FOUR red-hot stories about the bad, wicked and twisted characters of Briarcrest Academy, featuring a dirty-talking gym owner, a football player, a sexy rock star, and a British bad boy.

Bad Wicked Twisted: A Briarcrest Academy Box Set is

NOW AVAILABLE!

Amazon   **   Amazon UK

EXCERPT

Nora

“I’d like to sleep for a hundred years, wake up and try again.” – Nora Blakely

“Drop the paint and turn around slowly with your hands in the air.” The loud command was said with a deep voice. “I’ve got a gun, asshole, so move nice and slow.”

I bent over and placed the can on the pavement. I started to turn when— “I said put your hands in the air!” he yelled.

I yanked my hands up and eased around to face the owner of the voice.

He was about ten feet away from me, standing six feet and then some. He was missing a shirt but wearing a pair of black athletic shorts and flip-flops. Judging by his disheveled dirty blond hair and bloodthirsty eyes, I’d have to guess this might be the owner of the Escalade.

And I’d just woken him up.

He came closer to me, and my eyes were immediately drawn to his green-and-blue dragon tattoo. Like a giant snake, the scaled body of the dragon wrapped around his forearm and bicep with the neck coming down from his shoulder and the head resting on his broad chest. Red flames poured from its mouth, between laser sharp teeth.

This guy looked medieval.

I pictured him as a rugged Viking, wearing a horned helmet and gripping a spear instead of a gun. Maybe holding a shield instead of his flashlight and definitely wearing some of those laced-up leather boots. The word berserker (from round two of the famous spelling bee) came to mind, and I rolled the syllables around my tongue . . . ber-serk-er. Yep, that was him alright: one pissed off Norse warrior.

I grinned at my amazing analogy because, well, I was trashed.

“You think this is funny, son?” he snapped.

I shook my head, suddenly aware that this was really happening, that I’d been caught, and an angry car owner was pointing a gun at me. And he thought I was a boy.

“That’s what I thought. Now, what the hell are you doing out here messing with my car?” he said, biting out the words through clenched teeth.

I said nothing.

“You’ve got twenty seconds before I call the cops,” he said, stepping closer.

And then it happened.

Everything clicked in my head, and I knew him. He was the one, the gorgeous guy from the open house whose gaze had been the glue that held me together in the parking lot. I forgot about the gun and got tangled up in my thoughts, remembering the countless times I’d played out the memory of our eyes clinging to each other, how I’d wanted to jump out of my car, get into his and just drive away. I flicked my eyes back at the Escalade, dimly remembering he’d driven a black car. I really hadn’t paid much attention to it that day because all I’d seen had been him.

“Ten seconds,” he yelled, blasting his light full in my face until bright spots were floating in front of my eyes.

“Get that off me,” I snapped, swaying a little.

He lowered the light a miniscule bit. “Drunk and disorderly plus vandalism are two misdemeanors. Looks like you’re going to jail.”

“S’kay with me. Put me in jail,” I said weakly. But even as I said the words, I knew I was lying. I wasn’t a minor anymore, and I could kiss Princeton goodbye if I got arrested.

Nausea reared its ugly head and my stomach began to roll.

“Five seconds,” he retorted.

I bent over and hurled, missing my shirt but not my adored cowboy boots. After that, I dry heaved, and the force made my legs buckle, making me take a header straight on the concrete, the side of my face slamming into the wet pavement. My ball cap fell off in the craziness, my long hair spilling out over the wet ground.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, easing the gun down, “you’re a fucking girl.”

“Last time I looked,” I whispered, running my tongue across my teeth to check for chips. I scooted myself away from the mess I’d made and reached up to touch my face to see if I was bleeding. There wasn’t any blood, but I could feel my temple swelling. I put a hand on the car and pulled myself up. My knees were on fire, and when I looked down, I saw the concrete had ripped through my jeans and blood was dripping down my legs.

He cursed, pulled a phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Sebastian, it’s all good. No, no cops. Yeah, come on out here. I might need some help.”

A door slammed, and a younger version of the man, probably around my age, came around the corner, his long legs striding briskly. He stopped in front of the graffiti I’d drawn and whistled loudly. “Oh baby, those pretty hearts and flowers are rocking your ride, Leo.” He chuckled and then stopped when his eyes took me in. “Whoa, she’s bleeding. Did you beat her up?”

The guy called Leo rubbed his scruffy jaw. “I don’t hit girls. She fell.”

“She’s hurt,” the young guy stated, frowning. He stared at me with a puzzled expression and then grinned and slapped his leg. “Hot damn. It’s her,” he said in a loud whisper. “You know? Nora? From registration?”

“Yeah. I see that,” Leo said, his eyes searching my face.

“I see no official introductions are necessary. Everyone knows me now as the girl with the potty mouth,” I said, leaning completely against the car, smearing the yellow paint everywhere.

The younger one came to my side. “You okay?”

I focused on him and decided I liked him. He had an open face that made me think he laughed a lot, so when I felt myself swaying again, I reached out to him.

“Watch it,” he said gently and grabbed my shoulders to steady me.

Leo walked over and loomed beside me, a disapproving look on his face as he watched us. I shifted closer to the one he’d called Sebastian, but stumbled and lost my balance, falling down again on my knees. Shit. This night had gone downhill fast.

Sebastian kneeled down next to me and looked over at Leo. “Hey, how ’bout I carry her inside so she can get cleaned up?”

Leo let out an exasperated breath. “Ridiculous,” he muttered. “She ruins my car, and you want to invite her inside? You’d feel different if it had been your Beamer, Sebastian.”

Sebastian gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “She’s my classmate, bro, and I think she’d just drunk.”

Leo let out a grunt. “Whatever. Fine, I’ll get her, and you get the backpack. And don’t forget the spray paint.” He walked over and glared down at me. “If I call the police later, we’ll need the evidence.”

Then, without any effort at all, he swept me up, his hard arms slipping under my knees and around my back as he scooped me off the ground.

And just like that, the night caught up with me, and I nestled into his bare chest, feeling like I had come home. He smelled so good, like—

“Butterscotch,” I mumbled, turning my nose into him.

“What?” he grumbled, carrying me inside the glass doors.

I didn’t answer because I was too busy laying my cheek against his hot skin and staring into the crystalline eyes of his dragon.

He took me down a long hall with several doors on each side and past a large workout room with treadmills, ellipticals, and free weights. “Hold on,” he said and adjusted his grip on my legs and started up a wide staircase that opened to a spacious loft area. He carried me past a den area and a kitchen and into a large white-tiled bathroom. I suppose I was too wet for any other room. And I wasn’t exactly a welcome guest.

He sat me on the toilet seat, made sure I was steady, and eased away from me. Maybe he wanted me to sit, but I didn’t. I jumped up, went over to the sink and turned the water on. He stood there, his broad shoulders tense, watching me as I splashed cool water on my face and rinsed out my mouth. I grabbed a hand towel and dried off, wishing I wasn’t intoxicated.

“Tell me why you vandalized my car,” he stated, crossing his muscled arms and spreading his legs, his stance making it obvious he was pissed. The tension heightened in the small room as we stared at each other, and I tore my eyes from his to sit back down on the toilet seat, not knowing how to answer him. I would only sound crazy.

He tapped his fingers against his legs. “What’s your parent’s phone number? And don’t think of lying because I can always look it up online. I know who you are.”

“There’s no point in calling them. They aren’t home. They never are,” I said, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and cleaning off my boots. My throat tightened painfully at the thought of my parents, and I soothed myself by counting the tiles on the floor.

He didn’t speak and several seconds passed, and I tensed up more, fearing that like Mother, he excelled in using silence. But no one was better than Mother, who’d once refused to speak to me for an entire month when I’d come in second at a debate competition. During the first week of that horribly quiet time, I’d followed her around, begging her to talk to me. She’d ignore me and say to my dad, “Silence is golden.” As the weeks had progressed, I’d learned her silence was her speech, her way of saying I was worthless.

“Please don’t call my parents,” I added, hiding my shaking hands behind my back.

He tightened his mouth. “Fine, who can I call to come get you?”

“Don’t hold it against Portia from the bakery across the street, but she’s my aunt. I’m staying with her.” I dug my phone out of my wet jeans, scrolled down to her number, and handed it to him.

Our fingers brushed when he took my phone, and I jerked, shocked at the unexpected sizzle of heat sweeping over my body. He pocketed my phone and then opened the medicine cabinet, gazing into it for a long time without moving, like he was considering what to do next. I watched him warily, wondering what he had planned for me. Finally, he sighed and pulled out hydrogen peroxide and a handful of gauze.

“Sebastian has a change of clothes you can borrow, and you’ll need an ice pack for your face. It’s going to leave a bruise,” he told me as he bent down to touch my temple with his long fingers. He cleaned my face with cold water and then dabbed it with the hydrogen peroxide, his touch surprisingly gentle even though I could sense his anger just under the surface.

In the bright lights of the bathroom, I let my gaze run over him freely, taking him in, not missing how beautiful he was. He had an unyielding face, with a jaw line that looked like it could chisel granite, matching his well-built, defined body. Yet even with all the hotness in front of me, the one thing that made my heart fly was his icy pale-blue eyes. This close up I could see how the light, almost transparent color contrasted with his tan face, making his eyes glow like the precious opals I’d studied about in science. And right now they were focused entirely on me as he scrutinized my bruise.

“Is this your gym?” I asked, trying not to wince as he patted my temple.

“Yes,” he said, tossing the used gauze into the trash, his arm muscles rippling. He stood up and raked a hand through his wavy blond hair, holding it there as he studied me with those piercing eyes. I returned his look, my breath kicking up a notch at how sexy his naked chest was, how his dragon tattoo seemed to slither and slide over his chest as he moved. My eyes moved down to his taut abs and the way his shorts barely hung to his lean waist, hinting at what was underneath.

Of course, while I’m buzzing, I remembered my bad list and grew curious about having sex with him. Would he be gentle or demanding? Would he like me on top or would he get behind me? Would I enjoy it?

But it didn’t matter if I got off as long as he made me forget.

Forgetting was the important part.

It had been months since I’d had sex with someone. Not since that wild weekend in New York with Drew. Even though our relationship had ended badly, I still remembered the sex and how good it had felt to be held by someone. Like I wasn’t alone, like someone cared about me.

I needed a night like that again, to lose myself in sex. I wanted this Viking.

I gave him a fake smile. “Leo’s a great name. Guess you know it means lion. It also means bold one. Are you bold?” I said in a low tone, reaching out to stroke his arm.

He jerked away from me, like I’d scalded him, but it didn’t deter me. True, I was a little younger than him, but what guy would turn down a no-strings-attached night? Drew hadn’t.

I stood up and toed my boots off. “How old are you?” I asked.

“Too old for you,” he quickly retorted.

“I’m not a virgin, you know. I’ve been with other guys, some good at fucking, some not.” I let my eyes run over him slowly. “You’re older which means more experienced. I bet you’d blow them right out of the water,” I said, putting it all out there and letting bad Nora take over completely.

“I don’t care how many douchebags you’ve fucked,” he said with a hard face, his eyes gleaming with distaste.

I felt some of my false bravado slip away, but not enough to stop. He was what I needed tonight. I began unbuttoning my shirt, and his eyes followed my progress. “You tell me your age and I’ll tell you mine,” I said in the best teasing voice I could muster.

I undid the last button and shrugged out of my shirt, relieved I’d worn the black lace bra. “You like?”

He yanked a towel from the shelf near the door and tossed it in my face. “Cover up, Nora. I don’t do spoiled, rich girls.”

I caught the towel and held it against me, ignoring that remark. Those types of insults never affected me.

Not when you hear them every day.

“If you won’t tell me your age, I’ll just have to figure it out on my own. And I’m guessing you’re at least twenty-five, maybe twenty-six?” I said.

He shook his head and clenched his fists, not answering me.

I took a deep breath, dropped the towel to the floor and unclasped my bra, letting my size C breasts fall out. Even though I’d been a pudgy most of my life, I’d blossomed into a girl with generous curves. He seemed to like what he saw because he didn’t look away. I glanced down at my erect nipples and lightly touched one with my fingertip, surprised by the desire I felt. I brought my eyes back to his face, imagining his tongue on me.

A muscle jerked in his tight jaw.

I dropped my hand and steeled myself to keep on toward the goal. “Of course, it’s getting harder to tell someone’s age now because people take better care of themselves, like you with your tight abs. But, if you study someone long enough, you’ll find out their secrets.”

“I don’t have any,” he ground out, tearing his eyes from my body.

“We all do.”

He rubbed his hand across his mouth as his eyes swept over my breasts again. “You don’t know jack about me.”

I studied him, my brain picking through what I’d observed tonight. “Well, you own your own business, so you’re a responsible person. And, I bet you a new pair of boots you’re the guardian of the young man out there, who has to be your brother because he looks just like you. I think your parents are out of the picture.”

I unsnapped my jeans, shimmied them pass my skinned knees, and tossed them in the trash. “You’ve also shown self-control tonight that’s impressive. Someone less in control might have shot me on sight. In a nutshell,” I said, taking off my black panties, “you’re well-off, take care of a younger brother, and keep your emotions on a tight leash. Am I right?”

He glared at me, his entire body frozen up, like a tiger poised to pounce. Like he was going to jump on me and devour me. I wondered if he’d eat me the way I wanted.

I couldn’t stop talking. “I’m good at observing people: body language, mannerisms, how they talk, style of clothing, everything. It’s a puzzle I like to put together. It’s better than Facebook stalking,” I said with a forced shrug, trying to be casual when inside I was freaking the hell out. What was I doing?

Why was I trying to seduce this guy?

He didn’t want me.

No one did.

His eyes burned like blue flames. “What kind of girl strips for a guy she just met?”

A girl with no self-respect, I thought.

I shrugged. “I need a shower, which involves me taking my clothes off.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You could have waited until I left.”

I flicked my eyes at his crotch. “You’re hard for me. You’re bigger than a tree trunk in those shorts,” I said. “And you haven’t walked out of this bathroom. I think you’re a little fascinated with me. I think you like watching me take my—”

“Fuck!” he barked out and spun around to go.

“Wait, wait,” I called out, reaching out to make him stop, needing him. Please stay, I wanted to say.

He turned back with his fists held tight by his side and spat out his words. “You’re a naked girl, and I’m a grown-ass man. I’m walking out of this room while I still can.”

But he made no move to leave, and it gave me a tiny bit of hope.

“I . . . I just wanted to know how old you are.”

“Twenty-five. I’m twenty-five,” he muttered, “and you’re jailbait and not my type.”

“What type is that?” I asked.

“Girls who aren’t in high school. In other words—not you.”

And as we stood there, facing each other, I waited for him to make his move, to snatch me up and take me to his bed like I wanted.

But he didn’t, because I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough or smart enough.

I was never enough.

I cleared my throat and powered on. “Eighteen isn’t jailbait.”

We stared at each other and the longer our eyes held, the more I knew my boundaries were gone. It seemed like there was nothing I wouldn’t say to him. Even though my insides were quaking with nerves, I went over to him until our bare chests were only inches apart. I was five feet ten inches, and he was at least six inches taller, making him the tallest guy I’d ever stood next to. Not only that, but his body was built like an NFL football player, with lethal yet lickable muscles. I liked being near him. I felt safe, like no one would ever hurt me again.

My eyes caressed the dragon on his chest, and I wanted to trace it with my tongue. I thought about how warm his skin would be, how it would feel to have his strong arms wrap around me as I kissed his sensuous lips. When his breathing accelerated along with mine, I knew I wasn’t completely alone in my feelings. I searched his eyes, surprised at the new sensations coursing through me.

I pressed myself against him completely, and he hissed at the contact. “Don’t you want to touch me?” I whispered, rubbing my breasts against his chest to get some friction.

He gripped my arms and shoved me away from him. “You’re playing with fire. You think you want this?” He laughed darkly. “Buttercup, you can’t handle me.”

And with those words, he pivoted around and stomped out of the room, slamming the door hard behind him.

Blurb

Each book in the Briarcrest Academy series is written as a stand-alone love story following a new couple.

1: VERY BAD THINGS (Nora and Leo)

2: VERY WICKED BEGINNINGS (Dovey and Cuba–prequel novella)

3: VERY WICKED THINGS (Dovey and Cuba)

4: VERY TWISTED THINGS (Violet and Sebastian)

VERY BAD THINGS (Amazon Top 5 Book and #1 in New Adult and College Age Romance)

Leaving behind her mansion and Jimmy Choos, Nora Blakely becomes a girl hell-bent on pushing the limits with alcohol, drugs, and meaningless sex.

Then she meets her soulmate, but he doesn’t want her.

Sexy gym owner Leo Tate has one rule: never fall in love…until Nora shows up with her list of bad things. He resists the pull of their sizzling connection, hung up on their age difference.

Welcome to Briarcrest Academy, where the best things in life are VERY BAD THINGS.

VERY WICKED BEGINNINGS (Prequel Novella: Amazon Top 100 Book and #1 in Urban Fiction)

When wicked ballerina Dovey Beckham meets football star Cuba Hudson, she didn’t plan on having her heart shattered into a million pieces. He’s the bad boy with a dark past and when he falls for Dovey, he knows she can’t be part of his future.

Welcome to VERY WICKED BEGINNGINGS.

VERY WICKED THINGS (Amazon Top 100 Book and #1 in Urban Fiction)

Dovey Beckham is a ballerina from the wrong side of the tracks with a scholarship to prestigious Briarcrest Academy. She gives her body but never her heart. Cuba “Hollywood” Hudson is a wealthy football player with fast cars and even faster girlfriends.

Until the day he meets her, and she offers him something he’s never tasted: true love.

Their passion is electric, their connection deep, but once in a lifetime kind of love doesn’t come easy, especially when dirty money, past sins, and old flames come calling.

Welcome to Briarcrest Academy…where the best things in life are Very Wicked Things.

VERY TWISTED THINGS (Amazon Top 100 and #1 Urban Fiction)

Violet St. Johns is a talented violinist hiding out in a Hollywood mansion, struggling to forget the devastation of her parent’s sudden death.

Vital Rejects front man Sebastian Tate never imagined his music video would go viral, skyrocketing him to instant fame. Okay, maybe he did. He’s a cocky dude, and he knew his name would be in lights someday.

When he sees the elusive girl in the mansion next door playing her violin nude, they begin an erotic game of spying.

When they finally come face-to-face, sparks fly and clothes comes off. But giving his heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention isn’t Violet’s.

Welcome to Briarcrest Academy….Hollywood style….where the best things in life are VERY TWISTED THINGS.

Praise for the Briarcrest Series:

“Cuba is hot, delicious, and intoxicating…the perfect book boyfriend. Be prepared for an addictive read.” ~Tijan, NYT Bestselling Author

Meet Ilsa Madden-Mills!

New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.

She’s addicted to all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding heroes in books. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she’s a Gemini), Sephora make-up, and tattoos.

She has a degree in English and a Master’s in Education.

When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.

You can stalk her on her website as well as get signed books: http://www.ilsamaddenmills.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorilsamaddenmills?pnref=lhc

IG: https://instagram.com/ilsamaddenmills/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ilsamaddenmills

GIVEAWAY

$50 Amazon Gift Card (Open Internationally)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

What happens when the man you’re married to

isn’t the man you married anymore?

Find out in Kathy Coopman’s Contrite series!  This Duet  has been bundled into one complete set for ONLY $0.99!

NOW AVAILABLE AT THE FOLLOWING RETAILERS:

Amazon US  **  Amazon UK  **  Barnes & Noble  **  Kobo

Blurb

CONTRITE BOOK ONE

What happens when the man you’re married to isn’t the man you married anymore? Clove Calloway knows within an hour of picking up her husband Turner from the airport that something is different. Yet she can’t pin point what. Together since College, they know everything about each other. So why has she spent the last few days watching everything he does, hoping for a clue? What could have happened within that week he was gone?

One way or another she’s going to find out.

When Clove invests in the help of her brother Zack, a police detective, she’s afraid her suspicions of infidelity will be confirmed. Terrified that such news will crush her heart, she sets about preparing for the worst.

Only to find it’s much more than she could have imagined—there is no other woman.

Clove’s life is about to descend into a web of deceit, lies and betrayal.

Appearances can be deceiving… and only the Master Manipulator will be left standing.

“The eyes only see what the mind is prepared to comprehend.” – Henri Bergson

REPRISAL BOOK TWO

Clove Calloway thought she ended her nightmare life when she stabbed herself.

When the darkness took over, she thought she’d find peace. Seeing her husband die by the hands of his traitorous brother, Trent, destroyed her. Little did she know, her dreadful life without Turner is just the beginning. She awakens from one nightmare right into another, confined in a house with the Master Manipulator of them all.

Now, she’s fighting for her life instead of trying to end it. As the truth unfolds, layer upon layer of deceit could suffocate her. How many times and in how many way can she be betrayed? But Clove refuses to lose. Just how she’s going to win is a plan she’s yet to determine…

Zack is determined to find his sister Clove, he knows she is out there somewhere. He can feel it. He wants her home. And he is going to find her! He’s ready to take down the evil that has her in his clutches. Only he’s just as shocked as Clove when the truth unfolds…

There’s more…. So much more. Are you ready?

Revenge.

Excerpt

I look at the clock and realize I still have an hour left. Turner is on a conference call, therefore I can’t ask him if he wants to skip out a little early and get to the bar for happy hour. Reaching for my phone, I decide to kick back and relax and maybe download some new songs. I plug in my phone to keep it charged and start listening to some music as I browse through the new selections.

“Clove?”

I jump, catching sight of Zack out of my peripheral vision.

“Christ, you scared the shit out of me!”

I sit back in my chair with a smile on my face, placing my hand over my heart as I slump back in my seat. I laugh, finding the situation funny. Pulling my ear buds out, I watch my brother as he strolls in and sits across from me at my desk. But he’s not laughing or smiling.

“There’s something wrong,” I say in a strangled voice.

“Yeah, there is.”

“Is . . .?”

I start crying and can’t seem to get any words to come out. My chest starts heaving and I hold onto the edge of my desk, my knuckles snow white from my tight grip.

“Is he cheating on me?”

“It’s worse. Much worse.”

The way he looks at me tells me whatever his news is, it’s going to rip me to shreds.

“Wha-what is it?” I can barely choke the words out.

Meet Kathy Coopmans! 

Amazon Best Selling Author Kathy Coopmans, lives in Michigan with her husband Tony where they have two grown sons.

After raising her children she decided to publish her first book and retiring from being a hairstylist.

She now writes full time.

She’s a huge sports fan with her favorite being Football and Tennis.

She’s a giver and will do anything she can to help another person succeed!

Use whichever one of these you would like babe.

Facebook | Twitter | Website | Goodreads

 

 

 

For Luisa Chavez, a twenty-three year old former beauty queen, a better life has always been just out of her reach. Sure, she’s had men at her feet since she was a young teenager but she’s never had the one thing she’s craved – security. Having grown up in near poverty, her waitressing job in Cabo San Lucas can barely let her take care of herself, let alone her ailing parents. Every day is another unwanted advance, every day is a struggle to survive.

When Salvador Reyes, the depraved leader of a major Mexican cartel, takes an interest in her, Luisa is presented with an opportunity she can’t afford to pass up. She’ll become Salvador’s wife and exchange her freedom and body for a life of riches – riches she can bestow upon her deserving parents. But Luisa quickly finds out that even the finest wines and jewels can’t undo the ugliness in her marriage, nor the never-ending violence that threatens her every move.

Soon, Luisa is looking for an escape, a way out of the carefully controlled life she’s leading. She finally gets her wish in the worst way possible.

As it is, being the wife of Salvador makes her an ideal target for rival cartels and there’s one particular man who needs Luisa as part of his cartel’s expansion. One particular man whose quest for power has destroyed lives, slit throats and gotten him out of an American prison. One particular man who will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.

That man is Javier Bernal. And he wants Luisa. He wants to take her, keep her, ruin her.

Unless she ruins him first.

Some men were born to create empires, some women were meant to be queen.

**Dirty Angels is the first standalone novel in the Dirty Angels Trilogy, in which all books feature or involve different characters. The character of Javier Bernal is from The Artists Trilogy, and while reading TAT is recommended if you want additional insight into this twisted character, it is not required.**

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Halle is represented by the Waxman Leavell Agency and is both self-published and published by Atria Books/Simon & Schuster and Hachette in North America and in the UK.

Hit her up on Instagram at @authorHalle , on Twitter at @MetalBlonde and on Facebook. You can also visit www.authorkarinahalle.com and sign up for the newsletter for news, excerpts, previews, private book signing sales and more.

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Title: His Lover to Protect

Author: Katee Robert

Series: Out of Uniform #3

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: September 7, 2015

Publisher: Entangled Brazen

Print Length: 50,000 words

Format: Paperback and Digital

ISBN: 9781633753679

His Lover to Protect

 by Katee Robert

Former pararescuer, Luke Jacobs never met a challenge he couldn’t take, including Avery Yeung. Fans of Nicolette Day’s No Strings Attached or Maisey Yates’s Unexpected, will devour the sexy addition to the Out of Uniform series by NYT and USA Today Bestselling Author Katee Robert.

Synopsis:

He’s never met a challenge he couldn’t take…

Alexis Yeung did everything right….only to watch everything go horribly, horribly wrong. Broken and angry, Alexis high-tails it to Europe, determined to face the world on her own terms and without consequence. Which includes a mind-blowing night with a sexy, scarred stranger.

Except, embittered former pararescuer Luke Jackson isn’t exactly a stranger. He’s supposed to keep an eye on Alexis without her knowing. Ending up in bed together was definitely not the plan. Now he’s chasing her (admittedly hot) ass across Europe, a game of cat and mouse that always ends with the two of them tangled up in the sheets.

Something in their scarred, damaged souls calls to each other. And God help them, the sex in unbelievably hot. But if Alexis discovers who Luke really is, he’ll lose the one thing that makes him feel whole…

Excerpt 

The elevator ride passed in a blur, and he towed her down the hall to his room. The door barely shut behind him when he pinned her against it. “You’re mine now.”

Even as she wrapped her legs around his waist, she shook her head. “For tonight.”

He wanted to rail against the limitation, but Luke was more concerned with getting her out of her clothes. With one punishing kiss, he moved to the bed and dropped her on it. Before she had a chance to right herself, he yanked off her boots and tossed them behind him. “Unbutton your pants.”

“Bossy, bossy.” But her voice was breathy, and her hands shook as she followed his order. He helped her get them over her hips and then peeled them off her legs, leaving her in only her white knit top and a thong with a shamrock that read Lucky You.

“Lucky me, indeed.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” She sat up, and he stripped off her shirt and bra. The panties could stay…for now. Alexis propped herself on her elbows and raised one slim leg to poke him in the chest with her foot when he started to crawl onto the bed. “Your turn.”

All he could see was her smooth skin and dark pink nipples. When she poked him again, he finally focused on her face. “What?”

“Your clothes. Get rid of them.”

For the first time since he’d kissed her, Luke paused. He hadn’t been with anyone in a long time. Hell, he could pinpoint the exact time because the woman had taken one look at his mangled knee and hightailed it out of the room. And that was after she cringed at the sight of his scars elsewhere. He couldn’t stand the thought of Alexis flinching from him. “Not yet.”

First, he was going to drive her so far out of her mind with pleasure that she wouldn’t have the ability to remember her own name, let alone worry about his damaged body.

See where it all began with book 1 of the Out of Uniform series, In Bed with Mr. Wrong.

Get More information at: Goodreads  | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Katee Robert learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. She found romance novels at age twelve and it changed her life. When not writing sexy contemporary and speculative fiction romance novels, she spends her time playing imaginary games with her wee ones, driving her husband batty with what-if questions, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.  Connect with Katee at: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Google + | GoodReads | Instagram | Tumblr | Youtube

Catch up on the Out of Uniform series:

In Bed with Mr. Wrong

His to Keep

Falling for His Best Friend

Meet Mia and Jensen in Paper Hearts.

This beautiful standalone contemporary romance by Claire Contreras is NOW LIVE!  #ClaireWrites

Grab your copy at:

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Blurb

I lost her.

No, I didn’t lose her. I threw her away.

She was my best friend.

I was never supposed to fall in love with her.

I was careless.

She was heartbroken.

I thought I was doing fine. But here she is, years later, forced to work with me, reminding me why I fell in love with her in the first place.

And this time I’m going to do everything in my power to never let her go.

Prologue

Jensen

I don’t take ownership in a lot of things. I rent an apartment, lease a car, and go to a no-contract gym. I have a wandering heart—an incessant mind. It’s hard for me to look at something and see forever; though I had a forever once.

I let her go, not because I loved her too much to ask her to stay, but because I couldn’t bear to hear her tell me she wouldn’t. Still, every once in a while I wonder.

And nothing is more haunting than regret.

Chapter 1

Mia

I used to wonder what I would do if I had the chance to go back in time and right something. Would I take it? Would I look at it as a second opportunity, or would I just let it go, knowing the experiences I went through and learned from?

Discomfort spread through me as I walked into the building of my new, albeit temporary, job. The feeling stayed there, stuck to the lining inside of my uneasy stomach, echoing its way into my mind until I reached the twentieth floor of the building. As I exited the elevator and stepped into the lobby of the magazine, a smiling brunette, who was sorting through a colorful cup of pens, greeted me. Something about her—maybe her fidgetiness, the Lisa Loeb look she had going, or the welcoming smile on her face—made me breathe a little easier.

“How can I help you?” she asked in a singsong voice as she swiveled slightly in her chair.

“I’m here to see Mrs.—I mean, Dr. Zamora.”

“Fran,” she said. “She likes to be called Fran. Are you Mia?”

“Yes.”

The girl smiled and gave me a quick onceover. “Cool. I’m Katie. Let me make sure she’s in. Take a seat.”

I let out a breath as I placed my bag on the floor and sat across from her in a sleek white chair, taking in the vast space filled with photographs shot by people whose work I admired. In an effort to calm my nerves, I picked up one of the magazines beside me and leafed through it, and even went as far as to try to channel my inner zen, remembering what an incredible yoga session I’d had earlier that morning. But nothing worked. That sticky feeling of what did I get myself into? could not be soothed.

It felt like the time I let my twin brother talk me into letting him cut my hair so that we could “really be twins,” and I ended up looking like Peter Pan for two months while my mother cried into her pillow every night. I fished out my phone and contemplated sending him a text. Rob had always been the brave twin, with words of wisdom to get me through these times. But, I’d dug my grave, and now I had to lie in it.

When I ran into my favorite college professor months ago, a local magazine had just published some of my pictures for a special they were circulating. The accomplishment I felt at telling her this dwindled when she asked the dreaded words: what next? But then she offered me the opportunity of a lifetime: to take pictures for a huge magazine, one I probably wouldn’t have had an opportunity to work for had my professor’s sister not been the person in charge of the project. The catch, of course, unbeknownst to my professor or her sister, was that my exboyfriend, The Dream Crusher, wrote for the same magazine. But I’d have been an idiot to turn it down. Regardless of where I worked after this, to have this experience on my resume would be incredible.

“She just got here,” Katie said, jerking me out of my thoughts. I stood quickly, hitching my bag on my shoulder as the glass door to my right opened and a tall woman with an uncanny resemblance to my professor—wild red hair and bright green eyes—walked through it.

I laughed when she winked at me. After she hired me for this job, we started following each other on any social media that allowed for stalking.

“It’s like we’ve been friends forever.”

“Social media will do that,” she responded with a laugh as she turned on her heels. “Let me show you around.”

If Fran were a car, she’d be in fourth gear at all times. By the time she finished showing me around the place and we got back to her office, my legs felt like they were on fire. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the heels I was wearing, or because I had to take four strides to her two. Being short could be a bit of a curse.

“We already got the clearance from W Magazine and are keeping the title ‘What Would You Do With Your Second Chance?’ I’m sure they told you already,” she said as we each took a seat.

They hadn’t told me anything. Not that it mattered. I’d taken pictures for an article with a similar name, but it was for a small, local magazine, nothing of this stature.

“I hope your friends don’t mind that we’re stealing their limelight,” Fran added with a smile. She’d become completely fascinated by the fact that the couple on the cover of the magazine, my best friend and her now-husband, were a second chance love story.

“They definitely don’t mind,” I replied with a laugh. “They wanted to kill me when they saw the magazine in our grocery stores, so replacing it will be a good thing.

” She laughed. “Were they uneasy because they weren’t an official couple yet?”

“Basically. Her brother wanted to kill Oliver … the guy,” I paused to clarify before continuing, “when he found out about the whole thing.”

“But it’s so romantic,” Fran said, letting out a deep sigh.

“I guess it is.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those girls!”

“One of what girls?”

“The ones who are all ‘I don’t need a man’ and ‘I hate romance.’” She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was biting back a smile as she said it.

I shrugged. “I’m not any kind of girl. I don’t need a man, but I don’t hate romance. I think I’m kind of obsessed with romance, really, which is probably why I’m still single.”

Fran laughed loudly. “Funny how that works, right? I’ll tell you what, had it not been for Match, I would have never met mine. I’m sure you don’t need any help finding a guy, though.” She waved the length of my torso as if she was presenting me to someone as some kind of trophy.

“Finding a guy isn’t a problem. Keeping a guy is a problem, and finding the guy is a complete catastrophe.”

Fran nodded in sympathy. “Yep. I’ve been there. But alas, you’ll find the one. You’re young, adorable, funny, talented, and smart. Hell of a combination.”

I smiled and looked away. “One day.”

“Anywho, enough about boys. Let’s talk about work. As I stated in the email, you’ll be taking your headshots today. You don’t need to come into the office every day, but feel free to use our facility for anything you need. I sent you the contact information for the couples you’ll be shooting so that you can schedule their test shots first, and after that, we’ll let you know who we narrowed it down to. We only want to select four couples to feature: two young, and two older. They all have different stories, anyway, so that’ll be fine.”

She paused for a breath as I nodded, taking mental notes. “And … oh yeah, here are the names of the writers working on the special. Carlos and Deborah are regular staff; the other two are freelance, but work with us often. I wrote down their emails and will send them yours now so they can contact you. Sometimes they like to go along for the shoots and do their interviews there.”

My eyes scrolled down the list as I nodded. I stalled when I saw his name. Just words on a page, but they made my heart flip once, twice, and finally nestle its way into the pit of my stomach. I was prepared for this.

“You should meet us for drinks on Wednesday,” Fran said, pulling me out of my thoughts. I was so not prepared for this.

“So I only see them on days that I shoot?” I asked, waving the paper slightly.

“Well, that only happens if they want to interview the people in their element. Otherwise, we only see each other during meetings, and we don’t have many. We’ll be having one this Wednesday over drinks, though, and then again to lay out the final plans.”

I swallowed loudly and nodded. “Okay.”

“It would be great for you to come on Wednesday and meet them,” she said again. I felt like I was on a downward spiral, moving here, knowing this job would mean I would be insanely close to him, secretly hoping that I was, while reminding myself of the reasons I’d avoided him in the first place. I took a breath and braced myself for the inevitable fall.

“Sure. Drinks sound great.”

Author Information

Claire Contreras graduated with her BA in Psychology from Florida International University. She lives in Miami, Florida with her husband, two little boys, and three dogs.

Her favorite past times are: daydreaming, writing, and reading.

She has been described as a random, sarcastic, crazy girl with no filter.

Life is short, and it’s more bitter than sweet, so she tries to smile as often as her face allows. She enjoys stories with happy endings, because life is full of way too many unhappy ones.

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