After a photograph of Luc Moretti saving a tourist hits social media, he instantly becomes New York’s most famous and beloved cop. When a major network decides to run a special on the “American Hero,” Luc’s boss gives him no choice but to cooperate in the name of good exposure for the department. Luc doesn’t mind the celebrity status-what he does mind is the gorgeous brunette journalist who’s been assigned to follow his every move. Especially since she also happens to be the same knockout that rejected him rather publicly the week before.

Ava Sims is a woman who gets what she wants. And what she wants is to be CBC’s lead anchor-but to get there, she’ll need to nail the fluff piece on the playboy cop. Luc Moretti is everything Ava knows to stay away from: a stubborn charmer with a hero-complex. But the more Ava gets to know Luc and his oddball family, the more she realizes that beneath the swagger and the blue uniform is a complex man who makes her heart beat too fast. Soon, Ava’s doing the unthinkable, and falling for the best of New York’s finest …

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Lauren Layne is the USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance.

Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and web-marketing. In 2011, she and her husband moved from Seattle to New York City, where Lauren decided to pursue a full-time writing career. It took six months to get her first book deal (despite ardent assurances to her husband that it would only take three).  Since then, Lauren’s gone on to publish ten books, including the bestselling
Stiletto series, with several more on the way in 2015.

Lauren currently lives in Chicago with her husband and spoiled Pomeranian. When not writing, you’ll find her at happy hour, running at a doggedly slow pace, or trying to straighten her naturally curly hair.

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Never Loved
Dark Obsession # 1

By: Charlotte Stein

Releasing July 21st, 2015

Loveswept

Blurb

Perfect for fans of Abbi Glines, the first novel in the Dark Obsession series tells the story of a beautiful wallflower who falls for a chiseled street fighter—and learns just how dangerous love can be.

Beatrix Becker spent most of her life under the thumb of her controlling, abusive father. And now that she’s free and attending her dream college, she has no idea how to act like the normal crowd: partying, going on dates, even having a conversation. Then she meets Serge Sorensen. Big and surly with a whole host of riotous tattoos, Serge is supposed to scare the hell out of her. But beneath his harsh exterior, Beatrix discovers a kindred spirit who knows what it’s like to be a misfit. Most exhilarating—and terrifying—is what he does for a living: illegal street fighting.

There’s nothing like the rush Serge gets from the intense athleticism and brutal glory of combat—though his chemistry with Beatrix comes close. Slowly at first, he introduces her to his world, where he lives by instinct, passion, and desire. He even helps her out with her equally traumatized brother. But when Serge gets in too deep with the wrong people, he ends up paying in blood. And suddenly, just as Beatrix has been drawn into Serge’s perfectly sculpted arms, she’s thrown once and for all into the fight of his life.

Link to Follow Tour:  http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/03/never-loved-dark-obsession-1-by.html

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Excerpt

“What you doing here, girl?”

I don’t want to glance in the direction of the speaker. The question is scary enough, but with that voice, too? I can hardly stand to hear and know and see what is in front of me. The guy sounds as if he has gravel caught in his throat, and each word has to rumble up through the mess.

Plus, I already sort of suspect who’s asking. There aren’t many men who would suit a voice that deep and that rough.

But the big guy does. In truth, I could have described what he sounds like before he says a word. It’s just so obvious, the way it’s obvious that a girl in patched corduroy doesn’t belong among all of these sweaty, filthy, angry men. They know it, I know it, and now the big guy does, too, though I’d rather he’d stayed out of it.

I could have just talked to hammer tattoo. I can’t talk to someone like the big guy. He’s far too much, and not just in terms of his size. When I finally dare to glance in his direction—one hand shielding my eyes against the glare—I come pretty close to swallowing my own tongue.

He has a neck tattoo. And not just any neck tattoo, either. This one goes all the way around, as though he hadn’t been satisfied with something small. He hadn’t been satisfied with a few minutes of absolute agony. No, he needed a rope around his throat two inches thick, so rough and coarse I’m tempted to offer him lotion.

If I peel the image away, there will be welts underneath, I’m sure of it. And even if there aren’t, even if that’s insane, the fact still remains:

It looks as if he’s tried to hang himself.

I suspect, in fact, that this was the aim.

Though really, the tattoo is the smallest part of the problem. He’s also wearing this weird overall thing of the kind you usually see on men who work in sewers—though I don’t think the outfit has anything to do with his profession. I’m fairly sure you’re not allowed to tromp around underground with both sleeves hacked off your uniform and all the buttons undone right down to the waist, and if you are, someone should make it illegal right now.

It has to be some kind of health hazard. It’s certainly having a hazardous effect on me, despite the intense effort I’m putting into not staring. I focus on some point just to the left of his head, but that hint of enormous chest keeps calling and calling me back. How could it be otherwise when the better part of my life was spent in knee-high socks with a copy of Men’s Health under my mattress? I thought it was the filthiest thing in the world until I got to this school and saw cocks careening all over everybody’s computers.

It’s a miracle that I manage to control myself at all.

And no surprise when I don’t. I just about get the urge to ogle his chest under control, and then I accidentally glance a little to the right and oh, I shouldn’t have done that.

His general face area is even crazier than the rest of him. He has this strip of hair right down the middle of his shaved head, black and slick and flat, and just in case that’s not wild enough, there are these lines carved through the stubble, like racing stripes, just above his ears. He has actual racing stripes, so strange and bold it’s impossible to look at anything else.

Though God knows I try. I really do. He’s looking at me now in this steely, half-amused sort of way, as if he just knows I can’t resist. In a second he’ll probably crack a joke at my expense, so acting indifferent is very important. Answering him is very important.

And yet I can’t seem to say a word. If I do, I will say all the wrong ones. He will hear my dad in them, blaming him for all the world’s ills and accusing him of turning his daughter into a whore. Or maybe my accent will leak out due to nerves and get me the uncomfortable attention it always does.

Hey, Mary Poppins, he’ll tease, while I try not to die a thousand deaths.

I was intrigued after reading the book description, sheltered college girl and street fighter bad boy.  I thought Never Loved had a slow start with the pace picking up and keeping the pages turning.  I enjoyed the attraction between Beatrix and Serge.  Stein has a way with steamy hot scenes.

Author Info

Charlotte Stein has written over thirty short stories, novellas and novels, including entries in The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance and Best New Erotica 10. Her latest work, Run To You, was recently a DABWAHA finalist. When not writing deeply emotional and intensely sexy books, she can be found eating jelly turtles, watching terrible sitcoms and occasionally lusting after hunks. For more on Charlotte, visit: www.charlottestein.net

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Take the Fall
Take the Fall # 1

By: Marquita Valentine

Releasing July 21, 2015

Loveswept

Blurb

Fans of Abbi Glines and Katy Evans will adore Take the Fall, the first spinoff novel from Marquita Valentine’s New York Times bestselling Boys of the South series. In this emotional new romance, passions run hot as a rugged, brooding Marine rekindles an old flame.

As a teenager, Seth O’Connor went to jail for a crime he had nothing to do with. He took the fall to protect the girl he loved, but the cruel realities of prison hardened him. After doing his time, Seth shuts her out and enlists in the Marines—until his grandmother’s funeral forces him to come home and face Rowan Simmons once again. The woman she’s become puts all his high-school memories to shame, and Seth wants her more than ever. Can he be honest about why he denied her for so long?

After Seth pushed her away, Rowan swore that no man would ever hurt her again. But the boy who broke her heart has become a sexy Marine, capable of fulfilling her every desire—and now that he’s back in town, old feelings are simmering to a boil. Rowan wants to stay strong, even as her body surrenders to his expert touch. She only hopes that by taking him back, she can finally help heal the wounds that drove them apart

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Excerpt

“You want me to drive?” I ask, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. I don’t want to look like a complete tool in front of my girl’s older brother, but the last word cracks in my throat.

Shit.

Embarrassed as hell, I cough, like something got caught and was responsible for my soprano warbling, and run a hand through my hair before I start over. “I mean, I guess I can.” I shrug. “Whatever, bro.”

Jase Simmons, two years older at nineteen, slices his gaze to me. I’ve idolized him ever since I spied on him in his garage with his hand up Melissa Layton’s skirt. He’d been fourteen, a juvie regular, and a freshman in high school. Melissa had been eighteen, a homecoming queen, and a senior, but from the way she clutched his shoulders and moaned his name—their differences didn’t seem to matter very much. If at all.

Luckily, he didn’t think I was a perv when he caught me snooping. Instead, he took my scrawny ass under his wing, kept me from being beat up by the other kids in the neighborhood, and taught me how to trick out a car.

He tosses me the keys, and I catch them. “Cut the shit, O’Connor, and get in.”

Grinning, I slide into the tricked-out sports car. The driver’s seat is all black leather, soft and supple. I run my hands over the steering wheel, gripping it once before letting it go.

Despite this being my first time up, I know there’s no way I won’t win. Tony Johnson’s car has nothing on Jase’s Mustang, and Jase has been coaching me in my ’98 Nissan. Come tomorrow, I for damn sure will be driving Rowan to school in Tony’s Camaro.

“You done feeling her up?” Jase asks, listening to the police scanner a friend of his holds. Yeah, street racing isn’t exactly legal. Okay, forget exactly. It’s strictly illegal, and our asses could go to jail if we get caught.

But the thrill of it—the way my heart is pumping right now—there’s no way in hell I’m giving up my turn to race.

“Just getting to know her.”

“She doesn’t want you to know her. She wants to be driven.” He shuts the passenger side door. “So drive it like you borrowed it from a guy who will kick your ass from here to the Outer Banks if you wreck it.”

Blood drains from my face. “Don’t you mean stole it?”

“Hell, no.” Jase gives me a pointed look. “They’re waiting and betting on you to win.”

I glance out the window, watching as a group of people jostle for a front-row view as money exchanges hands. My stomach churns. I can’t let anyone down, especially not a crowd of people who don’t want to part with their money.

Sweat breaks out on my upper lip, and I swipe at it with my tongue.

A flash of sunshine catches my eye. My girlfriend, Rowan, stands directly in the middle. Her smile is so big that my heartbeat gets all crazy. I think I’ve loved Rowan for as long as I have known her. Considering that she punched me in the stomach in kindergarten for not letting her on the swing set first, that’s a long damn time.

“Staring at my sister won’t help,” Jase growls.

Oh, shit. He’s going to kill me. “I wasn’t staring.”

Jase laughs. “Rowan told me the two of you are officially dating.”

Instead of replying to that right away, I start up the engine. It roars to life before settling in to an idling purr. Best sound on earth. An image of a nude Rowan flashes in my head. She moans my name. Okay, so second-best.

Crap. I can’t think of Jase’s sister nude or moaning while I’m sitting right beside the dude. Sweat gathers at the small of my back and I take a deep, sustaining breath.

“Rowan really said that?” I ask all nonchalantly.

“Yeah.” He rolls down the window and lights a cigarette. The end of it glows bright orange. “She’s got bigger balls than you.”

Pretty sure those balls are mine. That girl owns me. All of me. “I was going to tell you.” Putting the car into gear, I inch it forward to line up with the Camaro beside us.

Jase grunts. “After the wedding?”

I haven’t asked Rowan to marry me, but I can see it happening. After she’s done with college, and I’ve worked long enough at my grandmother’s auto shop to become a manager.

“I love your sister, Jase. She’s not just a—”

“You can stop at I love your sister,” he says, cutting me off. “I don’t need to know any more than that. And since I haven’t heard you running your mouth about whatever extracurricular activities the two of you have been up to, I’m content to let you live.”

The phrase for now is implied. “I totally respect her.”

He slices his gaze to look at me, a smirk on his face. “Does that mean she’ll be a virgin on her wedding night?”

I almost choke. “Uh . . . ah . . .” Rowan and I have been having sex for five months now. I’m her first and she’s my second. Actually, she’s my last.

Jase punches me in the side. “I’m fucking with you, but if you get her pregnant—then it’s a shotgun wedding. If you hurt her, then a bullet to the balls. You got me?”

I got him. In fact, I’m completely terrified of him. Most people I know are terrified of him. Except my grandmother . . . she loves Jase. So much so that he’s the head mechanic at her shop. He is an amazing mechanic. I’m pretty sure he can take an engine apart and put it back together in his sleep.

Marquita Valentine’s Take the Fall will have you feeling a range of emotions.  Valentine immediately pulled me into Seth and Rowan’s story.  I couldn’t help but feel the heartbreak when Rowan is left behind and then the hope of second chance love when Seth returns.

I’m looking forward to the next book, can’t wait for the spotlight to shine on some great secondary characters.  Marquita Valentine has a new fan on the lookout to catch up on her backlist.

Author Info

Marquita Valentine is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Holland Springs and Boys of the South series, having sold more than a quarter of a million books around the world. She’s been called “one of the best new voices in romance” (Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews) and her books have been praised as “sexy, fun, and slightly addicting” (The Book Queen). When she’s not writing sexy heroes who adore their sassy heroines, she enjoys shopping, reading, and spending time with her family and friends. Married to her high-school sweetheart, Marquita Valentine lives in a seriously small town in the south with her husband, two kids, and a dog.
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CLAIMED by Stacey Kennedy

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One date with the sexier-than-sin Detective Drake Nash. Simple.

Until you take into account that my brother finally proposed to his girlfriend, so Nonna is on a warpath—and the crazy old bat has Cupid by the balls.

The upcoming mayoral elections has everyone running on full speed, and while I couldn’t give any less craps about the corrupt Holly Woods mayor’s office, a dead body in the middle of a campaign speech has me thrown right into the middle of it. The victim is close to the mayor, but all he cares about is minimizing the damage to his campaign, so he hires me to work alongside Drake to close the case as quickly as possible.

Bad news for our tentative relationship.

We disagree far more than we agree, but being at loggerheads won’t get this murder solved… Or deal with the arrival of someone from his past.

The mysteries behind the murder aren’t the only things unraveling, and despite being knee-deep in lies and corruption and bonds so tangled they’re almost indecipherable, I have to figure out if I’m willing to fight for Drake the way I do justice…

Or if he’ll be my one who gets away.

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EXCERPT

“Take a seat, Detective, and tell me all about your official business with your warrant.”

“I prefer to have my discussions standing.” He grasps my arm—not tightly, but strongly enough that I’d have to insert my Louboutin into his ballsac to get him to release me.

“From experience, you prefer most things upright.”

Slowly, his lips curve to one side, his smirk both sexy and infuriating. His eyes flash with the memory. “Especially where you’re concerned, Ms. Bond.”

I drop my eyes to his belt, allowing them to linger on the buckle before falling another inch or two to his crotch. “Don’t tell me you dropped in for a midday booty call.”

“Are you offerin’? Since you’re holdin’ out on me, I think you owe me.”

“Excuse me?” My eyes snap up to his, and the smugness reflecting in his gaze tells me that I fell for his trick.

Son of a bitch.

“Our date? It’s been two weeks since you agreed to go out with me, and call me obsessive, but I’m counting nine missed calls, ten missed texts, and five missed visits to your office.”

“You counted? Hell yeah, that’s obsessive.”

“Maybe I just really want to date you.”

“Or you want to return the favor of a bullet through the foot.”

His arm rests on the weapon at his hip. “That can be arranged right now, if you’d like to call it even.”

My fingers curl around the handle of the one at his other hip. “And I’ll up the score just as quickly.”

Drake laughs, his anger seemingly gone, and leans in. “Go ahead. It’ll give me the reason to get you in cuffs I’ve been waiting for.”

I’m ninety-nine percent sure my blood pressure has gone batshit crazy at his words. Hell, my pulse is much stronger than it was thirty seconds ago.

“Five minutes ago, you were yelling about a warrant,” I breathe, swallowing the burst of desire bolting through me. “Your official business seems far more personal, though, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Not at all,” he replies. He takes my hand from his weapon, but instead of releasing it, he keeps his grip. “I’m surprised you didn’t reach for your own gun.”

“And tell you where it is? I’m no amateur, Drake.”

“And still, I underestimate you.”

“Rightly so.” I remove my hand from his and reach up my skirt. Then I pull my favorite Tiffany-blue Glock from my thigh holster. The muzzle presses against his upper thigh, but to his credit, he doesn’t even flinch at the contact.

“I underestimate you,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing my waist. “But I don’t take you for stupid. You won’t pull that trigger. Not there. It’s too close to the part of me you like.”

“You assume far too much, Detective.” I drop the gun anyway and dart around him, strolling to my desk and setting it down softly on top of my latest case folder.

Drake comes up behind me, reaches around me, and rests his hands next to mine on the desk. I briefly close my eyes as his hard body melds against mine, because the man has one fine fucking body. I can feel it now—all muscle and tone and pure, hard strength. His biceps brush mine, except his are way more…bicep…than mine. Like, seriously, how does he fit those into that hot-as-hell white shirt?

This is what happens when he touches me. I go all giggly schoolgirl. Sweet Jesus though. It’s hard not to.

I know what that body looks like and feels like and acts like, and those memories can’t be erased. I can’t erase the memory of his body, slick with sweat, tensed with determined pleasure, moving against mine as I took everything he had to give me.

I take a deep breath, but despite my efforts to inhale slowly, it fills my lungs in a rush that jolts me. Drake feels it, because he drops his face to the curve of my neck exposed by my sleek topknot. Every part of me wishes I could unravel the hairbands and pins, but still, his lips against my collarbone… Oh, hell. They feel so good. So sweet and hot.

“This is highly unprofessional,” I manage, unwillingly tilting my head to the side and exposing my neck to him. “For your official business, I mean.”

He trails his lips up to my ear, where they brush the lobe, curving into a smile. “You are my official business, Ms. Bond.”

 

Tangled Bond is the second in Emma Hart’s series, Holly Woods Files.  Noelle and Drake have a chemistry that has the reader wanting to know what will happen next between them.  With Tangled Bond, their relationship becomes a focal point in the story more so than the mystery.  Hart provides enough twists to keep you guessing.  I’m looking forward to seeing what book three will bring.

Photograph cheating spouses. Hand over the evidence. Cash my check.

(Twisted Bond is book one of the Holly Woods Files series and while it does not end in a cliffhanger, it is not a standalone.)

By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies – usually wine – and writes books.

Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.

She likes to be busy – unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.

Perfect Touch: A Novel

By: Elizabeth Lowell

Releasing July 28, 2015

William Morrow

Blurb

Sara Medina is a designer and art dealer from San Francisco. She matches her clients desires with fine and folk art from the world over–living up to her thriving business named Perfect Touch. She still remembers her rural childhood of hard work and poverty on the family dairy farm, but she keeps it firmly in the past as she searches out new artwork and artists that are on the breaking edge of acclaim. After she experienced the cultural riches San Francisco had to offer, she decided her life would be that of an urban career woman rather than a working mom commuting from the suburbs. With the intensive hours and travel required to grow her business to the next level, she has no time or energy left for romantic or family entanglements.

Jay Vermillion recently inherited Vermillion Sky, a ranch that nestles up to Wyoming’s Grand Teton Mountains–and the estates of the rich and restless. As a returned veteran of numerous deployments over the course of two wars, he finds himself wrestling with the demands of a ranch that has been run down during his father’s long illness. Between the urgent need to modernize and revitalize the Vermillion Sky, as well as an unexpected and vicious fight with his former stepmother over the custody of now-valuable paintings that were part of his father’s estate, Jay has no time for finding a wife and creating a sixth generation of Vermillions to ensure the family legacy continues.

When Jay hires Sara to appraise and market his father’s cache of paintings by Harris “Custer” Armstrong, neither one expects the explosive results of their eventual meeting in Jackson, Wyoming. In addition to a mutually inconvenient attraction, they a discover double murder at the edge of the ranch lands and a potential betrayal even closer to home. All trails lead to Custer’s artworks as valuable enough to kill for, especially an unknown painted rumored to be called The Muse.

As Sara and Jay unravel the motive for the killings, they both discover that love, like murder, doesn’t wait for a convenient time. On the heels of that soul-shattering realization, Sara is targeted for murder. Suddenly, the war-weary soldier finds something he is once again willing to die for…

Link to Follow Tour:  http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/06/perfect-touch-novel-by-elizabeth-lowell.html

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Excerpt

Sara’s phone chimed and vibrated in her hand. She looked down, saw her partner’s phone number, and connected. For a few minutes Piper Embry would take Sara’s mind off the cold and the man whose deep voice wove through her dreams.

“Bought any great rugs lately?” Sara asked.

“I’ve got my eye on some that have me checking Perfect Touch’s bank balance.”

“What happened to consignment?”

“I’m working on it,” Piper said. “What’s this message you left about Wyoming?”

“I wrapped up the Chens early and came to Jackson.”

“I thought you were getting tired of flying all over the place.”

“I am.”

“But you’re still lusting after those Custers? Or is it Jay Vermilion of the incredible voice?”

“Wait until—if—I get my hands on those paintings,” Sara said, ignoring Piper’s teasing. “They will wring the hearts and pocketbooks of at least five of my clients, and go a long way toward reducing my world travel.” Chilly air swirled hard against her, blowing her hair into a nearly-black cloud around her face.

“What’s that sound?” Piper asked.

“Wind. Spring here is long on bluster and short on cherry petals.”

Sara glanced around quickly, looking for shelter. All she saw was another odd arch leading into another part of the park. Or maybe out of it. Whichever, she opted to stay in the sun.

“You okay?” Piper asked. “Your voice is different. Kind of strained.”

“You know me too well. My room was robbed. Computer and coat are gone. But I’m fine. Don’t have time right now for some junkie’s drama. In five minutes the judge is supposed to finally deliver herself of a verdict on the Vermilion case.”

I’ve been a longtime reader fan of Elizabeth Lowell.  I am always looking forward to picking up one of her books.  I know that when I reach that last page, I’ll have been left with a satisfying read that I’ll want to reread.

Perfect Touch pulls the reader into the story with the perfect blend of suspense and romance.  Lowell weaves rich detail and action in this page turner.  I couldn’t wait to know what was going to happen with Jay and Sara.

Author Info

Elizabeth Lowell’s exciting novels of romantic suspense include New York Times Bestsellers: Dangerous Refuge, Beautiful Sacrifice, Death Echo, The Wrong Hostage, Amber Beach, Jade Island, Pearl Cove, and Midnight in Ruby Bayou. She has also written NYT best-selling historical series set in the American West and Medieval Britain. She has more than 80 titles published to date, with over 24 million copies of her books in print. She lives in the Sierra Nevada Mountains with her husband, with whom she writes novels under a pseudonym. Her favorite activity is exploring the Western United States to find the landscapes that speak to her soul and inspire her writing.
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BURN

Release Day: July 23

Tragedy cuts deep. Revenge burns deeper.

The blood of their enemies coats the leather of their cuts and a trail of bodies lie in their wake, but the Forsaken Motorcycle Club isn’t done yet. Carlo Mancuso still needs to pay for his sins. Nobody knows that more than Ian Buckley, the Treasurer for Forsaken.

Ian prefers his pleasure mixed with pain and he’s only ever at peace when he’s doling out justice. Convinced that he’s too unstable and sadistic to take an old lady, he keeps his trysts, like all of his relationships, brief and anonymous. But with his club at war, and the stakes being so personal, Ian’s feeling the events around him more deeply than he expects.

Mindy Mercer is the sweet daughter of Fort Bragg’s most respectable cop. At least that’s how the town sees her. Very few people know the Mindy who hides her tracks and battles her cravings by lying to everyone around her. She thinks she has control of her addiction until she suffers an attack that leaves her searching for a way out of her own personal hell.

Mindy has never been more desperately in need of a savior and Ian has never seen a more beautifully destroyed creature in his life. Their attraction is intense, but their damage is extreme. Some scars never heal, and some people never get better.

Love is never more painful than when it can kill you.

“You ride?”

I shake my head. He turns his face toward mine and waits as though I haven’t answered him. Maybe he thinks I haven’t. I guess I’ve been silent too long because he squeezes my hand and continues to stare at me with searching eyes. I shake my head again and this time he sees it and nods his head in return. He drops my hand and climbs on his bike. He nudges the kickstand up and holds the bike upright. He has a helmet in his outstretched hand.

“Wear this, then climb on like I did and place your feet here,” he says and points to a cylindrical black peg that juts out of the bike. “Don’t drop your feet and let your body lean into the turns.”

He’s patient with me as I stand here and psych myself up. I’ve had maybe a fantasy or two about a sexy man on a motorcycle, but until Ian it was just that—a passing fantasy that went as quickly as it came.

With his pointer finger, he summons me forward and sets the helmet on the tank between his legs. His eyes aren’t kind exactly and they’re not dark and sexy. They’re something else that I’m desperate to place, but can’t. I close the distance between us and stand before him. Slowly, he reaches out and brushes a lock of hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear.

“Tell me where you’re at,” he says quietly. He tucks my hair behind my other ear as well. I let out a soft, unintentional sigh. I barely hear the question—or order rather—and instead have all my attention focused on his touch. Being able, and even wanting, to be touched is such a wonder. “Tell me I help.”

There’s such a vulnerability about him in this moment as his fingers lightly weave through my messy hair and he’s asking for reassurance. My breath halts in my lungs. I both loathe and love the sound of his plea. I didn’t even know he was capable of this. Ian is always so strong for me that I think I sometimes forget that he’s human.

“I need you.”

I can’t remember what had me picking up the first Bayonet Scars book but I admit I’m hooked.  I need to know what happens.  I’ve been waiting for this story for what feels like forever.  Ian has been a mystery.  The small bits and pieces we’ve gotten in the previous books only had me wanting to know more about him and his past.  After Rev and Mindy’s attack, I couldn’t imagine what Emery had in store with the series.

Burn does not disappoint.  I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough.  I loved the softer side of Ian.  The match between Mindy and Ian just works.  Emery doesn’t deliver a pretty, all tied up romance with Burn.  She packs in the emotions in this gritty, hard yet sweet MC romance that will leave the reader ready for the next book.

As a child, JC was fascinated by things that went bump in the night. As they say, some things never change. Now, as an adult, she divides her time between the sexy law men, mythical creatures, and kick-ass heroines that live inside her head and pursuing her bachelor’s degree in English. JC is a San Francisco Bay Area native, but has also called both Texas and Louisiana home. These days she rocks her flip flops year round in Northern California and can’t imagine a climate more beautiful.

JC writes adult, new adult, and young adult fiction. She dabbles in many different genres including science fiction, horror, chick lit, and murder mysteries, yet she is most enthralled by supernatural stories– and everything has at least a splash of romance.

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Chasing Jillian
Love and Football # 5

By: Julie Brannagh

Releasing July 7, 2015

Avon Impulse

Blurb

Jillian Miller likes her job working in the front office for the Seattle Sharks, but lately being surrounded by a constant parade of perfection only seems to make her own imperfections all the more obvious. She needs a change, which takes her into foreign territory: the Sharks’ workout facility after hours. The last thing she expects is a hot, grumbly god among men to be there as witness.

Star linebacker Seth Taylor had a bad day-well, a series of them recently. When he hits the Sharks’ gym to work out his frustration, he’s startled to find someone there-and even more surprised that it’s Jillian, the team owner’s administrative assistant. When he learns of Jillian’s mission to revamp her lifestyle, he finds himself volunteering to help. Something about Jillian’s beautiful smile and quick wit makes him want to stick around. She may not be like the swimsuit models he usually has on his arm, but the more time Seth spends with Jillian the harder he falls.

And as Jillian discovers that the new her is about so much more than she sees in the mirror, can she discover that happiness and love are oh-so-much better than perfect?

Link to Follow Tour:  http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/06/chasing-jillian-love-and-football-5-by.html

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Excerpt

She hurried over to the laptop on the little desk in the kitchen, pulled up Google, and searched on Seth’s name. She sank into a chair while she read. He was six foot four, and she practically weighed as much as he did. Well, not quite, but still. She let out a long sigh. He was two years younger than she was. It also seemed Seth had been busy: He was single. “Very single,” according to one of the most recent fan websites she looked at. In Google Images, she found a series of photos of him with multiple tall, dark-haired women, each more gorgeous than the last.

Jillian shut the laptop lid with an irritated “click”, got up from her chair, and hurried into the bathroom. She’d stood in front of a full-length mirror so many times, but it always showed her the same thing. She wasn’t unattractive, but she could use a little more self-confidence and a lot more toning.  She wasn’t asking for physical perfection, but she’d like to make some changes. If she made a plan, started slowly and kept at it, she’d see a difference.  The biggest changes needed to start on the inside, though. Maybe if she got out a little more, she might meet a guy that was interested in her. Seth was gorgeous, but he wasn’t really in her universe. Jillian went into the kitchen, grabbed a frozen low-calorie dinner out of the freezer, ripped the cardboard lid off, and shoved it into the microwave. Dinner would taste a whole lot better if it was accompanied by half a bag of chips and some Ranch dip. But that wasn’t an option right now. She opened the refrigerator door to look for a fresh vegetable of some type.

She pushed the fridge door shut after a fruitless search and rummaged around in her apartment’s tiny pantry. She located a can of peas. Peas were good. Plus, there weren’t many calories in peas. Maybe she could fill up on them if the diet dinner didn’t cut it.

Jillian’s love-hate relationship with her body and food had started when she was little.  Most of the time, there wasn’t enough to eat. She ended up in a foster home at three years old after her mother died in a car wreck, and she was moved a few times before she entered elementary school. Things got a little better for Jillian when she was placed in a more permanent foster home, but she was still so hungry. No matter how much she ate, she wanted more.  When she was old enough to make her own money, she made sure there was more than enough, and that’s when the problems began. Even more than a diet or a new workout regime, she needed to focus on the great things in her life. She’d build a healthier lifestyle as a result. Even more than a diet or a new workout regime, change from the inside would last a lot longer. She wanted to build on the goals she’d already achieved and reach out for more of the things she wanted in life: A husband. A family. To belong.

Chasing Jillian is the first Julie Brannagh I’ve read but definitely not the last.  As the fifth in Brannagh’s Love and Football series, Chasing Jillian can be read as a standalone but probably best enjoyed after reading the previous books in the series.  I love a great sports romance and football is at the top of my list.

Brannagh has wonderfully real characters in Seth and Jillian.  I enjoyed that they start off as friends and their relationship builds along with the story.  It makes for a refreshing read to see the growth and build up between them.

I’m looking forward to catching up on the Love and Football series and hope to be reading about more of the Sharks.

Author Info

USA Today Bestselling Author, Julie Brannagh has been writing since she was old enough to hold a pencil. She lives in a small town near Seattle, where she once served as a city council member and owned a yarn shop. She shares her home with a wonderful husband, two uncivilized Maine Coons and a rambunctious chocolate Lab.

When she’s not writing, she’s reading, or armchair-quarterbacking her favorite NFL team from the comfort of the family room couch. Julie is a Golden Heart finalist and the author of contemporary sports romances.

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Will they or won’t they?  #ToxicLove

Meet Phoebe & Jeremy in this second chance romance!

New York Times bestselling author Kim Karr turns up the heat in a smoking hot, emotionally compelling romance that takes you into the world of Manhattan’s elite. Meet Jeremy McQueen, a sexy, intense, brooding entrepreneur who goes after what he wants, and Phoebe St. Claire, a socialite-turned-CEO who’s been drifting through life searching for something she thought she’d never find again–the right man to share her future.

Phoebe St. Claire has devoted herself to saving her family’s hotel empire–but her best efforts have not been good enough. With her whole world in turmoil, the tenacious go-getter turns to the once love of her life. Far from innocent, Jeremy McQueen was the guy from the wrong side of the tracks who her parents would never have approved of. Their years apart have only made the sexy bad boy more irresistible than ever–and their reunion is explosive.

When she asks Jeremy to help her salvage her family business, he agrees immediately, with only one condition–he wants her in his bed.

But soon surprising circumstances leave Phoebe reeling. Was this fairy tale romance just too good to be true? Will Jeremy’s secrets pull them apart all over again?

THIS IS A STANDALONE SECOND-CHANCE ROMANCE WITH NO CLIFFHANGER ENDING.

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Excerpt

Phoebe St. Claire

Feeling a bit drunk and overwhelmed with so many and so few choices at the same time, I needed some time alone and snuck off toward the beach path.

I ran toward the ocean and twirled in the sand as the wind blew around me. Once I started to feel dizzy from twirling, I still wasn’t ready to head back to the party, so I took the path that would lead me to the large Olympic-sized pool. I tugged my sandals off with thoughts of putting my feet in the water to rinse the mud and sand away. As I approached the pool, I noticed how it glowed like it was lit by small pale fires. Lost in the enchantment of it, the sudden movement beneath the surface startled me.

A fair-haired boy emerged from the water. He pulled himself up and out so quickly that I was momentarily stunned. And then when he drank me in with his eyes, I shuddered.

I couldn’t help it, the way he looked at me just made me shiver. No one had ever looked at me like that before and I found myself gazing back into his intense eyes.

He was utterly beautiful. His bare chest was sculpted but not overly bulky like Danny or Jamie. They worked out every day pumping obnoxious amounts of iron to look the way they did. In contrast, the boy standing before me had a swimmer’s build.

He stood stoic and a cautious look crossed his face. He was long and lean in a pair of bright green neon swim trunks.

Right away I could tell he didn’t care what anyone thought about him.

I loved the idea of that.

So I smiled at him.

He shook his head and his hair fell into his eyes.

I wanted to reach out and push it away. It wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short. It was perfect.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing a towel off the ground.

It didn’t belong to the club. It was small, beige, and a bit worn—not the large hunter-green fluffy ones monogrammed in white I’d always gotten when I used to come here to swim as a kid.

“Hey,” I said back, swinging my sandals nervously.

He grabbed a pair of jeans that lay next to where the towel had been and walked right by me.

I turned to watch him as he strode into one of the cabanas and dropped his trunks. I froze and squeezed my eyes shut, thinking I shouldn’t be watching him but then opened them quickly when I couldn’t resist maybe catching a glimpse.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you it isn’t polite to stare?” His voice was low and sexy, and it tugged me out of my own head.

I put my hands on my hips. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to undress in mixed company?”

He pulled his jeans on and laughed. “My mother might have mentioned that once or twice but I’ve never been good at following the rules.”

And it didn’t escape my notice that he didn’t put any underwear on first.

Hot. Totally and completely hot.

I didn’t see anything I shouldn’t have seen, it was too dark, but something inside me electrified at the thought of seeing him naked and I stepped closer. That’s when I noticed the scuffed-up black work boots on one of the lounges with a T-shirt thrown next to them.

I raised a brow. “Is this your changing room?”

He laughed again but this time added a smile and put his hands up. “Okay you caught me. I better get out of here before anyone else does.”

He was adorable and charming and my heart skipped a beat or two.

Then I stepped even closer and entered the cabana entrance, effectively blocking his way. “Why? You’re not doing anything wrong.”

He shrugged but he didn’t try to move around me. “I usually swim in the ocean but when the water is too rough, like tonight, I come here.”

I bit my lip in contemplation before speaking. “Does it really matter if you get caught?”

He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Let’s just say it’s not just the swimming. It’s more that I’ve been caught doing a few too many things that I shouldn’t have been doing in the past.”

A bad boy.

The thought made my pulse thunder. “So you’re not a member at this club?”

He cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. “No,” he laughed but his laugh was anything but genuine. “Are you?”

I hesitated as I considered my answer. “No, I was just walking the beach and wanted to rinse my feet. I’m Phoebe,” I said extending my hand. Technically, I wasn’t lying. I wasn’t a member, my parents were. I hadn’t even been here in years. And I was out for a walk.

Amusement danced in his blue eyes. “Jeremy,” he said back.

When I chewed on my lower lip, I noticed how his eyes focused on it.

Mine focused on the entirety of his mouth—his strong, firm jaw, his sensuous lips, and his tongue that had snuck out to lick his lips.

That mouth.

It was almost too much.

 Almost.

I’m a sucker for a good second chance romance, add in an author that keeps the reader on the hook throughout the story and I’m done in.

Toxic is a page turner that will keep you reading.  The twists wouldn’t let me put it down, I needed to know what was going to happen.  The chemistry between Jeremy and Phoebe is steamy and intoxicating.  I loved them together and couldn’t help but root for them.

Kim Karr continues to deliver to her readers characters that are likable and engaging.  I will be checking out Karr’s backlist and looking forward to her next.

About the Author:

I live in Florida with my husband and four kids. I’ve always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, I wanted to teach at the college level but that was not to be. I went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise my family. I currently work part-time with my husband and full-time embracing one of my biggest passions—writing.

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Melting Ice
Game On in Seattle #5

By: Jami Davenport

Releasing June 15, 2015

Cedona Enterprises

Blurb

USA Today Bestselling author Jami Davenport presents another Seattle Sockeyes hockey romance and the fifth book in her Game On in Seattle sports romance series showcasing alpha male heroes of football, baseball, and hockey.

Brimming with attitude and broken beyond repair, Isaac “Ice” Wolfe has a heart as cold as his nickname, and he likes it that way–until he meets his neighbor Avery Maxwell. Avery is unlike any woman he’s ever known. Her smile thaws his frozen heart. Being with her heals his broken places. She makes him feel, and for Isaac that’s not always a good thing. Isaac has burned every bridge in his professional hockey career. When he’s traded to the Seattle Sockeyes halfway through their inaugural season, he knows he won’t get another chance. He’s never been a team player, yet he needs to become one–and fast.

Avery has only wanted one thing in her life–to train and show horses. Her decision to drop out of college to pursue her riding career causes a rift with her big sister, but Avery is tired of following everyone else’s dreams. Now she’s following her own, and no one is going to distract her from her passion–until she meets a dark stranger and his cantankerous dog.

When Isaac is warned away from Avery by the team’s captain, who happens to be Avery’s future brother-in-law, Isaac sees the writing on the wall. It’s Avery or his career. To Isaac, a life without hockey wouldn’t be a life worth living. But what about a life without Avery?

Do Isaac and Avery sacrifice their life’s passions for their mutual passion for each other, or do they fight to have it all, even if by doing so, they might lose everything in the end?

Link to Follow Tour:  http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/06/melting-ice-game-on-in-seattle-5-by.html

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Excerpt 

That damn dog. As soon as Isaac opened the door to bring in groceries, the little shit ran between his legs and took off after some invisible prey, streaking across the neighbor’s pasture faster than any fat boxer had the right to run. He disappeared out of sight, but Isaac heard him barking.

He yelled for the mutt, knowing it was pointless. While Hal always came back, they’d only lived here a couple days. Isaac doubted the animal was smart enough to find his way home.

With a sigh, he put his groceries on the porch and jogged after the dog, knowing the fat boxer would tire pretty fast, and Isaac would eventually catch up with him.

Instead of taking the meandering gravel road that wound past the neighboring horse barn, Isaac jogged across the field Hal had streaked through only a minute ago. He cursed under his breath as the wet, knee-high grass soaked his jeans. Then he stepped in a puddle of water, splashing it all over his clothes. His shoes squished as he ran.

Damn, ill-mannered dog.

The dog, a drooling, snorting boxer, hated him. No wonder. The two of them were way too much alike. He used to accuse his girlfriend of getting the dog because he reminded her of Isaac.

The thought of Jenny sobered him and weighed him down. He slowed his pace to a walk, feeling slightly ill.

Hal had been orphaned after the loss of Jenny, Isaac’s on-again-off-again girlfriend since high school. She’d been the only somewhat constant in his sorry life except for hockey. In their dysfunctional way, they’d loved each other. Not that Isaac had much experience with love, but he’d cared about Jenny. She’d been the most important person in his life next to his sister until that fateful night three years ago when everything changed forever.

Now Hal was his constant reminder of what a total douchebag loser he really was, and how he systematically destroyed the people in his life who mattered most.

Hal and he fit together well. They were both assholes and didn’t like anyone. He swore the damn dog blamed him for what happened to Jenny, which made five of them, counting his two brothers and his father.

Blowing out a breath and watching it float away in the cold air, Isaac shook off his relapse into self-recrimination, and picked up the pace again, driven by fear that something might happen to Hal. He was steaming by the time he jogged into the gravel parking area surrounding his neighbor’s large barn. A city boy from birth, he breathed through his mouth rather than inhale the strong scent of horse manure.

Isaac paused in front of the barn and closed his eyes for a moment, sending up a silent plea to whoever the hell listened to those kinds of things—if anyone did—that grouchy Hal hadn’t done any damage to the horses, people, or himself.

Out of options, he walked into the large barn, pausing while his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the long aisle. Horses poked their heads over their stall doors and made these weird noises, almost like they were happy to see him. No one was ever happy to see him. Not anymore.

Isaac stepped farther into the barn. A small blonde girl brushing a huge animal saw him and stopped what she was doing. She stared at him, her eyes huge in her gaunt face, looking like she might run like hell at any moment.

Isaac halted, keeping his voice steady and calm, so he didn’t scare her off. “Hey, I’m looking for my dog. A boxer. Have you seen him?”

The teenager chewed on a fingernail and stared at the ground, keeping one hand on the horse’s neck, as if the animal were some kind of lifeline. Isaac didn’t know a thing about horses. Did they attack when their owners felt threatened like some dogs did?

Isaac stepped closer, maintaining a safe distance from the horse’s hooves. “Excuse me. Have you seen my dog?” Something in the teenager brought out a rare and long buried protective instinct in him. He didn’t want to hurt her or add to her obvious alarm.

She glanced up at him, alarm in her eyes. Dropping the brush on the concrete with a clatter, she scurried down the aisle, disappearing through a door and slamming it after her. Isaac scratched his chin. Hell, he’d been decent enough, hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t been a jerk. For him, he’d behaved like a nice guy.

Maybe she was deaf or something.

Definitely or something.

The door opened again, and a leggy blonde beauty came flying out, heading toward him with fury in every step she took.

Isaac rocked back on his heels. What the hell? He just wanted to find his dog. This woman marched toward him as if he were a terrorist, and she was a soldier poised to take him down. Not that he was scared—not much scared Isaac, especially when it came to women. If anything, he found her anger amusing and arousing, while he found her hot, really hot, and damn sexy.

He grinned at her, figuring his rare trademark grin would shoot her down before she got close enough to castrate him. It didn’t. He backed up a step and protected his privates by putting a few hay bales between them.

The woman—a very attractive, make-a-man-hard-in-a-split-second woman—stopped mere inches from him. She was tall. He was taller. She was bad-ass, he wrote the book on bad-ass. Yet, while he might be famous for his crappy attitude, her attitude trumped his and took no prisoners.

He liked that.

Damn, but she could imprison him any time, put him in handcuffs, and tie him to her bed. He’d be all over that scene in seconds and all over her in less time.

She wore a stained T-shirt tucked into these form-fitting riding pants which hugged every curve. And those boots. She wore knee-high black boots. They were scuffed from hours in the saddle, but they fit like they were made for her legs. What guy wouldn’t get a hard-on ogling a woman dressed like that? Now if only she’d been carrying a riding crop. He’d cream his jeans right there.

One look and he’d fallen for this woman, or at least fallen for her delectable body and blazing blue eyes. Women didn’t do this to him. Ever. But she had him from the second she almost yanked that door off its hinges and stalked toward him with smoke coming out her ears.

Lord, help him.

Isaac instantly went hard. His dick might be fast, but his brain was faster, imagining this angry angel writhing underneath him while he showed her just how hard this real man could ride. Even better, he’d flip over onto his back and let her ride him. He groaned out loud at that thought, which earned him an impressive scowl from her.

He hadn’t felt this instant attraction to a woman since—since—he visibly shuddered and banished those painful memories from his mind.

She was the perfect angel to his devil. He wanted her, and in that instant, he knew he’d do anything to have her. Even if she didn’t want him, he’d find a way to convince her because his dick and his body wanted her. Oh, yeah, they wanted her, and who was he to argue with the big guns.

He grinned—it felt strange to do so, but she had that effect on him. He was one of the meanest, nastiest guys in the NHL, yet she was willing to do battle and take him on.

And that impressed him more than anything.

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Melting Ice is the fifth book in Jami Davenport’s Game On in Seattle series.  I was a little worried about picking up a story that falls into an established series but I couldn’t resist the blurb.  I loved the play on the title with the name of the hero.  And after reading the blurb, I wanted to see how the hockey bad boy was going to melt.  Isaac and Avery have a connection from the start.  I was turning the pages to see how their relationship was going to develop.

I’ll be picking up the previous books in the series to get caught up and ready for the next Seattle Sockeye story.

Author Info

USA Today Bestselling Author Jami Davenport writes sexy contemporary and sports romances, including her two new indie endeavors: the Game On in Seattle Series and the Madrona Island Series. Jami lives on a small farm near Puget Sound with her Green Beret-turned-plumber husband, a Newfoundland cross with a tennis ball fetish, a prince disguised as an orange tabby cat, and an opinionated Hanoverian mare. She works in computer support in her day job and juggles too many balls, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Oakley Easton wants two things: to be a good mom to her daughter and to ditch her less than ideal night job. Hooking up with bad boy drummer Pike Ryland? Not on the agenda. She needs a promotion. Not sex, tattoos and rock ’n’ roll.

Pike isn’t about to let Ms. Prim and Proper shut him down so easily, especially when he stumbles upon Oakley’s sexy night job. She’s only playing a role on those late night calls with strangers, but when he gets her on the line, all bets are off. He won’t stop until that sultry voice is calling his name for real.

But as they move from anonymous fantasies in the dark to the flesh-on-hot-flesh reality of the bedroom, the risk of falling in love becomes all too high. And the safe, quiet world that Oakley’s worked so hard to create is about to be exposed to the one person who could ruin it all.

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“So,” Devon said, obviously searching for a change in topic, “you know a guy in the next band?”

“The drummer. He’s the one helping out with that music project at Bluebonnet. He gave us tickets, thought Reagan might have fun.”

Dev’s eyebrow arched. “Right. Because he thought your kid might have fun.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

Guitar chords blasted through the speaker for a moment as the crew on stage did the sound check. Oakley turned her head as the big screens on the side of the stage lit up with a publicity photo for Darkfall—the wind making the screens ripple and the bodies in the picture come to life. The crowd cheered.

“Look, mom!” Reagan shouted back at her. “It’s Mr. Pike!”

“I see, baby.” Boy, did she. The larger than life image had Pike staring down the camera with his bandmates. Badass. Tough. Beautiful.

“Which one is he?” Devon asked, following her gaze.

“The blond.”

“Whoa,” he said low enough for the kids not to hear. “You had that guy over for pizza and managed keep your clothes on? You have more restraint than I do.”

He had no idea. “I have no interest in being a groupie.”

“Can I be one?”

She shoved his shoulder. “You’re such a tramp. I’m so telling Hunter when he gets back in town.”

“Tell him. He’d agree. But seriously, is the guy a jerk? He looks like he has high potential to be an egomaniac. I don’t want that kind of guy around my baby sister and niece.”

She frowned and dragged her eyes away from the picture. “Oh, he’s got an ego, all right. He’s entirely inappropriate most of the time and a shameless flirt. But I wouldn’t say he’s a jerk. He’s kind of, I don’t know, weird and manic and…funny.”

Devon tipped up the bill of his hat, eyeing her with a sly smile. “Oh, so we have a mad crush then?”

“What? No.”

“Oak, you’re here in the Texas heat at a hard rock festival. You don’t even know these bands. And a few weeks ago, when I asked if you wanted to take Reagan to see that 80s cover band, you told me she was too young for concerts.”

Oakley crossed her arms. “Rae has since proven her maturity.”

He smirked. “Bull. Shit. You’ve got the hots for this guy.”

“He’s not my type.”

Dev shook his head and draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close so the kids couldn’t hear. “Come on, don’t freak out about it. You work too hard and spend too much time alone. This could be good for you.”

“An ill-advised hookup with a drummer who will drop me as soon as he gets bored could be good for me?”

“Exactly. Look, I know I’m your brother and shouldn’t be saying this, but there’s nothing wrong with a finding yourself a hot, temporary fuck buddy.”

“Dev!”

He laughed. “Oh, don’t be such a prude. I mean, yes, you’re right. The guy’s probably not boyfriend material. But you’re a grown woman and deserve some fun. You know we’re always happy to have Rae over if you need a date night.”

“I think you just flunked big brother school.”

He gave her shoulder a pat. “Okay, fine, want responsible brotherly advice? Use a condom. And don’t let him take video.”

She poked him in the ribs. But before she could respond to his comment, the lights on stage began to flash and the crowd surged forward, excitement like a contagion moving through them.

“Come on, mom! Let’s get closer.” Reagan grabbed her hand and dragged her with the flow of the crowd.

They’d already been pretty close to the stage, thanks to the special passes Pike had sent, but now they were only a ten or twelve rows of people back on the far left side of the stage. Bodies pressed close to them and she couldn’t help but get caught up in the fervor of the crowd.

She pushed onto her toes, knowing the drummer was almost always the first one to come out.

“Is that him?” Dev asked.

“Where?”

Devon pointed to the other end of the stage, and Oakley froze up the moment her eyes landed on Pike. Tight gray jeans, combat boots, and a black sleeveless T-shirt that showed off his ink. All swagger and sex and guyliner. Pike waltzed onto the stage like it’d been built just for him. He lifted his hand in greeting, earning screams from the audience, then hopped behind his drum kit. He put in his earpiece, raised his drumstick, and leaned over to his mic with a cocky smile. “Y’all ready for us, Dallas?”

The crowd erupted. Sound exploded from his drums.

And Oakley forgot to breathe.

Good. God.

The rest of the band ran onto the stage, adding guitars and vocals to Pike’s heavy rhythm, but Oakley barely heard the words.

All she could do was stare. Pike took command of the drums like he had a personal vendetta against them, banging hard and violent but with a sharp-edged grace that made it look like moving art. Every part of his body worked in perfect rhythm—muscles flexing, tattoos dancing, sweat flying—and the expression on his face wasn’t far from what she’d imagined he looked like in the throes of sex. He was taking the songs in his fists and making them his with every swing of his drumsticks.

Oakley swayed on her feet, the pounding beat taking on an erotic edge, vibrating though her and invading her like a drug.

He looked possessed.

He sounded amazing.

And she was toast.

She felt the urge ride up her throat and she couldn’t stop it. Her hands went up with the rest of the crowd and she screamed Pike’s name like a goddamned groupie.

Fucking. Toast.

I’m a longtime fan of Roni Loren’s Loving on the Edge series.  At least it feels like a long time and with number 8 in the series, I’ll go with that.  Call on Me has become a favorite.  I love Pike.  And maybe I on the surface I wouldn’t have expected Oakley to be a great match for him.  But I can admit that I was so wrong.  We get complex characters with Pike and Oakley.  Their pasts and how they overcome their issues gives reader more than just one dimensional characters.  As usual, Loren’s sexy scenes are steamy hot and might have you reaching for a fan.  I loved everything about Call on Me.

Roni wrote her first romance novel at age fifteen when she discovered writing about boys was way easier than actually talking to them. Since then, her flirting skills haven’t improved, but she likes to think her storytelling ability has. Though she’ll forever be a New Orleans girl at heart, she now lives in Dallas with her husband and son.

If she’s not working on her latest sexy story, you can find her reading, watching reality television, or indulging in her unhealthy addiction to rockstars, er, rock concerts. Yeah, that’s it. She is the National Bestselling Author of The Loving on the Edge series from Berkley Heat.

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