Category Archives: COVER REVEAL

#CoverReveal – Game Changer (Change of Hearts series Book #1) by Sierra Hill

Game Changer by Sierra Hill

Cover Reveal Date – Wednesday June 5th

Release Date – Thursday July 25th

Photographer: Lindee Robinson Photography

Cover Models: Chad & Andrew

Cover Designer: Q Design

Up until two years ago, I was living large and my life’s priorities were anchored to three things – my NBA stardom, money and celebrity.

I was also a colossal dick.

Until one night turned my world upside down and I suffered unspeakable loss. That event changed the man I was and made me a widowed-single father.

Now I’m a desperate parent trying to raise my special needs son and find him a trustworthy live-in nanny.

Grad student Brooklyn Hayes may be the one, with her single-minded focus on caring for my son and finishing her Master’s degree. She’s the perfect fit for our needs.

Maybe too perfect…with her bright smile, nurturing kindness and gentle touch. Caleb isn’t the only one who’s fallen for her.

I don’t know when or how it happened, but she changed the game for me. Turning my losing streak into a winning second-half.


Goodreads

Preorder price = $1.99 (increases to $3.99 after release day)

Amazon

Nook, iBooks, kobo https://books2read.com/u/meoJdg

Universal Links

Sierra Hill wrote her first full-length romance after a corporate acquisition led her to a stint of unemployment, offering her some quality writing time.

She loves writing about the fictional characters that live in her brain who constantly shout for their own love story to be told.

Sierra resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband of twenty years and her long-haired, German Shepherd. She is currently working on her next book.

Thanks for reading and reviewing her books. Keep the passion alive!

#WOTR19 #CoverReveal #Giveaway – Love, Loyalty & Mayhem: A Motorcycle Club Romance Anthology – Chelsea Camaron and Mary Martel

Title: Love, Loyalty and Mayhem:
A Motorcycle Club Romance Anthology
Genre: Motorcycle Club Romance/Romantic Suspense
Cover Design: Cassy Roop, Pink Ink Designs
Photo: Golden Czermak, FuriousFotog
Model: Jacob Wilson
Release Date: July 16, 2019
Blurb
Bad Boy Alpha Alert!
Nineteen of your favorite MC authors come together to bring you brand new, never released stories from some of your favorite motorcycle clubs.
Love
Life with a biker is an adventure full of twists and turns. When love is involved, MC men never back down from what they want—they fight for it.
Loyalty
Loyalty is the foundation in any motorcycle club. Break it, they break you. There isn’t a line they won’t cross to protect who or what they claim as their own.
Mayhem
These men live a life made by their own set of rules. Chaos tends to always find them. You cross them, the consequences are swift. 
Hold on for the ride as this talented group of authors come together to bring you an anthology like no other.
Your favorite clubs, new clubs, and everything in between can be found in this collection filled with suspense, action, adventure, romance and so much more!
***
All profits from the Love, Loyalty & Mayhem: A Motorcycle Club Romance Anthology will be donated to Bikers Against Bullies USA.
BAB USA is a national not-for-profit organization created by bikers to raise awareness and empower the community to fight the terrible effects of bullying on young people through education, community outreach and fundraising. https://www.bikersagainstbulliesusa.com
Pre-order Links
99c for pre-order only!
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Contributing Authors

#CoverReveal – BREAK THE DAY by Lara Adrian

Lara Adrian’s New York Times and #1 international bestselling Midnight Breed vampire romance series continues with Break the Day, an adrenaline-laced, passionate new novel of paranormal adventure.

After a shocking betrayal nearly killed him and the people he cares about the most, what Breed warrior Rafe wants more than anything is revenge against the insidious brotherhood called Opus Nostrum. But to achieve that goal, he must turn his back on the Order and infiltrate a dangerous gang with ties to Opus. Risking everything to redeem himself and carry out his deep-cover mission, Rafe will let nothing stand in his way–least of all his desire for one of the loyalists he should despise, a mysterious, dark-haired beauty named Devony Winters.

But Devony has secrets of her own to protect, as well as a personal duty she will do anything to fulfill. And as a daywalker passing herself off as human to the gang she’s been embedded with for months, the last thing she needs is a dangerous former member of the Order unraveling all her hard work. Her plans depend on keeping Rafe at arm’s length, but if she surrenders to the dark need he stirs within her, it will be her heart that pays the ultimate price.


Add it to your Goodreads shelfhttp://bit.ly/2BCWjdF

EBOOK LINKS
Kindlehttps://amzn.to/2McG6Dq
Nookhttp://bit.ly/2G2UvPu
Kobohttp://bit.ly/2Qd99rY
Apple Bookshttps://apple.co/2zM0l1X

PRINT LINKS
Available on release day

AUDIOBOOK LINKS
Release day TBA

Excited about BREAK THE DAY? Vote for it on Goodreads –> http://bit.ly/2W9FQcX

LARA ADRIAN is a New York Times and #1 internationally best-selling author with nearly 4 million books in print and digital worldwide and translations licensed to more than 20 countries. Her books have been named among Amazon’s Top Ten Romances of the Year, and have also been nominated by readers multiple times as finalists for the Goodreads Choice Award for Best Romance of the Year. Reviewers have called Lara’s books “addictively readable” (Chicago Tribune), “extraordinary” (Fresh Fiction), “strikingly original” (Booklist), and “one of the best vampire series on the market” (Romantic Times).

Writing as TINA ST. JOHN, her historical romances have won numerous awards including the National Readers Choice; Romantic Times Magazine Reviewer’s Choice; Booksellers Best; and many others. She was twice named a Finalist in Romance Writers of America’s RITA Awards, for Best Historical Romance (White Lion’s Lady) and Best Paranormal Romance (Heart of the Hunter). More recently, the German translation of Heart of the Hunter debuted on Der Spiegel bestseller list.

With an ancestry stretching back to the Mayflower and the court of King Henry VIII, the author lives with her husband in New England, where she is working on her next novel. Visit Lara’s website and sign up for new release announcements at http://bit.ly/LaraAdrianNews

#CoverReveal Unchaining You by Vic Tyler



If he hates me for what happened 8 years ago, just imagine how he feels now…

Do I feel bad for accidentally hooking up with the one who broke my heart?

… No.

Should I feel bad for extorting him for a job that I need?

… Probably.

But like I said, I need the job.

Life’s kind to some people.

Exhibit A: Devon Leo

Hot, brooding loner in high school → hot, brooding billionaire tech tycoon who’s an international mans!ut.

Exhibit Me: Skylar Kay

Your everyday average nobody → college dropout, moonlighting stripper nobody who’s drowning in debt.

The least he can do for breaking my heart is give me a job.

Yeah, the one I blackmailed him for.

I just didn’t think the job was for a position under him.

I’ll have to be careful not to get under him. Again.

Because this time, his reputation isn’t just on the line.

My heart is.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Skylar

A slow, synth beat starts to thump, muted, from the speakers all around the dim room. I was hoping for something a little more upbeat since I’m running on three hours of sleep, and the velvety couches lining the walls of the VIP Room are starting to look like plush black clouds at this point of the night. If I strain my ears, I can hear the enthused and muffled whomp-whomp-whomp in the main room where everyone’s hunting — for money or attention.

The VIP Room is just quiet enough for the patrons sparsely spread throughout the area to converse with the dancers whose time they’re procuring hourly. Of course, some of them aren’t really looking for conversation.

Like Bill.

The pudgy, leering man sitting in front of me looks up hungrily as I lean forward to fill his vision with my heavy breasts. Even though they’re taped down securely, I’m still paranoid that the thin, elastic straps of my black, lacy bikini are going to snap, leaving me with no more than black, lacy pasties with sad, dangly tentacles.

I say ‘bikini,’ but it’s the kind you’d never wear in public unless you want to scandalize parents at the public pool and become a budding teenage boy’s first wet dream. The kind that would never survive a cannonball, and the one that makes your nightmare of seeing your bikini pieces floating up right next to you come true. More like a skinny dip-kini.

“Destiny.”

Bill holds out a few Andrew Jacksons, and I push my hip toward him so he can slip it into the side string of my thong. He takes his time, his dry fingers grazing roughly against my skin, taking advantage of the one opportunity during our time together that I let him touch me. After all, he’s more generous with his tips when I let him brush a feel or two during our hour.

Lowering my voice to a sultry hum, I purr, “Stay for a little longer, Bill.”

He chuckles in that not smooth way — the sound gutturally choked by his bubbling lust.

“Can’t tonight, baby.” He lowers his voice, trying to sound seductive. “Unless you want to come home with me.”

He arches his brow with a cheesy smile as his fingers touch his wallet.

It makes me feel dirty. Very, very dirty. And not in the sexy way.

For eight hours a night, a few nights a week, my sensitive bitties of skin are slapped on with cash like I’m a papier-mache project. I’m basically rolling around in money, and if you mix in a little paste, you can make a cash cast out of me. But let me tell you, the whole ‘rolling in dough’ thing is an idea that’s only appealing to be entertained theoretically.

I mean, money’s pretty gross if you think about it. You never know where it’s been. Stuffed in wallets, forgotten in pockets, hidden in shoes or bras, dropped in gasoline-laden puddles on the street, handled by greasy, pizza-oiled hands, rolled to snort coke, slid into a stripper’s asscrack.

The first time I went home with a huge stack of tips, I did it. I spread out a bed of green and laid down on it. It’s really not that exciting. But go ahead and try. And if you’re more like me than you are Ebenezer Scrooge, you’ll find out that carpeting your floor with money doesn’t make it any softer.

It’s still cold, hard cash. In a cold, hard world.

I fight the urge to scrunch my nose, instead lowering them to watch my manicured fingers walk up his white dress shirt, his suit jacket lying forgotten next to him to minimize the layers between us. “You know I can’t go home with customers.”

Can’t, won’t, don’t want to. What’s the difference? In the end, it’s not going to happen.

Some of my clients are sweethearts. Just lonely ones. But some men, like Bill, wave around their money using the carrot-and-stick approach. The cash being the carrot, and the stick being… well, their stick. When I say I don’t provide those services, they don’t back down.

They raise their offer.

Bill’s eyes travel over me as he continues fingering his bulge. The wallet, of course. It’s not the only thing bulging in his pants, but at least he knows which of the two I’m interested in, period.

The lines in his shoulders relax as he gives up for the night and leans back against the couch. His doughy cheeks pull back into a smile.

“Shame,” he drawls pointedly, hinting at how much I’m missing out.

Considering that chipmunk sized tent he’s pitching, I’m pretty confident I’m not missing out on much.

But I hood my eyes seductively and pout a little bit. “You can always stick around for a little longer. You know how much I love spending time with you.”

Ten months ago, I would’ve never imagined I could make a man empty his wallet just by changing where and how I look at him.

I still remember my first day at Starlette when Sage, the strip club’s house mom, pulled me back from making my awkward rounds waddling around the floor. It was my first wearing six-inch fuck-me heels when I’ve only ever worn two-inch-high Mary Janes for church.

She pursed her lips and said, “Honey, if these men wanted to look at a woman who looks as miserable as you do out there, they’d go home to their wives.”

She made a science out of flirtation and laughed when I whipped out my trusty pen and paper. Gave me a big “mhm, you do that” when I said I’d go research all about ‘the art of seduction.’

Even now, Sage likes to joke that her greatest accomplishment to date is turning “Sunday School Skye” turn into “Devilishly Dazzling Destiny.”

Flashing a toothy, hopeful smile, Bill changes tactic. “Then how about dinner? Tomorrow night?”

I’m obviously not going to get him to stay another hour tonight. Lowering my voice huskily, I brush back his hair with the lightest of touches. “Dating is against the rules. But you’ll be the first to know if that ever changes.”

My own rules. Nothing against the other dancers who do date their customers. Believe me, I heard some of the cute love stories shared in the back, and even I’ve dreamed about a sexy, respectful millionaire who can’t resist me after a crotch grind, a motorboat, or an hour of very fulfilling conversation in the half-nude who wants to get to know the real me. And then I remember my clientele includes… well… Bill and his ilk.

No offense. Bill behaves (most of the time), and some of my regulars are nice. But even if I were interested in any of them (which, spoiler alert, I’m not), my stomach doesn’t get all fluttery with butterflies when they’re talking about their wives and kids. A club isn’t exactly ideal breeding grounds for a relationship… or breeding.

That doesn’t mean I don’t pretend I want them. I do. I pretend hard.

Winking at Bill, I peel myself off the couch and straighten as I turn around, looking at him cutely over my shoulder. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to handle a heartbreaker like you.”

He chuckles low in the back of his throat. “Baby, I’d never break your heart.”

I feel a little bitter on behalf of his wife. She’s probably sitting home right now on a Wednesday night, helping their six-year-old son with his alphabets or maths or coloring homework, while he’s here, dishing out his paycheck for a few boob shimmies and butt rolls.

But I shouldn’t complain. After all, Bill is a platinum donor to the Skylar Kay Survival Foundation.

“You break my heart every time you leave.” I wink before walking away, swaying my hips and letting my ass shake.

A couple of wandering eyes flit over to me as I sashay through the room. This is about as private as it gets for those who don’t have enough dough to cough up for some actual one-on-one time in one of the Champagne Rooms.

Nothing sketchy happens back there, of course. At least, it’s not supposed to. But it’s not unusual for a dancer to take off her bikini top for the several extra hundreds she’s getting for the same hour-long session.

I’ve never, and I won’t ever. Not because I think I’m better than any of the other women (God knows I’m in just as much of a shithole, if not in a worse one, as some of them). But I’m just not that comfortable with exposing my nips to strangers who don’t even know my real name. Only my ex-boyfriend has ever seen my bare nipples, and that’s not going to change for any amount of money.

I envy the girls who dance here because they love flaunting their gorgeous bodies and basking in the spotlight. But I’m not one of them.

I love dancing — heck, I wanted to be a professional dancer — but I’d rather dance with clothes on and not on a stage with a pole on it. I’m a statistical cliche working here out of desperation.

“You can always come home with me,” Bill says optimistically, trying one last time as we head toward the exit. “You know I’ll take real good care of you.”

It does make me wonder whether men’s bedroom skills improve if they pay for sex. Do they try to make the most of their money? Or is it an easy done deal since the sex is an expectation?

I’d assume the latter.

Is it terrible that I assume they’re mediocre at sex? Maybe even bad at it? Horrible? The lose-faith-in-mankind’s-manhood kind of sex?

Either way, I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been around one and a half naked guys. The second one was a Tinder date that finished with a handjob that lasted twenty seconds. We took a longer time taking our pants off. Not our clothes. Just our pants. Like I said, he didn’t even see my nipples.

Tinder Dude definitely made me lose faith in Tinder, and I haven’t even tried hooking up with anyone since. Why bother if I’m just a heated, fleshy replacement for some Kleenex?

At the door, the bouncer stands menacingly with his thick, meaty arms crossed, glaring at the pasty, Pillsbury Doughboy-esque businessman.

Bill knows the drill. He pulls his wallet out so fast, I would’ve missed it if I blinked.

I brush my fingers along his elbow as I press my boobs against his arm, drawing his attention to my cleavage.

“Come see me again, Bill,” I coo. “You know I’m here from Wednesday to Saturday, eight to four.”

Maybe I should become a camgirl instead. I got the script down pat.

Thanks for watching my strip show! Don’t forget to click on that Subscribe button to watch me fiddle my channel!

Bill doesn’t bother hiding his disappointment when I pull away, but the tease is what keeps him coming back every week.

“Destiny,” he murmurs, his eyes still glued to my tits. He raises them to wink at me. “You’ll warm up to me one day.”

Internally, I cringe. I really, really doubt it.

But winking with a perfectly practiced, sugary sweet smile, I croon, “See you next week, Bill.”

About Vic Tyler:

Vic Tyler is a new author of contemporary romance novels.
She has a tinkering sense of wanderlust and loves to travel to new places, explore new cultures, and most importantly, eat delicious new food (yummm). Her dreams include finally having nice handwriting, owning a collection of onesies, and making a croquembouche.

Stay up to date with VT’s new works  → http://eepurl.com/dKoTO-/

Check out VT’s books  →  https://amazon.com/author/lovevictyler

Connect with Vic Tyler

Website  →  https://lovevictyler.wordpress.com

Facebook Group  →  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorVicTyler/

Twitter  →  https://twitter.com/LoveVicTyler/

Instagram  →  https://www.instagram.com/lovevictyler/



#CoverReveal Unchaining You by Vic Tyler

If he hates me for what happened 8 years ago, just imagine how he feels now…

Do I feel bad for accidentally hooking up with the one who broke my heart?

… No.

Should I feel bad for extorting him for a job that I need?

… Probably.

But like I said, I need the job.

Life’s kind to some people.

Exhibit A: Devon Leo

Hot, brooding loner in high school → hot, brooding billionaire tech tycoon who’s an international mans!ut.

Exhibit Me: Skylar Kay

Your everyday average nobody → college dropout, moonlighting stripper nobody who’s drowning in debt.

The least he can do for breaking my heart is give me a job.

Yeah, the one I blackmailed him for.

I just didn’t think the job was for a position under him.

I’ll have to be careful not to get under him. Again.

Because this time, his reputation isn’t just on the line.

My heart is.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Skylar

A slow, synth beat starts to thump, muted, from the speakers all around the dim room. I was hoping for something a little more upbeat since I’m running on three hours of sleep, and the velvety couches lining the walls of the VIP Room are starting to look like plush black clouds at this point of the night. If I strain my ears, I can hear the enthused and muffled whomp-whomp-whomp in the main room where everyone’s hunting — for money or attention.

The VIP Room is just quiet enough for the patrons sparsely spread throughout the area to converse with the dancers whose time they’re procuring hourly. Of course, some of them aren’t really looking for conversation.

Like Bill.

The pudgy, leering man sitting in front of me looks up hungrily as I lean forward to fill his vision with my heavy breasts. Even though they’re taped down securely, I’m still paranoid that the thin, elastic straps of my black, lacy bikini are going to snap, leaving me with no more than black, lacy pasties with sad, dangly tentacles.

I say ‘bikini,’ but it’s the kind you’d never wear in public unless you want to scandalize parents at the public pool and become a budding teenage boy’s first wet dream. The kind that would never survive a cannonball, and the one that makes your nightmare of seeing your bikini pieces floating up right next to you come true. More like a skinny dip-kini.

“Destiny.”

Bill holds out a few Andrew Jacksons, and I push my hip toward him so he can slip it into the side string of my thong. He takes his time, his dry fingers grazing roughly against my skin, taking advantage of the one opportunity during our time together that I let him touch me. After all, he’s more generous with his tips when I let him brush a feel or two during our hour.

Lowering my voice to a sultry hum, I purr, “Stay for a little longer, Bill.”

He chuckles in that not smooth way — the sound gutturally choked by his bubbling lust.

“Can’t tonight, baby.” He lowers his voice, trying to sound seductive. “Unless you want to come home with me.”

He arches his brow with a cheesy smile as his fingers touch his wallet.

It makes me feel dirty. Very, very dirty. And not in the sexy way.

For eight hours a night, a few nights a week, my sensitive bitties of skin are slapped on with cash like I’m a papier-mache project. I’m basically rolling around in money, and if you mix in a little paste, you can make a cash cast out of me. But let me tell you, the whole ‘rolling in dough’ thing is an idea that’s only appealing to be entertained theoretically.

I mean, money’s pretty gross if you think about it. You never know where it’s been. Stuffed in wallets, forgotten in pockets, hidden in shoes or bras, dropped in gasoline-laden puddles on the street, handled by greasy, pizza-oiled hands, rolled to snort coke, slid into a stripper’s asscrack.

The first time I went home with a huge stack of tips, I did it. I spread out a bed of green and laid down on it. It’s really not that exciting. But go ahead and try. And if you’re more like me than you are Ebenezer Scrooge, you’ll find out that carpeting your floor with money doesn’t make it any softer.

It’s still cold, hard cash. In a cold, hard world.

I fight the urge to scrunch my nose, instead lowering them to watch my manicured fingers walk up his white dress shirt, his suit jacket lying forgotten next to him to minimize the layers between us. “You know I can’t go home with customers.”

Can’t, won’t, don’t want to. What’s the difference? In the end, it’s not going to happen.

Some of my clients are sweethearts. Just lonely ones. But some men, like Bill, wave around their money using the carrot-and-stick approach. The cash being the carrot, and the stick being… well, their stick. When I say I don’t provide those services, they don’t back down.

They raise their offer.

Bill’s eyes travel over me as he continues fingering his bulge. The wallet, of course. It’s not the only thing bulging in his pants, but at least he knows which of the two I’m interested in, period.

The lines in his shoulders relax as he gives up for the night and leans back against the couch. His doughy cheeks pull back into a smile.

“Shame,” he drawls pointedly, hinting at how much I’m missing out.

Considering that chipmunk sized tent he’s pitching, I’m pretty confident I’m not missing out on much.

But I hood my eyes seductively and pout a little bit. “You can always stick around for a little longer. You know how much I love spending time with you.”

Ten months ago, I would’ve never imagined I could make a man empty his wallet just by changing where and how I look at him.

I still remember my first day at Starlette when Sage, the strip club’s house mom, pulled me back from making my awkward rounds waddling around the floor. It was my first wearing six-inch fuck-me heels when I’ve only ever worn two-inch-high Mary Janes for church.

She pursed her lips and said, “Honey, if these men wanted to look at a woman who looks as miserable as you do out there, they’d go home to their wives.”

She made a science out of flirtation and laughed when I whipped out my trusty pen and paper. Gave me a big “mhm, you do that” when I said I’d go research all about ‘the art of seduction.’

Even now, Sage likes to joke that her greatest accomplishment to date is turning “Sunday School Skye” turn into “Devilishly Dazzling Destiny.”

Flashing a toothy, hopeful smile, Bill changes tactic. “Then how about dinner? Tomorrow night?”

I’m obviously not going to get him to stay another hour tonight. Lowering my voice huskily, I brush back his hair with the lightest of touches. “Dating is against the rules. But you’ll be the first to know if that ever changes.”

My own rules. Nothing against the other dancers who do date their customers. Believe me, I heard some of the cute love stories shared in the back, and even I’ve dreamed about a sexy, respectful millionaire who can’t resist me after a crotch grind, a motorboat, or an hour of very fulfilling conversation in the half-nude who wants to get to know the real me. And then I remember my clientele includes… well… Bill and his ilk.

No offense. Bill behaves (most of the time), and some of my regulars are nice. But even if I were interested in any of them (which, spoiler alert, I’m not), my stomach doesn’t get all fluttery with butterflies when they’re talking about their wives and kids. A club isn’t exactly ideal breeding grounds for a relationship… or breeding.

That doesn’t mean I don’t pretend I want them. I do. I pretend hard.

Winking at Bill, I peel myself off the couch and straighten as I turn around, looking at him cutely over my shoulder. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to handle a heartbreaker like you.”

He chuckles low in the back of his throat. “Baby, I’d never break your heart.”

I feel a little bitter on behalf of his wife. She’s probably sitting home right now on a Wednesday night, helping their six-year-old son with his alphabets or maths or coloring homework, while he’s here, dishing out his paycheck for a few boob shimmies and butt rolls.

But I shouldn’t complain. After all, Bill is a platinum donor to the Skylar Kay Survival Foundation.

“You break my heart every time you leave.” I wink before walking away, swaying my hips and letting my ass shake.

A couple of wandering eyes flit over to me as I sashay through the room. This is about as private as it gets for those who don’t have enough dough to cough up for some actual one-on-one time in one of the Champagne Rooms.

Nothing sketchy happens back there, of course. At least, it’s not supposed to. But it’s not unusual for a dancer to take off her bikini top for the several extra hundreds she’s getting for the same hour-long session.

I’ve never, and I won’t ever. Not because I think I’m better than any of the other women (God knows I’m in just as much of a shithole, if not in a worse one, as some of them). But I’m just not that comfortable with exposing my nips to strangers who don’t even know my real name. Only my ex-boyfriend has ever seen my bare nipples, and that’s not going to change for any amount of money.

I envy the girls who dance here because they love flaunting their gorgeous bodies and basking in the spotlight. But I’m not one of them.

I love dancing — heck, I wanted to be a professional dancer — but I’d rather dance with clothes on and not on a stage with a pole on it. I’m a statistical cliche working here out of desperation.

“You can always come home with me,” Bill says optimistically, trying one last time as we head toward the exit. “You know I’ll take real good care of you.”

It does make me wonder whether men’s bedroom skills improve if they pay for sex. Do they try to make the most of their money? Or is it an easy done deal since the sex is an expectation?

I’d assume the latter.

Is it terrible that I assume they’re mediocre at sex? Maybe even bad at it? Horrible? The lose-faith-in-mankind’s-manhood kind of sex?

Either way, I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been around one and a half naked guys. The second one was a Tinder date that finished with a handjob that lasted twenty seconds. We took a longer time taking our pants off. Not our clothes. Just our pants. Like I said, he didn’t even see my nipples.

Tinder Dude definitely made me lose faith in Tinder, and I haven’t even tried hooking up with anyone since. Why bother if I’m just a heated, fleshy replacement for some Kleenex?

At the door, the bouncer stands menacingly with his thick, meaty arms crossed, glaring at the pasty, Pillsbury Doughboy-esque businessman.

Bill knows the drill. He pulls his wallet out so fast, I would’ve missed it if I blinked.

I brush my fingers along his elbow as I press my boobs against his arm, drawing his attention to my cleavage.

“Come see me again, Bill,” I coo. “You know I’m here from Wednesday to Saturday, eight to four.”

Maybe I should become a camgirl instead. I got the script down pat.

Thanks for watching my strip show! Don’t forget to click on that Subscribe button to watch me fiddle my channel!

Bill doesn’t bother hiding his disappointment when I pull away, but the tease is what keeps him coming back every week.

“Destiny,” he murmurs, his eyes still glued to my tits. He raises them to wink at me. “You’ll warm up to me one day.”

Internally, I cringe. I really, really doubt it.

But winking with a perfectly practiced, sugary sweet smile, I croon, “See you next week, Bill.”

About Vic Tyler:

Vic Tyler is a new author of contemporary romance novels.
She has a tinkering sense of wanderlust and loves to travel to new places, explore new cultures, and most importantly, eat delicious new food (yummm). Her dreams include finally having nice handwriting, owning a collection of onesies, and making a croquembouche.

Stay up to date with VT’s new works  → http://eepurl.com/dKoTO-/

Check out VT’s books  →  https://amazon.com/author/lovevictyler

Connect with Vic Tyler

Website  →  https://lovevictyler.wordpress.com

Facebook Group  →  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorVicTyler/

Twitter  →  https://twitter.com/LoveVicTyler/

Instagram  →  https://www.instagram.com/lovevictyler/


#DebutAuthor #CoverReveal – Kit by S R Dyble

After her family was brutally murdered, Eve decided one thing.
Never to let anyone in.
To never love again.
EVER.
That way, she wouldn’t ever feel that hurt again.
For a year she’d done just that.

All that was about to change when Kit Carter, a cocky Australian boxer randomly enrolled onto her photography course at college and pushed his way into her life.
Kit was everything Eve hated about pretty boys.
Only, he wasn’t a boy.
He was all man.

Despite her dislike for him, even she couldn’t deny her curiosity.
Things were about to change drastically in Eve’s life, and secrets were about to spill out.
All at the hands of Kit Carter.


Goodreads

S R Dyble is a writer of Contemporary Romance, New Adult and Romantic comedy.
She is a Mother and DIY obsessor and lives a short drive away from her home, the city of Hull in the UK.
She enjoys using the cities unusual way of speaking in her books and laughing about it with her readers.

The first book in her series releases Thursday 16th May 2019.

#WOTR19 #CoverReveal – Sin by Elena M Reyes

Title: SIN
Author: Elena M. Reyes
Genre: Suspense/Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 29, 2019
Cover Artist: Black Widow Designs
I am both heaven and hell. Sin and pleasure.
The Devil she never sees coming…
Everyone knows that Malcolm Asher owns Chicago. Nothing—not a single move is made in my city without my authorization. I’m ruthless. Conniving. Worshipped by those around me, and yet, it means nothing the moment my eyes meet hers…
Clear blue and innocent, the delicate doll on this stage holds me captive against my will. She’s decadence personified—a corruptible angel I want to own.
I’m hard for her.
Starving for a taste.
Eager for her to feel me.
This little girl has no idea of the danger she’s in within my presence. How I will make her crave the darkness I control.
How I will make her…Mine.

Elena M. Reyes was born and raised in Miami Florida. She is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.
As a small child, she was always intrigued by all forms of art—whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her first taste of writing came to her during her fifth-grade year when her class was prompted to participate in the D. A. R. E. Program and write an essay on what they’d learned.
Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure. It wasn’t until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She now resides in Central Florida with her husband and son, spending all her down time letting her creativity flow and letting characters grow.

HOSTED BY:

#WOTR19 #CoverReveal – Stolen Hearts by Anna Hague


Coming in June

Haley Marcum draws the attention of a bad boy on a motorcycle, but her father’s overprotective tendencies make rendezvouses difficult. She’s sick of him treating her like a child. She’s sixteen, after all, and according to her friends, very mature.

Jamey Marcum’s undercover past made him suspicious of everyone where his children are concerned. He tries giving Haley more freedom, but when he spots Tyler Reynolds watching Haley, his alarm bells go off. Reynolds is no teenager and with his long hair and Harley, the guy reminds Jamey of a past he wants to keep buried.

At odds with Haley over Tyler, Jamey believes he’s taken care of the problem, but Haley disappears into the night. He’s frantic because he knows what can happen to young girls who vanish.

Finding Tyler is the first step…exacting revenge is the second.

Author’s Goodreads Page

For 25 years, I’ve worked as a sports writer. I decided now was the time to pursue romance fiction as an author. I found a great group of RWA author friends who have helped me tremendously.
I get great support from my husband, and although they don’t know it, my three parrots and dog give me a huge boost everyday.

 

#CoverReveal – Obsessive Temptation Collection

Title: Obsessive Temptation Romance Collection
Authors: Peyton Banks ~ Posey Parks ~ Kiarra M. Taylor ~ Donna R. Mercer ~ Reana Malori ~ Theresa Hodge ~ MV Ellis ~ ML Preston ~ Nikki Landis ~ Julia Bright ~ Siren Allen and Sade Rena
Genre: Contemporary/Interracial Romance
Release Date: June 11, 2019
Temptation Collection Facebook

 

Obsessive Temptation is a limited edition collection of new, sexy BWWM romances, that will tantalize your every desire. These scorching hot tales are page-turning reads, that will entrap you for hours on end. Let us guide you into the world of pure, heart-pounding stories where love has no boundaries.
These alphas are downright possessive and fierce when it comes to the object of their desires.
The stories in the compilation are exclusive and can’t be found anywhere else. Don’t wait, this box set will only be available for a limited time before it is gone forever!
Note: This collection contains material for mature readers (18+ and older) only

 

#PreOrder #CoverReveal – The Pawn & The Knight by Skye Warren

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The Pawn and the Knight, a must read new boxed set from New York Times bestselling author Skye Warren is coming March 21st, and we have the sexy new cover!

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A ruthless billionaire determined to get revenge.

A woman with more to lose than her virginity.

And a sensual game that will break them both.

Gabriel Miller has thirty days to do anything he wants with her body. He can enjoy every inch of her, but he can never let himself fall for her. No matter how sweetly she surrenders.

Author’s Note: THE PAWN AND THE KNIGHT is an exclusive duet including two USA Today bestsellers in the scorching hot Endgame series.

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Pre-order your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2EEzK8E

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/ThePawnandtheKnight

Add GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2ISdugV

About Skye Warren

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dangerous romance such as the Endgame trilogy. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, sweet dogs, and evil cat.

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Connect with Skye

Facebook: http://bit.ly/2DEpMn9

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