Homeschooled and under the stifling grip of an overprotective father, Talia Fielding’s life is pretty miserable. Playing her beloved ukulele and writing songs is as close as she comes to having fun. But that all changes on the night of her eighteenth birthday. She’s invited to her first party where she learns two things: girls can be very, very mean and Griffin Stanford kisses better than any fantasy she’s ever had.
To most of his friends, Griffin Stanford is the handsome football star. However, under those good looks lies the heart of a geek. His passion for numbers has ensured him a life changing job straight out of college. The contract he’s signed has him boarding a plane to halfway around the world the morning after he meets the girl of his dreams.
The obsessive draw Griffin feels toward Talia has him questioning his life’s choices. One night, one kiss and Griffin knows this may be his one and only chance to capture the perfect girl... How can he stop her from slipping through his fingers when the world seems determined to keep these two virgins apart?
Author Note: These two fall in love instantly. If you’re looking for a filthy fantasy fix complete with a Dani-style dirty talking hero topped with heaping helpings of swoony romance, you’re in the right place. This is a standalone novella, with Kindle melting heat, safe, no cheating and filled with virgins who magically know exactly what they’re doing from the very first kiss.
I’ve lost the power of speech. She’s wearing that gorgeous little daisy-yellow nightgown dress I sent her a few weeks ago. The soft light from behind her highlighting every contour and line of her lush body. A body that will soon be under my tongue and in my hands.
I never dreamed I would see her like this, like she is right now. But here she is, and it’s glorious. I can see all her curves, the pink circles of her nipples pressing through and she’s not doing anything to cover herself. I’ve just won the lotto and a Nobel prize, and whatever trophy they hand out when you come first in life.
“What are you doing opening the door wearing that, baby?” I’m not sure if I’m raging mad about it or just about as thrilled as any virgin ever was. My cock is about to snap in half, curved up and around where he can’t escape because my belt is holding his greedy, cum-dripping self in place. “I mean,” I shake my head and rub my hands over my face trying to reset, “I’m sorry. You are fucking stunning beyond words, but, baby, what if it wasn’t me?”
As happy as I am to see her, the jealous beast in me lights up, the thought of another man seeing what’s mine has me off my nut.
“I only opened the door after I saw who it was. I peeked through the peephole first. It’s a sign, I know it is. I just tried this on for the first time and here you are. Here you are, I can’t believe it.” She does this little bunny hop and I don’t miss how her full tits bounce and move with her, making my dick drip into my pants. I am fairly sure I could watch that little move for the rest of my life and never, ever get tired of it.
Her hands pull at the long tendrils of hair hanging over her shoulders and I realize I haven’t kissed her yet, so I remedy that right away.
My arms pull her to me, sweep up and down her back, up and down the soft fabric that covers her equally soft body, as my lips mount hers. I kiss her with the force of a man here to finally claim what is his, letting her know I’m here and she’s mine. After a long kiss, I lean back to drink her in.
“I love that you are wearing this. It means a lot to me.” I hook my thumbs into the ruffle around the neckline and trace it up and down, my vision drifting down to where it scoops low, barely covering her ample tits and I want them in my mouth so badly it hurts.
“You must be hungry after your trip.” Her voice flutters around my head, soft and like a dove, not quite ready to fly away. Her breath between the words tells me I’m distracting her and I love that.
I bring a hand up to comb my fingers through her hair. I’ve dreamed of how it would feel for so long. Silk is like twine compared with its softness. The black strands fall between my fingers and I’m hypnotized by the sight and feel of it. It’s so real and I’m so fucking gone.
I taste her lips again with a quick kiss, then put my mouth next to her ear. “I’m hungry for one thing, and one thing only right now. That’s you, Wildflower, my mouth between your legs. I told you, that’s the first thing I want to do to you. I want to taste your first orgasm. I want to remember it forever.”
Dani Wyatt loves her alpha men; make them military, cowboys, MMA -- any uber alpha with a wicked possessive streak and an insatiable libido. Receive a free exclusive unpublished title when you join Dani's private readers group for updates, free chapters and discounts.
She's a 40 something regular lady who just happens to love badass alpha males who pull your hair and love their women with a lethal passion.
When she's not writing (which is not often) she is probably laughing about some irony (like A-1 Steak Sauce is vegan), riding her horse, wondering why The Walking Dead can't have a new episode every night, or looking cross-eyed at some piece of technology sent to ruin her day.
They thought they had their happy ending.
They were dead wrong.
Eddie Roe has turned into a man that would do anything for his family. He never thought he'd have to prove the lengths he'd go in order to keep them safe, but he's willing to kill, fight, and die when his past catches up and attempts to destroy his happiness.
Red Roe has always been a fighter, and she will fight to the death to protect herself in an attempt to get home to her family. Her husband's past is using her as bait and threatening everything she covets. No one will destroy what her and Eddie built, but how much can she endure before it's too much?
*18+ *It's best to read the complete FIGHT series by M. Dauphin before reading this book, but not necessary*
“Holy shit.” As it zooms in on the location my stomach drops. “No.”
I’m staring at the screen at the city of San Pedro Sula, Honduras which was most recently named the most dangerous city in the world, home to drug lords, human trafficking hubs, and all kinds of illegal activity. Not to mention the death toll there rises by the hundreds every month. “Fuck no,” I growl, staring at the little red light on the black and white screen.
I work at pulling up the exact coordinates on a separate map and soon I hear Tatum on the phone.
“Dad. Get the jet ready. We found her.” I spin and watch him, his eyes lock on mine and I see the pity. Fucking pity! “She’s in Honduras, Dad.” Tatum’s jaw twitches and he nods, sighing before he hangs up the phone.
“Wheels up in an hour, Eddie.”
I nod and stare at the screen, a knot growing in my stomach. The news report on that part of the world wasn’t pretty and the whole time my girl’s been in the middle of it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
An avid, self proclaimed closet book nerd by the age of nine, Dauphin didn’t take her love of fictional worlds public until she self-published her first book almost 20 years later. Since putting to paper the voices in her head, she’s fallen in love with a career of building, ruining, and rebuilding fictional character’s lives. Her love will always reside with the romance genre, but she does enjoy going off the grid every now and then with non-fiction.
From Southern Illinois, born and raised, she now resides with her husband, two small boys, and one very busy dog.
If you friend her on Facebook, you’ll be subjecting yourself to a whole lot of awesome…. So what are you waiting for?! Find her here: www.facebook.com/authormdauphin if you want to follow her author ramblings, go here www.mdauphin.com if you want to see what she has to offer (and some hot guys, too) and if you want to chat, email her here: email@example.com. You can also follow her on Instagram at @M_Dauphin3 or Twitter @AuthorMDauphin.
She likes it quick and dirty.
I like orders and rules.
She hates small talk.
I hate to share.
She’s an open book.
I’m a closed dresser drawer.
She rides a Harley.
And that drives me f’ing nuts.
Annalyse and I have both lived in our own personal hells for half a decade. She’s learned to love the warmth, and I’m still consumed. But my new neighbor is stoking more than my libido these days. We agreed on only pleasure. But she changed the rules.
And now I’m not even sure what they are.
Maybe there’s a reason she found me that night, maybe there’s a reason I can’t stop thinking about her, maybe there’s a reason for the pain. Maybe not.
We all look for reasons in life. Reasons for death, love, pain. Why one thing happens and not another? It’s human nature. We’ve been looking for the meaning of life since the beginning of time. But maybe the reason for all of it — life, love, loss, heartache — is the curvy brunette living next door.
“You should have on a life jacket.”
“When I kayak or when I ride my motorcycle?” I ask.
He tries not to smile, but he does. “Pissed, huh?”
“Observant, aren’t you?”
“Motorcyclists are twenty-five percent more likely to die and five times more likely to be injured than a passenger in a car,” he says.
“You looked that up just to lecture me, didn’t you?”
“Not the point,” he says. “No more motorcycle.”
Did he really think he could go all alpha male on me? Usually, it would be hot as all-get-out to see a man in control, dominant, but right now alpha equals asshole! Note to self — I should do a blog post on that. Where have all the good alphas gone? “Who do you think you are?” I say, walking away. “You’re not my husband or my father. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t let my father or husband order me around like this.”
His fingers lightly touch my elbow. It isn’t a grab. I barely feel it, and as quickly as he touched me, it’s over. “I’m a doctor. I’ve seen what . . .”
“You’re a gynecologist! You’ve seen what a motorcycle can do to a vagina?”
Oh God, I’m in trouble. He’s got the dirtiest look in his eye. “I’d imagine the vibration would feel pretty damn good.”
I can’t help it and bust out laughing. “You are impossible.”
“And it’s the law to carry a life vest for every person in a kayak,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “You like rules.”
“I like order.”
“Ordering people around,” I say.
“Only certain people,” he says.
Don’t ask me why, but the thought of him “ordering” me around made my legs clench together, or maybe it was the mention of vibrations. Either way, the idea of him taking control of my body didn’t sound bad to me at all. It would be nice to not think so damn much all the time and just feel something good for a change.
$50 Amazon Gift Card
Prescott Lane is the Amazon best-selling author of Stripped Raw. She's got five other books under her belt including: First Position, Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, and Wrapped in Lace, and her new release, Layers of Her. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and holds a degree in sociology and a MSW from Tulane University. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren't enough happily ever afters in real life.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Her tone is playful and gives me hope. And I need hope. Not to score with her, but to get through my days. “You should join me in the shower.” I waggle my eyebrows at her and rub my hand over my abs, pushing up my shirt a little so she can see what’s underneath. Kim shakes her head, but her smile tells me that she likes the idea. She covers her mouth to stifle a laugh, and I chuckle.
In Blow, the start of an emotionally charged series from bestselling author Heidi McLaughlin, an insatiable heartthrob gets blinded by the spotlight—and learns to fight for love.
Meet the complicated men behind the sexiest boy band in America! Releasing November 8th!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2eshtA8
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2eDFS3e
Bodhi McKnight has always had everything handed to him on a silver platter: fame, success, money, girls. The raven-haired, blue-eyed hottie is the son of Hollywood A-listers, and when he’s asked to join the boy band Virtuous Paradox, his star shoots even higher. But so do expectations, leading Bodhi down a destructive path of addiction—until a drop-dead gorgeous guardian angel shows him her sizzling brand of tough love.
When Bodhi ends up in rehab, he doesn’t expect to meet someone as cool and down-to-earth as Kimberly Gordon. Although he’s enjoyed the company of beautiful, charming women before, none of them have tried to get to know the “real” Bodhi. But Kimberly isn’t fazed by his stardom. She’d rather go horseback riding, teach Bodhi to play guitar, or ask him about his feelings. Soon Bodhi realizes he’s fallen head over heels for her. He just hopes that he’s strong enough to protect what they have from all the pressures and temptations of the outside world.
Includes a special message from the editor, as well as an excerpt from another Loveswept title.
Originally from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup and a Highland West/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL and her brother, Racicot.
When she isn't writing one of the many stories planned for release, you'll find her sitting court-side during either daughter's basketball games
Heidi's first novel, Forever My Girl, is currently in production to be a major motion picture.
NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author
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Title: Hades: Modern Descendants
Author: Elda Lore
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: October 24
“Welcome to Hell.”
Persephone Fields is just an average girl: beloved daughter and loyal friend. One night decides her Fate, when the prince of The Underworld becomes her savior and her kidnapper.
Hades has lived centuries in darkness and sin. When he decides to save the blonde goddess, he doesn’t consider the ramifications of his decision to bring her into his realm.
Two worlds divided struggle to find friendship in a history of family discord beyond their control. When attraction blurs the line, questions result in choices of love or loyalty.
A modern twist of the classic myth: Hades and Persephone, this version incorporates the sensual tension of opposites divided by contemporary humanity and mythical underworlds. Also reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet, this is a love story ripe with desire.
Author’s note: This book contains scenes of sexual intimacy.
Welcome to the alter ego world of L.B. Dunbar.
Was this a dream?
What was this strange beast we rode?
Who was this strange man behind me?
Could this be happening? Was I destined for a fate worse than the creep at the river?
The only thing keeping me from full-blown panic was when I recalled he had saved me, and the fact that his fingers were woven through my hair, as if trying to protect me from the rain. Suddenly bone tired, my eyes drifted shut in despair. My hands ached. My feet cut. My heart raced while the bike below me vibrated between my thighs. My stomach dipped as the bike catapulted toward the river. The front wheeled up and my captor yelled: “MORPH!” Metal tore apart as the head of the stallion reappeared. We hit the riverbed with a hardly thump, pitching us both forward as the rear of the horse returned. The result rose us up several feet. I lurched forward then sprang upward like a bobblehead toy. My head knocked his shoulder and an arm encircled my waist to steady my body. I was pressed back against a firm chest.
“Where in hell are we going?” I yelled over the splashing hooves and thudding rain.
“Exactly,” he shouted next to my ear.
“Hell,” he barked. My neck twisted and it caught his nose. He sniffed my hair above my ear. I spun further, my brows pinching, my eyes questioning. Those cobalt gems remained forward, focused. His face was a mask, stone-looking and bluish. Glancing down at the hand flat against my stomach, his nails were black and pointed, almost like talons or claws. Sensing my appraisal, he clenched his fingers into a fist, but it caught my thin tank and scratched against my belly. I cried out. Instantly, his hand removed from me and I noted the now shredded appearance of my shirt. I quivered again in fear, convinced death awaited me. My shoulders hunched forward in reaction to the sharp scrape.
“My apologies.” His formality sounded ancient and strange. My first glance would have placed him roughly the age of Tripper, but the cadence of his voice sounded years older. Thoughts of Tripper shifted to Swanson and Veva.
“My friends are waiting for me.” The statement seemed weak. “They’ll call the police, but I won’t tell anyone what happened, if you just take me back. No one would believe all this anyway.” Doubt for my own sanity crept through my brain.
“I cannot.” This man was clearly on a mission, and it was taking me in the opposite direction of home. While he’d been my savior in one instance, I suddenly realized he was a captor in another.
Ready to protest, or plea for my life, my voice faltered as a large building loomed before us. The entire structure stood black, metallic and foreboding. Not a single light shown from its glassy windows. The rain subsiding, water trickled down its sleek sides, like snakes writhing in escape. We headed for a tunnel ahead arched in limestone block. What should have been white brick was dark and dank looking, wet from the sudden storm and encased in crushed mud. We slipped under the arch, my captor ducking his head. Chilly air surrounded us. His breath brushed over my cool skin, enhancing the sudden cold. It was as if he’d eaten ice cream, his mouth frozen and exhaling to tease me. His grim face and clenched jaw proved he wasn’t kidding. Our faces were so close we nearly rubbed cheeks. If he turned his head, he’d kiss my jaw. My mouth watered at the disturbing thought.
The horse slowed, prancing wildly as his nostrils flared and his flanks spread from the excursion of a hard run.
“Whoa, Killer,” my captor soothed. “Home, boy.” Home? “What is he?” I asked instead, staring down at the mane of the creature that evidently was more than a horse.
“Up,” The horse’s master called out, ignoring my question. The gate rose, methodically slow, into the heavy stone above it. Sharp points on the ends accentuated the frightening structure that screamed stay away, danger lives behind here. I gripped the horse’s mane harder in my fists, finding no comfort in the coarse hair as I typically would in my own horse, Greece.
What was this place? One moment I faced a modern skyscraper, but in this tunnel a heavy gate stood guard like you’d see as the barrier to a castle dungeon or a hidden lair. My eyes scanned the moist cement walls, dripping with condensation. Gate barely risen, we ducked under the iron structure. It fell instantly with a clanking thud behind us. Echoing off the stone corridor, the sound solidified my imprisonment. I was trapped. Once the noise settled, a new one arose. We cantered up an incline, exiting the river enough that only a thin layer of water trickled over the stone flooring. A second sound echoed down the walls: a moan, a whimper, a sharp cry. What was that noise? I tilted my head as if I could distinguish it better. Its intensity grew as we pressed forward.
A moan, a whimper, a sharp cry.
“What is that?” I questioned. My voice, barely a whisper, trailed off. The sounds increased.
A moan, a whimper, a sharp cry. Then a wail.
I spun into the rider behind me and ducked my head. Pressing my cheek firmly against my savior-captor, my fists rose and clenched his open hoodie, soaked through like me.
A moan, a whimper, a sharp cry, a deepening wail.
My eyes pinched shut and I pressed harder into his chest. The hand that had scraped me released the reins, then rubbed hesitantly up my back. I peeked up at him as his tender touch surprised me. His hair was swept back in our haste through the rain. His face illuminated in the darkness of this cavernous space, that bluish tint reflected from intermittent torches. A scar curled from his forehead to his jaw near his hairline. Another scar crossed his strangely dark blue lips: a perfect line from nose to chin cut both curves. His jaw clenched in concentration. The moan, whimper, and sharp cry murmured throughout the cavern, calling and responding from all sections in a dull volley, and pulled me away from my observation. The elongated sound of each vibrated almost sensually throughout the tunnel. A sharp cry caught my breath as we drew near the end of the tunnel. I sat up straighter and inhaled. The stench was a mix of saltwater, fish, and rot. The irony—this was Nebraska. I shifted to question my fellow rider and without a word escaping my lips, he answered.“Welcome to Hell.”
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A writer of mythical worlds in modern times, I'm the alter ego of contemporary romance author, L.B. Dunbar.
The star player with a troubled past…
Cash Greenwood escaped a difficult past by becoming a star baseball player. Now, one of the major league’s rare double threats, all his effort is thrown into the sport. He's never had any interest in women, until he meets the one woman who wants nothing to do with him.
The daughter of baseball royalty…
Delilah Gray’s life revolves around numbers, research, and data. She has no time for anything messy like emotions or relationships. Especially not when they come in the sexy guise of a baseball player. She's seen first-hand the devastation caused by dating a man obsessed with the sport, and that's one risk she's not willing to take.
She is one curveball he never saw coming…
But this is one pitch Cash is determined to hit out of the park. Sexual tensions run high and feelings start to develop, but will Delilah ever see that they could have a solid future together? Determined to make her his, she may just prove to be the hardest game of Cash’s life.
WARNING: The Long Ball features an obsessed jock with six-pack abs in tight pants determined to get his girl. If syrupy sweet romance and fiery passions appeal to you, then hold onto your panties because this one may just hit them out of the park.
Watch the trailer HERE
“Stop being a whiny bitch, Greenwood! Bottoms up!”
My best friend and resident troublemaker of the team smacked me on the back. His boisterous laugh and booming voice took up all the space around him. I loved many things about the man, but the thing I loved the most was that in his presence, I became invisible. Since the age of 16 I’ve been recognizable. Once you were a star athlete with a future and the hope of winning a championship, you became a commodity, something shiny. And being simultaneously a slugger and a pitcher was a combination so rare that those with it, like myself, were priceless.
It hadn’t taken me long to learn that being invisible keeps you safe.
“We have to meet that analytics chick in an hour. I don’t want to reek of alcohol. Coach will kick our asses.” I didn’t like to drink. Most days I can’t even stomach the smell of it, but for the sake of keeping up appearances I usually nursed a glass in my hand and always offered to be the designated driver so no one suspected anything. Rod was really good about covering for me when needed, chugging back the drinks people often bought for me, acting like the cocky best friend he was.
“It’s still technically the off-season. Another one won’t hurt.”
“Another always hurts, particularly in the form of a hangover the next morning,” I replied.
“You sound like a dodgy old fuck. Where’s the guy who used to party with me all night long? I want him back.”
I chuckled, thinking about all the times we’d been in trouble. I prided myself on how well I blended into the crowd and let him take the attention. Rodriguez and I had been buddies since our rookie year. We’d grown up together on this team, cut our teeth on the ins and outs of playing professional ball, but as time passed I found that faking it seemed to exhaust me more and more each day. I was tired of it all, and the only thing that still made me feel something was the game. Everything else was endless noise that passed by with no true meaning or intention. I felt like I was walking in a blur, just waiting for time to pass.
“I’m not twenty-one anymore. Coach said any more stunts like that one you pulled at warm-ups and we’re both benched. And you, motherfucker, are not getting me benched.” The idea of sitting out a game was unbearable. Rod and I were thick as thieves, and Coach knew that if anyone could reel him in, it would be me. But what the coach didn’t know was that the idea of losing baseball in any way was like a noose around my neck, tightening until all the oxygen was ripped from me.
“You're my wingman, buddy, and ya gotta admit, spiking the water cooler was pretty genius.”
“And landed us in a shit load of trouble. Frankly, I’m just too old for this shit anymore. Let the rookies have at it. We had our fun.”
“You make thirty sound like a death sentence. Not for me. When I turn the big 3-0 next year I’m going big. I want my feet in the sand with a drink in my hand and a pussy on each arm. Fuck it, a limo full of pussy. I am gonna get more ass that night than a toilet seat.”
“Yeah, I bet you do.” I’d never liked how Rodriguez embraced the cliché ball player persona. He played ball hard—out on the field he was a beast. But he partied even harder, a revolving door of girls after every game. I was always up for a few drinks, but the groupies that surrounded Rodriguez always made my stomach turn. It was so obvious they wanted him for his status and money—his staggering salary was very appealing to bunt bunnies. I had absolutely zero interest in them.
All the women around ball players didn’t have much to offer, and my life was so messed up that I doubt any woman wanted anything to do with it when she found out. The only kind that would stay would be one that would hope for a staggering payday at the end. I had enough people standing by with their hand out, so I wasn’t interested in a woman who wanted that, too. Besides, I only had a few more years to play this game, and I wasn’t going to squander them for some chick. These women didn’t care about the men. They cared about the limos, the big ticket items the ball players paid for, and the thousand-dollar dinners. Rodriguez made hundreds of millions, just like so many of my buddies, and just like the other ball players, he had no issue living like a king. But that lifestyle didn’t interest me in the least.
This life wasn’t for everyone, I wasn’t even sure it was for me sometimes. I rarely liked to go out, and the women did nothing for me. I lived and breathed the game, so much so that I couldn’t imagine what else I would be doing if it wasn’t this. I had one single focus and that was to win the World Series. I had been playing ball for eleven years with the MLB, and that was the only thing that eluded me. I was known as the best player in the entire league and yet I didn’t have that World Series title under my belt. My years left playing ball were dwindling—a ball player was gettin’ some age by thirty—but it was the one dream I hadn’t yet attained.
“Let’s head over, man. Don’t want to piss off Coach.”
Rod slammed his shot glass down on the counter, his eyes shining with excitement. “Wanna place bets on how fast I can get up the analytic girl’s skirt?”
“You haven’t even seen her yet.” We walked out the doors of the corner bar, afternoon light heating my skin as we walked the short block to the stadium. Today we had a meeting with what would be the new official star analytics firm for the club, before opening day tomorrow. I’d been waiting months for this day, the time between playoffs and opening season always left a pit of dread in my stomach. If I could play twelve months of the year I would.
We pushed through the stadium doors and made our way down the dim hallway, headed for the conference room next to the locker room. I nodded at Coach when we walked in and greeted a few of the other guys as the entire team settled on benches around the center of the room.
“I don’t want to take up much of your time, so I’ll cut right to the chase.” Coach looked around the room. “A few of you have been fucking off, so we need focus if we’re going to have a good season. I don’t expect miracles, but I do expect you to listen. No more antics. Stay focused. I expect each of you to improve your averages by the end of the season. “
“Like it or not, stats are down, guys. We need all heads in the game if we’re gonna improve and have a shot at going all the way this year. Delilah Grey from Lionsgate Analytics is here to help us do that.. She’ll be with us—every game, every day—all season. She’ll be sending me the stats throughout the game, and I want you guys tuned in to your averages. Push yourselves every night.”
He glanced around the room, pausing for a moment on Rod. “And please treat Delilah with respect. She knows we need some help, but she doesn't need to know you’re all a bunch of animals.” God, I loved Coach. So steady and calm. He was the reason this team was great. Without him we’d all be a bunch of animals on the field.
Coach swung open the locker room door and in walked a fucking vision. I noticed the heels first. Sexy stilettos with leather cutouts that made me want to get down on my knees and slip them off her feet one at a time. My eyes devoured her creamy, toned calves, and not even the conservative pencil skirt could hide the full curves of her hips.
Rod said under his breath.
I nudged him, for the first time in my life irritated by his overt appreciation of a woman. Looking at Delilah, the hairs on my arms stood to attention. As did something else. Damn, she was stunning, I’d never seen a woman so radiant in my entire life. She had dark silky hair cascading down her back in loose curls, so damn soft-looking that my hand itched to brush up against them. I, Cash Greenwood, for the first time in my life had a desire to brush up against a woman’s hair.
“Hey guys, I’m Delilah Grey.” She nodded, her spine rigid as she leafed through a handful of papers in her arms. “If you could pass these around, I’ll tell you a little about me, then we can chat individually.”
“Individually?” Rod chimed, his horny grin sending anger racing through my stomach.
“Yes, that’s how I prefer to work. Deal with each player’s specific issues before we bring the whole team together.”
“I’ve only got one issue.” Rod shifted in his seat, his hand brushing over his crotch. My nostrils flared. Why was he such a dick?. At that moment I hated my best friend so much I wanted to pound his face into the ground. The thought made me feel ashamed and idiotic. I knew Rod, he was a joker, more talk than action on most days, but the fact that he was being crass to this woman upset me beyond all reason. I didn’t have an explanation, but I did not enjoy the idea of Rod looking at her like she was a piece of meat. Not one bit.
Delilah’s deep chocolate eyes narrowed in a flare of anger for a moment before she turned back to her paperwork. If one paid close attention to her, as I was doing, one could see the patch of red forming on the back of her neck. “I started Lionsgate Analytics nearly three years ago. I want you to be the best players, on and off the field, and excelling in this world isn’t just about home runs and fly balls. It’s also about measuring speed, distance, velocity.” Her eyes flicked over the team again. “I’ll be hanging out at all the games, laptop open and watching just how consistent everyone is, and hopefully it won’t take us long to get an average. Anyone have questions for me?”
“Yeah, got plans tonight, sweetheart?” That was Rod, and I nearly shoved my fist in his gut for that one. I watched as Delilah’s jaw ticked. She was tough, I could tell. I liked that. I liked that she wouldn’t take anything sitting down. I had had enough of women taking things sitting down, so the fighter in me was drawn to the fire in her.
“Let me make one other thing clear: if anyone calls me sweetheart, toots, doll, baby, or any other demeaning term of endearment again, I can’t promise you won’t feel my high heel in your balls. I don’t play well with men who act like animals. We’re here for one thing and one thing only—to get this team in shape to win this year. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make an ass out of yourself in the process. Have I made myself clear?”
Fire blazed through my veins when she spun and exited the very door she’d come from. Well damn, after thirty years I finally found a woman who could make me take notice, make me want to chase. And not only chase, but tie her up and hold her against me, bind her to me in every way possible.
Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.
For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn't take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
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American Queen by Sierra Simone
Release Date: October 25th, 2016 Genre: Contemporary Romance Cover Design: Hang Le
It starts with a stolen kiss under an English sky, and it ends with a walk down the aisle. It starts with the President sending his best friend to woo me on his behalf, and it ends with my heart split in two. It starts with buried secrets and dangerous desires…and ends with the three of us bound together with a hateful love sharper than any barbed wire.My name is Greer Galloway, and I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States. This is the story of an American Queen.
Buy Links: Coming Soon
About the Author:
Sierra Simone is a USA Today Bestselling former librarian (who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk.) She lives with her husband and family in Kansas City