Category Archives: BOOKS

by | April 20, 2017 · 5:00 am

BAYSIDE DESIRES -EXCERPT REVEAL

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Today we have a blitz for Bayside Desires by Melissa Foster! Check out this fantastic new contemporary romance and preorder your copy now!!

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Title: Bayside Desires

Author: Melissa Foster

Genre: Contemporary romance

Release Date: May 9th

About Bayside Desires:

Fall in love at Bayside, where sandy beaches, good friends, and true love come together in the sweet small towns of Cape Cod.

 

BAYSIDE SUMMERS is a series of standalone steamy romance novels featuring alpha male heroes and sexy, empowered women. They’re fun, flirty, flawed, deeply emotional, always passionate, and easy to relate to.

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“With her wonderful characters and resonating emotions, Melissa Foster is a must-read author!” -NYT Bestseller Julie Kenner

 

“Melissa Foster is synonymous with sexy, swoony, heartfelt romance!” -NYT Bestseller Lauren Blakely

 

In Bayside Desires…

As the co-owner of Bayside Resorts, Rick Savage has a fabulous job working with his best friends and brother, and a thriving business in Washington, DC, which he’ll be returning to at the end of the summer. Spending time with his family is great, but being back on Cape Cod has unearthed painful memories. When sweet, smart, and overly cautious Desiree Cleary moves in next door, Rick is drawn to the sexy preschool teacher, and she just might prove to be the perfect distraction.

 

Running an art gallery was not in preschool teacher Desiree Cleary’s plans, but after being tricked into coming to her impetuous, unreliable mother’s aid, she’s stuck spending the summer with the badass half sister she barely knows and a misbehaving dog. If that’s not frustrating enough, she can’t escape the sparks igniting with her strikingly handsome and pushy neighbor, Rick, who makes all her warning bells go off.

 

Passion ignites as Desiree and Rick spend long summer nights sharing heartfelt confessions and steamy kisses. For the first time in years Rick is enjoying life again instead of hiding behind mounds of work miles away from his family. Desiree has touched him in a way that makes him want to slow down. Only slowing down means dealing with his demons, and he isn’t sure who he’ll be when he comes out the other side.

 

All Bayside books can be read as standalone novels or as part of the series:

Coming Soon…

Bayside Heat

Bayside Escape

Bayside Passions

 

Bayside Summers is part of the Love in Bloom romance collection by New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author Melissa Foster. While each book may be read as a standalone, you might enjoy reading the entire Love in Bloom series. Characters from each sub-series appear in future books. Visit Melissa’s website for family trees, series checklists, and more.

 

PREORDER TODAY:

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Exclusive Excerpt:

Desiree clearly stood at the end of a jetty at Indian Neck Beach, watching three brawny guys race around Cape Cod Bay on Jet Skis while she FaceTimed with her best friend, Emery Andrews. She had known Emery since first grade, and she was the only person who would understand why, after driving for more than twelve hours, Desiree was standing on that jetty, pretending to be on vacation, instead of facing the woman who had summoned her to Wellfleet.

“I should have come with you,” Emery insisted. “You’re at the beach, and I’m stuck here teaching yoga and Pilates to people who go home and eat entire pizzas afterward. Not that I’m only thinking of me. I’m just saying. I could be your backbone when you see your mother. You know, make sure you don’t wimp out on telling her how cruel it was to go months without any contact and then send you that email.”

Emery had a right to be upset. She’d been there for Desiree for more than twenty years, picking up the pieces of Desiree’s broken heart after short, awkward, visits with her mother. Lizza Vancroft had been breezing in and out of her life since Desiree was five years old. Desiree was used to hearing from her mother only once or twice a year, but her most recent email had taken the cake. She’d read the cryptic message dozens of times, as concerned as she was annoyed. I need you to come to Wellfleet and run my art gallery for the summer. It might prolong my life. She hadn’t even known Lizza was ill, much less owned a gallery and had been living in the States.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she believed it. After Desiree’s parents had divorced, Lizza had taken off to teach overseas with Desiree’s half sister, Violet, leaving Desiree to live with her father. Some small part of her was still waiting for her mother to make amends for leaving her behind. “I just need a few minutes to get my head on straight before facing her.”

One of the Jet Skis headed directly for another, swerving at the last second to avoid a collision. “Holy cow. Someone is going to get killed. Look at these guys.” She held up her phone to show Emery the crazy Jet Skiers. “Who does that? It’s so dangerous.”

“Hot Jet Skiing guys who thrive on danger. My kind of guys, and your perfect distraction.” Emery waggled her brows.

“I don’t need a distraction. Lizza is almost a stranger to me. It’s like I’m waiting to get bad news from someone I met a few times but don’t really know.”

“I know. Your mother is as flighty as a fairy, and I’m sure right now you wish you were wired like her and Violet instead of being responsible and organized to the nth degree, like your father,” Emery said. Spot-on, as always. “Then you could be the one who was living overseas working with one nonprofit or another without Internet or a care in the world, like Violet, instead of procrastinating the unleashing of a nest of demons you’ve spent years tamping down.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Desiree smiled, thankful for Emery’s teasing.

She had no idea whether Violet would be there when she arrived. Though she and Violet had grown up on opposite sides of the world, they had spent a few weeks together at the Cape each summer with their grandmother. At least they had until they were teens and one or the other had found better things to do, most years whittling those weeks down to just a few days. They’d kept in touch only sporadically during college, and before their grandmother’s funeral last winter, it had been more than three years since Desiree had seen Violet or their mother. But that didn’t mean Desiree hadn’t always wished for a relationship with her sister, despite how different they were.

“That’s why you love me.” Emery flashed a cheesy smile. “Seriously, though. You need to just go see Lizza and get it over with. And you should probably be glad I’m not there. Because as far as I’m concerned, her email was infuriating, unfair, and heartrending.” Emery’s eyes narrowed. “I’d like to give her a piece of my mind.”

“So would I,” Desiree admitted. “But I won’t.” A breeze swept off the bay, lifting the ends of her dress. She pushed it back down, catching a glimpse of one of the Jet Skiers slowing to watch her. As if she wasn’t nervous enough today?

“I know. You’ve got the biggest heart on the planet. We need a plan. You do best with plans.” Emery tucked her brown hair behind her ear and leaned closer to the screen, like she was sharing a secret. “Tonight, after you get your heart torn to shreds, since I’m not there to help heal your mama-wounds, please get yourself a nice bottle of wine and a big man. I promise that will help ease whatever pain she throws your way.”

“Don’t you mean a big bottle of wine and a nice man?” Desiree asked, as the Jet Skier who was watching her broke away from the others and sped past.

“Definitely not. You don’t need a nice man. I know you think you want romance and all the mushy stuff like flowers, candy, and midnight walks.” Emery flashed her don’t-even-try-to-tell-me-otherwise scowl. “But trust me. You need a man who takes control, whose kisses turn you inside out and make you forget about your crazy mother.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle, listening to the roar of the lone Jet Ski cutting tracks in front of her and wondering about kisses that turned a woman inside out. She had yet to experience anything like that, but Emery talked about them like she’d had enough to share. Maybe it was time to expand her horizons.

“Hello?” Emery said. “Think you can look at me and stop watching the hot Jet Skiers for two minutes?”

Desiree laughed. “Like you’d ever look at me instead of a guy? Besides, I’m only watching one, because he’s watching me. The other two are long gone.” She held up her phone again, showing her the hot guy with dark hair keeping time with her as she paced the jetty.

“God, you’re so lucky. Go take hot Jet Ski guy for a ride and show up late to see Lizza.” Emery waggled her brows. “For all you know, she’s not even at your grandmother’s house waiting for you.”

That was true. Lizza and Violet still hadn’t replied to her messages. But that didn’t change the fact that Desiree wasn’t a jump-in-the sack with a stranger kind of girl. “That’s just what I need. A reckless adrenaline junkie before seeing Lizza. No thanks.”

Emery turned away from the phone. “I have to go. My date is here.”

“You have a date? With who?”

“One of the reckless, adrenaline-junky Jericho brothers. I’ll let you try to figure out which one.” She blew Desiree a kiss. “Listen, babe. Take my advice. Bang the Jet Ski guy; then you’ll be nice and relaxed when you see Lizza. Call if you need me. Love you!”

Desiree ended the call, and the guy trailing her on the Jet Ski zoomed past. He made a sharp turn and headed back, eyes locked on her, making her heart race. Maybe letting loose for a night was just what she needed. One night of uninhibited anything would be a first. The Jet Ski turned again, taking another, faster pass, the hot guy’s eyes still trained on her. Butterflies took flight in her stomach. He was obviously interested. Maybe…

He turned again and headed straight toward the jetty.

Straight for her.

Oh God. How long had she been staring at him? What was I thinking?

She tried to act casual, looking at the boats, the sky, anywhere but at the man on the machine as she made her way along the rocks toward the beach. He fishtailed, spraying water in her direction. She shrieked and turned away as water rained down on her.

No, a reckless man was definitely not what she needed.

 

 

About Melissa Foster:

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Melissa has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Her interests include her family, reading, writing, painting, friends, helping others see the positive side of life, and visiting Cape Cod.

Melissa is available to chat with book clubs and welcomes comments and emails from her readers. Visit Melissa on social media or her personal website. Visit Melissa on Facebook or her personal website.

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by | April 19, 2017 · 5:00 am

SANTINO THE ETERNAL – BLITZ

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santino the eternal cover
Paranormal Romance
Date Published:  3/28/2017
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Santino the Eternal has never craved the forbidden – until now. As a blood-thirsty serial killer hunts the glitzy streets of Las Vegas, Santino collides with a young college student – can she make it out alive?
Clara Denton’s life is flung into chaos when she discovers a drained corpse in a posh hotel room on the Strip. And as if her life wasn’t already spiraling out of control, her reclusive boss has taken a disconcerting interest in her. Unable to resist the dark pull, she is drawn further and further into the murky world of the undead – as well as just the dead, too. When the handsome Matthew Hunter arrives with his sights set on Clara, she is thrown into one final eternal struggle of good versus evil.
Can love truly be eternal?
Excerpt

 

 “Be free, my darling,” he said to the languid corpse.
With the back of his hand, he wiped away the last drops of the precious nectar he’d drained from her fragile veins. “You have served me well.” He watched as the ghost of his young victim fled her empty body.
He felt crushing remorse that he’d killed her. Her death was kind, painless, and he needed her blood, he convinced himself as he glanced around the darkened hotel room. The warm fluid rushing through him caused the sensation of a post-orgasmic high—so similar was the feeling that he craved the cigarette he usually only smoked after sex.
“No, not here,” he said aloud to himself, his agile fingers placing the pack of cigarettes back into his designer suit coat.
The door to the hotel room opened—a swath of light from the hallway burned into his eyes and his hand instinctively reached up to shield himself from it.
A young housekeeper burst in, her eyes only glimpsing his form for seconds as he moved from the room with such preternatural swiftness that he was just a mere blur to her mortal eyes.
It was several more minutes before his perfected ears heard her scream in terror.
Chapter One
“C’mon, baby, don’t run out of gas on me now.”
Clara Denton reached over and turned off the air conditioning in her 1986 Ford Escort. The fuel needle, pointed at the letter E, seemed to mock her as she irrationally turned off the radio, as if those minor efforts would have any effect on the amount of gas her old car would burn on her way to work.
“One more mile,” she said aloud to the vehicle. “One more mile and I promise to feed you after work. I can’t be late again.”
In her worn Fossil hobo purse her last ten dollars sat crumpled. Clara hoped it would provide enough fuel to get her back and forth to school that week as well as to her job cleaning rooms at the newest and classiest hotel on the Las Vegas Strip—the Roman.
Her stomach growled as she flashed her employee badge and pulled into the dark parking structure at the rear of the sprawling resort hotel and casino. At the place she’d worked before the employee facilities, those parts the guests didn’t see, were austere. Here, however, even the employee parking garage was glamorous.
As she fled the car, terrified of punching in late again, she thought about how she’d never once seen the reclusive owner of the Roman—his name was Marchetti, she couldn’t recall if she knew his first name. She assumed he was Italian, and rumors floated around that he was handsome, in his thirties, but even though he lived in the sprawling penthouse suite, no one she knew had ever seen him.
Clara’s first three rooms were easy cleans, and in the second one she was able to nibble on an unopened bag of potato chips—she hadn’t eaten since the night before when her roommate, Landon Miller, brought home scavenged baked ziti from the pizzeria he waited tables at.
The fourth room of her shift, however, was the one that changed the course of her life forever. As she flipped on the lights and walked in with her cleaning basket—maids at the upscale Roman weren’t allowed to push carts into the rooms—she saw it. A foot poking out from the crisp white sheet of the king sized bed. “Oh, sorry ma’am, I thought the room was…” She felt a rush of cool air blast past her, maybe even the faint hint of smoke, and then she saw it.
The foot protruding from the Italian 800 thread count Frette linens was not an alive foot. It was ghastly white, the red painted toenails a grotesque contrast to the paleness of the skin. A prank, she thought as she approached it, waiting for something to jump out at her. The air in the room changed, became oddly stagnant, as she sheepishly tugged at the sheet. Clara heard herself scream, as if a bystander, as her body crumpled to the floor.
“The police,” she finally managed to mutter, as she reached for the phone on the mahogany desk. She stared at the phone, unable to remember how to get an outside line for several moments before deciding instead to press the button that was labeled Emergency.
Within minutes, several large men in dark suits blew into the room. One lifted her to her feet and asked if she was okay. As she nodded, he glanced at her nametag and said, “You may have the afternoon off, Clara. Thank you.” He turned to look at the body as the other men donned latex gloves.
“Uh, we should call the police. This is the serial killer. It’s got to be another of his victims—you know, the Blood Lust Killer.”
The dark suited man in charge flung his body toward hers, his hands braced on his hips. “I believe it’s time for you to go.”
“No. You can’t touch anything until Metro comes,” she argued, her voice fighting to sound strong. These men were tampering with a crime scene—her roommate, Landon, when not serving greasy pizza and pints of beer—was in the police academy. Clara had helped him study enough to know these men were breaking the law.
“Steven, please escort the former employee from the premises.” He turned to face her once more, and with a sneer said, “We’ll mail your final paycheck. Your services here at the Roman are no longer required.”
She stood in shock, unable to process the dramatic turn that afternoon had taken. “You’re firing me?” she finally choked out through her tears. The man never answered her, and she followed him to the central housekeeping department to return her uniform. The dark-suited stoic presence stood outside the changing room and walked her to her car, reminding her that security cameras would watch her exit the grounds of the casino.
In her hot car, with guards staring at her, she reached for her cell phone. Despite the glare of the suited Steven approaching her, she dialed 911 and switched it to speaker as she sped down the exit ramp. “Yes, at the Roman,” she clarified to the dispatcher. “Room 80231—she was bloodless! White as a ghost.” She paused as the dispatcher read back the information, then as Clara began to ask about the serial killer her phone went dead. Damnit! Out of minutes!
Moments later, she was fighting her way through traffic. “That jerk-off, how dare he fire me,” she hissed into her empty car as she battled the throng of cabs down the small section of Las Vegas Boulevard that was known as the Strip. In shock, fuming and terrified, she barely remembered to make her left on Flamingo when her car started to sputter. “Not the transmission again,” she groaned before her eyes set on the fuel gauge. “Shit!” She covered her mouth with her hand—Clara rarely swore, and when she did, she shocked even herself. “I forgot to get gas!”
*****
Flamingo was his least favorite place to drive. Stop after stop, he could rarely pick up the kind of speed he craved. When finally he was able to swoop around yet another annoying billboard truck, his designer-shod foot mashed the accelerator down as hard as he could. The Maserati lurched, pressing him back into the buttery leather seats that had been custom made to fit his tall, lean body. And then he nearly ran over her.
She fell backward into her battered old car, smashing into the dented frame and falling face down onto the dirty black pavement of Flamingo Road. “Fuck,” he howled, the nimble car coming to a screeching stop as those behind him blew their horns and struggled to maneuver around him. He was able to stop his car at the side of the busy road, in front of the small frame of a young woman lying in the street.
“I didn’t hit you, Miss, did I?” He sprang from his car toward her. She’s moving, that’s good, he thought as she placed her palms on the pavement, pushing her lean frame up.
“Um, no, I just, I thought you were going to hit me, I jumped and tripped.”
“That is a relief,” he sighed. He reached for her hand and helped her to her feet.
“I-I’m fine now,” she said with a quick tug of her hand to remove it from his. But he couldn’t let go. He held onto her hand as a sensation so foreign, so odd, washed over him.
“Well, thank you for even stopping,” she said with a smile, tugging her hand from his once more. This time he let her soft hand fall from his, but he continued to look into her eyes. They were brown, chocolate brown, he thought. She was young, twenty-one was the number that popped into his head as he stared at her mutely.
She ran her hand through her hair as she turned to face her car. “Do you need me to call a car service for you?” he asked as she lifted the rear hatch and pulled out a red gas can. “No, thank you, I’m out of gas. It’s only a few blocks to the station.”
“I would never let you do that. Please, I’ll drive you.”
She stared at the car—clearly he was a rich businessman, a local, and, she had to admit, breathtakingly handsome. But still, she was no idiot. She wasn’t going to get into his car, or any stranger’s car, with a blood-sucking serial killer roaming Las Vegas murdering young women. “I’m fine, I’ll walk.” She took a few steps and heard him speak again.
“No, Miss, you will not. I cannot let you do that.”
“Let me?” She spun around and glared at him, empowered by the safety of the heavy traffic swirling around them like angry hornets.
He held up his hands in apology. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. What I meant was it would be ungentlemanly of me. I can call road service, or perhaps go retrieve your gas for you while you wait in the air conditioning of my car?”
“I’m sorry to snap. I’ve had a terrible day. I was fired from my job and, well, it’s just been a rough one. I’d rather walk than wait, but thank you.” She set off again, with the man only steps behind her.
He caught up to her, his suit coat removed and tossed over one arm in the oppressive heat of summer in Las Vegas. “My name is Santino, by the way, and it is a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances of our introduction,” he said, positioning himself between the heavy street traffic and the young woman. “Miss…?”
“Clara Denton,” she answered with a smile. This drop-dead gorgeous rich guy is also a gentleman, she thought as he reached to carry the gas can.
At the gas station, his phone buzzed. With a quick glance at it, he looked to Clara. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. I apologize for my rudeness.” She nodded as he walked to the side of the gas station.
“Wait until I tell Landon about this guy,” she said under her breath as she walked into the building to prepay for the gas.
Walking out, can in hand, the man, Santino, had his back to her. He was talking into his phone. She could hear him as she walked by toward the pumps. “Yes, Don, you did the right thing to have it cleaned. A mess like that in my home I would never tolerate.”
Too bad he’s a neat freak, she thought as she pumped the gas into the can, not that it matters.
*****
An hour later, Clara was back in her apartment digging through her empty refrigerator. “No one ever buys milk,” she said to the empty apartment. The foil pan of leftovers was the only palatable food she could find, so she finished it off while working on her paper for class the next morning. Her third year at UNLV was going well academically—she was a top student in the English Department, but financially she was in trouble. Student loans were piling up, and her passion was literature rather than a career field that would result in a lucrative job. Even if she taught, she knew her living conditions would be austere at best for the next decade.
As she looked at the research she’d done on a Word document on her MacBook, a spoonful of greasy baked ziti perched at her lips, there was a knocking at the thin door. “Landon, take your key once in a while,” she shouted toward the door.
But Landon was not at the door. As she opened it, four members of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department, or Metro as it was referred to locally, stood there. “Oh come on in,” she said. The police are finally here about the dead body, she thought.
“We had a report of a crime from a resident at this address—a Clara Denton. Is that you?”
She nodded in relief. “Yeah, that’s me. Is she related to the serial murders?”
“She?” The suited detective looked at his notes before making eye contact with Clara again. They followed her inside.
“The woman—the dead body I found at work today.”
“Miss Denton, there was no body at the Roman. Not at the room number you reported, or any other room. Have you been following news coverage of the killings?”
“Well yes, but—wait a minute, there was a body, drained looking, white. The head of security and a few other men saw it, too.”
“Miss Denton, I understand the stress you’ve been under. However, calling 911 with a made up story is a serious crime. If we chased every baseless tip we’d be—”
“Baseless? I saw her!”
“You were fired today, were you not?”
“Well, yeah, because I insisted they call the police.”
“According to management at the casino, you were fired for being late too many times. As you were leaving the resort premises, you called 911 from your prepaid cellphone and made up a story about finding a body in order to inconvenience the hotel.”
Clara shook her head, the blood draining from her face. Was this really happening?
*****
Santino paced on the priceless rug that graced the polished marble floors of his penthouse suite high atop the Roman. His trusted head of security, Donovan Salerno, sat on the cognac leather wingback chair and glanced over the notes in his small notebook. The afternoon had been stressful, but Don thought he’d done well.
“And the maid? She won’t talk? Let’s make her happy,” Santino said as he rubbed his stubbly chin.
“Well, sir, we fired her, it was necessary that—”
“What the fuck did you just say? You fired her?”
Donovan took a deep breath and willed himself to stay calm. The boss was mad—deadly mad. He stood up and explained. “She demanded we call the police. That one, she was too smart. That young chick wasn’t like the Mexican maids that most—”
“I swear to God that if you say one ignorant bigoted thing you will regret it for the rest of your short life.” Santino had no tolerance for small-mindedness.
“Um, no, it’s just this housekeeper was not going to be deterred from alerting Metro to the mess in your house, sir.”
“So now she’s out there, with no loyalty whatsoever to us, no incentive to stay silent. That is a problem, Don.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll take care of her. I apologize for letting her go.”
“I don’t want her harmed, I merely want her silent. What is her name?”
Santino’s pale eyes focused on the man as he stopped his pacing. The words his head of security spoke caused him to grow cold, colder than his usual soulless body.
“Clara Denton.”
 About the Author

Sam JD Hunt resides in Las Vegas with her husband, the inspiration for the young Thomas Hunt character, as well as her two children. Her debut trilogy, The Thomas Hunt Series, put a fun and unique spin on the popular BDSM genre. She followed up with the highly successful DEEP: A Captive Tale–a dark BDSM erotic captor/captive story about a pirate and his lady that spans time and space. Her fourth novel, the full-length standalone The Hunt for Eros is an erotic art adventure that combines spicy romance with a cultural adventure based on true life events. It has been described as being like The Da Vinci Code, but with lots of heat added.
Hunt’s next release was co-written with her husband. Dagger: American Fighter Pilot is a steamy contemporary romance, which follows a squadron of fighter pilots as part of the American Fighter Pilot read-in-any-order series. Following the release of Dagger, Hunt released the much-anticipated MMF/Bi/Ménage erotic adventure, Taken by Two and then its sequel, Torn from Two. Next, Hunt plans to release DEEPER: Capture of the Virgin Bride as a follow-up to DEEP. When not writing, Hunt enjoys travel, community involvement, spending time with friends and family, and hiking. She spends her days writing and trying to answer the age-old question: is it too late for coffee or too early for wine?
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by | · 5:00 am

THE SIREN’S EYES – COVER REVEAL

Unveiling a new cover
THE SIREN’S EYES
by Helen Scott
the siren's eyes Book Cover

Series: The Siren Legacy Series, Book 2
Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publication Date: June 2, 2017

When Cin Porte’s sister is abducted, she’s left with nothing but an encrypted note warning her that going to the police will end in dire consequences. Desperate for help, she turns to Thad Cantio. He’s cold, distant, and infuriatingly sexy, but he’s all she’s got.
Thad has spent his whole life trying to control his powerful visions, knowing that if he doesn’t, he’ll be outcast and alone. Few people know that his reserved, rational surface hides a deeply passionate, lonely man. But when Cin Porte begs for his help, he knows he can’t refuse, even though she has the power to shatter the walls he’s built around his emotions.
As the barriers between them break down and the danger grows, Cin and Thad have to choose between holding on to their defenses, or risking everything to save Cin’s sister–and each other.

Pre-order Now for $2.99 Only!

Other Books in the Series

Don’t miss the first book in The Siren Legacy Series by Helen Scott.
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The Siren’s Son
Series: The Siren Legacy Series, Book 1
When an immortal warrior meets a Scottish lass bewildered by the magic she has inherited, he yearns to protect her. But will his attentions doom them both to Zeus’ anger? Or worse, make his lovely mortal the target of the goddess Circe’s growing evil?

Giveaway

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Prizes up for grabs:
$10 Starbucks Gift Card
The Siren’s Eyes (signed ARC) and cute bookmark
Contest runs from April 19 – 23, 2017.

About Helen Scott

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Helen Scott lives in the Chicago area with her wonderful husband and furry, four-legged kids. She spends way too much time with her nose in a book and isn’t sorry about it. When not reading or writing, Helen can be found absorbed in one video game or another or crocheting her heart out.
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by | April 18, 2017 · 5:00 am

FAT GIRL BE GONE – TEASER TUESDAY

fat girl be gone cover
Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance
Date Published: May 1, 2017
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I’m a total mess. My boyfriend dumped me – get this – because I diet too much. Not because I’m fat, mind you. Of course, this spurs me into the diet-fitness-revenge-plan of the century, which leads me to the gym and a scorching hot personal trainer. I even manage to make some cool new friends, including a millionaire if you can believe it. Things are looking up! Naturally, that’s the moment my ex decides he wants me back, the personal trainer asks me out, and my millionaire male buddy decides to throw his hat in the ring. But that’s not enough drama. No, not for me. Because I’ve also lost my job and decided to start my own business. Just call me Ms. Drama.
Warning: Bad language, bumpy roads, and embarrassing moments ahead. But there’s also more than a bit of romance and even, if we’re lucky, love. Fingers crossed.
 
Not endorsed by or affiliated with any brand of tequila. 
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Excerpt
“Am I dressed okay for whatever we’re going to do?”
Carter chuckles. “You look beautiful as usual.” He reaches over and pinches my chin. “You’re going to have to wait a little longer to find out what we’re doing today.”
I stick out my lower lip, and Carter bursts into laughter. He’s wearing another Star Wars t-shirt. This one with the words Who’s Your Daddy printed under a picture of Darth Vader. He looks like a twenty-year-old college student instead of a millionaire business owner.
“How old are?” I blurt out.
He sobers immediately. “Does it matter?”
“Since I’m not a MILF and would be labeled a cradle robber, yeah, it matters.”
Carter grabs my coffee and places it on the little table in the entryway before crowding me. I move backwards until I hit the wall. He places his hands next to my head, totally enclosing me. “Who says you’re not a MILF?” His lips are on mine before I can respond. His tongue demands entrance and who am I to deny him? I grasp his t-shirt between my fists and pull him even closer. One of his hands grabs my ponytail while the other one travels down my back until he reaches the top of my ass and he pulls me flush against his hard body.
“Not a MILF, my ass.” He slowly releases me, and I collapse against the wall trying to catch my breath. “I’m thirty-three. Old enough for you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Come on, let’s go.” He grabs my hand with one hand and my coffee with the other before pulling me out of the hallway.
I’m buckled up in his fancy schamncy sports car before I manage to catch my breath. I take sips of my coffee to calm myself down because that kiss… Well, let’s just say the boy can kiss. “I’m technically not a MILF because I’m not a mother.”
Carter chuckles. “Beautiful and cute.”
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NEVER A CHOICE – BLITZ

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Erotic Romance
$.99 Cent Sale
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Romantic: Hot Alpha, Billionaire Romantic Suspense, Erotica.
Bethany Thorne has secrets and she’s told a few lies but she’s hurt no-one. She just wants a better life, she works hard for a better life, a life with choices but a chance encounter at her new University with billionaire, hot alpha Daniel Stone makes her heart beat, her body tremble and rocks her very foundation. Reeling from the intensity of her unfathomable reactions to this man her world is sent further spiralling out of her control when on this first meeting he casually whispers that he knows she’s a liar. Bethany begins to feel her hard earned choices start to disintegrate before her.
Her innate and newly discovered submissive nature is highlighted further by her extreme reaction to each encounter with alpha Daniel Stone. Seriously hot, dark and dominant he evokes an instant heat and desire she has never felt before, but he is dangerous, he is powerful and he seems to see right through her. Choosing to try and stay under his radar proves to be the first choice to slip through her fingers.
 
Other Books in The Choices Trilogy
Novella from The Choices Trilogy
Published: February 2016
Just a little more Daniel and Bethany in time for Valentine…what could be hotter?
The Choices Trilogy #2
Published: April 2015
Dark and erotically demanding Daniel is everything and more, Bethany embraces the challenge of being with a man like Daniel whilst trying to come to terms with what he needs and what she can give him of herself. Is it ever going to be enough? Daniel consumes and possess every part of her, its intoxicating and seductive. Bethany needs to choose between being true to herself and the promises she made and being the type woman Daniel demands.
The Choices Trilogy #3
Published:June 2015
Bethany’s devastation is complete. Secrets, lies and impossible choices have torn her world apart but it is not the first time she has had to rebuild her world. So she’ll do it again…she has to.
When Bethany meets Daniel, she is backed into a corner and with the threat of losing even more she comes out fighting. Daniel quickly learns there is nothing quite as intoxicating as a woman with nothing left to lose and nothing quite as irresistible as his Bethany. But there are more games being played than either of them are truly aware and the winning prize is a coveted Happy Ever After.
Published:  January 2016
This is a billionaire romantic HEA series.
Bethany Thorne has secrets and she’s told a few lies but she’s hurt no-one. She just wants a better life, she works hard for a better life, a life with choices but a chance encounter at her new University with billionaire, hot alpha Daniel Stone makes her heart beat, her body tremble and rocks her very foundation. Reeling from the intensity of her unfathomable reactions to this man her world is sent further spiralling out of her control when on this first meeting he casually whispers that he knows she’s a liar. Bethany begins to feel her hard earned choices start to disintegrate before her.
Her innate and newly discovered submissive nature is highlighted further by her extreme reaction to each encounter with alpha Daniel Stone. Seriously hot, dark and dominant he evokes an instant heat and desire she has never felt before, but he is dangerous, he is powerful and he seems to see right through her. Choosing to try and stay under his radar proves to be the first choice to slip through her fingers.
Excerpt
 
 
“I thought we talked about lying. I know you are lying but I want to know why?” He touches my chin with the tip of his finger and I can feel the intensity of the heat from that tiny connection like a branding iron.
“How?” Its all I can manage and his lips curl in to a sinful grin.
“I know you Miss Thorne. I know you better than you know yourself.” He pushes my jacket open and I gulp for the air that won’t stay in my mouth. His strong hands hold my waist, his thumbs tracing circles over my hip and his fingers hook over the waist band of my jeans and follow the band to the middle. “ I know what you need.” He slowly pops the buttons and I let out a small moan, his eyes darken from brilliant blue to almost black. I jump at the sound of the door handle, it’s unlocked.
“Don’t move.” I barely hear his low growl as he takes one step to my side but remains flush against my body his fingers gently stroking the top of my panties.
“Ah Daniel.” I recognise Mr Wilson’s cheerful voice.
“Jack, if you don’t mind I just need a moment with Miss Thorne.” His voice is soft but commanding and with that he sinks his hand down the front of my panties and begins to leisurely move his index finger up and down my soft folds. I try to suppress a full on erotic cry at the intimate intrusion and all that escapes is a strained squeak from the back of my throat. I begin to tremble; my legs are feeling weak and my blood is rushing, deciding whether to flee to my head or my crotch.
“Yes of course, Bethany I hope you are well, you have my assignment completed yes? Are you enjoying the course?” Oh crap I’ve got to answer, Daniel looks like he is asking for directions. I dread to think what my face looks like as perspiration forms a sheen across my skin and I struggle to breathe.
“Yes and yes I am, thank you Mr Wilson.” I manage to speak in a level but strained tone.
“How much?” Daniel says under his breath and sinks a finger further into me. I clench around him and squeeze my legs together. My hips want to grind but I’m guessing that movement wouldn’t go undetected.
“Oh actually Bethany, you’ve saved me an email.” I whimper, the pressure building is more than a distraction. “We have a drinks reception, selected few blah blah but as a representative mature student on my course I would be grateful if you would come.” His offer is kind but barely registering with me as Daniel continues his deep rhythmical movement, slowly in and out, in and out.
“She’ll come, I’m sure of it.” Daniel answers on my behalf but not for my benefit. I look at him with heated, pleading eyes. He grins but continues to look at Mr Wilson, his glance the picture of calm whilst sinking a second finger deep inside me.
“Oh good, the details are on my desk, I’ll just . . .” I hear him step further into the room. I freeze. Daniel interrupts him.
“I’ll make sure she gets them but if you wouldn’t mind I need to finish with Miss Thorne.” He barely whispers the word with but the deep timbre of the rest of his commanding dismissal weakens not just my resolve but my knees too. Mr Wilson closes the door. My eyes are so wide and my body quakes as I am stepped forcefully back towards the door.
“I can’t believe, -arhhhh” Daniel strokes a sweet spot inside me and I feel my knees give way. He holds me up with his frame and continues to move his finger deep inside. His thumb puts light pressure in tiny circles on my clit. My hips move of their own volition grinding against his hand, riding him, needing re- lease.
“You’re so wet and I’m so fucking hard.” He growls into my neck as he flicks the door locked. “No interruptions, I want you to come for me.” Like I could stop. “Now!” He demands through gritted teeth.
“You’re so fucking responsive Bethany?” He slowly sucks on his fingers and I can see the raw desire still in his eyes. That maybe the most erotic thing I’ve seen and certainly the most erotic act I’ve ever experienced but even so, I realise I am seriously out of my depth with this man. He returns to the desk picks up the details of the drinks reception and hands me the information. He is unaffected and I’m a wreck.
About the Author

Dee Palmer lives just outside of London with her husband and (slightly embarrassed) children. Her passion is writing sexy steamy romance stories that will scorch the pages right off your kindle and are guaranteed to make your heart pound. She loves an HEA but isn’t afraid to put her readers through the ringer before she delivers.
When not at her desk she can be found either fannying around on Facebook or with her nose stuck in her Kindle. Once in a while when the lights are down she might be spotted about town searching for the best French martinis and throwing some dubious shapes on the dance floor. 

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