Get ready for a delicious new After Dark novella featuring a strong, protective bodyguard and the beautiful, brilliant hotel heiress he protects…
ONE NIGHT ONLY IS COMING JUNE 4th!!
One Night Only will have a simultaneous audio release, and this sexy novella will be performed by Emma Wilder, Joe Arden and Jacob Morgan, with a special appearance by Teddy Hamilton! Releasing directly in Audible Escape!
A delicious new After Dark novella featuring a strong, protective bodyguard and the beautiful, brilliant hotel heiress he protects…
I shouldn’t want my bodyguard the way I do. His job is to protect me. It’s not to fulfill all my filthy wishes.
And so I resist him, fighting the enticing pull of the strong, powerful man who watches over me.
Until the night we combust in my penthouse suite.
It won’t happen again, we say the next day.
Besides, my mission is singular — pull off the event of a lifetime — a one-night only concert with one of the world’s biggest rock stars.
A man my bodyguard happens to know.
And a good bodyguard knows all sorts of things about his client. Turns out he knows my secret desires, and he wants to make them come true. Including a VIP engagement so I can experience both men at the same time…
I want to say yes, but what if I fall even more in love with the man whose mission is to keep me safe?
ONE NIGHT ONLY is a red-hot, sexy love story with a toe-curling, sheet-grabbing MFM sequence.
About the Author:
A #1 New York Times Bestselling, #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling, and #1 Audible Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s sweet, sexy and witty. She also writes red-hot, ultra-steamy romance for her Lauren Blakely After Dark line. She’d love to give you a free book today!
Please leave your message at the sound of the beep…
Penelope, I know that it’s three o’clock in the morning, but I have to get this off my chest.
I can’t give you any more advice on landing this other guy, can’t tell you another “sexy” thing that you should do, or suggest a new set of filthy words that you should text him late at night.
As your best friend, I’ve reached my limit, and I can honestly say that he doesn’t deserve you.
I’m not saying all of this because I’m f-cking jealous, or because he had the audacity to say that he makes more money than me. (I still can’t find his name on the Forbes 500 list, and I know damn well that he’s renting that Ferrari, but that’s a story for a different day.)
He’s not who you think he is, and the better man has always been right in front of you…
You have every reason to never give me a chance since you know me better than anyone, and you agree with all the tabloids calling me “The Cocky King of New York,” and the “Untamed Playboy of Manhattan.” But I honestly believe that you’re better off with someone else, and I need you to see.
I’m not asking for too much…I just want you to break up with him, for me.
About the Author:
Whitney G. is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling author. Her books have been published in twelve languages.
Whenever she’s not penning a new novel, you can find her blogging about self-publishing at The Indie Tea, drinking hot coffee, or traveling the world in sweater boots.
“Combining sweet nostalgia with the important issues Kennedy never shies away from, Queen Moveis nothing less than wonderful.
I couldn’t put it down and never wanted it to end!”
— Alexa Martin, Author of Intercepted
Queen Move, an all-new powerful second chance standalone from Wall Street Journal bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author Kennedy Ryan, is coming May 26th and we have your FIRST LOOK!
Make sure to enter on Kennedy’s site to win a QUEEN BOX, stuffed with a signed paperback and all the things you’ll need to
treat yourself like a queen!
Two Years Before Present
Is there anything sadder than a daddy’s girl at her father’s funeral?
My mother’s quiet sniffs a few seats down give me the answer.
A grieving widow.
“He was a good man,” someone in the long line of mourners offering condolences whispers to her.
Mama’s head bobs with a tearful nod. In this day and age, she still wears a pillbox hat and veil. It’s black and chic like Mama, channeling tragic Jackie Kennedy or Coretta Scott King. My father was not just a good man. He was a great man, and everyone should know he leaves behind a widow, grieving deeply, but ever-fly. I squeeze the funeral program between my fingers, glaring at the printed words.
Joseph Allen leaves behind a wife, Janetta, three children, Kayla, Keith and Kimba, and six grandchildren.
He leaves behind.
Daddy’s gone, and I don’t know how to live in a world my father does not inhabit. The casket is draped with sweet-smelling flowers in the center of the funeral tent. When we leave the cemetery, it…he will be lowered into the ground with unfathomable finality, separated from us by white satin lining, six feet of dirt and eternity.
Kayla, my older sister, sobs softly at the end of our family’s row. Her four children watch her carefully, probably unused to seeing their unshakeable mother shaken and reduced to tears. Even I’d forgotten how she looks when she cries—like she’s mad at the wetness streaking her cheeks, resentful of any sign of weakness.
It’s not weak to cry, Daddy used to say. It’s human.
“But doesn’t the Bible say even the rocks will cry out?” I’d challenged him when I was young, loving that something from Sunday school took. “So maybe tears aren’t just for humans.”
“You’re getting too smart for your britches, little girl,” he’d said, but the deep affection in his eyes when he kissed me told me he was pleased. He liked that I asked questions and taught me to never accept bullshit at face value.
I miss you, Daddy.
Not even a week since his heart attack, and I already miss him so much.
Humanity blurs my vision, wet and hot and stinging my eyes. I want this to be over. The flowers, the well-dressed mourners, the news cameras stationed at a distance they probably deem respectful. I just want to go to the house where my parents raised us, retreat to Daddy’s study and find the stash of cigars that only he and I knew about.
Don’t tell your mother, he used to whisper conspiratorially. This will be our little secret.
Mama hated the smell of cigars in the house.
Who would call me by that name? Now, when the only people who use it, my family, are all preoccupied with their own pain? A tall man stands in front of me, his thick, dark brows bunched with sympathy. I don’t know him. I would remember a man like this, who stands strong like an oak tree. A well-tailored suit molds his powerful shoulders. Dark brown, not quite black, hair is cut ruthlessly short, but hints at waves if given the chance to grow. His prominent nose makes itself known above the full, finely sculpted lips below. His eyes are shockingly vivid—so deep a blue they’re almost the color of African violets against skin like bronze bathed in sunlight. No, a man like him you’d never forget. Something niggles at my memory, tugs at my senses. I’d never forget a man who looked like this, a man with eyes like that…but what about a boy?
“Ezra?” I croak, disbelief and uncertainty mingling in the name I haven’t uttered in years.
The boy who always felt like mine is now the man I can’t have…
Dig a little and you’ll find photos of me in the bathtub with Ezra Stern.
Get your mind out of the gutter. We were six months old.
Pry and one of us might confess we saved our first kiss for each other.
The most clumsy, wet, sloppy . . . spectacular thirty seconds of my adolescence.
Get into our business and you’ll see two families, closer than blood, torn apart in an instant.
Twenty years later, my “awkward duckling” best friend from childhood,
the boy no one noticed, is a man no one can ignore.
Finer. Fiercer. Smarter.
Tell me it’s wrong.
Tell me the boy who always felt like mine is now the man I can’t have.
When we find each other again, everything stands in our way–secrets, lies, promises.
But we didn’t come this far to give up now.
And I know just the move to make if I want to make him mine.
About Kennedy Ryan
A RITA® Award Winner, Wall Street Journal and USA TodayBestselling Author, Kennedy Ryan writes for women from all walks of life, empowering them and placing them firmly at the center of each story and in charge of their own destinies. Her heroes respect, cherish and lose their minds for the women who capture their hearts.
Kennedy and her writings have been featured in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today, Entertainment Weekly, Glamour and many others. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but has a special passion for raising Autism awareness.The co-founder of LIFT 4 Autism, an annual charitable book auction, she has appeared on Headline News, The Montel Williams Show, NPR and other media outlets as an advocate for ASD families. She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son.
I swear all my family wants from me is kids. Or at least my mother does.
But I’m the black sheep of the family. The one that left for bigger and better things.
No farm for me. I’m a self-made billionaire bad boy now.
Real Estate is the game and making money is my thing.
All is well in my bachelor-like world until I rent a cottage on my property to a beautiful school counselor.
Sweet. Curvy. Smart as hell.
This woman shouldn’t be out of my league, but it feels like she most certainly is.
Good thing she falls for me too. I need a fake girlfriend to take back home, and I’m hoping she’ll be up for the ruse.
Which she is not. Go figure.
Things don’t always work out the way I plan, especially when she’s hiding something from me.
A baby. One I didn’t think I wanted until it was inside of her.
She’s walking away and I’m begging. I don’t need forever to win her back.
Just give me the weekend.
Moving with grace I wouldn’t have expected from a man who had to be at least six and a half feet tall, he carried his lean muscled frame over to me. At least, I was guessing that was the kind of frame he had.
He definitely looked built, solid and broad, but not in an obnoxious, roid-ridden, monster way. There was no giant bulk of muscle. It was far more subtle than that. Just the way I liked it.
It had been a long time since my blood had made a visit south of the border, but it was certainly flowing there now. It was easy to imagine tangling my fingers into his thick, dark brown hair and stare into his golden-flecked milk-chocolate eyes.
About the Author:
Hey there. I’m Weston.
Have we met? No? Well it’s time to end that tragedy.
I’m a former firefighter/EMS guy who’s picked up the proverbial pen and started writing bad boy romance stories. I co-write with my sister, Ali Parker, but live in Texas with my wife, my two little boys, a dog and a turtle.
Yep. A turtle. You read that right. Don’t be jealous.
You’re going to find Billionaires, Bad Boys, Military Guys and loads of sexiness. Something for everyone, hopefully.
Genre: Contemporary romance, military romance, fake marriage
Format: Print and digital
Tag Line: “Love is the only real superpower.”
“𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧.”
𝙏𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙨, 𝙖.𝙠.𝙖. 𝙏𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙠, 𝘿𝙖𝙮𝙩𝙤𝙣 is focused on two things: settling into his position at the Coast Guard Academy and helping his younger brother stay out of trouble. So even though the beautiful, fandom loving 𝙅𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙮𝘽𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧 is tugging at his chest in funny ways, he doesn’t intend on acting on those emotions. Not when he’ll eventually be moving on, and she’ll be staying behind.
But when Jersey suddenly finds herself in desperate need of medical care that she can’t afford, Truck does the only thing he can think of to help… he marries her.
Jersey has been struggling to keep her and her sister afloat ever since their dad was sent to jail. The pain she feels on a regular basis isn’t anything she can stop to think about until she ends up at the E.R. in the protective arms of the one man who makes her pulse beat faster than the superheroes she worships.
When chaos invades their lives, their temporary deal starts to crumble, leaving hearts and souls twined together in such a way that there’s little chance of escape without permanent damage. Unless they just surrender to it all and let love heal them both.
From award-winning author, LJ Evans, comes a novel inspired by Lady Antebellum’s “Ocean” about resilience and love. You don’t want to miss this slow burn, military romance.
“Excuse me?” I asked because I was sure I’d heard him wrong.
He dragged a hand over his face. “Sorry. Screwed that up. Let me try again.”
Try again? He was going to ask me to marry him in a different way? I looked around, expecting Violet to be filming this as some weird prank to post on her social media accounts.
“I was thinking,” he started, and this time, I could tell he was nervous.
“Stop. Don’t. Whatever you’re going to say, just don’t. You don’t even know me.”
This seemed to knock him out of whatever apprehensive state he was in, because he chuckled. A slow rumble that bubbled its way across my frame and made me want to lean in and taste it. Taste him and his joy. But it certainly didn’t make me want to marry him.
“Jesus. I really am doing this all wrong. Can we sit down?”
I stared at him for a moment. “Have you been drinking?”
Our dad used to say some really bizarre things when he was drunk. Tony Stark had done some pretty stupid things when he’d been drunk. Drunk and men were a series of bad choices and decisions.