THE PLAYBOY BACHELOR

by Rachel Van Dyken

The Bachelors of Arizona, #2

April 11, 2017

Forever

eBook: $4.99 USD

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She’s no Sleeping Beauty. And he’s definitely no prince . . .

Margot McCleery could have lived her whole life without seeing Bentley Wellington again—her ex-best friend and the poster boy for Hot, Rich Man-Whores everywhere. But Margot’s whiskey-augmented grandmother “buys” Bentley at a charity bachelor auction, and now suddenly he’s at her door. Impossibly charming. Impossibly sexy. And still a complete and utter jackass.

Bentley’s just been coerced by his grandfather to spend the next thirty days charming and romancing the reclusive red-haired beauty who hates him. The woman he abandoned when she needed him the most. Bentley knows just as much about romance as he knows about love—nothing. But the more time he spends with Margot, the more he realizes that “just friends” will never be enough. Now all he has to do is convince her to trust him with her heart . . .

 

EXCERPT

“I’m writing a kissing scene!” she blurted, mentally kicking herself for screaming it in his face. “And the guy’s a complete jackass. Since my only experience with jackasses is you…” Her voice was shaky, just like her body. Could he tell how much she wanted him? How much she hated that her response was this—raw. “I-I figured you were the only one who could show me what it’s like.” Good one, Margot. Do you really have to sound so…desperate?

“What what’s like?”

“A kiss. From a jackass.”

“Got the jackass part.” He treaded water and then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her deeper into the pool until they were on the opposite end, his body pressed against hers. At least his eyes were still locked on her face. “And you’ve never been kissed?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not by someone like—”

“If you keep insulting me, this kiss won’t ever happen, Red.”

“Don’t call me that,” Margot whispered. Was she so weak that she’d forgive his abandonment for one kiss? “Please?”

“This kiss.” His calculated gaze didn’t make her feel any better about the situation. “How long does it need to be? How deep? Where do you want my hands?”

Margot’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not how kisses work! You can’t just map out the kiss. That takes all the romance out of it!”

“Oh, so you want romance?”

“Yes! No! I mean. I didn’t say that!” Her face flamed, and she sagged in defeat. Admitting she wanted romance kind of felt like she was on the losing end of the little battles they’d been having, like she was giving him an in. And if he got in, he’d only hurt her again.

“I was joking,” he said, just before his lips brushed hers. His tongue slid across her bottom lip and then sucked it for a few seconds before he slid it into her mouth and deepened the kiss.

Her lips softened beneath his gentle coaxing, and his hard thighs pressed against hers as a deep hunger awakened within her.

Oh, this was bad.

So bad.

And very, very good at the same time.

 

 

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THE BACHELORS OF ARIZONA SERIES

The Bachelor Auction, #1

The Playboy Bachelor, #2

Series Page on Goodreads

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of New Adult, Regency, and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her husband, son, and their snoring boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers!

 

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From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Larissa Ione, comes RAZR, a passionate and spellbinding novella from the Demonica Underworld Series, brought to you by 1,001 Dark Nights! Be sure you grab your copy today!

 

About RAZR:

New York Times bestselling author Larissa Ione returns to the Demonica Underworld…

A fallen angel with a secret.

An otherworldly elf with an insatiable hunger she doesn’t understand.

An enchanted gem.

Meet mortal enemies Razr and Jedda…and the priceless diamond that threatens to destroy them both even as it bonds them together with sizzling passion.

Welcome back to the Demonica Underworld, where enemies find love…if they’re strong enough to survive.

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EXCERPT :

“I want to know why you wear a damned burlap sack and flip-flops every damned day. You have access to anything you want, but the only times you aren’t dressed like a medieval monk are when you leave Sheoul-gra.” Azagoth cocked his head and intensified his focus, leaving Razr feeling like a germ under a microscope. “Is it part of your punishment?”

Razr started. He’d been living in Sheoul-gra and working in Azagoth’s employ for over a year now, and this was the first time his boss had asked him anything that wasn’t work-related.

“Yes,” Razr said, but it was a simple answer to a complex issue.

“Your situation is unique. You aren’t fallen, but you aren’t a Heavenly angel, either. You aren’t even Unfallen,” Azagoth said, referring to the in-between state of an angel who had lost his wings but who hadn’t entered Sheoul, the demon realm, to complete his fall from grace. He glided over to the wet bar and splashed rum into two glasses. “Heaven created a new designation of angel just for you.”

“Yeah,” Razr drawled. “Ain’t I special.” Except he wasn’t. There was another who had shared his status, his former lover Darlah, presumed dead after failing to return from a mission.

A mission that was now Razr’s alone.

Azagoth handed him one of the glasses, and Razr struggled to hide his surprise. And suspicion. The male rarely acknowledged his existence, let alone treated him like an equal. “For some reason, you are special.”

This was really getting weird. Azagoth had never shown any interest in him, but honestly, Razr was shocked that the guy didn’t know more about Razr’s story. He’d figured Heaven would have given Azagoth the full scoop, but apparently not.

“What I can’t figure out,” Azagoth continued, “is why you haven’t managed to take care of your business and get back into Heaven.”

Unable to remain still under this bizarre scrutiny, Razr swirled the rum around in his glass. “It’s not like you give me a lot of free time.”

“So it’s my fault?” Azagoth’s voice was smooth as velvet and just dark enough to raise the hair on Razr’s head. One didn’t just accuse the Grim Reaper of stalling shit. Not if they liked wearing their skin.

“Not at all,” Razr replied carefully, because his skin was pretty useful right where it was. “It’s just that I have limited resources in Sheoul-gra. I need more time in the human and demon realms.”

 

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https://video214.com/play/pUL1aJCuj8jH8awUXbvWqA/s/dark

 

 

 

 

 

About Larissa Ione:

Larissa Ione is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. An Air Force veteran, she traded in a career as a meteorologist to pursue her passion of writing. She now spends her days in pajamas with her computer, strong coffee, and supernatural worlds. She believes in celebrating everything, and would never be caught without a bottle of Champagne chilling in the fridge…just in case. She currently lives in Wisconsin with her U.S. Coast Guard husband, her teenage son, a rescue cat named Vegas, and her very own hellhound, a King Shepherd named Hexe.

 

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Welcome to Whynot, North Carolina, population 3,872. It has one stoplight, one bar, and the one-and-only Trixie Mancinkus.

Eleven years ago, Trixie graduated Harvard Law, turned down a job offer from one of the most prestigious law firms in Boston, and headed home to Whynot to open her own firm. Not only did she leave behind the big city, but she also left her boyfriend of three years. And just so we’re clear… that would be me.

So what am I doing in Whynot at this very moment? It seems Trixie needs help with a legal case and for some insane reason, she called on me for assistance. I’ve been in town for five minutes, and I’m every bit as out of place as I feel. Trixie is all sweet, southern curves to my tailored suits and high-priced haircuts. It’s a culture clash of north versus south and about the only thing we have in common is our physical attraction to each other.

But I have a new motto since coming to Whynot: When life hands you lemons, all you need is a little sex and sweet tea to make things better.

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Suddenly, my pole jerks in my hands, and I instinctively snap the tip upward into the air. I feel something catch as the pole bends in an extreme arc.

“Holy shit,” I exclaim as I sit up straighter in the boat.

“That’s a big one,” Pap says, and Trixie laughs with delight. “Now… keep the rod up and reel it in.”

I plant my feet hard on the bottom of the boat and crank my catch in. My heart is racing because I don’t know what’s on the other end of the line, but it feels massive. I reel and reel and reel, watching as the end of the line in the water comes closer to the boat. I see a flash of grayish-brown thrash at the top of the water before the fish dives back down deep, but I keep cranking that spinner.

Pap sets his pole aside, grabs a net, and leans forward, balancing himself with a hand on the edge of the boat. I give another mighty heave on the spinner’s handle, and the fish comes to the surface.

“Oh, my God,” Trixie practically shrieks with excitement as her feet come off the edge of the boat. She leans closer to me. “He caught Ol’ Mud. I was knee high to a grasshopper the last time someone managed that.”

Pap grunts in acknowledgment, scooping the net into the water under my catch. He proceeds to pull it up, and in it is the biggest, ugliest fish I’ve ever seen in my life. Not that I’ve seen many up close and personal. I mean, I went snorkeling in the Cayman’s once, but those were all brightly colored fish with long, flowing tails. This thing is indeed the color of mud, with enormous eyes that seem to be rolling and long whiskers sticking out from around its mouth.

“What the hell is that thing?” I ask in horror.

“That’s a flathead catfish,” Pap says as he hauls him in and carefully maneuvers him out of the net with practiced efficiency. He pulls the hook out of the corner of the fish’s mouth and then holds him up for me to see.

The fish is massive and thrashes in Pap’s hands, but he grips him firmly before pushing him my way. “Want to hold him?”

I recoil slightly. “Um… no, but thank you.”

Trixie snickers behind me. “Oh, God… ain’t he precious?”

Pap snorts but doesn’t give me too much shit. “Suit yourself. Take a picture, Trixie.”

I turn in my seat and watch Trixie pull her phone from her pocket. Pap scoots closer to me and holds the damn fish up over my shoulder—which, in addition to fish, smells like mud too—and chuckles, “Smile for the camera, city boy.”

Trixie holds the phone out, grinning as she takes a picture of Pap and me as he holds that slimy, nasty-looking catfish. I know my manhood took a bit of a ding with my refusal to hold it, and I can’t say I’m thrilled that Trixie thinks I’m precious, but screw it… not going to apologize for my failure to bond with that smelly thing.

To my amazement, Pap leans over the side of the boat and slides it gently into the water while murmuring, “Until we meet again, Ol’ Mud.”

“You let it go?” I ask incredulously. While the thing was scary looking as all get out, I’ve eaten catfish before and it’s delicious. I have also witnessed Catherine’s cooking firsthand, and I bet she’d do heavenly things to that fish. Besides… I thought that’s what you did in the south. You hunted shit and you ate it.

“Ol’ Mud’s been in this lake for years,” Trixie says by way of explanation. “He’s rarely been caught, but we always release him. He’s like an icon around here. The fact that you caught him, and in the morning, is amazing.”

“Really?” I ask, a small pattering of pride thumping in my chest.

“Flathead’s normally sleep during the day, usually down under lake debris,” Pap explains. “They’re easiest to catch at night, but I don’t think Ol’ Mud’s ever been caught in daylight hours, right, Trix?”

“Right, Pap,” she says and then winks at me. “We might turn you into a southern boy yet, Ry.”

 

 

Juliette Poe is the sweet and swoony alter ego of New York Times Best Selling author, Sawyer Bennett.

A fun-loving southern girl, Juliette knows the allure of sweet tea, small towns, and long summer nights, that some of the best dates end sitting on the front porch swing, and that family is top priority. She brings love in the south to life in her debut series, Sex & Sweet Tea.

When Juliette isn’t delivering the sweetest kind of romance, she’s teaching her southern belle daughter the fine art of fishing, the importance of wearing Chucks, and the endless possibilities of a vivid imagination.

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