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BOOK INFORMATION

Title: Dark Forest
Series: Secret Blood Series Book 1
Author: Emme Weylin
Word/Page count:
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BOOK SYNOPSIS

Rose Merrin is attracted to the one man in Dark Forest suspected of murder. Self-preservation and the townsfolk’s eagle eyes keep her from knowing his touch, even when everything about him calls to her. But when another murder shocks Dark Forest, and a girl who could be her sister disappears, her life becomes dependent on the one man no one trusts.

Aiden Hyde holds a dark secret. Proving his innocence would reveal his werewolf heritage. When a new werewolf in town sets his sights on Rose, he has no choice but to step in and protect his mate—whether she knows it or not.

 

EXCERPT

“But, Grams,” Rose said, her voice strained. They stood on the front porch of Edith Merrin’s tiny cottage. “What about you?”

Edith let out a long, beleaguered sigh. “I am no longer young, and whoever tampered with your car might mean business. You are staying with Aiden. It’s safer for everyone. Tell her she is staying with you.”
Aiden cocked his head as he assessed Edith. The woman knew more than was good for her, but luckily she knew how to be discreet. While he agreed the safest place for Rose was his house, having her under his roof would be a torture he’d done nothing to deserve. Her tight, athletic body was a temptation he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist. Her green eyes were always warm when she looked at him, almost welcoming. The honey gold of her long hair made his fingers itch to touch. It didn’t stop the fact someone had gone out of their way to inconvenience her. To frighten her. Maybe even put her in danger.
“It’s her choice,” he said after a moment, he’d be watching her wherever she stayed. And now he knew exactly who to watch for. Julian Hathaway. Since he hadn’t scented Kiera’s abductor, he had no way of knowing if the other wolf was responsible for the current chaos, but he was definitely a threat, and a threat Aiden intended to take seriously.
Edith scowled at him. “Fine. Rose, you can’t stay here. I don’t want you hogging up my space.”
Rose opened her pretty mouth before snapping it closed and gritting her teeth. “Old woman, if you do not stop this nonsense, I—”
“Exactly what are you going to do, little girl?” Edith planted her hands on robust hips.
“I am not—”
“You are being a pain in the ass,” Edith shot back before Rose could finish. “I already survived my son’s death, and I won’t survive the death of his daughter! Stay with Aiden.”
Rose looked to him for help.
He sighed. “Grams is right. My place is the safest you’re going to get in this town.”
Rose walked off the porch, muttering to herself.
Aiden growled at Edith and then took off after Rose. She didn’t understand. He didn’t want her to suffer the same fate Travis and Bridget had. The people he cared about kept dying around him. He was as much of a danger to her as she was in without him, no matter what he’d just said a moment ago. But he couldn’t take the chance she might be harmed, no matter his misgivings or horrible track record. “Rose, wait!”
She turned to glare at him. “There’s a killer and kidnapper on the loose, one who seems to like girls who look like me, and the best thing you and Grams can come up with is for me to stay with you!”
He went perfectly still. It was the first time he had a real confirmation she didn’t trust him. “Rose, I—” But he didn’t know what to say. His heart constricted in his chest. Of course she couldn’t trust him. There were too many unanswered questions about how he had survived the wolf attack five years ago, and his family hadn’t. “I’ll talk to Grams.”
“No! Wait!” Rose stared at him like a deer in headlights. “Are you…” She closed her eyes and muttered to herself. When her beautiful green eyes opened, there was worry in them. “Are you a werewolf?”

 

AUTHOR BIO

Emma Weylin fell in love with the written word as a child. She loves to create her own worlds full of magic and wonder. One of her favorite things is populating those worlds with interesting and true-to-life characters who experience everything from epic love and heartrending battles to seriously silly or embarrassing “duh” moments. She believes love can and does conquer all things. When she’s not writing, she enjoys her family and has a copious yarn addiction.

 

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Eluded by Lyra Parish | Release Day

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Title: Eluded

Author: Lyra Parish

Publication Date: July 28, 2014

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Synopsis

Lives intersect only to be changed indefinitely…

Lauren
This isn’t your typical girl meets boy.
There isn’t a glass slipper or Prince Charming.
I’ve lived it and now it will be told.
Welcome to my personal hell…

Derrick
I once saved lives and now… I so easily end them.

Women are drawn to me like a moth to the flame, and like the moth not all of them continue on. Some are broken, others are damaged, and a few never make it out… but it’s their decision to live. Only they often don’t know that until it’s too late.

F*ck the rules, I create my own in a world where I have nothing left to lose. Living is a game, and I’m the reigning champion by being stronger and smarter than my prey.

This is your warning. If you radiate vulnerability… Well, you could be my next victim. Don’t try to hide. I’m not easily eluded.

Abbot
It started with me and now it will end with me.
Some people call me an uncontrollable killing monster. I f*cking laugh at the mention of the word.
Monsters have no control.
I’ve got plenty.
I don’t kill without reason. I don’t kill the innocent.
I hunt the ones that deserve it, the real monsters, the ones without regret or a soul.

 

Prologue

The dream is always the same.

A black van slows ahead of my sister and me as we walk home from school. When we pass, I hear the side door forcefully slide open and the hinges scream out in protest.

Two men attack us. They grab us by our arms and their nails claw into our skin, causing it to break. We try to push them away and somehow manage to wriggle free. Then we run. We run like we’ve never run before, but they are always faster and stronger. When they catch up to us, one grabs my sister, pushes her down to the ground, and laughs.

She bites his arm, leaving teeth marks and blood. This does no good though and only pisses him off. Then he slaps her in the face, yells at her, and threatens to kill her . . . but refuses to let go. They are relentless. I want to tell them that she is only ten years old, that she is no good to them, that she isn’t even a woman yet, but a hand covers my mouth and an arm places me in a chokehold. My sister lets out blood-curdling cries, and all I know is that I need to save her. I kick my capturer in the knee, and he slams my body, then my head, into the cement until my vision blurs. I know I have a concussion from the brute force, but I continue to attack with everything that I have. No matter how hard I try, they take her.

How can a twelve-year-old boy fight against men?

He can’t.

I couldn’t.

When I think back to that day, I remember what the sky looked like after they pushed me down. It was blue like the color of the sea in Australia. Not often do I remember the sky in London being that color . . . or feeling so helpless. I’m often haunted by the look on my sister’s face, and the sound of her screams and pleas as they shoved her into the van. I can still hear the revving of the engine as it hurried down the street like it was yesterday. That was the last time I felt fear. Those men stole more than my best friend and my sister. That day, they stole my soul.

This time, I wake up dripping with sweat. Sometimes I am breathing rapidly or yelling, or my heart is racing so fast it pulls me from the nightmare. For the past fifteen years, I’ve been haunted with the memory of my sister’s abduction. I used to blame myself for her having been taken. I no longer accept that burden, and I refuse to sit idly by. The underground darkness of London is at war with itself, and I’ve caused it. It will not end until the petty fucks that stalk my streets are destroyed.

I will stop at nothing.

Some people call me an uncontrollable killing monster. I fucking laugh at the mention of the word.

Monsters have no control.

I’ve got plenty.

I don’t kill without reason. I don’t kill the innocent.

I hunt the ones who deserve it—the real monsters, the ones without remorse or a soul.

Sometimes people strive to be different, to step out of the fucking box, only to be misunderstood. The public doesn’t understand me, but who really gives a shit?

Who are they? Mice. They go to work every single day and spin the same wheel that gets them nowhere. Work. Marriage. Kids. Die.

I search for adventure.

I love control.

When I find trouble, I make it my bitch.

Most people call me Abbot. First name isn’t needed. I truly believe there is power in a name. My friends respect me, my enemies fear me, and regardless of what I do, at the end of the day I am still a killer. Apparently, that’s what defines me. Son, brother, leader of the Gang of London, protector, murderer . . . the only word that matters is the last one.

Shakespeare said, “All the world’s a stage.” If that’s true, then where is my standing ovation for a job well done? Twisted fucks like me don’t receive positive recognition. We don’t deserve to be rewarded for ridding the world of horrible people, because being a murderer outweighs all the good.

An eye for an eye, a finger for a finger, or blood for blood. What-the-fuck-ever.

I’m not fucked-up from a horrible childhood, unless one counts my sister’s abduction. Everyone tries to blame my life choices on my parents’ guidance, but my actions are by choice. My mum and dad loved and supported me. They told me I could be anything I wanted when I grew up, until I became what I am today—a cold-hearted killer.

No one expected that one.

 

 

About the Author

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Words make the world go round. I love to write, travel, and sing really loud at the top of my lungs in the shower. Sweet love stories (along with the dirty ones) make me gush. I am firm believer that a person can never have too many cats or cups of coffee, and that the F word is necessary.

Forget the beach! Give me a gel pen, a stack of blank paper, and beautiful mountains.

You can find Lyra’s Weakness series here - https://www.goodreads.com/series/107613-weakness

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Flawed and Damaged by Emily Krat | Cover Reveal and Giveaway – ARC copy of ‘Flawed and Damaged’

Cover Reveal

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Book Title: Flawed and Damaged
Author: Emily Krat
Genre: New Adult/Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 2014
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Synopsis

Two people haunted by their past…

The collision of two damaged hearts…

Meet Elizabeth Williams. She is at the airport on an important work assignment. If everything goes smoothly, after three years of hard work, she’ll get a promotion and a much-needed raise. Elizabeth is putting her life back on track after it was ripped out from under her feet four years ago when she lost her parents along with all her dreams. Standing here, she believes her life is going to change for the better any moment now. Nothing can go wrong, right?

Meet Ryan Price. He came to Moscow on business. Right now, Ryan is standing at the airport looking at a ‘present’ from his brother, judging by the sign a beautiful young woman is holding. Damn his brother for not cancelling this arrangement as Ryan asked.

Miscommunications and misunderstandings and a brilliant but painful love story begins.

There will be a scary flight, lovely breakfasts, long evening conversations, sharing a secret or two, discovering one another, a lot of laughter, tender moments and some tears, a fight and, of course, the I-am-ready-for-the-end-of-the-world kiss.

Somewhere along the way, they won’t be able to fight their feelings any longer.

For the first time in his life, Ryan will experience a different shade of lust. And for the first time in her life, Elizabeth will have to trust despite all of the times she has been hurt.

Will these two wounded lost souls find love, peace and comfort in each other or will they just break each other more? Is it a train wreck of a love story or a happily ever after?

excerpt

Elizabeth

My breath hitches as Ryan moves his right hand to my hip, my body pressing tightly against his. He skims his hand down and stops at the hem of my dress.

I want him to go further, to lift my dress, to put his fingers on my thighs. He doesn’t. He continues his torture by dragging his hand up my side, trailing his thumb along the side of my breast, intoxicating me, unleashing myriads of emotion with every touch. I can call them sparks, electricity, currents, but nothing can describe the feeling. I have never experienced such need for a man.

Right in this moment, I don’t want to listen to my brain, to think what the logical step is. I realize that he is almost a complete stranger, but it doesn’t feel this way. I don’t want to push this man away from me. I want the opposite. I want to be reckless for once, not to think about tomorrow. I want to listen to my body. I lift my arms and wrap them around his neck – any rational thought disappears. Pulling him to me, I brush my mouth slowly against his.

Ryan

Elizabeth has just taken the act of dance to a whole new level. This is probably the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. The best foreplay I’ve ever had. And I had my fair share of women, but never once the mere thought of bare skin sliding on mine made me so crazy.

I know I need to give Elizabeth some time to decide what she really wants. Nevertheless, I can’t keep my hands from her. The way this woman responds to me touching her is so erotic. Her body is so sensual, alluring. It takes all of my willpower not to lift her dress and feel how wet she is for me. But we are in a bar full of people, and I want to be the only one who will see her naked. I am sure it will be an exquisite sight.

When she wraps her arm around my neck and pulls me to her, I know she’s giving in to her desires. She is giving herself to me, and it’s taking my breath away.

For the first time in my life I don’t want to rush. I won’t be rough and devour her mouth. Seeing how fragile and delicate she is, I know exactly what kind of kiss she deserves.

Elizabeth brushes her lips slowly against mine – they are soft and tender, and as luscious as the rest of her. Taking the lead, I press my lips firmly against hers and then sweep my tongue across the seam of her lips, needing to taste her.

Fuck, she is so damn sweet.

When I close my teeth over her lower lip and suck it gently into my mouth, her eyes fly open, and she smiles against my lips. I smile back and her lips begin to part, inviting me in. I can’t hold back, so I close whatever small gap is between us, and Elizabeth’s body melts against mine. I savor the second of anticipation, knowing that momentarily our tongues will dance just like we are now.

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Meet the Author

Emily Krat is the twenty-something writer of “Flawed and Damaged” who lives with her loving husband and her wild imagination. Always an avid reader who consumes whole books in a single day, she is ecstatic to now be on the other side of the page. For her writing stories and developing ideas for novels is a true passion and a dream come true.

Emily is a chocolate junkie, Grey’s Anatomy fan, and admirer of good music. She loves summer rains, warm blankets on cold winter nights, as well as traveling, sleeping in late, watching TV shows, cooking, and baking. When she’s not writing or rewriting, she loves spending time with family and friends.

Emily loves to hear from readers. To get write to her directly at emilykratauthor@gmail.com

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Girl In The Middle by Christine Bailey | Book Cover Tour and Giveaway – $5 Amazon/B&N Gift Card

Girl In The Middle by Christine Bailey

Genre: YA Romantic Suspense

Published by: Vinspire Publishing, LLC

Release Date: September 22, 2013

Length: 210 Pages

SYNOPSIS

Fifteen-year-old Skye, the middle child, finds herself wishing for a new life-one that doesn’t include daily harassment from the in-crowd at Highland Creek High School. Skye barely survived freshman year. She only did because her best friend, Goose, a semi-popular fellow band geek, was by her side. But when their sophomore year starts, Goose ditches Skye for a new crowd.

Cast into a lone existence at Highland Creek, Skye wishes for a touch of extraordinary that everyone, except her, seems to have. Her older sister, Sara Elizabeth, has it. Goose is getting close to it, and even her little sister is wildly popular in junior high. Skye would do almost anything to cast off her ordinary life…but at what price?

When her older sister goes missing without a trace, Skye gets her wish…but it’s not exactly what she had in mind. And when she questions Bryan, the senior class renegade and also the last person to be seen with her sister, she finds something she never quite expected.

After the bell, I headed to Ms. Stone’s classroom for lunch. It had become my usual place for dining since Lauren and I were so on-again, off-again. I really had no other place to go. But when I walked in, I found the principal and the school counselor—always a bad combination—sitting with Ms. Stone. My gut lurched.

The principal, Mr. Jones, was sitting on the corner of Ms. Stone’s desk with a roll of fat spilling over his belted pants. Mr. Munsey and Ms. Stone sat close to him. They all turned to me, and I began to inch backwards. The room was still. I fixated on the literature posters on the wall. William Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, and Charles Dickens stared at me. Ms. Stone eased toward me. I sighed slowly through my nostrils. My heart raced, and everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. All I could think was: what have I done? Then I thought, someone’s dead. I was quickly assured that I was not in trouble, that they just wanted to talk to me for a few minutes. I tried to think of something questionable that I had done. Ms. Stone informed me that she had read my latest paper.

“Which one?” I asked. I tried to figure out which paper she was talking about.

“The one on Romeo and Juliet?” Then it hit me.

“I didn’t plagiarize,” I said.

“No, the one you turned in a couple of days ago.” I shrugged.

“Your essay was a little disturbing to Ms. Stone,” said Mr. Munsey. “She asked me to read it and give her my thoughts. That’s why I’m here.” Mr. Munsey, a large and bushy-haired man, looked about the same age as Ms. Stone, like around thirty-something probably. He had the mountain-man look—okay on a movie star, but not so much on Mr. Munsey.

“I don’t even remember what it was about. I wrote it last week when I had my migraine.”

“A story about ‘offing the populars,’ as you put it,” Mr. Jones said.

I slumped into a chair and said, “Oh. My short story.”

“Skye, we’re just concerned…” Mr. Munsey said. “About you being bullied.” He really dragged out the word concerned.

“I’m fine, and the story was not a hit list or plan or anything. I was just having a bad day and wrote a stupid story. It was like therapy. It was supposed to be funny, actually.”

“Well, it’s enough to make us question you,” Mr. Munsey said.

“It’s not a journal entry,” I said. “It’s not a cry for help or anything. I was just writing. It’s a fictional story about a school with no populars. No hierarchy. No Queen Bees or loud-mouthed jocks.”

The counselor pointed out a specific passage. He said, “Skye, it’s just realistic, and it concerns me.” That word again. “See, right here where you say, ‘The cheerleader, wide-eyed and gasping for air, clutched her bleeding stomach. She lifted her fingers and studied the warm liquid that had painted them a deep red, almost dark as night. She looked up into the eyes of her enemy…’”

“I have an active imagination.” Pause. Shrill laughs filtered in from the hallway. I even recognized one of the chicken laughs as Lauren’s. “I watch too much TV?” Pause. The chicken clucked again.

“You can’t write about ways to eliminate popular kids—or anyone for that matter. You watch the news. You know what’s going on in the world today. It’s a scary place,” Mr. Munsey said. He looked at me over his thickly rimmed glasses. I realized in that moment, standing before the jury and still hearing the chicken laugh from the hall, that I was in trouble.

“I was just writing a story…that’s all,” I said. I volunteered myself for any kind of test or evaluation to prove I was not crazy. Big mistake. They jumped on it.

Mr. Munsey wiped his glasses on a handkerchief (those disgusting, snot-holders should be outlawed, by the way). The trio exchanged looks, and then Mr. Jones and Mr. Munsey stood up. Their chairs scraped against the tiled floor. Before filing out of the room, Mr. Munsey said he’d be in touch about starting “sessions” with me or something. They left me alone with Ms. Stone.

“I’m so sorry, Skye, but I did this out of concern for you. I’ve been worried, and then this paper…”

“Wow, do I really look that pathetic and sad?” We stood looking at each other. The blue-gray circles under her eyes became sharper under the fluorescent lights. The window facing the quad outside caught my attention and pulled me away from Ms. Stone’s face. The quad was filled with activity. I saw blurs of color flash in front of me. Pink, wind-chapped faces, blue varsity jackets, white-blonde hair. I closed my eyes and shut everything out. “Can I leave?” I asked.

“I would still like to talk, Skye.”

“Maybe later, if that’s okay,” I opened my eyes and stared at her. She had betrayed me. “Can I leave?” I said again.

“Sure.”

I flew to the bathroom. My make-up had run in places from the tears. I haphazardly reapplied some make-up to my blotchy cheeks and chin. Then I smoothed it in slowly, covering the little bumps on my face with the foundation. I squeezed on berry-flavored lip gloss for good measure. Though it didn’t do much to help, the berry taste was a tiny comfort. Then I went and hid in the library. It was just a stupid story. I played the conversation over and over in my mind. The bell rang for fourth period and then for fifth. I was numb and couldn’t move from the hard, cold chair. The smooth surface of the table felt good against my face, too. At one point, I saw Ms. Stone through my hair that had fallen across my eyes, but I didn’t acknowledge her. Eventually she left.

Finally, I mustered up enough strength and took out a small mirror from my bag. I cringed at the streaks of mascara on my face. I tried to rub them away, but my face was a wreck. I glanced down at my watch and freaked. I had been hiding out in the library for over two hours. I had twenty minutes to pull myself together before last bell. I gathered up my stuff and snuck out of the library, straight to the math hall for a more obscure bathroom. I did not want to chance it by going to the one in the main hall. My instincts were good. It was empty. I dumped my purse out into the sink and began my patchwork. That’s when it went from bad to worse.

Zoë, with her perfect looks and ego the size of New York City, pranced in with her royal court in tow. I didn’t look up. I was told to never ever make eye contact with the enemy.

“Hello, Skye.”

“Hi,” I said and looked up stupidly. She smiled at me with her perfectly straight, perfectly white, and perfectly over-sized horse teeth. Her mouth, too big for her face, overwhelmed her eyes and pointed nose that tipped slightly upward.

“We were just talking about you.” She looked over at her minions and breathed a laugh through her nose.

“Oh yeah?” I said. Trapped in the smallest bathroom in the school, with only two stalls and one long sink, I shared the space with unfriendly forces. I swallowed hard and nearly choked on my saliva. I glanced at the girl standing beside Zoë and realized we used to be friends. Shelby and I played soccer together in the sixth grade.

“So, Skye, I heard a little rumor about you,” Zoë said.

“Okay.”

“Aren’t you a little bit curious?”

“No. Not really.”

“Oh, come on. You have to be.”

“What is it, Zoë?”

“I heard you wrote a story about being bullied. Poor baby, you’re not gonna go psycho, are you?”

“What?”

“My source overheard Ms. Stone and another teacher talking about it.”

“Whatever. They were probably talking about me winning that writing contest. Yeah, first place. Pretty awesome, huh?” I had been kicked in the gut. Well, not literally, but that’s what it felt like having these girls corner me. Everything went numb, except my brain. I couldn’t imagine how they found out. I looked at Shelby for help, but she was more interested in biting her fingernail. I threw my stuff back in my purse and reached for the door, but Zoë pushed me aside and hurried in front of me.

With a quick snap of her ponytail, she glanced back at me and said,“Whatever.”

I waited it out for a few minutes in the bathroom. The call for bus riders filtered through the intercom, and I finally poked my head out just as last bell rang and made a dash for it. I fought my way through the crowd that had begun to fill the hallways and ran to my locker. I noticed Zoë’s handiwork immediately. On my locker: a post-it note with the word “LOSER” in nice, big block letters and a picture of a stick figure with a huge head. It had curly hair and glasses, and it was crying. Great Sharpie skills. I grabbed it and crumpled it in my hand. The sharp little edges poked my palm.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Christine H. Bailey teaches Creative Writing and Written Composition at a private university in Tennessee. Before teaching English, Bailey worked as a journalist, a marketing/public relations writer, and a freelance editor.

Girl in the Middle is Bailey’s debut novel. To learn more about this author and her work, visit her online at www.cibailey.com.

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Hemy by Victoria Ashley | Cover Reveal

tag2320140725-092542-33942418.jpg

Cover designed by CT Covercreations

Hemy is set to release late 201420140725-092544-33944129.jpg

tag17My name is Hemy Knox and I’m a fucking heartbreaker . . .

I’ve hurt the one person that means the most to me in life; the only woman I have ever fucking loved. I let the drugs, alcohol and wild life take over; consume me. I got her where I wanted her and ripped her fucking heart out.

Since then, I’ve spent countless nights having dirty, meaningless sex with a multitude of people; only leaving them wanting and begging for more with no regrets. Some may even call me the devil; soulless.

They look and judge, but there is one thing they don’t know; no one does. I want more than this life of stripping and sleeping around; the never ending party. I want love and everything that comes with it; that high that never ends. The problem is . . . I only want it with her.

Onyx.

She refuses to be mine . . . again. She’s smart and it’s a mother fucking pain in my ass; guarding her heart while ripping mine right out of my chiseled chest. I can’t say that I blame her. I always was a dumb ass when it came to the emotions of a woman, especially her.

She wants to see me suffer as much as I made her; watch me wither and fucking die at her feet. She wants to crush me until I’m no longer breathing and I will let her, because it hurts far less than not having her as mine.

I will stop at nothing to make her mine again. The pain only drives me harder; feeding my fury and giving me a reason to live . . . her.

***Author’s note*** Due to strong language and a very high amount of sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18. This is #2 in the Walk Of Shame series of novellas that will all be STANDALONE reads. This includes F/M and F/M/M so if you’re not into dirty sex scenes with filthy language, then this book is not for you. If you are . . . then, come meet the dirty boys of Walk Of Shame.

20140725-092545-33945653.jpgtag19My eyes meet Hemy’s and they stay there as the man quickly leaves us alone.

“Lock the door,” I demand. Hemy locks the door with a smirk and walks over to stand in front of me. “No touching,” I whisper. “Just yourself.”

Hemy grabs me by the hips and sets me on top of the table before walking away and taking a seat on the other side of the couch. The clean side.

His eyes watch me with heated desire as I open the rest of my bustier and pull it open. My hands reach up to rub my pierced nipples causing Hemy to growl and adjust his cock.

“Mmm . . . you like that?” I run my hands in between my breasts until they reach the top of my panties. “I want you to come for me, Hemy. I miss seeing you lose it over me.”

He watches me as I drop down on my knees and spread my legs apart. I slowly slide my hand down the front of my panties and run my finger up and down my wetness before sliding a finger inside. “Mmm . . . I’m so wet for you.” I push in and out. “Can you hear it, Hemy? Remember how much you loved the sound of me being wet for you?”

“Fuck yes.” He undoes his jeans before pulling down the zipper. “Fuck yourself faster and rub your nipple with your other hand.” I do as he says while moaning out. “That’s it, baby. Do it for me.”

I position myself so that I’m sitting on my ass with my legs spread eagle in front of his face. I want to be sure he gets a good view. Then I pull my panties to the side and bare my wet, throbbing pussy to him.

“That’s it, Onyx.” He pulls his cock out of his jeans and I instantly notice the piercings. It has me so turned on that I have to stop all movement in fear of getting off too soon. He notices me eyeing his cock and grins. “Imagine these steel bars deep inside you as I pound into. You know I like it deep, baby.” His hand starts stroking his cock and I instantly notice the bead of pre-cum that drips off the head and onto his hand.

I bring my hand down to touch myself again and move at the same rhythm as Hemy as he strokes himself. His eyes never stray away from my fingers shoving themselves deep inside me.

I’ve needed this for a long time. Ever since leaving Hemy, reaching orgasm as become almost close to impossible. Just watching him get off as I get myself off is enough to make me want to explode.

He starts stroking harder and faster while sucking on his lip ring. “I’m about to blow, baby. I wish it were inside of you.”

His words set me off and I find myself shaking from the most intense orgasm I have had in years. A few seconds later, Hemy is blowing his load into his free hand, moaning out my name.

We both look at each other while coming down from our temporary high.20140725-092545-33945066.jpg

20140703-111739-40659135.jpg tag15New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author.

Victoria Ashley grew up in Rockford, IL and has had a passion for reading for as long as she can remember. After finding a reading app where it allowed readers to upload their own stories, she gave it a shot and writing became her passion.

She lives for a good romance book with bad boys that are just highly misunderstood and is not afraid to be caught crying during a good read. When she’s not reading or writing about bad boys, you can find her watching her favorite shows such as Sons Of Anarchy, Dexter and True Blood.

She is the author of Wake Up Call, This Regret and Slade (Walk Of Shame #1) and is currently working on more works for 2014.

Visit Victoria on FACEBOOK!

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Just Desserts by Tawdra Kandle | Book Blast and Giveaway – Delicious Italian Dessert Prize Pack!

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When her friend Julia needed help forming a revenge plan against her ex-boyfriend, Ava was happy to lend a hand. She never expected that in the course of making Liam pay, she’d be the one to fall hard. . .for the one person who was absolutely off-limits. Crushing on the guy who humiliated her best friend is definitely against the girl code.

Besides, Ava has goals. Her life is all about graduating with honors and landing the perfect job. And Liam Bailey—sweet-talking, complicated son of a well-known local politician—isn’t part of those plans.

But Liam doesn’t give up easily. And he doesn’t intend to let their friends’ opinions, his parents’ disapproval or Ava’s past get in the way of what he wants–Ava’s heart.

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About the Author

Tawdra Kandle has been a writer since the invention of the pen. Her first published work appeared in Child’s Life magazine when she was 13. After a brief, thirty-year hiatus, she published a young adult quartet, The King Series. More recently, she’s released contemporary and paranormal romances in both the adult and New Adult genres. Tawdra lives in central Florida with her husband and children, of both skin and fur types. And yes, she has purple hair.

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