Title (naslov): Bossy Bastard: Anthology
Authors (pisatelji): Various (več njih)
Genre (žanr): Erotic Romance
Cover Design (naslovnico oblikoval): Under Cover Designs
Release Date (izid): April 5, 2019
"Totally hot and utterly binge-worthy anthology!"
Twelve incredible authors, bringing you never before released stories.
One sexy, enticingly dirty, scorching-hot anthology created just for you.
Bossy Bastard will have you moaning for more, but
we guarantee a Happy Ending at the end of each chapter.
Dvanajst nadarjenih pisateljev vam prinaša nikoli prej izdane zgodbe.
Ena seksi, vabljivo umazana, vroča antologija ustvarjena samo za vas.
Zaradi Bossy Bastar boste hrepeneli po več, toda zagotavljamo vam srečen konec na koncu vsakega
GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44017119-bossy-bastard
PRE-ORDER LINKS – 99c for a limited time!!
Apple Books: https://apple.co/2DGvHZ8
CONTRIBUTING AUTHORS (SODELUJOČI PISATELJI)
Ally Prince: https://www.facebook.com/AllyPrinceBooks
Brandy Ayers: https://www.facebook.com/BrandyAyersAuthor
Julia Wolf: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJuliaWolf
Karen Stivali: https://www.facebook.com/karenstivali
Kimberly Soto: https://www.facebook.com/authorKimberlysoto
K.L. Humphreys: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKLHumphreys
Lara Turner: https://www.facebook.com/LaraTurnerAuthor
Mia Moon: https://www.facebook.com/miamoonauthor
Mila Raphael: https://www.facebook.com/MilaRaphaelAuthor
MK Moore: https://www.facebook.com/authormkmoore
Poppy Parkes: https://www.facebook.com/poppyparkesbooks
Victoria Bright: https://www.facebook.com/VictoriaBrightAuthor
Title (naslov): Until I Found You
Series (serija): Heart's Compass (#3)
Author (pisateljica): Brooke O'Brien
Release Date (datum izida): February 15th, 2019
Genre (žanr): Romantic Suspense
Five years ago, Halle Keegan had consumed my whole world. Until one night when our lives changed forever. My existence was torn apart.
I've let my demons get the best of me, pushing away the people I love most to protect them. I swore I'd never come back home to Arbor Creek.
They say the truth will set you free.
When the truth is revealed, I'm forced to look my demons dead in the eye. I don't deserve her or her forgiveness, but I'd give up my life if it meant keeping her safe.
This time around, she may be the only one who can save me.
Author's Note: This is Book Three in the Heart's Compass series. It can be read as a standalone and has a HEA. Due to strong sexual content, coarse language and mature subject matter, this book is not suitable for under the age of 18.
Pred petimi leti je Halle Keegan predstavljala ves moj svet. Do noči, ki je najini življenji spremenila za vedno. Moj obstoj je bil zlomljen.
Pustil sem, da so me demoni premagali, odrival sem stran ljudi, ki so mi pomenili največ. Prisegel sem, da se ne bom vrnil nazaj domov v Arbor Creek.
Pravijo, da te bo resnica osvobodila.
Ko je resnica razkrita, sem prisiljen svojim demonom pogledati naravnost v oči. Ne zaslužim si ne nje in ne njenega odpuščanja, toda odrekel bi se svojemu življenju, če bi to pomenilo, da bo ona varna.
Toda sedaj je mogoče ona tista, ki bi lahko rešila mene.
Pisateljičin zapisek: To je tretja knjiga v Heart’s Compass seriji. Lhko se bere kot samostojna in ima srečen konec. Ker pa ima močne seksualne vložke, grob jezik in odrasle vložke, ta knjiga ni primerna za otroke mlajše od 18 let.
Buy Links (Kindle Unlimited):
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2tdD1q7
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2X45fkO
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2GG6eSH
Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2SxuH3B
Amazon International: http://mybook.to/uify
Until I Found You Reviews:
"Brooke exceeded my expectations... YET AGAIN! When I thought I couldn't end up loving her characters even more so than I already did when reading book 1 and 2 in the series, she completely obliterated this thought and showed me I COULD fall even more in love with them." - Melissa, Melissafandomworld Blog
"Once again, Brooke had me captivated with the couple and hooked on the storyline. And it's no secret that I'm a HUGE fan of secondary and returning characters so it was great to see the gang again. Another amazing 5 star book from Brooke O'Brien!" - Emma, Ever Growing Book Obsession Blog
"This book was definitely worth waiting for! I am in love with Graham and Halle's story. It was everything I was hoping for and more. It was heartbreaking and so beautiful. I was also happy that we got to see Maverick and Ryan again. I can't wait for more of this series!" - Naomi, Goodreads Reviewer
Direct link: bit.ly/UntilIFoundYouSpotify
In the Series (v seriji):
Where I Found You (#1) - Available for FREE (2/10-2/24)
Available at all major bookstores: bit.ly/WhereIFoundYouWIDE
Lost Before You (#2) - Available for 99¢ (2/10-2/17)
Amazon International: http://mybook.to/lby
Now That I Found You (#3) - PreOrder > Releasing March 15, 2019
Author Bio (o pisateljici):
Brooke O'Brien is the Author of the Heart's Compass series and the recently published Tattered Heart duet.
Growing up Brooke always had a love of writing; she started out writing poetry when she was young and began journaling her thoughts as she grew older. Diving headfirst into a good book has always been therapeutic for her. Now her two passions have collided.
Brooke believes you can cure any bad day with chocolate or by going on a long drive with the windows down and the music turned up! She's found that's when her characters talk to her the most! If she's not reading or writing, you'll probably find her spending time with her family and friends, watching Hawkeye football or NBA basketball, going to the movies, or collecting signed paperbacks.
Brooke O’Brien je pisateljica Heart’s Compass serije in nedavno objavljenega dueta Tattered Heart.
Med odraščanjem je Brooke vedno gojila ljubezen do pisanja, ko je bila mlajša je začela s pisanjem poezije in med odraščanjem začela pisati dnevnik svojih misli. Potopiti se v dobro knjigo je bilo zanjo vedno terapevtsko. Sedaj sta se dve njeni strasti združili.
Brooke verjame, da lahko slab dan pozdraviš s čokolado ali da greš na dolgo vožnjo s spuščenimi šipami in glasno muziko! Ugotovila je, da takrat njeni junaki najbolj govorijo z njo! Ko ne bere in piše, jo boste verjetno našli, ko čas preživlja s svojo družino in prijatelji, gleda Hawkeye ogomet ali NBA košarko, hodi v kino ali zbira podpisane knjige.
She LOVES to interact with readers! Keep in touch with Brooke by following her on Social Media and join her exclusive Reader Group:
Rada se pogovarja s svojimi bralci! Bodite v stiku z Brooke tako, da ji sledite na spodjih povezavah in se pridružite njeni ekskluzivni skupini:
Subscribe to Brooke's newsletter and, as a thank you, you'll receive a FREE BOOK sent directly to your Kindle:
Vpišite se na Brookino pošto v zahvalo pa boste prejeli BREZPLAČNO KNJIGO poslano direktno na vaš kindle:
Social Media Links (povezave):
Join Brooke's Rebel Readers Reader Group: bit.ly/BrookesBookBabes
$20 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway over on Brooke’s Facebook Page!
Check it out ⇒ https://www.facebook.com/authorbrookeo
Title (naslov): If I Fall
Author (pisateljica): Amber Thielman
Genre (žanr): Dark, Edgy Mature YA
Cover Designer (naslovnico oblikovala): Anna Bloom
Publication Date (datum izid): February 14th, 2019
Hosted by (gostitelj): Lady Amber’s PR
How do you survive when your best friend takes his own life?
Khloe has no idea how she'll live without her best friend by her side. Carter was not the suicidal type, and Khloe can’t understand his leaving her so abruptly. When she finds Carter's journal, it's a secret portal holding all his deepest secrets. As Khloe unravels the hidden darkness of her best friend’s life--hoping to find what drove him to suicide--she struggles without him as she stumbles back into the treacherous world she'd left behind. Prescription drugs, sex, and the tip of a needle to feel her pain for her.
Her friend Ava tries to reason with her, but the more Khloe discovers Carter's life, the less she understands. When Khloe almost goes over the edge, a handsome paramedic, Ty, saves her life and seems intent on saving her heart along with it. But the shadows that chased Carter are hot on her heels, and unless she can find the peace that eluded him, she might follow Carter past the last page.
Kako preživeti po tem, ko si je tvoj najboljši prijatelj vzel življenje?
Khloe nima pojma, kako bo živela brez svojega najboljšega prijatelja ob svoji strani. Carter ni bil samomorilski tip in Khloe ne more razumeti, kako jo je lahko tako nenadoma zapustil. Ko odkrije Carterjev dnevnik, je kot skrivnosti portal, ki drži vse njegove najglobje skrivnosti. Ko Khloe odkriva skrite temne globine iz življenja njenega najboljšega prijatelja – v upanju da bo našla tisto, kar ga je vodilo k samomoru – se sama bori brez njega, ko se poda nazaj v izdajalski svet, ki ga je pustila za seboj. Predpisana zdravila, seks in Konica igle, da bi namesto nje občutili njeno bolečino.
Njena prijateljica Ava se želi z njo resno pogovoriti, toda bolj kot Khloe odkriva Carterjevo življenje, manj razume. Ko Khloe skoraj pade čez rob, jo čeden reševalec Ty reši in na tej poti želi rešiti tudi njeno srce. Toda sence, ki so sledile Carterju so sedaj tudi za njenimi petami in če ne bo najšla svojega miru, ki je izginil z njim, bi lahko sledila Carterju po zadnji strani.
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/bMZ98a
“Khloe, your phone. It’s ringing.”
My eyes flickered open. I didn’t move, and instead, let my gaze flash around the room. I laid there for another moment under the comforter, motionless and silent, still half-asleep. The air in the room was stale and smelled sour with stifling heat and B.O. My head was swimming with dizziness much like it had before I fell asleep and my stomach was churning from the after-effects of booze and weed.
“Khloe,” the voice said again. I closed my eyes. Maybe if I ignored it, it would stop talking.
The tiny silver cell phone sitting on the dresser next to my bed was nothing short of deceiving. The catchy tune I had momentarily listened to on repeat, now made my eardrums want to explode. How could something so loud and annoying come from something so small and fragile?
“Khloe, answer the fucking phone!”
The male specimen lying next to me sat up, reached across, and plucked the phone from the dresser before tossing it near my head. It was still going off, shrill and violating. Christ. Why hadn’t the person hung up yet? Still groggy, I grabbed the phone and looked at the screen before flipping it open and putting it to my ear.
“Carter?” My throat was raw and scratchy. Attractive. It tasted like bile. I cleared it and winced. “What are you doing? It’s four in the morning.”
For a moment, there was silence. An eerie and unnatural silence that made my heart thump against my insides like steel drums. My throat tightened.
My best friend’s voice was different—quiet; almost poignant. I rubbed my face and kicked the covers off, sliding my feet into a pair of slippers. I padded down the hallway to the bathroom so I wouldn’t wake up the guy who was asleep again and probably drooling into my pillow. I made a mental note to wash it tomorrow if I wasn’t too hung over to function.
“What’s up?” I asked, shutting the bathroom door behind me. “Is everything okay?”
Another long silence cocooned me. I could barely hear him breathe.
“Are you with anyone?”
“Just some guy I met at work tonight. But I’m in another room. It’s alright.” I ran a hand through my tangled brown hair, trying to recall the last time I’d taken a shower and washed it. At this rate, dreadlocks would be my next fashion statement.
“What did I tell you about sleeping with losers you meet at the club?”
“Oh, relax.” I leaned over the sink to survey the mascara stains under my eyelids. I looked like a harlot. “He’ll be gone by morning. You’re going to worry yourself to death. Besides, there's nothing wrong with scoring free drinks all night.”
“You’re only eighteen,” Carter said. “You’re supposed to be a server. You’ll get fired if you keep it up.” He sighed, and silence led again. I waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t.
“I’m here.” He sounded sleepy, groggy, in and out of some dream world. My fingers tightened around the cell phone in my hand until my knuckles ached. “Besides, Ava needs to stop sneaking you booze. She’s a bad influence.”
“That's beside the point.”
Another long silence greeted me, but I didn’t push it, just waited for him to talk. Sometimes that’s all you could do.
“I care about you, you know,” Carter said after a full forty-five seconds. “And you have a habit of doing reckless… things.”
“Only to push your buttons.” I took a seat on the edge of the bathtub and crossed my legs, scanning the mysterious bumps and bruises up and down my skin. Blackout nights and perplexing injuries were not new to me, but they were puzzling, nonetheless.
“It’s not funny.” His voice tightened. I paused, startled by the sudden anger in his tone. Carter rarely snapped like that, especially not at me. The last time he’d raised his voice in my direction, I’d twisted his arm behind his back until he apologized just to escape the agony.
“Don’t you use that tone with—”
“I worry about you.” He cut me off. His voice was softer now, his anger diminishing. He sounded off somehow… buzzed, maybe, or high. But Carter didn’t drink. I’d never seen him cradling so much as a Dr. Pepper at parties. “I really do. I worry about you.”
“You don’t have to,” I retorted. “There’re a lot of things I wouldn’t have been able to get through without you. But the rest is up to me to decide for myself.”
“If this guy in your bed is gone before tomorrow morning, I won’t have to kick his ass.” For a moment Carter sounded like his old self, and some of my concerns faded.
“Oh, best friend, what would I do without you?” I stood and turned on the cold water in the sink, then leaned down and filled my mouth, swishing the stale taste of beer and cigarettes out the best I could. I didn’t have the energy to brush my teeth, so this would have to do.
“Carter?” I said, drying my mouth with a towel. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s usually me calling you at four in the morning, not the other way around.”
“Jusqu’ a la procaine fois.” It was our secret phrase, meaning, ‘until next time' in French.
“That didn’t answer my question,” I said with a smile. From my bedroom, I could hear the guy snoring in my bed. I didn’t know his name, barely knew his face, and I didn’t care to.
“Take care of yourself, ami.”
“Will you stop speaking French and talk to me?” I sat back down on the edge of the bathtub. The beer from earlier sloshed around in my stomach. “I know something is wrong, Carter. You’re my best friend. Talk to me. Why do you sound so weird?”
The beep in my ear was so distinct I almost flinched. I held the phone away from me and stared at it, dumbfounded. Even during our worst fights, sometimes even the ones that had escalated to a screaming match, neither of us had ever hung up on the other one. It was an unwritten rule.
“You ass,” I said aloud, dialing his number and pressing the green button. We were going to get to the bottom of this, upset or not. After the fifth ring, I snapped the phone shut, opened it, and then dialed again. I figured he’d have to forfeit, eventually.
“Carter,” I said to his voicemail. “If you don’t answer this phone, the next time I call, I’ll come over there and pound your fucking door down.” I snapped the phone shut for the fifth time and sat fuming on the edge of the bathtub, giving him time to listen to my voicemail. He never could bear to hear me upset, so I didn’t doubt the phone would be ringing any time now.
I dialed again, a small lump of panic rising in my throat as the phone rang and rang. Flipping it shut I shoved it into the pocket of my jeans, grateful—though not for the first time—that I’d passed out in my clothes. In my bed, the male was still snoring even louder now. I kicked off my slippers, yanked on some shoes, and sneaked out the door, careful not to wake the stranger. I could only hope he’d be gone by the time I got back.
The chill of a Washington morning in early spring hit me as I fumbled in the dark for my car keys and slid into the driver's side of the piece of shit Grand Prix that almost didn't qualify as a car anymore. It started on the fourth try, sputtering and wheezing like it was having an asthma attack. I slammed it into drive and headed towards Carter's place, unwilling to admit my high school car, Missus Betty, was probably nearing the end of her eventful life. We’d all known it for a while, but the reality of the situation was still harsh—especially when she was still chugging along after two-hundred-and-fifty thousand miles.
“We're almost there,” I said to the wheezing car. “I know it's cold outside, but just a little further—” Missus Betty wheezed up the hill in the direction of Carter's off-campus apartment. The lights were off when we finally arrived, and I put the car in park and turned off the engine, patting the dashboard with a thank you. I slid out of the car and trudged across the lawn to the front door. I tried the handle. Locked, per usual. What a girl.
“Carter Drake, open the damn door!” I shouted. In the house next to his complex, a dog began to bark, shattering the stillness of the early morning. I spun around to face the general direction of the barks. “Shut the hell up!” I didn't care if I woke the neighbors. They were uptight assholes, anyway. The window to Carter’s bedroom was obscured and I couldn’t see a light on. I wondered if he was asleep or in the bathroom.
“I’ll break your window!” I threatened. As I stood on the front porch in the dark, the dog’s barking grew louder, and I became colder. Too annoyed to stand there until the sun rose, I picked up a small stone from the garden, pulled back my arm, and heaved it at the second-story window. It made a sharp splitting sound against the glass before bouncing off and hitting me in the face. I cursed, holding my nose, suddenly remembering the spare key hidden under the rock in the garden.
“Damn you, Carter,” I mumbled. I fell to my hands and knees to grope around in the dark for the flat stone that hadn’t moved for two years. My fingers brushed the smooth surface, and, using my cell phone for light, I grabbed the key and brushed the dirt from my pants before sticking it in the lock and pushing the door open.
The entire apartment was dark—silent. Aside from the buzzing of the fridge in the kitchen, there was no sound. I pocketed the key and felt against the wall for the light switch, flipping it on and shutting the door quietly behind me. The living room lit up, blinding me momentarily. I looked around, seeking for some sign of Carter, but the house was still. Just as expected, the place was spotless. Over the suede chaise sofa laid a hand-woven quilt, the quilt I’d made him during my long-ass, torture-filled summer at camp without him. The coffee table in front of the couch was tidy, only flaunting a few stacked magazines and an Aloe Vera plant. The apartment was clean—cleaner than my place had ever been, which was typical for the two of us.
“I’m coming up,” I hollered at the stairs. “I hope you’re decent.” I waited for some reaction; some grumbled reply or sleepy bitch-out. Instead, there was silence—a silence that chilled my core. “I know you're here. I saw your car by the curb.” Trying to ward off the dizzying effects of my hangover, I climbed the stairs one at a time, giving Carter enough time to fully wake before I reamed his ass for hanging up on me. “It's your fault I'm not sleeping right now,” I said. My head was starting to pound, vision fuzzy as exhaustion overcame me. I stopped in front of his door and let my hand rest on the handle, pushing it open. “I may very well kick you out of bed and—”
There was silence, an eerie, terrifying silence that seemed to freeze time. In that silence, someone started to scream. For a fleeting second, I wanted to cover my ears and yell at them to shut up: grow up, be quiet, get the fuck out. Shut the fuck up.
Then I realized it was me.
I spotted the bottle of pills first, a neon orange prescription bottle lying open on the floor. The lid was off, and it was empty. Next to the empty bottle of pills, he was there.
With a sob, I dropped to my knees in front of him. I could hear my breath coming in quick, short gasps of panic as I reached out and allowed my trembling hand to feel for any sign of life. His lips were tinged blue, his eyes partially open and staring at the ceiling above us. His skin, at one time running so much warmer than everybody else’s, was cooling down. Chilled and waxy.
“No,” I screamed the word until it hurt my throat. “I don't understand what's happening. I don't understand what's happening. Carter? Carter. Tell me—tell me what's happening. Carter!” I collapsed onto him, letting my head rest on his chest. “I need to call 911,” I murmured. Jumbled thoughts raced through my mind, none of them making a bit of sense. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed the emergency line. My hand was shaking so severely that twice I dropped the phone.
“It's okay,” I said to Carter. “They'll be able to help you.”
“911, where’s your emergency?” asked the operator on the other end of the line. I touched my face, only just noticing the tears rolling down my cheeks.
“My friend,” I said. I reached down and squeezed Carter's hand. “He's-he needs help. I need an ambulance. We’re in the Kirkwood Meadows apartments, number sixty-one.”
“I’m sending Paramedics now,” the dispatcher said. “Ma’am, can you tell me what happened?”
“No. I don't know. I just-I need someone to come and help him. I need someone to come and save his life and I—” The cell phone dropped from my fingers. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard it clatter to the floor, bouncing against the hardwood floor of his bedroom. I reached for him again, resting my hand on his, our temperatures clashing. I could feel my face and fingers start to tingle and numb, threatening a panic attack.
“It's going to be okay,” I said, lacing my fingers together over his chest. I began compressions, holding my breath, as the seconds ticked by in slow motion. I paused for a moment and checked for a pulse. There was nothing. “I love you, Carter,” I whispered, pumping his chest again. “I’m so sorry, just stay with me. They--they'll help you.” Then, in the silence of the house, amongst the midst of death, I lost it.
Author Bio (o pisateljici):
Amber Thielman is an avid reader and writer of dark, edgy Young Adult and New Adult books that push the boundaries and challenge your comfort zone.
Despite her growing love for HEA's, Amber reads too much Stephen King and grew up devouring every Fear Street novel R. L. Stine ever wrote. When she’s not writing, Amber enjoys traveling, practicing the art of staying on her horse, binge-watching Netflix, and spending time with her husband and their adorable tiny human Aidyn in Southeast Idaho. She also has an undying love for pumpkin-flavored anything and boozy concoctions.
Amber Thielman je predana bralka in pisateljica temnih, ostrih mladinskih in New Adult knjig, ki otiskajo naše meje in izzivajo našo cono udobja.
Četudi je v odraščanju imela rada srečne konce, je prebrala preveč knjig Stephena Kinga in prebrala vse Fear Street knjige R.L. Stine kar jih je izšlo. Ko ne piše Amber uživa v potovanjih, vadi umetnost obdržanja na konjskem hrbtu, gleda Netflix in preživlja čas s svojim možem in njunim čudovitim, majhnim človekom poi menu Aidyn v jugozahodnem Idahu. Ima tudi nesmrtno ljubezen po vsem kar je bučkinega okusa in pijačo skovice.
Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/285681015515355/
Love is blind, but fate sees everything
Ljubezen je slepa, toda usoda vidi vse
The Girl in the Painting, an all-new standalone romance from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe, is coming February 28th and we have the brand new cover for you!
The Girl in the Painting, povsem nova samostojna, romantična knjiga New York Times najbolje prodajane pisateljice Max Monroe prihaja 28. Februarja in za vas imamo povsme novo naslovnico.
Ansel Bray, an artist known around the world for his tragic hiatus from the canvas.
Ansel Bray, a broody, handsome man not known by me, at all.
Long dark hair, blue eyes, and dimpled cheeks. I’ve never met her, but her image is imprinted in my mind. An angel muse who inspires me to paint again.
There is something about him. Something that spurs a need to be as close to him as possible. A need to find out why.
There is something about her. Something that draws me in. Something that urges me to find out what her presence means.
Why does the girl in his painting look so much like me?
Who is this girl, and why can I see her so vividly?
I shouldn’t fall in love with him.
I shouldn’t fall in love at all.
But fate plays her hand.
But fate has other plans.
The lines of my life will blur.
The needs of my heart will change.
What a beautiful mess we’ve made.
Ansel Bray, umetnik, I je po svetu znan po svoji tragični praznini s platna.
Ansel Bray, postaven in čeden moški, ki me ne pozna, sploh.
Dolgi, temni lasje, modre oči in jamica v licih. Nikoli je še nisem srečal, toda njena podoba je vtisnjena v moj spomin. Angelska muza, zaradi katere ponovno slikam.
Nekaj je na njem. Nekaj, kar povroča to potrebo, da bi mu bila čim bližje. Ugotoviti moram zakaj.
Nekaj je na njej. Nekaj, kar me privlači. Nekaj, kar me priganja, da izvem, kaj pomeni njena prisotnost.
Zakaj mi je dekle na sliki tako podobno?
Kdo je to dekle in zakaj se spominjam tako živo?
Ne bi se smela zaljubiti vanj.
Sploh se ne bi smel zaljubiti
Toda usoda igra po svoje.
Toda usoda ima drugačne načrte.
Linije mojega življenja se bodo zbrisale.
Želje mojega srca se bodo spremenile.
Kakšen čudovit nered sva ustvarila.
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2HSvZS8
Cover Designer (naslovnico oblikoval): Peter Alderweireld
About Max Monroe (o Max Monroe):
A secret duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
Skriti duet dveh avtoric romanc, ki sta se združili pod New York Times in USA Today najbolje prodajane avtorice z psevdonimom Max Monroe, da vam dostavita seksi in smešne zgodbe.
Max Monroe je New York Times in USA Today najbolje prodajana avtorica več kot desetih sodobnih romanc. Najboljši pisateljski partnerici in dolgoročni prijateljici, Max in Monroe se trudita živeti in pisati zabavno, seksi in včasih je to razvidno iz njunih Facebook novic. Sarkastični po naravi, ti dve pisateljski duši čutita, da sta našli svojo drugo polovico. To je njuna najboljša pustolovščina do sedaj.
Connect with Max Monroe:
Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/newsletter
Then - if you dare - keep reading for a NSFW excerpt from Depraved by Eva Charles.
It will be LIVE on February 21st!!
Potem pa – če si drznete – berite dalje za odlomek iz knjige Depraved pisateljice Eve Charles.
Izide 21. Februarja!!
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I’m J.D. Wilder, and it takes a lot to shame me, but we’re about to see where you draw the line.
Gabrielle Duval once belonged to me.
And like it or not, she'll be mine again.
In a world where money, power and corruption rule, I'm prepared to do whatever it takes.
Although nothing with that woman is ever easy.
But believe me when I tell you, I'll enjoy every minute of the fight.
Jaz sem J.D. Wilder, in veliko je treba narediti, da me osramotijo, toda pravkar boste videli, kjer naredim črto.
Gabrielle Duval je nekoč pripadala meni.
In če ji je všeč ali ne, spet bo pripadaal meni.
V svetu kjer vladajo denar, moč in korupcija, sem jaz pripravljen narediti karkoli je treba.
Čeprav nič v zvezi s to žensko ni enostavno.
Toda verjamite, ko vam rečem, da bom užival v vsaki minuti tega boja.
“What exactly does this—arrangement—you’re proposing, entail?”
“I won’t delve into every salacious detail, because I know you’re fully aware of what it entails.”
Not an answer. “What do you expect from me?”
“You don’t really want me to spell it out.”
“But I do. Spell it out, JD. Tell me exactly how you plan on degrading me, as though I’m not human. Go ahead,” I challenge. “I’m sure it’ll bring you lots of pleasure.”
“Gabrielle, you test my patience too often. One day you’ll get more than you bargained for.”
He’s fiddling with his knife. He can’t meet my eyes. He doesn’t want to say it. Something about it makes him uncomfortable. Somewhere inside he knows it’s wrong. I’m a bit relieved, but I won’t let him off the hook. I want him to squirm with discomfort. I want his stomach to churn until he tastes the bitter bile in his throat. I want whatever spark of conscience is left to keep him awake at night. If he wants to do this to me, he’s going to pay. “Spell. It. Out. Unless you’re too ashamed to say the words out loud.”
His eyes are black when he drags my chair to him, pinning my legs between his until I can’t move. His right thumb finds my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “It takes a lot to shame me. But we’re about to find out where you draw the line.”
I jerk my chin from his hold. In return, he squeezes his thighs around mine, holding them in a vise-like grip, the exquisite pressure forcing a bloom between my legs.
“You’ll get on your knees and put my cock in your sassy mouth any time I tell you to. After I come, you’ll lick every drop off your lips, and you’ll enjoy it. Just like you enjoyed it before. Like you enjoyed everything filthy thing I did to you. Are you ashamed yet, Gabrielle?” He lowers his head and the heat from his mouth grazes my temple. “I don’t think you are.”
My heart is racing. I can’t control it.
“Remember all those times I buried my face in your sweet pussy while you writhed under me? How you begged me to sink my cock into you? How you screamed and clawed before you trembled? It’ll be just like that. Only nothing is off limits this time. You were a dirty, greedy girl who begged shamelessly for release. I bet that hasn’t changed.” He runs a finger over my bare arm and I shiver. "You loved it then, all of it, and you’ll love it even more now.”
I maneuver back, and swing my arm to slap his face. But he catches it before I make contact. “I hate you.”
“You don’t hate me. You hate that you want to be under me again. If I stick my fingers in your pussy, it’ll tell the real story.” He lowers his head again, and murmurs near my ear. “Want me to do that? Slide a finger or two inside you? It’ll feel so good. Remember how much you liked it? This is just too much for you to process right now. You don’t know how you feel. I can help you figure it out. Let me.”
I’m aroused. Disgracefully aroused by his husky voice, his filthy words, and the memories of him pleasuring me. My core is throbbing. And I don’t need him to check if I’m wet. I’m drenched.
He’s right. I don’t hate him. I’m filled with unresolved anger, resentment, and hurt. And I’m confused. So confused. But if he stroked my breast, or brushed his fingers over the slick flesh between my thighs, I would press my pussy into his hand. No, I don’t hate him. I hate myself for being so weak.
About Eva (o Evi)
A confirmed city-girl, Eva moved to rural Western Massachusetts in 2014. She found herself living in the woods with no job, no friends (unless you count the turkey, deer, and coyote roaming the backyard), and no children underfoot, wondering what on earth she had been thinking. But as it turned out, it was the perfect setting to take all those yarns spinning in her head and weave them into steamy love stories.
A romantic at heart, Eva looks forward to date night all week. The perfect evening includes well-crafted cocktails, a fabulous perfume, Cherry Garcia ice cream, and her husband, of course. If you add good friends, live jazz, and impossible shoes, she will follow you anywhere.
Eva holds a BA from Boston College, and a JD from the Washington College of Law. She spent a career working in domestic violence, child abuse and neglect, and civil rights. Aspects of this work often find their way into her books.
When she's not writing sexy stories, trying to squeeze information out of her tight-lipped sons, or playing with the two cutest dogs you've ever seen, Eva's creating chapters in her own love story.
Eva je mestno dekle, toda preselila se je v podeželski zahodni Massachusetts leta 2014. Znašla se je v življenju sredi gozda, brez službe, brez prijateljev (razen če se z anjih štejejo puran, jelen in kojoti, ki se podijo po dvorišču), brez otrok, ki bi se pletli med nogami, se je spraševala, kaj za boga je mislila. Toda izkazalo se je kot dobra podlaga za vse tiste pogovore, ki so se ji podili po glavi in so se prelevili v napete ljubezenske zgodbe.
Romantičarka po srcu, se Eva veseli zmenka vsako noč v tednu. Popoln večer vsebuje popolnoma pripravljen martini, fantastičen parfum, Sladoled Cherry Garcia in seveda, njen mož. Če dodate še dobre prijatelje, jazz v živo in nemogoče čevlje, vam bo sledila kamorkoli.
Eva ima diploma iz Boston Collega in diploma iz Washington Collega of Law. Svojo poklicno pot je začela v družinskem nasilju, zlorabi in zanemarjanju otrok ter državljanskih pravicah.
Vidiki iz the del včasih najdejo pot v njene knjige.
Ko ne piše seksi zgodb, skuša izvleči informacije iz njenih sinov ali se igra z dvema najlepšima psoma, kar ste jih kdaj videli. Eva ustvarja poglavja v njeni lastni zgodbi.
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