Sunday, August 23, 2015

Money Back Guarantee by Rayne Forrest

I'm very pleased to have Money Back Guarantee back out in the world. This book has a long history. I always liked the way the story turned out. Obtaining the rights back to it now allows me to make it available as a stand-alone story. I hope you'll enjoy Money Back Guarantee. - Rayne Forrest


Slade Martin is under attack. An electronic thief absconded with all his liquid personal wealth and someone on his board of directors is plotting a hostile takeover. The obvious culprit isn’t the guilty party, and Slade gets help to find the real perpetrator from a surprise source – the lovely and capable Iris D’Vance.  

Iris D’Vance is determined to not repeat her mistakes with men – until she meets Slade Martin, and decides all bets are off. Accepting the invitation to sit on the board of Slade’s charitable foundation lands her in the middle corporate intrigue. Slade needs her help and makes her an offer she can’t turn down.

Slade and Iris join forces to unravel the plot to ruin Slade and discover their interest in each other runs deeper than sharing altruistic works. When the person behind Slade’s woes is found, it’s Iris who’s in danger. Slade has to act fast to bring her home safe and make good on his money back guarantee. 


INTRO:

Slade stalked off the elevator, his prey dead center in the crosshairs. Primed and loaded, one word from Ms. Iris D’Vance, and he’d let the hammer fall. Damn her. He sucked in a deep breath to replace the air that whooshed out of his lungs as her appearance burned onto his corneas.
Damn her for standing in front of the windows with the sunlight coming in behind her. Every luscious curve was visible through the backlit fabric of her dress. He’d not seen anything that amazing in…well, he’d never seen anything that amazing. His temper bled away, replaced by a surge of lust. Maybe he needed to rethink his approach, and fast, before she got away with old man Farnsmore.
Iris turned slightly and spotted him. Her eyes widened, she stiffened, then her composure slid back into place. It didn’t matter. Slade had seen the sudden interest in her eyes. He held out his hand to her for a friendly handshake.
“Ms. D’Vance, I apologize for getting off on the wrong foot upstairs. I get a little nervous before board meetings.”
Iris accepted his hand. Her lips parted. He closed his fingers around hers, noting how cold hers were as he lifted them to his lips.
“I’m sorry. That was forward of me. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Her chin lifted, and her lovely hazel eyes took on a new, hard glint.
“I’m sure that well-rehearsed and very tired line still works on some women, but I assure you, I’m not one of them, Mr. Martin.”
Slade very grudgingly gave her high marks for honesty. He’d asked for that, and she’d given it to him.
“No, it doesn’t work, obviously. I’ll have to practice it.”
“Not on me, Mr. Martin. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s my ride.”
Dismissed, for God’s sake. Torpedoed.
Slade grabbed her wrist. She shot him a cold look that would have sent a weaker man to his knees.
Well, she could glare at him all she wanted to. What he had to say was important.
“Whatever it is you and Farnsmore have schemed up, I warn you now, he’ll turn on you the minute you’ve outlived your usefulness.”
Her look turned wary. “What are you talking about, Mr. Martin?”
“Don’t play stupid. I know old Reggie worked his glib tongue with the other members to get you a seat on my board. Now you’d best remember it is my board. Drop Farnsmore before you get in over your head.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Have it your way, but don’t say I didn’t warn you about Reggie and his cronies.” Slade left her standing there, turning abruptly and calling for his car.
Curse the day Reginald Farnsmore managed to wrangle a seat on the CRM board! The man was nothing but trouble. Slade slid into the driver’s seat of his vintage Cadillac. Crap. He needed to pay the permit for the gasoline engine because in his current financial straits, he couldn’t afford the steep fine for a lapse.
How did Iris fit into Reggie’s grandiose scheme to take over the board? Maybe Farnsmore thought she’d be a proper distraction. If that were the case, Slade had to admit the man had picked a woman who could get his mind on other things. Too bad she didn’t have the balls, well, ovaries, to own up to it.
The look in her eyes swam in his memory, the look of shocked confusion that she’d not been able to hide as he’d delivered his warning.
Fucking hell. His chest tightened, constricting painfully around his heart. She’d not been faking. No one could act that well. Maybe she really didn’t know.
Great, now he’d have to save both D’Vance and CRM from Farnsmore.



Purchase at OmniLit      



Rayne Forrest

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Scorching Hot Highlanders Available for Preorder! #Tiara #Giveaway


Hannah and the Highlander by Sabrina York
First in a brand-new series about the bold, brawny men of the Scottish Highlands--and the lovely lasses who bring them to their knees…
Coming September 1st

Highlanders are her weakness.

Hannah Dounreay has no time for suitors who only seem interested in her family's land, which she manages as well as any man. If she marries, she wants to be loved for the educated, independent woman she is. But when a strong, silent--and spectacularly handsome--Highlander saves her from a violent attack, her heart is stirred. Who is this man? And if he asks for Hannah's hand, will she be able to resist him?

Love is the most powerful weapon of all.

Alexander Lochlannach, Laird of Dunnet, has no time to lose. The Highlands are in an uproar as clans battle for land--without mercy--and Alexander can't afford to fall for the wildly attractive, strong-willed Hannah. What's more, he has a desperate secret, one that could destroy them both. But as their attraction turns into an all-consuming passion, Alexander has no choice but to prove to Hannah that he's the only man for her--body and soul…


Read an excerpt:

Egads. She wants to speak with him before the wedding…

The door opened immediately, as though she’d been standing there waiting. At the sight of her, his heart stalled and his throat tightened. She had this effect on him each and every time he saw her. God, she was so beautiful. 
Her eyes widened, as though she was surprised to see him, which befuddled him, because she’d asked him to come. Then her gaze raked him. He liked to think that look in her eye was a glimmer of appreciation. “Dunnet,” she said. “You’re . . . dressed.”
Aye. Dressed for a wedding. He couldn’t help but notice she was not.
“Lady . . . Hannah.” He bowed. “You wanted to . . . talk?”
She nodded briskly and opened the door wider, stepping back to allow him to enter. He did so and closed the door behind him. The click was deafening. It was not lost on him that he was in her bedchambers. His gaze flicked to the bed. It was slightly rumpled. That made him feel slightly rumpled as well.
This was not the time for his passion to rise.
It did.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, turning away to pace. “I know you are prepared to marry . . . forthwith.” He had no idea why she emphasized the word as she did. “But before we exchange our vows, I have some things that I need to say.”
He nodded, even as relief gushed through him.
She hadn’t changed her mind.
And if she had things to say, he should probably stay silent. And listen.
“You and I need to have an understanding.”
“An . . . understanding?”
“Aye.” His hope was supplanted by a hint of disappointment when she said in a very businesslike tone, “We both know this is a marriage of convenience.”
His gaze snapped to her face. Ernest though her expression was, it lacked the dreamy, romantic tinge a groom might hope for. In fact, she set her chin and shot him a very unromantic glance.
A marriage of convenience? A cold, heartless, distant union? Denial howled. Suddenly, to his surprise, he found he wanted something very different. He longed to respond, to cry out his dissent, but his throat locked.
“There is no reason to pretend this is something other than it is. I agreed to marry you because Dounreay needs your protection and you agreed to marry me for my lands. We are marrying for no other reason. Aye. I understand that. We understand that.”
Nae. We understood nothing of the sort. There was another reason he was determined to marry her, did she but realize.
He wanted her.
“Regardless, Dunnet, my wish is for a peaceful union.”
Peaceful. Aye. Peaceful was good.
“I should like for us to work together as a team. In partnership.”
Aye. He had a partnership in mind. . . .
“If I’m going to pledge myself to a man forever, I need to know that he will respect me. That he will honor my wishes. I need to know he will take my counsel into account.” She fixed Alexander with a steady gaze, as though she expected a response. So he nodded.
She was so beautiful, so earnest. So tantalizing.
He stepped closer, intent on his target.
Her eyes widened as he neared. Her hand on his chest stalled his approach and her brow wrinkled. Her gaze flicked to his mouth and her tongue peeped out, wetting her lips, igniting a flame in his belly. With great effort, she ripped her gaze away and frowned. “Do you agree to my terms?” she asked.
He cupped her cheek and angled her head up. Her breath caught. Her features froze as she realized his intent. “Aye,” he said. “Aye.” And then he did what he’d been thinking about for weeks. What he’d been obsessing over all day. He kissed her.
And it was glorious.
A shiver rippled over Hannah’s skin as Dunnet took her mouth. His taste, his scent, infused her. It was a light kiss, a testing foray, but it sent an unholy thrill through her and left her wanting one thing. More.
She had wanted this chance to speak with him privately, to receive his assurances that their marriage would be a partnership, to set her mind at rest, and he’d done that. But if she was being truthful . . . something like this had been on her mind as well, skulking there behind her noble intentions, a roiling hunger. A curiosity. A need.
She’d kissed him before and he had turned away. She desperately needed to know if, in his heart, he had any passion for her whatsoever.
He lifted his head—way too soon—and stared down at her. “Hannah . . . ” he murmured.
Even as she attempted to rein in her disappointment at his withdrawal, his hold on her cheek tightened, his eyes narrowed, and he issued a noise, something gruff and deep, something that sent a lick of exhilaration through her.
He yanked her closer. The feel of his body against hers, rigid and unyielding, made her head spin. His fingers threaded through her hair and he held her steady as his head descended again. She sucked in a breath, quivering with anticipation.
And ah. Ah.
This kiss was different.
This wasn’t tentative in the slightest. It was a taking. A mad, starved consummation of her mouth with his, a melding of lips and tongue and need.
This was as wild as the windy squalls off the coast. As tantalizing as the fairy wisps at dusk. As scorching as the forge where razor-sharp steel was tempered and formed.
And it cut through her like a screaming wind, an enticing magic, a warm blade.
Scuttles of heat rose in her womb. Rivulets of excitement danced in her veins. His taste filled her senses, her mouth, her soul.
When he lifted his head, a glimmer danced in his eye. It was the look of a conquering hero, a savage Scotsman, a man whose hunger had been sated but ignited at the same time.
Oh heavens.
Exultation whipped through her. Her knees were weak and her body melted.
Damn her reservations.
Damn her fears.
Damn her doubts about whether or not he really wanted her.
She wanted him. And she would have him.
It was gratifying to see that he was not unaffected. His breath came heavy and hard and there was a slight tremble in his voice when he spoke. It was one word and one word only, forced out and wreathed in a growl, but it was enough.
“Mine.”

WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING ABOUT HANNAH AND THE HIGHLANDER
Bold and steamy—Publisher’s Weekly
5 stars: A stunning tale from beginning to end—Love, Life and Booklust
Top Pick: Hannah and the Highlander is a wonderful love story that I can honestly and happily recommend to all—Night Owl Reviews
4 Stars: York turns her talent for sizzle to men in kilts—and the women who love them—in her newest sexy romp—RT Magazine
Untamed Highlanders Series
Hannah and the Highlander—Coming September 1st
Susana and the Scot—Coming December 29th
Lana and the Laird—Coming in 2016

Want More Highlanders by Sabrina York?


About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance.  Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Get updates and alerts from Sabrina here: HotSheet Sign Up.
  
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Monday, August 17, 2015

Circle of Steel by KC Kendricks

CIRCLE OF STEEL
Book IV in Ian Coulter’s Amethyst Cove series
Available at Amber Quill Press


Private investigator Ian Coulter and his FBI partner Rick Mohr work hard and play harder. Making their relationship a priority is a challenge they willingly embrace. Life is better together, and when their cases overlap, it also gets pretty interesting.

An evening stroll turns deadly when a sniper targets Rick. Needing to be with his lover, Ian has to trust Rick’s team with the hunt for the shooter. As Rick heals tensions between the men escalate and some uncomfortable truths are revealed.

Ian gets a break in the case but the sniper proves to be elusive.  With the FBI conducting a manhunt in Amethyst Cove, Ian has to deal with his own man. It’ll take patience and some tough love to heal recent fractures and secure the future he wants with Rick. 

EXCERPT:

My life with Rick was important to me. I never expected to fall in love and I had. It didn’t matter it blindsided me because it had Rick, too. Becoming “us” hadn’t been part of any original plan but we had become “us” in ways I couldn’t imagine ending.
I picked up my cell phone. Rick answered before the first ring ended.
“Ian. Darling, what’s really wrong? Are you going to be okay?”
Was I? A tenuous connection opened between us, powered by wireless magic.
“I’m better for hearing your voice. I feel like a real ass saying this to you, Rick, but it’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
“Believe me, I know. Please come back so we can talk.”
I downed the remainder of the bourbon in the glass.
“Can’t. I shouldn’t drive. I’ve had more than a little to drink.”
I heard him take a deep breath.
“Okay. You’re right, of course. And you’re right about the other things. Listen, Ian. We need to stop being stupid with each other and I’ll start. I love you. I hurt bad enough I can’t rest, and I’m miserable being off my feet. I’m taking it out on you, and that’s not fair. I promise to stop being bitchy.”
My throat tightened. “Rick. I almost lost you.” My voice broke. I couldn’t breathe. The city lights blurred in my vision. His voice was soft in my ear.
“It’s okay, my darling. You’ve been my rock, Ian. I forgot even diamonds crack under enough pressure.”
I managed a deep breath and swiped my fingertips across my eyes. “We’re still gonna talk, big guy.”
“I know. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Ian, but I can’t promise it’s always going to be easy living with me.”
“Well, I guess I can’t make that promise, either. We just have to remember life is better when we’re together.”
“How about we have a safe word to tell each other to back off?”
“What? Like ‘fuck you, Rick’?”
He chuckled softly. “No, babe. That’s foreplay. I live to hear you say those words.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I need to go to bed. Get some sleep. I’ve got a bunch of installations to finish tomorrow and God only knows how big a job Sheldon’s going to sell next.”
“Can I call you?”
“Yeah. That would be great. I love you, Rick. I guess maybe I’m a little afraid you’ll leave me.”
“Never, Ian. Not gonna happen. Are we good?”
“We’re good. ‘Night, Rick.”
“Goodnight, Ian.”
The call disconnected and left me staring at my phone, exhausted. Were we really good? Sometimes when something cracked, it stayed that way,
And sometimes, when mended, it was stronger than before.
I twisted the wide silver band on my right ring finger around, then took it off and slipped it onto my left hand. It glittered, a circle of steel reflecting the city lights.


CIRCLE OF STEEL
Book IV in Ian Coulter’s Amethyst Cove series
Available at Amber Quill Press

KC Kendricks

Monday, August 3, 2015

HOT #Seals invade Kindle Worlds! Get yours today!

Love Hot SEALs?  

What if all your favorite military romance authors got together and wrote a series of HOT SEAL romances in the same world?

This is Cat Johnson’s HOT SEALS Kindle World. It’s an exciting opportunity for you to discover new authors writing in the genre you love in a world you know!

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Cat Johnson's Hot SEALs Kindle World launches on August 4th. Check out all the scorching books by NYT and USA Today bestselling authors in this exciting crossover adventure!


rsz_guard-dog-e-reader 200 by 300
A scorching sequel to Stone Hard SEALs

Mason Steele expected to be a SEAL until the day he died. And he was. A pity they revived him. Now he’s been mustered out of the Navy and his life seems wholly unsatisfying. He misses the action; he misses the camaraderie; he misses being able to use his tightly-honed skills. He’s lucky to have snagged this job with GAPS—the Guardian Angel Protective Services—it provides some hope for his future. But the last thing he wants to do is babysit a spoiled heiress who is obsessed with the color of her nail polish and carries a Chihuahua in her purse.

But there’s more to Pansy Hightower than can be seen at first glance. She’s smart, sassy and determined to save the business her late mother built. She resents having a guard dog and does what she can to lose her muscular shadow. But when it becomes clear that someone is targeting her—perhaps for the same kind of fatal “accident” that befell her mother, she decides having the 240 pound SEAL with killer instincts and lethal hands at her back might be a good idea after all.
Until they share a kiss, that is. Until those lethal hands prove they have other talents as well. Talents that leave her breathless and wanting and weak. The last thing either of them wants is a relationship, but the scorching passion between them cannot be denied…even though it will undoubtedly spell disaster for them both.

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READ AN EXCERPT
“All right then.” Pansy’s surprisingly chipper voice cut through his dismal mood. It had been mortifying admitting his weakness, his failure, especially to her. It was something of a relief that she didn’t seem to understand the deep implications of his confession.
He dared a glance at her. Even bedraggled and tattered as she was, he wanted her. She shot him a bright smile. It made him glower. “All right then, what?” he muttered.
“All right, then. You’ll do.”
You’ll do? You’ll do? Irritation riffled through him. When she tipped her head and her ponytail swung, his ire blossomed.
“But I don’t know about the others.”
“The others are excellent.” He wasn’t sure why he was arguing with her. He wanted this job.  He wanted to be with her. He wanted to keep her safe. And for some reason, thought of some other dude, even one of his brothers in arms, stepping into the duty rankled.
“But I don’t know them.”
“We’ll arrange a meet.” It was standard procedure…when they weren’t on a covert job.
She put out a lip. God he wanted to suckle it. Maybe it would be better if someone else took over. He was far too attracted to her to keep a clear mind. “But I want you,” she said.
Again, her words made something hard and needy sizzle through his bowels. He knew what she meant. He knew she was talking about her protection and not some scalding, savage coupling in the big bed in the next room that was far too close to be successfully ignored.
It was a testament to his delusional state that all he could think about was sex. All he could think about was stripping her naked and taking her here and now. That she wanted it as much as he did.
He imagined he could smell her arousal in the air, which was ridiculous.
A woman like her and a guy like him?
Yeah. Nucking futs.
“No worries. I’ll be on your team. But we’ll have at least three others.” Two on days and two on nights. Although, if he had his way, she wouldn’t be going out again. Certainly not to clubs where he couldn’t guarantee her safety. On that note, he fixed her with a dark look. “We need to talk about security. You’re going to have to make some lifestyle changes until this threat is contained.”
“Like what?”
“Like going out in public.”
“I have a business to run.”
“Is that what they call it? Partying all night with entitled socialites like Monique Dupree?” He didn’t mean to snarl it as he did. But it hardly mattered. She was utterly unaffected by his ferocity.
“Those entitled socialites are my customer base. More than that. They are my influencers.”
He had no idea what that meant. “Too many people. Too many blind spots. We need to keep you in controllable environments.” Like this hotel. Like this suite. That bed…
“Controllable environments?”
Again with the pouting lip. God. It was driving him crazy.
With a grunt, he pushed to his feet—ignoring the sharp string of yips this elicited from Ratacus—and prowled to the wall of windows, pulling back the curtains and peering out at the night in a pretense of assessing any potential hazards. Her suite was on the thirtieth floor. Doubtful anyone would enter from the balcony. Still, he checked the lock on the door. Probably wouldn’t hurt to install a door brace on the front door. He strode back to the foyer and jiggled the handle. Yeah, definitely a brace. He made a mental note of other upgrades the suite needed, of the things he needed to check. First order of business was to sweep for any bugs and check for hidden cameras.
He glanced over at Pansy and immediately revised his priorities. She was leaning back with her head resting on the sofa, her eyes closed. Her face was a cameo of perfection, but it was wreathed in exhaustion. First order of business was to get her to bed.
Lust lanced him.
Shit.
No. Get her in bed.
Alone.
By herself.
So she could sleep.
Aw, hell.
His gaze skated over her and he took in the rips in her dress, the scrapes on her legs and the dirt smudging her cheek. He should have tended to her wounds right off the bat. He should have seen to her comfort. He should have—
An ominous clicking sound and a sudden riffle of movement near his ankles captured his attention and he glanced down.
Lola, in her pink tutu glared up at him, her lip curled over impressively pointy teeth. Mason tipped his head to the side and met her challenging gaze with one of his own. It said: Really? Whatcha gonna do, Ratacus?
He probably shouldn’t have.
She lifted her leg.
And peed on his boots.
“Son of a bitch.” He didn’t mean to boom as he leaped back, but he did. Pansy shot up, her eyes wide. “What?” she cried. “What is it?”
He shot her a contrite look. “Your dog peed on my boots.”
“She does that.” Pansy huffed a sigh and headed for the powder room to grab a hand towel. “One of the reasons I don’t date.” She knelt before him and mopped up the puddle.
He should have stooped to help her, but honestly, he couldn’t. He couldn’t move to save his life. Because there she was, kneeling before him, with her head so close…
A scintillating thought, a captivating vision, a scalding need rose like the hydra. That, and a lowering realization.
He was a pervert. A goddamn pervert.
She was cleaning his fucking boots for God’s sake.
“You need a shower.”
Right. No idea why he blurted that.
Well, maybe one idea. He desperately needed her to stand. To move away, before he lost his mind and did something insane and necessary, like pull her closer.
She looked up at him. He forced himself to step away, he had to. Or his erection might have brushed her cheek.
And that would have been a disaster.
“Yeah. Um. You’re all banged up. We should get some antiseptic on those scrapes. Do you have a first aid kit?”
She said nothing so he glanced at her. That she was staring at his crotch sent a bolt of lightning through him. Her tongue peeped out and she lifted her gaze. He could have sworn he saw something simmering there. He tried mightily to ignore it.
Surely it wasn’t what he thought. Imagined. Ached for.
“Do you? Have a first aid kit?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea.” Nearly a whisper.
“I’ll call the concierge.” This was a penthouse suite. Surely there was a concierge. “Why don’t you go…um, clean up and I’ll call down for something.”
She stood slowly, holding his gaze. Something about her, her energy, her intensity, had shifted. It made him antsy. It made him restless. It made him hungry. She turned around—his heart sank—but then she said, softly, with a tentative quiver to her voice, “Could you unzip me?”
Holy. Fuck.
She peeped at him over her shoulder. Her eyes, so beautiful and blue, bore into his. “I can’t do it myself.”
He was certain she could. She was a grown woman. She’d been dressing—and undressing—herself for years. But he couldn’t refuse. Not when she asked so politely. “S-sure.” Hopefully she missed the stutter.
She could not have missed the fact that his fingers shook as he tried to grasp the tiny teardrop at the top of her zipper. Why the fuck did it have to be so tiny? It took forever for him to make the long journey down her spine, partly because the damn zipper kept catching and partly because he really wanted to savor the journey.  As it advanced, more and more of her creamy skin was exposed. He wanted nothing more than to place his palm on her, to stroke her. To feel the heat of her skin against this.
But she’d asked him to unzip her. Not make a move.
It was a damn good thing he’d developed indomitable willpower as a SEAL. Denying himself things crucial to his being—air, water, food—was par for the course in their training.
This was by far the most difficult denial of all.
When he reached the bottom of the zipper, when a hint of a crease at the base of her spine was exposed, he stepped back. Though it cost him. “There,” he said.
Jesus, God. He was going to heaven for this.
He fucking better.
His restraint was nothing short of a penance.
But then…
Holy God.
But then…she shifted her shoulders and the scrap of material drifted to the floor. She shot another glance at him, something that was too much of an invitation to be misunderstood or misconstrued, and, wearing nothing but her skimpy bra and panties, padded into the bathroom.



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 About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance.  Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Get updates and alerts from Sabrina here: HotSheet Sign Up.  

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