Friday, September 30, 2016

Release Blitz for Midnight Scent by Dori Lavelle




Title: Midnight Scent
Series: Amour Toxique #1
Author: Dori Lavelle
Genre: New Adult Romantic Thriller/Suspense
 Release Date: September 27, 2016



Blurb

I find the love letters in my new dorm room, left behind by a previous occupant.

They're meant for someone else, but the words speak to me. They slide off the page and wrap themselves around my body, touching me in places I never knew existed.

I'm falling in love with each word, unable to stop myself.

And I don't even know his name.

Until they tell me.

His name is Judson Devereux. They say he’s toxic. Falling for him will be a mistake.

I want to believe them. I want to walk away. But the words refuse to be erased from the invisible parts of me.

I'm hooked on the scent of his poison. It’s bad for me. It could kill me. But I’m in too deep.

*This series contains sexual content, dark themes, and violence that could trigger emotional distress in readers.*

*Amour Toxique is a serial that unfolds over three volumes.*



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AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU






Author Bio

Dori Lavelle, is a mother, wife, and a sucker for happy-ever-afters and mint chocolate.

Growing up, Dori read a lot, and when she wasn't happy with a particular ending, she wrote a different one, just for herself. Before long, she was writing stories when she should have been doing homework. The time has come for her to share the stories she cooks up in her head.




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Giveaway

Cover Reveal for Kill Me by LP Lovell.




Title: Kill Me
Series: Kiss of Death #1
Author: LP Lovell
Genre: Dark Romance
Cover Design & Photographer: Cassy Roop, Pink Ink
Model: Casey Creswell
Release Date: October 24, 2016



Blurb

Una

To many, I am little more than a myth. The Kiss of Death, a hired killer, revered by the some of the greatest criminal organisations in the world. Trained by the bratva themselves, without conscience, without mercy, the perfect soldier. I’ll kill anyone… for a price. Death doesn’t discriminate, she sells to the highest bidder, but even I have a weakness.

Luca

I want one thing—power. But power is merely a game of strategy. The pieces are on the chess board. Death is my queen, and also my pawn. She’ll paint this city red in exchange for the one thing she wants. Now all I have to do is watch it all play out. She’s nothing more than a weapon, and yet, I find myself wanting to dance with death, to possess her. And I always get what I want.

A game of power. A risk that could cost her everything. An obsession that would see the world burn at their feet. A bloodied king. A broken queen. Kill me or kiss me?





Pre-order Links

AMAZON US / UK






Author Bio

Lauren Lovell is an indie author from England.

She suffers from a total lack of brain to mouth filter and is the friend you have to explain before you introduce her to anyone, and apologise for afterwards.

Lauren is a self-confessed shameless pervert, who may be suffering from slight peen envy.

LP loves to hear from readers so please get in touch.



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Thursday, September 29, 2016

Cover Reveal for Written in the Scars by Adriana Locke.




Title: Written in the Scars
Author: Adriana Locke
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Kari March Designs
Photographer: Lauren Perry, Perrywinkle Photography
Cover Model: Ghent Scott
Release Date: October 20, 2016



Blurb

Falling in love is easy.

Falling out of love is the hardest thing in the world.

And Elin and Ty Whitt are terrible at it.

The first time the local basketball star smiled at Elin, she was a goner. It was just so damn easy to fall for the dark-haired hometown hero with his charming smile and strong, athletic build.

Thousands of sleepy smiles, aimless drives down country roads, and squeaks of the backdoor after a swing shift later, reality hits. And it hits hard. Falling in love was definitely the easy part. Watching it break apart was impossible.

Through the tears, the second-guesses, the memories of a life built together, the world keeps spinning. With each turn comes clarity and hope—sometimes in the form of a pair of muddy boots by the back door or from the words of a wise friend.

When Ty shows back up with a new found determination to put his family back together, Elin's torn between the fights of the past and the possibility of a new start. This is the man that holds her heart, the man she loves beyond anything else. But this is also the one person in the world that can cause her the most pain.

Life’s not always easy. Love’s not for the faint of heart. But with life comes lessons and Ty and Elin have the scars to prove it. But it's their love written in those scars that will hold them together … or break them apart.



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Author Bio

USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.

She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather's nice and there's always a piece of candy in her pocket.

For sneak peeks, giveaways, and more, please join Adriana's Facebook Group, Books by Adriana Locke, or her Goodreads group, All Locked Up.



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Release Blitz for Meeting the Unpredictable by Riann C. Miller




Title: Meeting the Unpredictable
Author: Riann C. Miller
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 29, 2016



Blurb

What happens when opposites attract?

Tyler has spent the last six years constructing his perfectly boring life, which is exactly the way he wants it. He spends his days hiding behind the protective walls he has so carefully built and has no intentions of changing . . . until he meets the unpredictable.

Lennie Jacobs is an intoxicating mess. She never stays anywhere long enough to form a solid relationship with anyone, including her family, because she has taught her fragile heart that love isn’t an option.

What started as a way to pass the time soon blossoms into something neither expected.

He was never meant to be permanent.

She can’t promise forever.

But, when life and love are on the line, everything changes.




Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK





Excerpt

“Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

I roll my eyes and gesture to the dog she’s walking.

She looks down at the dog then back at me. “How could I not is the better question. Being locked up in the same small space day in and day out . . . I know that seems like a normal day to you, but to most people, it’s enough to drive them crazy.”

My step falters when I hear her answer. No one outside of Chad calls me out on how little I leave our apartment. Even Chad is starting to give up.

“These dogs are more than likely going to die, anyway.” Lennie turns a sharp stare my direction. “The reason these dogs won’t get adopted is because everyone wants the cute, shiny puppy. Most people won’t stop to notice that these dogs have a lot to offer the world. People just need to open their eyes and take a chance.”

I’ve apparently ignited a fire.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. My parents aren’t animal lovers so we never had a pet.”

Lennie tilts her head to the side. “Tyler, have you ever felt unconditional love?”

Her question causes my head to spin. I was in love once, only life didn’t work out how I pictured. The only thing I know for a fact is she didn’t unconditionally love me.

“Sure, my parents love me unconditionally,” I finally answer.

“What if you disagreed with them? If you told them you were gay or that you robbed a bank? That you killed someone? Would their love still be unconditional?”

I look her in the eyes, and I can tell she’s seriously questioning my answer. “I don’t know. I’d like to think they would.”

Her face softens. “Humans come with strings. They always have and they always will, but the love you get from an animal is truly unconditional.”





Author Bio


Riann C. Miller lives in southeast Kansas and writes steamy contemporary romance stories. When she’s not reading or writing, she spends time with her friends and family or you might catch her watching a baseball game with a beer in her hand.



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Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Cover Reveal for Plunge by Carian Cole w/a Tavi Grace




Title: Plunge
Series: Solivagant #1
Author: Carian Cole writing as Tavi Grace
Genre: Dark Romance
Cover Design: Kari Ayasha, Cover to Cover Designs
Release Date: 2016



Blurb

I tried to killed myself.

And much like everything else in my life, it went wrong.
Terribly wrong.

I woke up dead and broken. But not dead at all.
And not alone.

I want to go back. To the life that no longer seems as hopeless or as horrible as I thought it was. Even back to the man who wasn’t nearly as frightening as the one who’s now slowly inching his way across the room.
Closer to me.

But I can’t go back. The door has been closed. The lock has turned. The key thrown away.

Now there’s just the dark. And the quiet. And the fear. And those eyes.
And that touch.

He made me his angel. He became my God.

And I don’t know if this is heaven or hell.




Author Bio

Tavi Grace is the alter ego of author Carian Cole who wanted to write words that Carian didn’t want to write.

Ms. Grace writes stories about sexy, damaged, and slightly evil men and the women that will inevitably fall under their spell even though they damn well know they shouldn’t. These books will most likely have a few WTF moments and may or may not have a happy ending depending on how much sleep Tavi has gotten.

Tavi is almost half a hundred years old and lives in a house in the woods with a hot guy and a bunch of fuzzy pets that shed non-stop. She has an unhealthy addiction to toasted marshmallow flavored lattes, listens to the TV instead of watches it, and suffers from chronic wordlust.



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WEBSITE



Audiobook Release Blitz for the Web Master Trilogy by Normandie Alleman



Web Master Trilogy
Author: Normandie Alleman
Genre: Contemporary Romance



An online connection.
Masked by anonymity.
No cameras. No pictures.
Curiosity ignited to intrigue.

I thought I knew what I was getting into, but had no idea how far we would go...

My intention was to test the waters, dip my toe in the wading pool. Instead I surrendered to the world of seduction and submission as he submerged me--body, mind, and soul--into an ocean of eroticism.

Emails, texts, and hidden identities, were one thing. But now, coming face-to-face with the mystery man, the star of my fantasies, both terrifies and completely thrills me. If all goes according to plan, he will intensify the exquisite bond we share by transporting me to that glorious intersection between agony and ecstasy. If not, everything we've built will come crashing down around us, destroying my dreams in the process.

Either way, there is no going back. Because I want more. Much more.
He always says, "For every ounce of pleasure, a price must be paid."

And I am going to pay ...







Purchase Links

Free in Kindle Unlimited

EBOOK
AMAZON US / UK
AUDIOBOOK




He's my addiction, my love—my life.
He's my Dominant—my everything.
He's changed me, and I never want to go back.


But now, he's asking for too much.
Going too far.
It's out of my comfort zone--not who I am.

I'll swallow my pride and face my fears
But something tells me he has ulterior motives for this extreme request,
and I will get to the bottom of it.

That is, if I can pass his test.








Purchase Links

Free in Kindle Unlimited

EBOOK
AMAZON US / UK
AUDIOBOOK




She's my addiction, my love--my life.
She's changed me, and I never want to go back.


I tried to protect her.
Hell, I tried to protect myself,
but I fucked it all up.

I may be a sick bastard, but I would lay down my life for her.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to make every inch of her mine again.

I always tell her for every ounce of pleasure a price must be paid.
She’s already paid more than she ever owed.

Now it’s my turn to pay.








Purchase Links

Free in Kindle Unlimited

EBOOK
AMAZON US / UK
AUDIOBOOK



Audio Sample



Excerpt

This would be the first meeting where I would see my lover face-to-face.

He’d left strict instructions for me to sit at the table he reserved for us. He requested I sit with my back to the entrance. This tricky move on his part allowed no way for me to see him as he entered. If his intention was to control and torture me, it was working. A loose strand of hair tickled my cheek, so I tucked it behind my ear.

I watched for the waiter, again wanting that drink, but as much as I hated being outside my comfort zone, I loved the naughty, decadent feeling I got from doing something simply because my Master told me to. When I submitted to his demands, I stepped outside my safe little world, the one where my ex-husband ignored me for years, where I felt inconsequential. With him I wasn’t invisible. He relied on me.

Sure, it was for things of a sexual nature, but to me, that was something, and I felt fulfilled for the first time in ages.

A few months ago, when I’d been supremely pissed at my cheating husband, I went online. I admit it, I’d been looking for trouble, which was mind-numbingly easy to find. I hadn’t intended to find a darker side of myself with needs that shocked me. I’d never meant to find someone. I’d merely been looking, searching—for what, I wasn’t sure.

What I did find was a whole new world of dominance and submission, self-inflicted pain as well as pleasure, and sexual satisfaction with a stranger. A man who reached out and touched me in corners of my soul I hadn’t known existed. We spoke every day, I performed sex acts upon myself at his command, and sent him reports on the intimate and sometimes humiliating tasks he gave me.

I was his submissive, and he was my Master, and every aspect of our relationship took place over the internet. I addressed him as “Sir,” but in our chats he went by the moniker, “MC.” We communicated via Skype, email, chats, and the occasional phone call, never seeing one another. That is, until today.

I had insisted we not use cameras, even though he implored me to do webcam “sessions.” My privacy was of the utmost importance to me, so I always refused. I’m a kindergarten teacher and couldn’t take the risk of being videotaped. So the only notion I have of what my Master looks like is a product of my imagination.

But today he flew to Houston to meet me in person. To have a real “play date.” In the flesh. A chill ran across my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Today I would finally meet the man who dominated me for the past few months. My stomach roiled with anticipation. What would he look like? Would it matter? Of course whatever he looked like, he wouldn’t be the “Master” I’d daydreamed about.

Things never worked that way. It would be like conjuring an image for the hero in a book. When a movie is made, the actor never matches the character in your head. It was always a disappointment.

I’d tried to prepare myself for that from the beginning. I never pictured MC to be a handsome movie star. Instead, I envisioned him as rather average, with salt-and-pepper hair and kind features. For some reason I pictured him wearing glasses, and possibly a beard.

In any case, it wasn’t his physical appearance that captivated me. MC awakened a primal response in me. He exposed my mind to a world in which I could be open about my sexual desires. A world where the wanton girl inside me was encouraged to come out and play, rather than squelched and pushed into a back closet where she had always lived. He controlled my sexuality, sensing my deepest, darkest needs. And it didn’t hurt that he made me feel cared for and cherished at a time when I desperately needed that.

My phone showed it was 5:12. Any minute now… The wait had been both excruciating and delicious at the same time—a perfect reflection of our relationship, a testimony to both pain and pleasure.

“Close your eyes, my pet.” The familiar voice was a sound I’d come to crave, and hearing it sent shivers of anticipation dancing down my spine. Suddenly, I wanted to freeze that moment in time, to stop while things were still beautiful between us, before reality could mar the fantasy…



 Author Bio


A former psychologist, Normandie has always been fascinated by human behavior. She loves writing quirky characters that are all too human. Fiber arts, baking, and Pinterest are a few of her favorite pastimes. A shamelessly proud basketball mom, Normandie lives on a farm with a passel of kids, an adorable husband, and a pet pig who’s crazy for Red Bull. If you’d like up to the minute new release info on Normandie’s books text RACYREADS to 24587 (Use all CAPS).



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Release Blitz for Dirty Neighbor by Cassie-Ann L. Miller




Title: Dirty Neighbor
Series: The Dirty Suburbs #1
Author: Cassie-Ann L. Miller
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 28, 2016



Blurb

Keeland Masters...Growing up, he was the boy next door, my brother’s best friend, the guy who asked me to the prom...and then stood me up. He just vanished into thin air.

Now that he’s back in town, he wants to come over to play. And I’m not talking hopscotch. But he’s hurt me once, so I’m sticking to my side of the fence no matter how good he looks pushing that lawnmower in all his tanned, toned shirtless glory.

Dirty Neighbor is book one in the "Dirty Suburbs", a series of stand-alone romantic comedies set in small town Illinois.






Purchase Links

99c

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU



Trailer




Excerpt

Keeland

I veer off of the I-96 and guide my Harley onto the off-ramp. I grin to myself as I glance up at the huge, green highway sign looming above the road.

Welcome to Reyfield, Illinois.

I never thought I’d ever feel so damn happy to see that sign again but after all I’ve been through over the past three years, I just want something simple and familiar. I want to be in a place where I don’t feel antsy, like I’ve got to keep looking over my shoulder.

Reyfield is it. It’s almost like coming home…

Almost.

I’m well aware that the Masters’ left a lot of destruction in our wake the last time we were in this town; unpaid bills, unsaid goodbyes and at least one very broken heart.

Maybe it’s time to pay old debts, heal old wounds and make amends as best I can. Maybe it’s time for a fresh start.

It’s a chilly night. Fall is creeping its way into town. I breeze through the streets and everything feels familiar. It all gives me a little thrill in the pit of my stomach. The gothic architecture of the Presbyterian church…The washed-out “Go Tigers!” banner hanging outside of our old high school…The field where we played football…The burger joint we used to go to for lunch when the school cafeteria’s offerings resembled road kill topped with warm dog food...

I take a left off of Clifford Boulevard and pull onto Hyatt Street. The corner store is right where I left it. I cut my engine in the parking lot and stroll through the front door. I give a quick nod to the middle-aged woman sitting behind the cash register and make my way down the narrow, brightly-lit aisles.

Man, it feels good to just walk down the aisles of a freakin’ convenience store. When you’ve been locked away for as long as I have, you learn to appreciate the simple things.

I stand in front of the chip display for a moment, trying to decide between vinegar and barbecue. “Fuck it…” I’m having both. And how about a bag of jalapeƱo-cheddar, too? I’m making up for lost time, after all.

I grab a case of beer — the cheap kind that we used to buy with our fake ids when we were teenagers. I’m feeling awfully nostalgic tonight. Then, I grab more chocolate-covered pretzel sticks than any self-respecting 27-year-old man ever should.

When I get to the condom aisle, I pick up eight three-packs of XL Magnums.

Yes, that might seem overly ambitious but I haven't had sex in three freakin’ years and whoever I take home with me tonight is in for a hell of a good time. The ladies don’t call me Master Kee for nothing. My main priority tonight is to drain the tank into the first acceptable-looking broad that comes my way and to be honest, ‘acceptable-looking’ is pretty much open for interpretation at this point.

Because I’m horny enough to fuck my way through the Reyfield phonebook.

I drop my goodies onto the counter and the cashier eyes me with an arched eyebrow and a subtle grin. “Exciting night planned?” she asks, tipping her chin towards the condoms. The innuendo in her voice is undeniable.

I give her a second glance. Is she Ms. Acceptable for tonight? Nah, she’s probably older than my mother and she smells like she’s been marinating in cigarette smoke and cheap perfume all day. My definition of “acceptable” may be loose, but not that loose.

I nod politely as I glimpse at the number glowing on the screen of the cash register and pull a $100 bill out of my wallet. She drags her long fingernails along my palm as she deposits the change into my hand.

Did my cock just twitch?

Down, buddy. Down.

“Have a good night, Big Boy,” she purrs as I give her a quick salute and duck out the door.

I store my goodies in my backpack and jump onto my bike. When I rev it, the poor thing lets out a choked straining sound. I’ll look into it first thing in the morning, but for now, I’m on mission to get laid.

ASAP.


Samantha

“Breathe in...hold hold hold...breathe out...Breathe in...hold hold hold...breathe out...Breathe in...hold hold hold...breathe out…”

I take long deep breaths, doing my best to synchronize my rhythm to the sound of Isla’s voice pouring into my ears. The cool morning breeze blowing over my face and the sun smiling down on my skin make it that much easier.

This is one of the few things that I absolutely adore about being back in Reyfield. It’s a quiet, serene town. Except for the occasional ruckus caused by the young children playing on the street and the yapping of the over-talkative Yorkshire terrier a few doors down, the place is a sanctuary. A slice of suburban perfection. The ideal place for soul-searching and self-reflection.

But Reyfield is just too slow-paced for me. Take Thornbush Lane, for example. The cul-de-sac is charming, for lack of a better word – the kind of place you’d go to raise a family or grow old, I guess. A cast of interesting characters occupy the lane. Nancy and Delores, the gray-haired duo who’ve appointed themselves as the two-woman neighborhood watch, the eccentric mailman who delivers my mail to the wrong house half the time, meddlesome neighbors who drop by unannounced when you least expect them. That all adds to the cozy feel of the place. But for an ambitious 25-year-old like me, Reyfield is nothing but a dead end.

Growing up, I couldn’t wait to get out of the suburbs. And that’s what I did as soon as I could. I moved 15 miles south, to Chicago for college and then took a job in the city. Everything was going relatively well until four months ago when I suddenly got laid off. Now, here I am, unemployed, single, broke and for the past six weeks, living in my parents’ house again.

Ugh.

Thank god mom and dad are staying in Florida with grams till next spring so at least I have the house to myself. I did not work my ass off for my certified internal auditor designation only to end up living with my parents forevermore. Basically, I need to find a new job stat so that I can move back to the city as soon as possible.

Anyway, Isla swore up and down that meditation would help with my job search. She says that I’m ‘scattered’ and that’s why I haven’t been able to find a new position since I got laid off. Her new meditation recording is supposed to help me find my ‘center’ and ‘recalibrate’ in order to attract a suitable employment opportunity.

Her words, not mine.

For weeks, I resisted. The old Sammie thought that Isla was delusional and maybe even slightly off her rocker. The new Sammie is so hopeless and desperate and sick of being unemployed that I’m pretty much willing to try anything to get a damn job. Sending out resumes, compulsively checking job-listing websites and waiting impatiently for the postman to show up with my mail every morning has proven to be an ineffective strategy.

So, it was time to try something new.

I’ve been using this meditation track for a few days now and if nothing else, it’s relaxing and distracts me from the ticker tape of worry, doubt and anxiety constantly running through my mind.

I shift my foot slightly, determined to ignore the itch prickling at my heel. I'm going to meditate the fuck out of it. Forget you, stupid itch. It's time to turn ‘inwards’ because my money’s low and I need a miracle right about now. I focus solely on my breathing.

Eventually, time and space slip away. I think I’m in that space that Isla’s always talking about. ‘The nothingness’ is what she calls it. I feel content. Satiated. That tiny, niggling voice in the back of my head gnawing at me to get off my butt and go search through the local classified ads again? I smother that bitch under pillows of bliss.

“Breathe in…hold hold hold…breathe out…”

Putata-putata-putata

What the fuck is that?

Putata-putata-putata

Is that a motorcycle? Who the hell on Thornbush Lane has a motorcycle?

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to channel my inner yogi in a futile attempt to drown out the hiccup-hiccup of the engine as it sputters to death nearby. It seems like the harder I try to ignore it, the louder it gets.

I grudgingly yank out my earbuds and ease out of my cross-legged position on my oversized cushion on the back patio. I peer around the side of the house and notice a shiny black Harley Davidson lying on its side in the driveway just as a tall, shirtless figure slinks across the front lawn next door.

What the fuck? Nobody’s supposed to be over there.

As far as I know, dad tried to get that place rented for months before he finally gave up in defeat at the end of July. Illinois’s economy is bad and nobody wants to pay a premium to rent that crumbling, two-story colonial with its unkempt lawn and weather-beaten clapboards. Still, my stubborn father refuses to lower the rental. He’d rather the house sit vacant. I guess he can afford to be picky about his tenants. He doesn’t have a mortgage to pay on it since he inherited the house when his uncle Kramer died back when I was a kid.

I bring my attention back to the very bold intruder next door. I can’t see his face because the tall hedges now hide him from view. I should probably call the police but I decide to check it out myself. I grab a weapon – the rake leaning against the side of the house – as I inch cautiously towards the front yard.

I trek across the driveway separating the two houses, passing the beastly motorcycle and an open toolbox on the way. I stomp through the overgrown lawn and up the stairs to the front porch. The door is wide open and for some reason that puts me at ease. A burglar would probably be more discreet than that, right?

The knot in my stomach loosens a bit. This is probably all some huge misunderstanding.

I stick my head into the doorway without stepping inside, just as a precaution. “Hello?”

A shadowy figure approaches, moving down the long, dimly-lit hallway that leads from the kitchen to the front door. Sunrays slice through the kitchen curtains, illuminating him from behind and revealing his silhouette bit by bit.

And what a sexy silhouette it is.

My eyes climb his frame in slow motion.

His large, sturdy feet.

His long, muscular legs and the gray basketball shorts hanging low on his hips.

Well, damn…

The delicious V punctuating his washboard abs.

The colorful, intricate tattoos ornamenting his strong chest and those brawny arms.

Oh, wow…

His square, stubbly chin.

Those full lips slowly spreading into a wide smile.

My god — I can’t breathe…

Blue eyes, as pale and electric as a flash of lightening.

He shoves his large hand through his messy blond hair. “Hey…”

My heart stops cold in my chest and a shiver runs through my body. The rake slips from my fingers and lands at my feet with a metallic clang. I choke out his name.

“Keeland…?”




Author Bio

Contemporary romance author of the Esquire Girls Series and the Esquire HEAT Series available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.


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