was this greasy-looking rent-a-lawyer talking to me in such a condescending tone. I opened my mouth to tell him this, but was cut off by my father.

“They can’t prove she was driving,” he said. “The car flipped over and no one was wearing a seat belt.”

“He’s right.” My mother dropped my hand and stood. “The other two were thrown from the car.”

“I know, and that’s why there’s still a chance of overturning the manslaughter charges.” The lawyer studied me for a long moment with his beady, green eyes. From day one, I didn’t like this guy. It wasn’t just that he was conceited or condescending, it was how he always seemed to be calculating his next step, as if life was this massive board game and he was playing to win. While I had no doubt that his decisions were the best for him and his law practice, I wondered if they were the best for me.

My mother certainly seemed to think so. She hung on his every word.

“What if we send her away to live with extended family for a while?” she asked. “It will keep her out of the press until things calm down.”

“No,” my father said. “We can’t send her out of state while she’s facing charges.”

“You have no relatives close by?” the lawyer asked.

“We moved away from them to be closer to work,” my mother explained.

I didn’t like how these people were discussing my future as if I wasn’t in the room. “I don’t need to hide from the press.”

“Don’t be silly, Lucy,” my mother said. “You know we can’t afford the negative publicity right now. If you stay with us, then reporters will set up tents on our lawn, waiting for

some crumb of information that they could use to tear us down.”

“She’s right, unfortunately,” my father said. “We have to find a way to keep her in state, but out of the public eye until this all blows over.”

“I’m twenty-two. I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can, dear,” my mother soothed. “Now hush, we’re thinking.”

The lawyer studied my face. Uneasiness crawled over my skin as his beady eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “I’ve got it.”

“What?” my parents both asked at the same time.

The lawyer’s gaze never left mine as he addressed my parents. “Is there any history of mental illness in the family?”

“Of what?” My mother stiffened and exchanged glances with my father.

“Of mental illness,” the lawyer repeated, turning toward her. “If there is, I could talk to her doctor about arranging an evaluation while we wait for a court date.” He straightened away from the bed railing and began to pace. “If we can prove she’s mentally unstable, it would help with the defense.” He drummed his fingers together as he walked, as if closing a steel trap.

“You want to put my daughter in a loony bin?” My mother swayed and grabbed the bed railing.

“Not a loony bin—a mental hospital. And only if she needs it.” The lawyer cracked his knuckles. The loud noise reminded me of how both of Bethany’s legs had been broken in the crash. “Yes, putting her in an upscale institution like Newton Heights until the investigation is over will help gain sympathy for our cause.”

“Newton Heights. That’s where that celebrity went last year when she announced she was being treated for depression, isn’t it?” my father asked.

“Yes, but . . .” My mother waved her hand in the air, as if struggling to find the right words.

“It’s expensive, but for those who can afford the high costs, it offers a sanctuary from the outside world.” The lawyer waved his hands to the sides and flashed his slick smile. “There’s also a teaching hospital on site, so if she should need physical treatment . . .” The implication was clear. If I was ever to try to kill myself again, emergency personnel would be on site to save my life.

Fear sliced through me at the thought of going to Newton Heights. I didn’t want to be locked away with all of the crazy people, like some reject in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I wasn’t sure what they did to patients at Newton Heights, but if it was anything like that movie, I wanted no part of it.

“I’m not going.” My voice sounded small and weak to my ears.

“You might not have a choice in the matter, kid,” the lawyer said. “Not if you want to beat these charges.”

My father bowed his head and ran his hand over his face. “I can’t believe this is happening to us again . . .”

“Clark—”

My father lowered his arm and nodded to me. “She’s turning out just like him.”

“Who?” I asked.

The air became thick with tension. I switched my focus from my father to my mother, but neither was willing to expand on my father’s mutterings. Instead they stood there, staring at each other, and I couldn’t help but think that some silent war was being waged in front of me.

“Mom, what’s Dad talking about? I’m turning out like who?” Hair fell into my eyes. I shook my head, trying to remove the offending strands from my field of vision.

“Whom,” my mother corrected, her gaze still fixed on my father.

“I was so convinced Lucy would turn out differently . . .”

The vein in my father’s temple pulsed, but otherwise his face remained an expressionless mask.

My mother let go of the bed railing and put her hand on my father’s arm. “Clark, she is different—”

“Would someone tell me what’s going on?” I raised my voice, desperate for some answers.

“We can’t keep up appearances under so much scrutiny.”

My father unfolded his arms and placed his hand over hers. “No.”

I tried to sit up, but the restraints forced me back on the pillows. “Mom, what’s he talking about?”

My mother moved to my side. “Not now, Lucy.” She swiped the hair from my face and smiled reassuringly. “To answer your question, Mr. Jameson, yes, there’s a history of mental illness in the family, but I will die before that information is leaked to the press.” Her voice was a sharp contrast to the gentleness of her touch.

“There’s no need to tell the press,” the lawyer reassured her. “Just the doctor. All we need is an evaluation.” He glanced at me. “Since she’s technically not a minor, we’ll also need her signature.”

“Leave that to me,” my father said.

A disoriented feeling settled into my core as I mentally flipped through all of my extended family members. “Who was mentally unstable?” I whispered to my mother. “Was it

Aunt Heather? Cousin Paul?”

“Not now, Lucy.” My mother turned to the lawyer. Her face became a cool, expressionless mask. “Will that be all, Mr. Jameson?”

The lawyer shifted his gaze between the three of us, as if weighing his options. “For now, yes. The police are still going through evidence at the crime scene. They’ll probably want to question her again at some point.”

“What happens if Lucy’s found guilty?” my father asked.

“Vehicular manslaughter is a serious crime. It would most likely involve prison time.”

My mouth went dry. Prison?

Link continuing the excerpt at XOXOAfterDark

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by Helena Hunting

Cracks in the Armor

SUMMARY:

Chris, a sexy tattoo artist, tries to win the heart of Sarah, a grad student with little interest in him, in this second e-short and follow-up to Helena Hunting’s gripping love story, Clipped Wings—“twisted, dark, incredibly erotic…a love story like no other” (USA TODAY bestselling author Alice Clayton).

Part owner of the Chicago tattoo shop Inked Armor, Chris Zelter is a talented artist who decorates skin with gorgeous designs. He might look the part of the typical jacked-up, inked-up bad-boy, but underneath is a fiercely loyal, complicated man. Kicked out at sixteen, Chris has had to fend for himself for the last twelve years, making his Inked Armor crew as much family as they are business partners. For him, it’s enough—until he meets Sarah Adamson.

A grad student waitressing at the local strip club, Sarah is used to propositions and crude comments. The job is a means to an end—finish her MBA, pay off the tuition loans, and get a good job. Then she won’t have to rely on anyone to take care of her. So when brawny, tatted up Chris begins hanging out at the club, she rebuffs his advances. At first. But Chris isn’t like her usual clientele: despite his hard exterior, he’s almost…sweet.

Sometimes, the people with the roughest edges have the biggest hearts.

EXCERPT:

At the end of my shift I changed out of my slut attire and back into my jeans and T-shirt, then headed out the back door. The security guard had changed. He was one of the ones I didn’t know. Or trust.

He gave me a sidelong glance. “You want me to walk you to your car?”

“I’m right there.” I pointed to my Tercel.

His eyes narrowed. “That’s your ride?”

It wasn’t much of a ride, compared to some of the flashy cars parked out here. The girls who performed the best also got the best perks, leased cars being one of them. I was perfectly happy not to be among the privileged few. “Yeah. Have a good night.”

“I think I should walk you over.”

I was parked under one of the lights. If he was looking for a little end-of-night action, it wasn’t the most covert place to have it happen. He must have read the skepticism in my expression.

“One of the guys on camera detail warned me that some dude was out here fucking around by the cars. It was during shift change, so there wasn’t anyone here. I’d feel better if you let me check things out.”

I glanced nervously at my car and shrugged. “Yeah. Okay.”

I trailed behind him as he stalked across the lot. He walked around the vehicle, looking for . . . signs of forced entry maybe? When he didn’t find anything sinister, I pulled on the handle to find that it was locked.

“Huh, that’s odd.”

His shoulders rolled back and his eyes shot around the dark lot. “What?” His hand went behind him, as if he was getting ready to go for a piece. It wasn’t the first time I suspected the security was armed with more than brass knuckles and walkies.

“I don’t lock my doors.”

“What?” He looked at me like I was crazy.

“Do you see this?” I gestured to the Tercel and then motioned around the lot. “Of all the cars here, who would choose mine to steal?” I peered into the backseat. All the doors had been locked. Only one person would do that.

I rummaged around in my purse until I found my keys. After unlocking the door, I bent down and felt around under the front seat until my fingers closed around a keychain. I bit my lip to stop the stupid grin from breaking out. Though it would be more convenient to have my own key, there was satisfaction in knowing he’d drop one off for me because he wanted to see me. “It’s cool. My b— friend was just leaving me a key.” I almost stumbled over the word.

“Next time, tell your friend to leave it with one of us instead of sneaking around back here. We’ll get it to you.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Chris would never leave his key with one of these beefcakes. I slid into the driver’s seat and let the bouncer shut my door. He waited until I pulled out of the spot before he ambled back to his post. He was a lot nicer than some of the other guys who worked for Xander, surprisingly.

I checked my phone at the first red light. There were several texts from Chris—the most recent were admonishments for not locking my doors. The ones before and after contained an invitation to stay the night and a message about the key he left under the driver’s seat. Tonight hadn’t been bad, so I wasn’t about to pass up the offer. I was glad I’d packed an overnight bag, as I always did.

I pulled into the parking spot reserved for Chris’s bike. He’d angled it at the top of the space so there would be enough room for my car. He was always thoughtful like that. It made me feel like a bitch for not inviting him over to my place more often, where parking wasn’t an issue.

It had been too long since I’d spent any real time with him. I didn’t like how much that bothered me, or how excited I’d been about the text and key. That I constantly packed a bag in advance was a red flag I chose to ignore.

I was quiet as I made the trek up the stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door. The light above the ancient, avocado-green stove was on, casting a pale glow over the dated kitchen. There was a note propped up on the counter with my name written across the front in Chris’s elegant cursive. I always teased him that he wrote like a girl.

I set my bag down quietly, though a bomb could go off and Chris would sleep right through it. I left my shoes on, because Chris insisted I never walk barefoot around his place, and crossed over to the counter. There were little doodles in the corners of the note he left me. Designs that reminded me of the tattoos he put on other people. Ones he refused to put on me.

Hey sweetlips,

I hope you had a decent night. There are fresh towels in the

bathroom and a sandwich in the fridge. Give me a kiss before you

pass out.

~Chris

I folded it and put it carefully inside my bag. I had a little box of notes like these from him in my bedroom. I kept every single one.

Link continuing the excerpt at XOXOAfter Dark

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