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WHAT HAPPENS IN SUMMER & giveaway w/ Caridad Pineiro

Playing it safe was far worse than taking a risk on what you wanted.

Jonathan Pierce knew just what he wanted.

He grabbed hold of the gnarly branch of the decades-old wisteria vine that climbed the side of the Sinclair mansion and boosted himself up. He’d made the journey so many times this past summer, he could do it blindfolded.

He scrambled up the vine, finding the familiar foot and handholds until he vaulted up and over the second floor railing, and landed silently as a cat burglar on the balcony. It ran the length of the immense oceanfront mansion, with elegant french doors offering views of the sea.

The first darkened doorway was Maggie Sinclair’s room. He rushed past it quietly; Maggie belonged to his older brother, Owen. Not that Owen had acted on it yet, but Jonathan had known for years that the two were meant to be together, family feud be damned.

The next doorway was usually Maggie’s dad’s, but the old man had stopped coming down to the Shore as often as he once had, so it was a good bet that room was unoccupied.

Reaching the third room, he saw the curtains wafting in the summer breeze and the dim light from behind the partially closed french doors. He smiled and his heart raced with pleasure.

Connie was waiting for him. Ever-responsible, ever-loyal Connie had broken her own rules to fall in love with him. Or at least he thought it was love. It definitely was on his part. With barely a week left before the girls all went back to school, he intended to let her know just how he felt.

He slipped carefully through the open doors and shut them behind him. He’d gone no more than a step when she launched herself at him, laughing and kissing him as she said, “What took you so long?”

“I missed you, too,” he said, knowing it was more about the separation to come in a week and not about the long hours since last night. 

He bent his head and kissed her, his touch tender and caring, and she answered in kind, her lips soft and coaxing.

Although Maggie had been bringing her friends to the Jersey Shore every summer since they’d met freshman year in college, he’d never really paid much attention to Connie at first. He’d had his share of girls from his high school class fawning over him.

But when Maggie and her friends had come back the next year, he had finally, gratefully, noticed what a real woman should be. Like Connie: all luscious curves; also proud, smart, and independent,

As impatient as he might be to make love to her tonight, he wanted her to know how much this meant to him. How this wasn’t only a summer romance for him.

He leaned over her, his gaze locked on her face. He wanted to say the words—Lord, how he wanted to—but they stuck in his throat and so he let every kiss and touch tell her what he couldn’t voice. 

***

Connie’s heart thudded almost painfully in her chest as she wondered how, in a week’s time, she could leave him. The ache deepened beneath her breastbone and she put her hand there and rubbed to assuage the hurt.

What had started as a summer fling with a funny, smart, and beautiful boy had turned into something so much more, with an incredibly amazing man. Falling in love with Jonathan hadn’t been in her game plan, but he was just too hard to resist.

She should have resisted. He was a Pierce. She wasn’t a Sinclair, but Maggie was like a sister and that stupid family feud was still going strong, as far as she knew.

He was going back to Villanova in a week and she’d be returning to Princeton. The colleges were not all that far apart, but if she was to execute her game plan, she had to stay in the game, which meant studying and more studying. Not nights spent in bed making love and days spent daydreaming about the nights. But like Adam with Eve, now that she’d had a bite of such delicious forbidden fruit, she didn’t know how she could go on a Jonathan-free diet.

At the moment, she could just admire his sun-streaked light brown hair waving wildly around a masculine face with chiseled features. A sexy dimpled grin was on his lips and his eyes glittered with a blue as enchanting as a Sea Kiss summer sea.

That ache in her heart rocketed to life again together with an almost unbearable lightness in her soul. For so much of her life she’d been driven to accomplish more and more, but with Jonathan, she could just be herself. No goals or responsibilities. Just…happy.

And so, in the blink of an eye, her game plan altered. She could see it all so clearly, only now Jonathan was there beside her at each step. Finish college. Head to law school. Pass the bar. Get a job in a big New York City law firm so she could help her family financially, as well as others who had legal problems and couldn’t afford representation. Become a partner. Marry Jonathan. Or maybe marry Jonathan and then become a partner. She didn’t want to wait too long to be with him forever.

Not that she’d ever pictured getting married to anyone before, since her home life hadn’t been anything great. But for Jonathan, she’d make an exception.

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She knows the kind of man he is;

The kind who breaks hearts.

But a hot summer at the Jersey Shore

Might be just what they need to light up their lives…

As the only daughter of a single mom, Connie Reyes swore she would never put herself or her child in a similar position. But when she runs into oh so tempting Jonathan Pierce at a wedding, she knows she must stay away. She’ll fall for him—hard. And he’s not the type to stick around.

Ever since he left town after their teenaged fling, Jonathan hasn’t been able to forget about Connie. He can’t wait for the wedding—to show her the man he’s become. And when the night finally comes, their mutual desire will lead to unexpected consequences neither of them was prepared for…

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THE ONE YOU CAN'T FORGET & giveaway w/ Roni Loren

Most days Rebecca Lindt feels like an imposter…

The world admires her as a survivor. But that impression would crumble if people knew her secret. She didn’t deserve to be the one who got away. But nothing can change the past, so she’s thrown herself into her work. She can’t dwell if she never slows down.

Wes Garrett is trying to get back on his feet after losing his dream restaurant, his money, and half his damn mind in a vicious divorce. But when he intervenes in a mugging and saves Rebecca—the attorney who helped his ex ruin him—his simple life gets complicated.

Their attraction is inconvenient and neither wants more than a fling. But when Rebecca’s secret is put at risk, both discover they could lose everything, including what they never realized they needed: each other

She laughed and kissed him. This morning she’d melted down. But somehow this man had her laughing and turned on only a few hours later. Everything inside her felt buoyed.

She felt…light. 

She’d forgotten what that felt like.

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Fifteen minutes. That was how long it took for Marco and Kincaid to abandon Rebecca and Wes in the kitchen under the auspices of Let me show you the view from Marco and Does this building have original details? from Kincaid.

Kincaid had motioned at Rebecca as she slipped out of the kitchen, some invented sign language that probably meant Talk it out with the hot chef but looked more like a drunken game of naughty charades.

Rebecca had promptly flipped her off.

But now here she was. Alone with Wes again.

Wes stood behind the large island, black bandanna keeping his hair back, gray T-shirt putting all that colorful arm ink on display, and forearms flexing as he sliced and diced an onion with practiced precision. If not for the simmering annoyance, it would’ve been a nice show to watch from her spot sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter. But he hadn’t said a word to her since they’d gotten into the condo. Just chop, chop, chop and irritated grunts.

“Do you need any help?” she asked for lack of anything else to say.

“Can you help me murder my brother?”

“I was thinking we could get rid of them both in one go. How far is the drop from the balcony?” Rebecca tapped her chin. “We could make it look like an accident. I know someone who could defend us.”

Wes smirked.

The little break in the wall helped her relax some. “Why’d you give in anyway? I was about to get us out of it. I had a whole argument prepared. There were bullet points. Closing statements. We could’ve saved ourselves this lovely moment.”

He frowned and dumped the onions into one of the prep bowls. “Yeah, but you didn’t see the look on my brother’s face.” He pushed a basket of strawberries and a paring knife toward her. “Can lawyers hull strawberries?”

“Sure.” She took the berries and stole one of his empty prep bowls. “So what kind of look was that?”

“The Don’t ruin this for me look. The Remember all the times I’ve helped you out look. That look.”

“That’s a lot for a look to say.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t hard to get the point. He’s always working and doesn’t get to go out and meet women. He likes your friend, and she seems to like him for whatever reason”—he shrugged and grabbed a bell pepper from the stack of vegetables—“so I’m hanging out with my ex-wife’s lawyer and taking one for the team.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m just having a high school flashback.” Thankfully not the kind she’d had Friday night, but one that was unpleasant enough in its own right.

“How’s that?”

She concentrated on cutting the stem off a strawberry. “I had a friend whose parents would only let her go on group dates. So I always got dragged out with her and had to be the date of her boyfriend’s best friend, who pretty much reminded me every ten minutes that he was there as a favor and was taking one for the team by hanging out with me. It was super awesome for my fifteen-year-old ego.”

“Ouch. What an idiot.”

“Yeah, I should’ve just told her to leave me out of it and sneak out like everyone else.”

“No, I meant him. What a douche.”

“Oh. Yeah. He was.” But even as she said it, she felt a pang of guilt in her gut. Craig hadn’t made it through prom night. So douche or not, she felt guilty talking bad about the dead. “We were just in a doomed-to-fail setup. Popular jock and high-strung goody-goody were not a wise combination. Two different planets and all that. He probably thought I was an insufferable Miss Priss.”

His lip curled. “Were you?”

She lifted her hand and held her index finger and thumb an inch apart. “Maybe a little. I wasn’t…not. When they brought weed to date night, I couldn’t just say no and let them do their thing. I gave everyone a lecture about how long it stays in your system and how having something on your record could ruin your college chances.”

He cringed. “Ahh, you were that girl. We had one of those at my school, too.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “Laney Becker. And she thought I was a douche.”

“Were you?”

He lifted his fingers, repeating her motion back to her but widening the gap further.

“Nice.”

“I probably would’ve done better if I’d been friends with someone like her. I could’ve used a girl telling me not to blow off class and get high. Or doing a lot of other things I shouldn’t have been doing back then.” He tossed more chopped veggies into a bowl. “And I’m sorry about the ‘taking one for the team’ comment. I didn’t mean it that way. This is just…a screwed-up situation. I’m willing to call a temporary let’s-forget-we-have-history truce for today.”

“I’m on board with that.”

“Good.” He frowned down at her chopped berries. “Hold up. That’s not how to hull.”

She looked down at the berry in her hand. She’d cut off the top. The stem was gone. She didn’t see any problem. “What’s wrong?”

He set down his knife and stepped around the island. “You’re wasting a big part of the berry that way. Here.” He held out his hand for the paring knife, and she handed it over. He shifted until he was right next to her and held the fruit in front of her. “The woody part is just under the leaves. That’s what you’re after.”

He poked the tip of the knife right beneath the leaves and then made a circle around the stem. He popped out the stem and only a little piece of the berry, leaving much more of the fruit intact.

“See.” He held the strawberry in his palm, the sweet scent of the ripe fruit wafting up to her. “Lots more berry, and you also don’t lose the shape of the fruit that way.”

“Oh.” She tried to focus on what he was showing her and not on the fact that he was so close and she could feel his body heat against her arm. Her hormones apparently had no qualms about this man. They remembered what his lips tasted like and were ready to ignore everything she knew about him. Stupid, misguided hormones.

Band of Sisters #1 I AM JUSTICE Excerpt & giveaway w/ Diana Muñoz Stewart

I Am Justice

Diana Muñoz Stewart

Band of Sisters, #1

May 1, 2018

Romantic Suspense

This bad-*** band of sisters plays for keeps.

She’s ready to start a war

Justice Parish takes down bad guys. Rescued from the streets by the world renowned Parish family, she joined their covert sisterhood of vigilante assassins. Her next target: a sex-trafficking ring in the war-torn Middle East. She just needs to get close enough to take them down…

He just wants peace

Sandesh Ross left Special Forces to found a humanitarian group to aid war-torn countries. But saving the world isn’t cheap. Enter Parish Industries and limitless funding, with one catch—their hot, prickly ‘PR specialist’, Justice Parish.

Their chemistry is instant and off-the-charts. But when Justice is injured and her cover blown, Sandesh has to figure out if he can reconcile their missions. With danger dogging their every move, their white-hot passion can change the world—if it doesn’t destroy them first.

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Diana Muñoz Stewart is the award-winning, romantic suspense author of the Band of Sisters series, which includes I Am Justice (Sourcebooks Casablanca). She lives in eastern Pennsylvania in an often chaotic and always welcoming home that—depending on the day—can include husband, kids, extended family, friends, and a canine or two. When not writing, Diana can be found kayaking, doing sprints up her long driveway—harder than it sounds–practicing yoga on her deck, flying, climbing, or hiking with the man who’s had her heart since they were teens. Find Diana at www.dianamunozstewart.com.

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Bucks County, Pennsylvania
Deep inside the stone-and-spire main building of the 160-acre campus of the Mantua Academy for Girls, Justice knew the thing that sucked most about a family business. The family part.
She reached her sister’s office…door? Great. Bridget had followed through on her promise to have the door removed.
She rapped on the wood framing the empty doorway. Inside, Bridget sat cross-legged on her mesh, ergohuman office chair, eyes closed. Her frizzy, dark hair stabbed with a silver comb drooped lopsidedly, like a hairy modern art sculpture.
Justice smiled. This was so perfectly Bridget it almost deserved its own word, like freaktacular or weirdiful.
Justice knocked again. “Bridge?”
Bridget’s eyes fluttered open and locked on her. Justice instantly felt seen. As in seen below the skin. Shiva, uhm, Bridget quirked an eyebrow. “What can I do for you, Justice?”
“I need to talk to you about the yoga class. Is it true you have the girls chanting in Sanskrit?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure of your question. I submitted the yoga for approval through the director’s office.”
Justice walked into the office and plopped into a chair. “You got approval for yoga, She-pak Chopra. Not to have the girls chanting in Sanskrit. This isn’t good PR. And that’s bad for me. Means I have to do work.”
Bridget rested her hands on the desk. “I will limit my teaching to poses and centering music.”
Justice smiled. “Dammit, Bridge, you’re so easy.
Why can’t I have more sisters like you?”
“Perhaps, because you are as abrasive as a starving boar,” a voice said from the hall.
Justice turned. Sheared head, lips painted bright red, skin as satiny smooth and dark as a starless sky, and cocked against the doorway, the generous curve of boys- can’t-help-but-wonder hips clad in a leopard-print skirt. Dada, six-foot-two in spiked heels.
And this was the problem with having no doors. Justice slipped her shoe back on, rose, and crossed the room. “You’re home? Aren’t you supposed to be contacting your Brothers Grim informant?”
Dada’s forehead creased. She looked around the hall, but the school staff, a.k.a. no-idea-a-secret-society-of- vigilantes-existed-under-their-feet staff, weren’t in yet. “Have you checked your secure email this morning?”
***
After passing through security, Justice whisked through the headquarters of the Parish empire in Philadelphia. She was too pissed to pay attention to the repeated nods and hellos. Momma’s morning email had sent her scrambling for her Jeep keys. The mission to take down the global trafficking ring had been put on hold.
Nope. Not happening.
She didn’t care if the Brothers Grim had been alerted by her screwup with Tony last week. Or that they’d moved their meeting up by six weeks. Or that they’d moved the location to Jordan—the one place on the entire ****ing globe where the League had no established cover. This was bull****.
Ahead, at the mahogany double doors at the mouth of two intersecting hallways, Momma’s executive assistant, straitlaced Lorena of the cotton button-downs and starched pantsuits, stood from her desk and crossed her arms. Huh. A human barricade.
Good thing Justice had been trained for just such an event.
Sprinting forward, she lifted her foot, planted the arch of her shoe against the edge of the desk, toed herself into the leap, and vaulted into the air.
Lorena ducked and cried out. Instant classic.
Justice landed with a thud. Lorena was still sputtering vague threats when Justice closed Momma’s office door. Click.
For a confused moment, she stood within the inner sanctum. A huge corner office with buttoned leather couches, two flat-screen TVs, a hulking Thor of a desk, and a well-stocked kitchen. The self-satisfied grin slipped from her face.
S***.
The man—built like a hot night of unforgettable, wild blond hair like a sandstorm, eyes the color of the ocean after a lazy day in the sun—drove the air from her lungs. She couldn’t move. Struck deaf, dumb, and blind meet deer-in-headlights. D***, the man was tall. Like a wall. A wall of man muscle. So hot.
“Justice.” Leland, Momma’s oldest friend and most trusted adviser, extended his hand with a warm smile. His silver hair gleamed under the canopy of recessed lights. The gray- checkered Armani suit draped over him as if upon the confident shoulders of dignity itself.
Justice took Leland’s smooth hand. He pressed down firmly and tugged her farther inside.
“Sandesh, I’d like you to meet Justice Parish.” Only the stern grip of Leland’s hand told her how annoyed he was. “She does PR for the Mantua Academy and will be working on the Greenville Initiative. She is familiar with all aspects of our newest philanthropy venture.”
Dude was good. Calm. Graceful. And full of ****. Greenville? What was that project about? Giving away money, judging by what Leland had said.
Behind Leland, Momma’s brown eyes showed as little as the rose-colored niqab that covered her hair and face and scars.
Justice turned and gave Leland a rictus grin meant to be a smile. She was usually more successful at hiding her feelings, but a high-pressure situation—you know the kind where you Jack-be-nimbled your momma’s executive assistant, barged into a business meeting, and eye- appraised-seduced-and-**** a total stranger—had her off her game.
“Actually, my role in all philanthropic projects is still advisory. I wouldn’t want to mislead, uhm, what was your name?”
Blue-Eyes reached for her hand. “I’m Sandesh. Head of the International Peace Team. We’re partnering with Greenville in Jordan.”
He slid his long fingers along her palm in a hot brush that sent her skin tingling. He grasped her hand. Heat suffused her body, brought a flush to her stomach and a smile to her lips. Nice.
Who said philanthropy wasn’t sexy?
Wait. Jordan?

Jennie Marts' CAUGHT UP IN A COWBOY excerpt & giveaway!

Bits of gravel flew behind the tires of the convertible, and Rockford James swore as he turned onto the dirt road leading to the Triple J Ranch. Normally he enjoyed coming home for a visit, especially in the late spring when everything was turning green and the wildflowers were in bloom, but not this spring—not when he was coming home with both his pride and his body badly injured.
His spirits lifted and the corners of his mouth tugged up in a grin as he drew even with what appeared to be a pirate riding a child’s bicycle along the shoulder of the road. A gorgeous female pirate—one with long blond hair and great legs.
Legs he recognized.
Legs that belonged to the only woman who had ever stolen his heart.
Nine years ago, Quinn Rivers had given him her heart as well. Too bad he’d broken it. Not exactly broken—more like smashed, crushed, and shattered it into a million tiny pieces. According to her anyway.
He slowed the car, calling out as he drew alongside her. Her outfit consisted of a flimsy little top that bared her shoulders under a snug corset vest and a short, frilly striped skirt. She wore some kind of sheer white knee socks, and one of them had fallen and pooled loosely around her ankle.
“Ahoy there Matey—you lose your ship?”
Keeping her eyes focused on the road, she stuck out her hand and offered him a gesture unbecoming of a lady—pirate or otherwise. Then her feet stilled on the pedals as she must have registered his voice. “Ho-ly crap. You have got to be freaking kidding me.”
Bracing her feet on the ground, she turned her head, brown eyes flashing with anger. “And here I thought my day couldn’t get any worse. What the hell are you doing here, Rock?”
He stopped the car next to her, then draped his arm over the steering wheel, trying to appear cool. Even though his heart pounded against his chest from the fact that he was seeing her again. She had this way of getting under his skin—she was just so damn beautiful. Even wearing a pirate outfit.
“Hey now—is that any way to speak to an old friend?”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I run into one.”
Ouch. He’d hoped she wasn’t still that bitter about their breakup. They’d been kids, barely out of high school. But they’d been together since they were fourteen, his conscience reminded him, and they’d made plans to spend their future together.
But that was before he got the full ride scholarship and the NHL started scouting him.
And he had tried.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, buddy.
Okay, he probably hadn’t tried hard enough. But he’d been young and dumb, and swept up in the fever and glory of finally having his dreams of pursuing a professional hockey career coming true.
With that glory, came attention and fame and lots of travel with the team where cute puck bunnies were ready and willing to show their favorite players a good time.
He hadn’t cheated on Quinn, but he came home less often and didn’t make the time for texts and calls. He’d gone to college first while she finished her senior year, and by the time he did come home the next summer, he’d felt like he’d outgrown their relationship, and her, and had suggested they take a mini-break.
Which turned into an actual break, of both their relationship and Quinn’s heart.
But it had been almost nine years since he’d left—they’d been kids, and that kind of stuff happened all the time. Since then, he didn’t make it home a lot, and had only run into her a handful of times. In fact, he probably hadn’t seen her in over a year.
But he’d thought of her. Often. And repeatedly wondered if he’d made the right choice by picking the fame and celebrity of the career and letting go of her.
Sometimes, those summer days spent with Quinn seemed like yesterday, but really so much had happened—in both of their lives—that it felt like a lifetime ago.
Surely she’d softened a little toward him in all that time. “Let me offer you a lift.” The dirt road they were on led to both of their family’s neighboring ranches.
“No thanks. I’d rather pedal this bike until the moon comes up than take a ride from you.”
Yep. Still mad, all right.
Nothing he could do if she wanted to keep the grudge fest going. Except he was tired of the grudge. Tired of them being enemies. She’d been the best friend he’d ever had. And right now he felt like he could use a friend.
His pride had already been wounded, what was one more hit? At least he could say he tried.
Although he didn’t want it to seem like he was trying too hard. He did still have a little pride left, dammit.

Caught Up in a Cowboy
Jennie Marts
Cowboys of Creedence, #1
May 1, 2018
Contemporary Western

This cowboy plays to win

Rockford James was raised as a tried-and-true cowboy in a town crazy about ice hockey. Rock is as hot on the ice as he is on a horse, and the NHL snapped him up. Now, injuries have permanently benched him. Body and pride wounded, he returns to his hometown ranch to find that a lot has changed. The one thing that hasn’t? His feelings for high school sweetheart and girl-next-door Quinn Rivers.

Quinn had no choice but to get over Rock after he left. Teenaged and heartbroken, she had a rebound one night stand that ended in single motherhood. Now that Rock’s back—and clamoring for a second chance—Quinn will do anything to avoid getting caught up in this oh-so-tempting cowboy…

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Jennie Marts is the USA Today bestselling author of award-winning books filled with love, laughter, and always a happily ever after. She is living her own happily ever after in the mountains of Colorado with her husband, two dogs, and a parakeet that loves to tweet to the oldies. She’s addicted to Diet Coke, adores Cheetos, and believes you can’t have too many books, shoes, or friends. Find her online at jenniemarts.com.   FB           Twitter      Goodreads

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ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WOLF Excerpt & giveaway w/ Terry Spear

 Looking forward to seeing Jake there, Sarandon climbed into the Suburban and took off. This might be even more fun than he had planned.
Sarandon headed into the wilderness, and after a couple of hours, he finally reached the Elk Horn cabin. He parked, got out, and stretched. Taking a deep breath of the pines and Douglas firs, he embraced the peace and quiet, the sound of a river flowing nearby, birds twittering in the trees, and the breeze fluttering the leaves.
Once he’d hauled all his supplies inside, he started a fire in the fireplace and planned to go for a run, something he couldn’t do while acting as a tour guide. Not unless he was taking a wolf group out.
Within minutes, he’d stripped off his clothes and shifted, then pushed through the wolf door. He dashed through the woods, exploring and scent-marking, letting any animal in the area know a wolf was on the prowl and this was his claimed territory.
The sound of a car’s tires crunching on the private gravel road, heading toward the cabin, caught his attention. He stopped and listened from the shelter of the trees and brush. There was nothing out here but wilderness. And the cabins and the land were private property. He could tell by the engine’s purr that the car wasn’t Jake’s or anyone else’s he knew in the pack. The car parked, and the engine shut off in the distance.
If the driver were a hunter, Sarandon didn’t want to be caught in his wolf coat and end up getting shot. Cursing mentally to himself, he waffled about what to do. Hidden in the undergrowth in the woods, he could check out the person leaving the car, or he could run back to the cabin, shift, dress, arm himself with his rifle, and then see who it was and what he or she was up to.
Sarandon opted for returning to the cabin first and ditching his wolf coat. That way, he could tell the trespasser to leave.
When he reached the cabin, he dove through the wolf door, shifted, and rushed to dress. He removed his rifle from the locked gun cabinet and left the cabin, locking it behind him. Listening for any sign of where the person was, Sarandon headed down the road to where he’d heard the car park.
A quarter of a mile from the cabin, he stopped dead in his tracks. A woman was standing off the road, partially hidden in the woods, holding a rifle aimed at him. The way she was holding it, she looked like she knew how to use it. And he’d thought running as a wolf could cause him trouble!
“Hey, I’m just camping up here at one of my family’s cabins. I don’t have any intention of hurting you,” Sarandon said, trying to put the woman at ease, even if she was in the wrong. “This is private property .”
“Carefully, put the rifle down!” she commanded in an authoritative, no-nonsense way.
Well, this was bizarre. She was trespassing and pointing a rifle at him, and yet she was telling him to disarm himself when he belonged here? He considered her attire: black cargo pants, a black windbreaker, and boots. She didn’t look like a half-crazed criminal or a hunter either. He wasn’t afraid of her; he’d be much warier of a man holding a rifle on him than a woman. He just figured he’d spooked her.
“All right. All right. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Being the nice wolf he was, Sarandon set his rifle on the ground, figuring the woman was going hiking, albeit on private property, and didn’t know privately owned cabins were located here, though signs were posted in the area. But the fact that she was carrying a rifle made him suspect something else might be going on. “I run photo-op tours, hiking, mountain climbing, and white-water rafting guided tours, one-on-one tours, and group tours.” He thought if he told her what he did, she would realize he was employed, not some mountain man living out here in the wilderness alone, and that his occupation meant he was one of the good guys who liked working with people. “Whatever customers might be interested in,” he continued.
She was someone he was interested in. If she was a wolf and would put the weapon down. Something about her straightforward and confrontational attitude appealed. He swore it was the wolf in him.
“Sarandon Silver?” she asked, her brow arched.
Learning that she knew his name surprised him. If she knew who he was, why was she pointing the rifle at him? Then he wondered if this had something to do with his brothers. Maybe they’d sent her as a plant, a way to get him to meet a new she-wolf, believing the standard boy-meets-girl routine wouldn’t cut it with him. Especially since he’d said he was trying to come up with an idea for a new adventure.
“Yeah, I’m Sarandon Silver. Do you want to tell me how you know me and why you’re still pointing a weapon at me?” She had to be his brothers’ idea, but he wondered where she was taking this.
If this was for real, he didn’t recall anything he’d done that would have aggravated anyone to the extent that she’d pull a weapon on him. He hadn’t taken a mate and pissed off her family. He hadn’t lost anyone on one of his excursions. His dad was the only one who’d ever committed any crimes in the family, and he’d paid for his sins with his life.
“Come this way, nice and slow,” she said, her voice firm and resolved.
He frowned at her. She sounded like a cop. He looked her over again, but her clothes didn’t indicate that. He couldn’t see what was underneath the jacket, though from the slight bulk underneath the material, it looked like she might have a sidearm holstered there. She hadn’t said she was a cop though. Plus, if she were, she wasn’t in her own jurisdiction. Her car was a silver Ford Expedition, with no indication it was a cop’s vehicle.
She was a beautiful brunette, her hair cut short and bouncy, her eyes a crystal-clear blue. If his brothers—and maybe his cousins—had put her up to this… Well, he didn’t want to appear as though he couldn’t take a joke. She’d share with them how growly he’d been, and they’d all have a good laugh over it—at his expense.
“Am I under arrest?” he asked with good humor, smiling a little. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t take this seriously.

   

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 All’s Fair in Love and Wolf

 Terry Spear

 Silver Town Wolf, #8

 9781492655817

 May 1, 2018

Paranormal

The Silver Town wolf pack has your back

Wolf shifter Sarandon Silver’s in trouble with the law, and bounty hunter she-wolf Jenna St. James is determined to bring him in for trial.

Lucky for Sarandon, the entire Silver Town pack is ready to fight for his innocence. But until the case is solved, Jenna’s sticking to Sarandon like glue…

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USA Today bestselling author Terry Spear has written over sixty paranormal romances. In 2008, Heart of the Wolf was named a Publishers Weekly Best Book of the Year. A retired officer of the U.S. Army Reserves, Terry also creates award-winning teddy bears that have found homes all over the world. She lives in Spring, Texas where she raises two Havanese puppies.

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Marie Harte's THE ONLY THING & giveaway

“J.T.?”

He froze for a moment, feeling déjà vu. He kept hearing Hope Donnigan’s voice in the weirdest places. Although she had actually been at his dad’s on Friday. He turned to see her standing by the wall-mounted screen to his right. Huh. She was really here.

“Hope?” 

She wore open toed sandals showing off dainty, blue painted toenails. Shapely legs disappeared under a knee-length, floral sun dress. A cropped sweater hid her shoulders. She looked like the essence of summer, and he wanted to kneel down in worship. Innocence radiated from her in waves, as if begging him to muss her a little and show her just what heels like those would look like on either side of his head.

He should have felt dirty for wanting to muddy that innocence. Instead, he grew more aroused. Hell.

“Hi.” She smiled at him. 

His heart raced. Damn, that dimple slayed him every time. 

“He says hi back,” Suke said dryly. “I’m Suke, one of the harder working artists around here. I take it you know J.T.?”

Hope nodded. “Great place. I hadn’t realized it was down here.”

As she and Suke spoke, he watched them interact. Hope didn’t seem to care that Suke had tattoos up and down her arms, piercings in her nose and lip, and spiked black hair in a dare-to-be punk style. Nor did she seem to mind the way Suke was eye-fucking her.

“Hey.” He growled; he minded. 

Suke grinned. “I’m leaving for the day. You need me to stick around and lock up? Maybe walk Hope out to her car?”

“Go.” 

Suke chuckled and left.

“She’s nice.”

He laughed. “Suke? She busts our balls on a daily basis, but we love her. Now what brings you to the lion’s den?”

She grinned. “Is that what this is? The sign outside said Tull Paint & Body.”

“Yeah, a play on Auto Paint & Body, like a car paint shop. I worked for my dad before I opened the place, and some of him stuck.” Jesus, he was babbling.

“Tull?”

He shrugged, searching for calm. “My dad was a Jethro Tull fan. Sounded cool when I was twenty-five.” He paused, shoving his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t tuck a stray strand of her golden hair back behind her ear. “What’s up, Hope?”

She flushed, now looking uncomfortable. “Ah, this is kind of awkward. I have a favor to ask.” She didn’t say any more.

She looked so damn adorable. He couldn’t help himself. He had to mess with her. “Okay. So you want a baby without the commitment. I get it. You want to make one right here or in the back room? Do you have some paperwork for me to sign first? You know, about rights for the kid?”

What? No.” She blinked at him. “Have you done that before?”

“Nah, but I can’t think of a more awkward conversation. So now that I know you’re not here to use me and abuse me, what can I do for you?”

“Ah, actually…” Her face turned bright red.

He gaped. “Shit. Really?” He took a step closer. “You want to abuse me? I’m game.”

“J.T.” She blew out a breath. “I have a problem. And I kind of dragged you into it.”

“Color me intrigued.” He led her to the high-backed purple leather chairs by a coffee table, on which a print portfolio of their work lay, along with some other tattoo mags.

“Sorry,” Hope apologized. She crossed her legs to sit demurely in the chair, and his heart threatened to leap from his chest. He wondered if she felt the same sexual chemistry he had since the first time he’d laid eyes on her.

Probably not, since she didn’t seem affected by him. She was shy, gorgeous, and could have any guy she wanted with the crook of her finger. He couldn’t imagine why she needed his help, but whatever. He was game. And truth be told, he felt protective of her. She was a weird extension of family his sister had married into.

“Hope? Just tell me.”

“It’s my mother. She’s such a pain.” Hope glared, and he was taken aback by the fierceness out of a woman he’d never seen be anything but pleasant. “She was on me about dating some rich guy. A doctor this time. Then she was riding me about my job, my lifestyle, being boring. You name it. She jumped on my nerves and ground them to nothing.”

“Ah, sorry.” He still didn’t see what part he had to play in this.

“So I mentioned I was dating someone. A tattoo artist who had baby mommas everywhere and had done time. Have you done time? Because that would be good.”

He blinked. “Huh?’

Like a steamroller, she continued, “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend the next time I have to go to dinner at Mom and Dad’s. And you need to be awful.”

He didn’t like the tone of this drama. “What? Play the big bad black man to scare your lily-white mom?”

She snorted. “Please. If only it was that easy to scare Linda Donnigan.”

He relaxed, more than glad to know she couldn’t care less about his skin color. “Then what do you need, exactly?”

“My mother loves men and women of all races, genders, and sexualities. But she’s a snob. It’s all about money and success to her. If you’re not dying to be president, you’re nothing.”

“President as in…?”

“The top of whatever your career is, or the actual POTUS. With Linda, it could be either,” she said wryly. “I have no drive to be more than Cam’s assistant right now. I work at my cousin’s investment firm, and I’m basically a glorified secretary. But I’m okay with that.”

“You don’t sound okay.” She sounded frustrated.

“I am. Mostly.” She sighed. “Look, none of this is your fault. I needed someone I thought my mother wouldn’t like.”

“That hurts.” He wasn’t lying.

“It’s not personal. She doesn’t know you, J.T. But she’s not a fan of tattoos at all. And you look tough. So I thought, who do I know who would freak my mother out?”

“Me?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “I just need you to pretend to be my new boyfriend a few times. Then we can ‘break up’ and she’ll never know.”

“I have met your mom, you know. It was brief, at Del’s wedding. She might remember.” He frowned. “Then again, she was drinking that night.”

“She’s good like that.” Hope leaned closer and grabbed his hand. 

The feel of her smaller palm against his had sweat break out on his forehead. He stared into her honey gold eyes and felt himself nodding.

What do you do when a “fake” relationship is so much better than the real thing? 

Hope Donnigan is finally getting her life together. She’s working a job she likes, has some amazing friends, and is steering clear of Mr. Wrong. Now if only she could get her mother to understand that. Maybe a hot tattoo artist from the other side town is just the ticket to teach her mom a lesson. 

J.T. Webster fell for Hope months ago at his sister’s wedding. So when she propositions him to be her fake boyfriend to get her mother off her back, he’s all in. The only problem is J.T. had no idea their pretend relationship would be better than anything real he’s ever had…

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