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Double Cover Reveal – Full Package & Joy Stick by Lauren Blakely

From Lauren Blakely, the NYT Bestselling author of BIG ROCK and MISTER O, comes two brand new, hot and hilarious standalone romantic comedies…

FULL PACKAGE and JOY STICK!

Readers will find witty dialogue, smoking hot sex scenes, and heartfelt moments in these side-splitting romantic comedies, mixed with the dirty-talking, gifted heroes we’ve come to love from Lauren Blakely! FULL PACKAGE is set to release on January 9, 2017, and JOY STICK is coming your way in May 2017! Check out these fantastic covers designed by Helen Williams with photography by Rob Lang.

From the New York Times Bestselling author of MISTER O and BIG ROCK, comes a hot & hilarious new standalone romantic comedy…

I’ve been told I have quite a gift.

Hey, I don’t just mean in my pants. I’ve got a big brain too, and a huge heart of gold. And I like to use all my gifts to the fullest, the package included. Life is smooth sailing….

Until I find myself stuck between a rock and a sexy roommate, which makes for one very hard…place.

Because scoring an apartment in this city is harder than finding true love. So even if I have to shack up with my buddy’s smoking hot and incredibly amazing little sister, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.

I can resist Josie. I’m disciplined, I’m focused, and I keep my hands to myself, even in the mere five-hundred square feet we share. Until the one night she insists on sliding under the covers with me. It’ll help her sleep after what happened that day, she says.

Surprise—neither one of us sleeps.

And even though we agree to return to roomies-without-benefits, I quickly realize I want more than someone to split the utilities with. Now all I want is to spend every night—and every day—with my gorgeous roommate.

Did I mention she’s also one of my best friends? That she’s brilliant, beautiful and a total firecracker? Guess that makes her the full package too.

What’s a man stuck in a hard place to do?

Pre-Order FULL PACKAGE (Releasing January 9, 2016)

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Let’s be honest, ladies.

A good man is a lot like the perfect car. You want a hot body, an engine that purrs, and superior performance under the hood. You probably also crave a ride that can go all night long. I’m at your service.

Come and ride on my Joy Stick…

That’s what I like to say to the ladies. Or I would if I were total pig. It’s far too easy in this world to strut around like a peacock when you’ve got all these other features in your favor. But just like the custom cars I build with class and sophistication, that’s how I treat my women.

Don’t worry. I absolutely do my best work dirty…

both in the shop, and between the sheets. Work and play — that’s what my life has been, and I f&*king love it. I’m completely, 100% driven. Until one woman comes along and throws a wrench in my plans. The one woman I should absolutely, positively never take for a joy ride.

Now that’s all I want to do with her…she’s so far off-limits, but that’s exactly where I want to go with her.

Get ready for a wild ride…

Pre-Order JOY STICK (Coming May 2017)

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Don’t Miss All of Lauren’s Romantic Comedies written from the Male POV!

BIG ROCK (Now Available)

MISTER O (Now Available)

Read BFF K’s Review of Mister O

WELL HUNG (Releasing September 12, 2016)

Giveaway

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Lauren Blakely’s Romantic Comedy Celebration!

August 24-September 1, 2016*

Win a Kindle Fire loaded with Lauren Blakely’s complete collection* of currently released titles, as well as some of Lauren’s favorite romantic comedies!

*Does not include WELL HUNG, FULL PACKAGE or JOY STICK, Winner will be announced first week of September.

To enter to win, simply subscribe to Lauren’s newsletter here:

http://www.subscribepage.com/LaurenBlakely

About the Author

DaisyWhitneyLaurenBlakelyheadshot_small

Since self-publishing her debut romance novel CAUGHT UP IN US three years ago, Lauren Blakely has sold more than 1 million books. She is known for her sexy contemporary romance style that’s full of heat, heart and humor. A devout fan of cake and canines, Lauren has plotted entire novels while walking her four-legged friends. She lives in California with her family. With ten New York Times bestsellers, her titles have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists more than fifty times. Her bestselling series include Sinful Nights, Seductive Nights, No Regrets, Caught Up in Love, and Fighting Fire as well as standalone romantic comedies like BIG ROCK and MISTER O, which were both instant New York Times Bestsellers. In the fall she’ll release WELL HUNG, another romantic comedy. To receive an email when Lauren releases a new book, sign up for her newsletter: laurenblakely.com/newsletter.

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FULL PACKAGE Goodreads

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Excerpt – Dirty Talk by S.L. Scott

One month.

One movie.

One shot at a second chance.

I fell madly in love at first sight with Jane Lewis.

The girl with bright blue eyes, a pretty smile, and great ass owned my heart. I thought she was happy with the status quo, but ten years later, I foolishly let her go. Despite dating other women, no one compares to my first love. We are meant to be together, and I’m going to try my damnedest to convince her of that.

Luke Anders tricked me. The deal was sealed before I knew he was behind it.

We agreed to be just friends. Simple. Easy. But it’s not just the weather that’s hot in Texas. I was a fool to think I could resist him. He knows how to work his charms and those kissable lips, that great jaw, and biceps. We are here to work, but he has become downright distracting.

I’m strong. I can handle one month of his flirtatious sexual torture. But if I happen to fall in bed with that sexy bastard for a night, or three, does that make me weak? Asking for a friend, of course.

I guess I’m about to find out when love gets messy, it’s not just the talk that’s dirty.

Because first love deserves a second chance

Standalone Contemporary Romance

From the New York Times Bestselling Author of The Resistance comes TWO sexy and funny standalones.

Dirty Talk will release on September 1st.

Add Dirty Talk to your Goodreads TBR

Sweet Talk aka Models On Top – Danny is AVAILABLE NOW & FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

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Excerpt from Dirty Talk

Luke Anders

“What if I touched you right where you want to be touched?” I slide my hand up her thigh, inching her skirt up slowly. Her breath catches, the quiet gasp making me smile. “What if I touched you right where you pretend to be so protective? I know you. I know you like it dirty . . . maybe even a little rough.”

She finds her voice, though it’s affected, sexy. “A lot.”

“What is that?”

Clearing her throat, she says, “I like it rough. Really rough.”

The right side of my mouth curves up, my hand stalling just below the apex of her thighs when my phone buzzes. I release a sigh. Grabbing the phone from my pocket, I sit up and read the text: Let’s get the fuck out of here. I look back at the black-haired raven I’ve left squirming on the metal barstool next to me. I’d like to explore exactly how she likes it, but duty calls. Standing up suddenly, I grab my wallet and slap some bills down for the drinks.

“What are you doing?” she demands, desperation lacing her tone as her eyes go wide.

I tuck my wallet back into the inside pocket of my Vittori suit jacket and kiss her on the cheek. Since I’m there, I add with a wink, “I bet we’d be so fucking good together.” Straightening upright, I smirk. “My apologies. I hate to run, but unfortunately, I have a prior engagement I can’t get out of. Maybe we can pick this up another time. I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

She huffs. “You’re a playboy bastard, Luke Anders,” rolls off her tongue in frustrated anger as she spins back to the bar.

I know. Not turning back, I nod. It’s not the first time I’ve been called a playboy or a bastard. Name-calling doesn’t bother me. Not getting laid tonight does.

Pushing open the exit door that leads to the alley, my asshole friends are waiting near the car they’ve pulled around.

The rusting red door slams shut, the click of the lock heard loudly behind me. The alley is quiet compared to the loud music that blares inside the club. “Fuckers.” With my arms out wide, I yell, “What the fuck? Where’s the fire? I was closing the deal.”

“We were saving you, man. Trust me on that.” My best friend is standing in front of the car with his arms crossed over his chest. Danny Weston is one of the best people I know, but right now, he’s pissing me the fuck off.

“Saving me from what?”

“Ask Blaise. He has firsthand knowledge.”

When I shoot an annoyed look in Blaise’s direction, he clams up. With hands up in surrender, he backs away toward the driver’s door. “I can’t help that the ladies love me.” Thus confirming he’s already hit that pretty kitty.

I walk to the passenger’s side of the car, punching Danny on the arm when I pass him. “Shit, man, just give me a heads-up next time. I wasted some of my best lines on her.”

Danny claims the front seat, so I duck into the back seat of a restored 1969 black Gran Torino. Cocky behind the wheel, Blaise takes off before we even have our seatbelts on, and says, “Stop hitting on everyone that takes pity on you then.”

“Fuck you. I can get any woman I want. No one’s taking pity on me.”

Danny breaks into the argument, “You guys really need to find a new hobby.”

“One-night stands are plenty entertaining,” Blaise retorts, smiling.

Danny puts his arm on the back of the seat and turns toward me. “I’m not going to lecture you—”

“Again,” I add.

“Again,” he repeats while rolling his eyes. “But we’ve talked about this a fuck ton of times. She’s not Jane and until you figure out what the hell is going on there, or if anything is going on there, these women are all the same—just another disappointment you’re going to have in the morning because they’re not her.”

Blaise verbally steps in, “Damn, dude, why so deep? You’re bringing me down.”

Danny laughs. I don’t. We’ve been friends for many years now, so Danny knows my game. He knows me well enough to know what I’m doing. Until I sort out this mess with the first woman I ever loved, the rest are just regrets waiting to happen, along with the regrets I can’t take back.

But I know him well too. We relate in a way that Blaise doesn’t understand, on a level that one day he’d be lucky to experience. No matter what I’ve been through with Jane, I’ve loved, hard. I know what it means to love and to be loved. I have no regrets when it comes to Jane, except one: letting her go.

Available Now – Sweet Talk (aka Models on Top – Danny)

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Read BFF K’s Review of Sweet Talk

Everything you’ve heard about modeling is true, and you haven’t heard the half of it.

It’s glamorous.

It’s sexy.

And yes, the line between work and reality often blurs.

We’re not just prototypes of perfection. Models have feelings and desires, too. We may be genetically gifted, but we’re still human.

I’m only human. Yes, an extraordinary specimen that earns more in a day than most make in a year, but this eight pack didn’t create itself. I spend hours working on this body. The good looks just come natural. *Winks* Thanks, Mom and Dad.

I’m Danny Weston, Supermodel.

But one path was traded for another when I chose this career. Ten years later, I would trade my career to have it back. To have her back.

Reese Carmichael is the one woman I would give it all up for, and the only one I can’t have. Yet.

About the Author

New York Times and USA Bestselling Author, S. L. Scott, was always interested in the arts. She grew up painting, writing poetry and short stories, and willing her days away lost in a good book and the movies.

With a degree in Journalism, she continued her love of the written word by reading American authors like Salinger and Fitzgerald. She was intrigued by their flawed characters living in picture perfect worlds, but could still debate that the world those characters lived in were actually the flawed ones. This dynamic of leaving the reader invested in the words, inspired Scott to start writing with emotion while interjecting an underlying passion into her own stories.

Living in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados, beaches, and cooking with her kids. She’s obsessed with epic romances and loves a good plot twist. She dreams of seeing one of her own books made into a movie one day as well as returning to Europe. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she’s a pro.

Excerpt – Wait by A.L. Jackson

Wait COMING AUGUST 23

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From NYT & USA Today bestselling author comes a new Bleeding Stars stand-alone novel…

She is his strength and he is her weakness. And this time he won’t let her go.

Edie Evans is gorgeous.

Sexy.

Kind.

She’s also the definition of off-limits.

But that didn’t stop me from sneaking into her room to comfort her at night.

But guys like me? We destroy everything, so it should have been no surprise when I destroyed us, too.

The night I sent her running, I thought I’d never see her again.

Until I saw her standing like a vision in the crowd.

Austin Stone is dangerous.

Alluring.

Tempting.

He broke my heart and I refused to give him the chance to do it again.

It’s been years since I’ve seen him, and now I can’t do anything but stare at the gorgeous, tattooed man playing onstage. I should run. I know I should. But like a fool, I run straight back to him.

Our desire is overpowering.
Our need unrelenting.

She is my hope.
He is my weakness.

We should have known a passion this intense would burn us right into the ground.

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Excerpt from Wait

“Edie…please…just…wait.”

I gripped the railing as if it might propel me forward. Instead, my footsteps faltered and slowed. I stood facing away, my back heaving as his consuming presence swarmed over me from behind.

“Please.” This time it was a whisper. A plea.

Sincere.

Slowly I turned.

Drawn.

He’d always been my weakness.

Austin stood at the end of the walkway, just outside the reach of the lights, his body obscured in shadows.

Even larger than I’d imagined when I’d first seen him up on stage.

So foreign.

So familiar.

My heart ached. Because I was looking at the boy who’d been my best friend. The one person who I’d thought would completely understand. One who wouldn’t judge or make it hurt more than it already did.

He’d been my safety.

My haven.

Until he’d dragged me right back into hell.

“Why are you here?” My words cracked. “H-h-how…how did you find me?”

I saw the shake of his head, and he took a single step forward, out of the shadows and into the glow of the single lamp attached high on the exterior wall that lit the way.

It hit him like a spotlight.

The boy was so beautiful.

It was a threatening kind of beauty, a whorl of mystery and pain, sharp lines and corded muscle.

It almost dropped me to my knees.

He fisted his hands at his sides. The question was strained, hard as it pressed from his mouth. “You believe in fate, Edie?”

Old grief I’d bottled for so long burst. It came out as some kind of maniacal cry. Incredulous. Oozing disbelief. “After everything that happened…that’s what you’re going to ask me?”

“Edie…I—”

“Do you have any idea how badly you hurt me?” I cut him off, my own hands fisting as I took a single step forward. “The damage you caused? Careless words, Austin. So fucking careless, thrown out there without a single thought to the repercussions, without any consideration of how they would affect me. How they would change my life. You promised.” My brow twisted with the accusation. “And now you have the nerve to stand there and ask me if I believe in fate?”

I swallowed hard, shook my head. “You can go to straight to hell, Austin Stone.”

He laughed, but there was zero humor behind it. “Come on, Edie. You can do better than that, can’t you? Considering you know hell is where I’ve been all along, and you and I both know I deserve so much worse. And yeah…those words were reckless, but you know they weren’t heedless. You couldn’t expect me to just stand there. Not with him. Not with what he was saying. Implying. I couldn’t.” The last cracked on the emphasis.

I felt as if every cell in my body was being crushed. Squeezed so tight there was no chance but for everything to implode.

“And because you lost it, I lost it all. You. My home. My future.”

His big hands fisted. “I know. I…I fucked it up, Edie. Warned you, I always fuck it up.”

But what he failed to say was he’d promised he wouldn’t fuck it up with me.

I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or terrified when Jed suddenly rounded the corner. His sister, Blaire, was hot on his heels.

“Edie,” Jed gushed out in relief when he saw me. He came to a stop a few steps behind Austin.

As if he’d just stepped into the bristling intensity and it tripped up his feet.

The stand-off.

The war.

Austin standing there? I knew that’s exactly what this was going to be.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jed demanded. His voice twisted into a threat. He glared at the back of Austin’s head, worried eyes flicking to me, hardening when they snapped back to Austin.

Blaire tugged at his arm. “Jed…I told you to give her a minute. Sometimes you need to let people sort out their own issues.”

Jed just grunted and shrugged off her arm.

Refusing to budge.

Austin swung his head to look behind him. When he did, his face shifted to the side, all those hard, beautiful lines exposed in profile, his expression winding into a bitter sneer. “Nah, man. All’s good here. Just telling an old friend hi. Isn’t that right, Edie?”

Aggression curled between them.

Alive and raging.

Jed was a burly, beefy, hulk of a man, a full beard covering most of his face, his brown hair cut short at the sides and longer on top.

Had I ever imagined him and Austin going toe to toe, I would have put all my money on Jed.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

Jed lifted his chin, as if for the moment he was standing down, turning to me as his tone softened. “You okay, Edie?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Lie. Lie. Lie.

I was shaken to my core.

“I just want to go home.” It left me on a desperate breath.

Jed pushed around Austin and stalked my way. “All right, let’s get you out of here.”

As she passed by Austin, Blaire cast a searching glance in his direction, before her attention flickered over to me, a ton of worried questions moving across her expression.

Questions I didn’t know if I had the strength to answer.

With an arm wound around my shoulder, Jed spun me, breaking the spell Austin had me under, and tucked me into his side.

Protecting and shielding.

He began to lead me away, down the planks and toward his car waiting in the parking lot out front.

With each step we took, I could feel the heat of Austin’s stare. That burning intensity I wasn’t sure I could ever escape.

The hurt and hatred.

It was a hatred I couldn’t tell who it was directed at.

If it was aimed at him or me or the rest of the world that had threatened to choke the life out of us.

The world we were supposed to take on together.

Just as we started to round the corner, I paused because I just couldn’t stop myself, turned to look back at the man who stood there staring back at me.

Emotion gripped his expression just as tight as the clench of his fists.

Hard and tortured.

As if I was the one inflicting the pain.

I choked down the sorrow that rose like a cyclone, spinning and spinning, whipping up the old affection that longed for that soft, understanding boy to take me in his arms and sing in my ear.

Dangerous.

I searched inside myself for the shelter that secured my heart. The flimsy cover I wore that just barely kept me together. I forced myself to speak the words I knew would drive him away, as much of a lie as they were. “And for the record…no, Austin, I definitely don’t believe in fate.”

Wait_24

Read BFF K’s Reviews from the rest of the Bleeding Stars Series

A Stone in the Sea

Drowning to Breathe

Where Lightning Strikes

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About the Author

aljacksonphoto A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.

Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, as well as the newest BLEEDING STARS novels. Watch for the next installments, WAIT and STAY, coming in 2016.

If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.

Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson – Sign up to receive her newsletter http://bit.ly/NewsFromALJackson or text “jackson” to 96000 to receive short but sweet updates on all the important news.

Connect with A.L. Jackson online:www.aljacksonauthor.com

Snapchat: aljacksonauthor

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Cover Reveal – Dirty Talk by S.L. Scott

Because first love deserves a second chance

Standalone Contemporary Romance

From the New York Times Bestselling Author of The Resistance comes TWO sexy and funny standalones.

Dirty Talk will release on September 1st.

Add Dirty Talk to your Goodreads TBR

Sweet Talk aka Models On Top – Danny is AVAILABLE NOW & FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US Amazon UK

One month.

One movie.

One shot at a second chance.

I fell madly in love at first sight with Jane Lewis.

Luke Anders tricked me. The deal was sealed before I knew he was behind it.

I guess I’m about to find out when love gets messy, it’s not just the talk that’s dirty.

Available Now – Sweet Talk (aka Models on Top – Danny)

AVAILABLE NOW & FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US Amazon UK

Read BFF K’s Review of Sweet Talk

Everything you’ve heard about modeling is true, and you haven’t heard the half of it.

It’s glamorous.

It’s sexy.

And yes, the line between work and reality often blurs.

We’re not just prototypes of perfection. Models have feelings and desires, too. We may be genetically gifted, but we’re still human.

I’m Danny Weston, Supermodel.

But one path was traded for another when I chose this career. Ten years later, I would trade my career to have it back. To have her back.

Reese Carmichael is the one woman I would give it all up for, and the only one I can’t have. Yet.

Amazon Kindle Preview

About the Author

Chapter 1 Reveal – Bossman by Vi Keeland

The BFF’s are thrilled to bring you this extended teaser for Bossman by Vi Keeland!

The first time I met Chase Parker, I didn’t exactly make a good impression.

I was hiding in the bathroom hallway of a restaurant, leaving a message for my best friend to save me from my awful date.

He overheard and told me I was a bitch, then proceeded to offer me some dating advice.

So I told him to mind his own damn business—his own tall, gorgeous, full-of-himself damn business—and went back to my miserable date.

When he walked by my table, he smirked, and I watched his arrogant, sexy ass walk back to his date.

I couldn’t help but sneak hidden glances at the condescending jerk on the other side of the room. Of course, he caught me on more than one occasion, and winked.

When the gorgeous stranger and his equally hot date suddenly appeared at our table, I thought he was going to rat me out.

But instead, he pretended we knew each other and joined us—telling elaborate, embarrassing stories about our fake childhood.

My date suddenly went from boring to bizarrely exciting.

When it was over and we parted ways, I thought about him more than I would ever admit, even though I knew I’d never see him again.

I mean, what were the chances I’d run into him again in a city with eight million people?

Then again…

What were the chances a month later he’d wind up being my new sexy boss?

We hope you enjoy this extended preview!

Available for Pre-order on iBooks, Nook and Kobo now!

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Chapter 1 of Bossman by Vi Keeland

What a waste of smooth, shaven legs.

“Jules? It’s Reese. Where the hell are you? I need you. This is the worst date I’ve ever been on. I’m literally falling asleep. I’ve considered smashing my head on the table a few times to keep awake. Unless you want me bloodied and bruised, I need you to call with a fake emergency. Call me back. Please.” Pressing end call, I blew out a frustrated breath as I stood outside the ladies’ room in the dark hallway at the back of the restaurant.

A deep voice from behind me caught me off guard. “Unless he’s also an idiot—in addition to being boring—he’s going to know.”

“Excuse me?” I turned to find a man leaning against the wall, his eyes pointed down as he texted away on his phone. He continued without looking up.

“It’s the oldest trick in the book…the emergency phone call. The least you can do is put in a little more effort. It takes two months to get a reservation at this place, and it’s not cheap, sweetheart.”

“Maybe he should be the one to put in more effort. His sports jacket has a giant hole under the arm, and he’s done nothing but talk about his mother all night.”

“Ever consider that your snobby attitude makes him nervous?”

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head. “You want to talk about snobby? You eavesdrop on my call and give me your unwelcome opinions, all while staring down at your phone. You haven’t even made eye contact with me while you’re speaking.”

The jerk’s fingers froze mid text. Then I watched as his head rose, eyes following a leisurely path starting at my ankles, up over my bare legs, and lingering at the hemline of my skirt before continuing to trace their way over my hips, coming to rest briefly on my breasts before finally settling on my face.

“Yes, that’s right. Up here. These are my eyes.”

He pushed off the wall and stood tall, catching the lone ray that had been lighting the hallway. The streak illuminated his face, and I could see him clearly for the first time.

Really? Not what I was expecting. With that deep, raspy voice and attitude, I assumed I’d find someone older, probably dressed in a stuffy suit. But this guy was gorgeous. Young and gorgeous. Dressed entirely in black—simple and sleek, yet there was an edge to the way he looked. Golden brown hair tousled in that sexy I don’t give a shit way, but still looked perfect. Strong, masculine features—a square, rugged jaw coated with day-old stubble on sunkissed skin, a straight, prominent nose, and big, sexy, sleepy eyes the color of chocolate. Those were now staring intently at me.

Without dropping my gaze, he lifted his arms from his sides, holding them up over his head. “You want to check me for rips before you decide if I’m worthy of speaking to?”

He was gorgeous all right, but definitely an asshole. “That’s not necessary. Your attitude has already decided that for me, and you’re not.”

Lowering his arms, he chuckled. “Suit yourself. Try to enjoy the rest of your evening, sweetheart.”

I huffed, but stole one last fleeting look at the beautiful jerk before I walked back to my date.

Martin was sitting with his hands folded when I returned to my seat at the table.

“Sorry,” I told him. “There was a line.”

“That reminds me of a funny story. This one time, I was at a restaurant with my mother, and when she went to use the ladies’ room…”

His voice faded away while I stared at my phone, willing it to ring. Damn you, Jules. Where are you when I really need you? Around the middle of the story—at least I think it was the middle—I noticed the jerk from the bathroom walking past our table. He smirked at me after taking a look at my rambling date and my disinterested face. Curious, I followed his path to get a look at who he was here with.

Figures.

Dyed blonde, pretty in a slutty sort of way, with a heaping amount of boobage falling out of her low-cut dress. She made googly eyes at her date as he returned; I rolled mine. Yet…I couldn’t help but glance over at their table from time to time.

When our salads arrived, Martin was talking about his mother’s recent appendectomy, and I grew particularly bored. My eyes must have lingered a minute too long, because the guy from the bathroom caught me staring at him. Across the restaurant, he winked, arched an eyebrow, and tipped his glass in my direction.

Jerk.

Since I’d been caught, why bother to hide my watching him? He was certainly more interesting than my date. And he wasn’t shy about looking my way either. When a waiter stopped by his table, I watched as beautiful bathroom guy pointed in my direction and spoke. Martin was still telling some mommy-dearest story as I glanced behind me to see what the attractive jerk across the room could’ve been pointing to. When I turned back, the jerk and his date were standing. Reading his lips, I could make out some of what he was saying…something about joining an old friend, I thought. Then suddenly, they were walking right toward our table.

Is he going to say something to Martin about what he overheard?

“Reese. Is that you?”

What in the hell?

“Umm…yes.”

“Wow. It’s been a long time.” He patted his hand on his chest. “It’s me, Chase.” Before I knew what was happening, the jerk (who was apparently named Chase) reached down and gripped me in a bear hug. While I was in his arms, he whispered, “Play along. Let’s make your night more exciting, sweetheart.”

Dumbfounded, I could only stare as he turned his attention to Martin, extending his hand.

“I’m Chase Parker. Reese and I go way back.”

“Martin Ward.” My date nodded.

“Martin, mind if we join you? It’s been years since Buttercup and I have seen each other. I’d love to catch up. You don’t mind, do you?”

Although he’d asked a question, Chase definitely didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he pulled out a chair for his date and introduced her.

“This is Bridget…” He looked to her for help, and she filled in the blank.

“McDermott. Bridget McDermott.” She smiled, undaunted by our new double date or Chase’s obvious inability to remember her last name.

Martin, on the other hand, looked disappointed that our twosome was now a foursome, although I was certain he would never voice it.

He looked to Chase as he sat. “Buttercup?”

“That’s what we used to call her. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. My favorite candy.”

Once Chase and Bridget were seated, there was a moment of awkwardness. Surprisingly, it was Martin who broke it. “So, how do you two know each other?”

Even though Martin asked the question looking at both of us, I wanted to make it clear to Chase that he was the one on the hot seat. This was his little game.

“I’ll let Chase tell you about the first time we met. It’s really a funny story, actually.” I propped my elbows on the table and rested my head on my folded hands, turning my full attention to Chase while batting my eyelashes with a sly grin.

He didn’t flinch, nor did he take more than a few seconds to come up with a story. “Well, it wasn’t really the first time we met that’s the funny story—more like what happened after we met. My parents split up when I was in eighth grade, and I had to transfer to a new school. I was pretty miserable until I met Reese here on the bus the first week. She was the off-limits pretty girl, but I figured I had no friends to bust my balls if I asked her on a date and she turned me down. So, even though she’s a year older than me, I asked her to the eighth-grade dance. Surprised the shit out of me when she agreed to go.

“Anyway, I was young, with a healthy dose of testosterone, and I got it into my head that she was going to be my first kiss. All of my buddies back at my old school had already gotten theirs, and I figured it was my time. So, when the dance was coming to an end, I tugged Buttercup out of the crappy crepe-paper-and-balloon-decorated gymnasium and into the hall for some privacy. Of course, since it was my first time, I had no idea what to expect. But I went for it—got right in there and started to suck her face.”

Chase paused and winked at me. “It was all good up until then, wasn’t it, Buttercup?”

I couldn’t even respond. I was so floored listening to his story. But again, my lack of response didn’t seem to bother him because he went right along, weaving his tall tale.

“Anyway, this is where the story gets good. Like I said, I didn’t have any experience, but I dove right in—lips, teeth, tongue, and all. After a minute, the kiss started to feel awfully wet, but I was into it, so I kept going and going, not wanting to be the first one to pull away. Eventually, when we came up for air—literally since I’d almost sucked her face off—I realized why it had felt so wet. Reese had gotten a nosebleed in the middle of the kiss, and both of our faces were covered in smeared blood.”

Martin and Bridget laughed, but I was too stunned to react.

Chase reached out and touched my arm. “Come on, Buttercup. Don’t get embarrassed. Those were some good times we had. Remember?”

“How long were you two a couple?” Martin asked.

Just as Chase was about to respond, I reached over and touched his arm in the same patronizing way he’d touched mine. “Not too long. Right after the other incident, we broke up.”

Bridget clapped her hands and bopped up and down in her seat like an excited child. “I wanna hear about the other incident!”

“I’m not sure I should actually share it, now that I think about it,” I mused. “Is this your first date?”

Bridget nodded.

“Well, I don’t want you to assume Chase has the same problem anymore. Since our little incident was so long ago.” I leaned over to Bridget and whispered, “They gain better control as they grow older. Usually.”

Instead of being upset, Chase looked thoroughly pleased with my story. Proud, even. In fact, the rest of the evening went on pretty much the same way. Chase told elaborate stories about our fake childhood, unafraid to embarrass himself in the process, and kept us all amused. I sometimes added to his stories when my mouth wasn’t hanging open at the crap he’d made up.

I hated to admit it, but the jerk had started to grow on me, even while telling stories about my bloody nose and the “unfortunate bra-stuffing incident.” By the end of the evening, I was ordering coffee to stall the night’s end—a far cry from our exchange in the bathroom hallway.

Outside of the restaurant, Martin, Chase, and I all handed the valet our tickets. I preferred to be in control of when a first date started and ended, so I’d met Martin at the restaurant. Of course Bridget had come in Chase’s car like a normal date. She was also practically rubbing up against his side as she clung to his arm while we waited for our cars. When my shiny red Audi pulled up first, I wasn’t sure how to say goodbye to…well…anyone. I took the keys and lingered with the door open.

“Nice car, Buttercup.” Chase smiled. “Better than that hunk of junk you drove in high school, huh?”

I chuckled. “I suppose it is.”

Martin stepped forward. “It was nice seeing you, Reese. I hope we can do this again sometime.”

Rather than wait for him to attempt to kiss me, I went in for a hug. “Thank you for a nice dinner, Martin.”

As I stepped back, Chase stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. Unlike the friendly back-pat I’d given Martin, Chase plastered me against his body. God, it felt good. Then he did the strangest thing… He wound my long hair around his hand a few times and closed it into a fist, using it to tug my head back. His eyes lingered on my lips as I looked up at him, and for a brief second, I thought he might kiss me.

Then he leaned down and kissed my forehead. “See you at the reunion next year?”

I nodded, feeling almost off-kilter. “Umm…sure thing.” I glanced to Bridget after he released me. “Nice to meet you, Bridget.”

Reluctantly, I folded into my car. Feeling eyes on me, I looked up while putting my seat belt on. Chase watched me intently. It looked like he wanted to say something, but after a few heartbeats, it felt strange to sit and wait any longer.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled away with one last wave, wondering why it felt like I was leaving something important behind.

About the Author

Vi Keeland is a native New Yorker with three children that occupy most of her free time, which she complains about often, but wouldn’t change for the world. She is an attorney and a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, & USA Today Best Selling author. Over the last three years, eleven of her titles have appeared on the USA Today Bestseller lists and four on the New York Times Bestseller lists.

Additional Books by Vi Keeland

Life on Stage series (2 standalone books)

Beat

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Throb

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MMA Fighter series (3 standalone books)

Worth the Fight (MMA Fighter Series, Book One)

Amazon Barnes & Noble Kobo Smashwords iBooks

Worth The Chance (MMA Fighter Series, Book Two)

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Worth Forgiving (MMA Fighter Series, Book Three)

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The Cole Series (2 book serial)

Belong to You (Cole Series, Book One)

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Made for You (Cole Series, Book Two)

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Standalone novels

Left Behind (A Young Adult Novel)

Amazon US Amazon UK

First Thing I See

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Cover Reveal – I See You by Molly McAdams

The BFF’s are thrilled to bring you the cover reveal for Molly McAdams, I See You!

I See You Cover

Futures are uncertain, unpredictable-like ink spilled across the purest surface. Nearly imperceptible ripples move and flow until a unique stain is formed. The ink is permanently embedded in the surface…

During one wild night in college, Jentry Michaels is a tidal wave of ink that brands Aurora Wilde’s soul. An unparalleled stain she can’t forget despite the many months that have passed-and despite the distraction she’d hoped she would find in her new relationship with Declan, the charmer who captured her heart soon after. Jentry has irrevocably touched her soul, and he is intertwined in her present and future in ways she never fathomed. Now Aurora is faced with keeping that night hidden though it feels as if the ink has indelibly etched their story across her skin.

When Declan is confronted with his own personal demons, Aurora must decide if she will continue to hold tight to their relationship and a safe, reliable future with him, or if she will turn to Jentry-the guy she can’t forget no matter how hard she tries…

About the Author

Molly McAdams grew up in California but now lives in the oh-so-amazing state of Texas with her husband, daughter, and fur babies. Her hobbies include hiking, snowboarding, traveling and long walks on the beach … which roughly translates to being a homebody with her hubby and dishing out movie quotes.

Cover Reveal – Neighbor Dearest by Penelope Ward

From New York Times bestselling author, Penelope Ward, comes a sexy new STANDALONE novel.

After getting dumped, the last thing I needed was to move next door to someone who reminded me of my ex-boyfriend, Elec.

Damien was a hotter version of my ex.

The neighbor I’d dubbed “Angry Artist” also had two massive dogs that kept me up with their barking.

He wanted nothing to do with me. Or so I thought until one night I heard laughter coming through an apparent hole in my bedroom wall.

Damien had been listening to all of my phone sessions with my therapist.

The sexy artist next door now knew all of my deepest secrets and insecurities.

We got to talking.

He set me straight with tips to get over my breakup.

He became a good friend, but Damien made it clear that he couldn’t be anything more.

Problem was, I was falling hard for him anyway. And as much as he pushed me away, I knew he felt the same…because his heartbeat didn’t lie.

I thought my heart had been broken by Elec, but it was alive and beating harder than ever for Damien.

I just hoped he wouldn’t shatter it for good.

Author’s note – Neighbor Dearest is a full-length standalone novel. Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18.

Release Date: August 15th, 2016

Add Neighbor Dearest to your TBR list on Goodreads!

Pre-order your copy on iBooks HERE

About the Author

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 10-year-old girl with autism and a 9-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.

Other books from Penelope Ward

RoomHate

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Stepbrother Dearest

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Gemini

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Jake Undone (Jake #1)

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My Skylar

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Jake Understood (Jake #2)

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Other books from Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward

Cocky Bastard

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Stuck-Up Suit

Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon Paperback iBooks B&N Kobo

Excerpt – Filthy English by Ilsa Madden-Mills

A smokin’ hot British player…

A jilted girl…

One night of mistaken identity…

Two weeks before her wedding, Remi Montague’s fiancé drops her faster than a drunken sorority girl in stilettos. Armed with her best friend and a bottle of tequila, she hops a plane to London to drown her sorrows before fall semester begins at Whitman University.

She didn’t plan on attending a masquerade party.

She sure didn’t plan on waking up next to the British bad boy who broke her heart three years ago—the devastatingly handsome and naked Dax Blay. Furthermore, she has no clue how they acquired matching tattoos.

Once back at Whitman together, they endeavor to pretend they never had their night of unbridled passion in London.

But that’s damn hard to do when you live in the same house…

One night. Two damaged hearts. The passion of a lifetime.

*A modern love story inspired by Romeo and Juliet*

Excerpt from Filthy English

Chapter 1

Remi

Plain and simple, this night sucked.

Sadly, it was my honeymoon.

I sighed heavily and gazed around Masquerade, an intimately lit London nightclub where everyone wore black domino masks, some elaborate and some plain, to hide their identity. A few die-hards even sported dark clothing with long, loose cloaks. Not me though. I’d gone modern with a slinky little number and three-inch heels, putting my height at nearly six feet. Yep, I’m the giant in the blue dress, towering over every girl and some guys at the bar.

My top teeth dug into my bottom lip as I gazed around the smoky club, my eyes bouncing off random faces. Even in a room full of party people, music, and strobe lights, I was lonely.

My groom was missing.

That’s right. Hartford Wilcox, Jr., aka Mr. Nice Guy at Whitman University in North Carolina, had jilted me two weeks before the big wedding day as we had dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant, Mario’s.

And now here I was—on my honeymoon and getting trashed with my best friend Lulu who’d decided to skip her beach vacation and come with me at the last minute.

She poked me with her finger as we sat in front of the heavy wooden bar of the club. “Hey, Earth to Remi, get that glazed look out of your eyes and order a drink already. I’m thirsty.” She fluffed her pixie-cut pink hair and straightened her black tutu, eyes scoping out the club. “Dang, the men in here are hotter than a billy goat with a blow torch,” she said in her honeyed southern drawl.

I half-heartedly agreed, not really caring, more intent on scanning the bottles behind the bar. “I want tequila,” I murmured. “A whole bottle.”

Her face snapped back to me and her green eyes widened. “Uh-uh. No way. I know what happens when you drink that crap. You either eat a ton of tacos and puke, or you wrap yourself around some cocky bastard with a well-developed tush.”

True. I did love a tight muscular ass.

But I wouldn’t get one tonight.

A short laugh burst out of me, one of those I’m-miserable-but-pretending-to- be-okay-laughs that I’d been doing a lot of lately. For the past two weeks, I’d vacillated between a sobbing mess and an angry woman who became so incensed that “fuck” was the only word that seemed appropriate in any given situation. Going to the post office to mail he dumped me, but thank you anyway cards. Fuck. Going to the wedding venue and not getting the ten thousand dollar deposit back. Fuck. Realizing I was homeless fall semester—which was in two weeks—fuck. Listening to my mother tell me it was my fault. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The bartender delivered my bottle and poured me a shot. I sucked the tequila down while Lulu watched me warily. It tasted like bad decisions and gasoline, but tonight was about forgetting. The sooner the better.

A few minutes later, Lulu went out to dance with a British guy she’d been making eyes at. I sat glumly at the bar, fiddling with my diamond tennis bracelet, rubbing it like rosary beads. I needed to forget Hartford, and according to Lulu, that meant hooking up with someone.

Was she right?

Fate answered in the form of a beautiful man—and by beautiful I mean drop-dead sexy with a backside so delectable and muscular my mouth plopped open.

I snapped my lips shut and adjusted my velvet half-mask—the annoying feathery plumes on the sides kept sticking to my red lipstick—and turned ever so slightly to check him out, not wanting to appear obvious. He slid into the seat next to me, tall and broad with rippling shoulders and a massive frame.

I checked my appearance in a mirror behind the bar, mentally analyzing the odds of a girl like me snagging a hottie like him.

Although no one had ever called me beautiful, I did have two—okay, maybe three—things going for me in the looks department. My shiny, golden-brown hair that hung down in waves to my shoulders, my fluffy “pillow lips” as Lulu described them, and lastly, I had an itsy bitsy space between my two front teeth which were otherwise white and perfect. Lulu claimed the gap lent me an exotic look, like Madonna or Sookie Stackhouse. Whatever. I was a True Blood fan. I went with it.

He shifted on the stool, leaning closer to me. His cologne swirled in the air, the smell of expensive Scotch and musk mingling together to create a heady, slightly dangerous scent. I paused, goosebumps rising on my bare arms. The spicy whiff triggered a distant memory just out of reach.

As slyly as I could, I studied his profile from top to bottom. Like me he wore a black mask, although his was more masculine, not hiding his chiseled, movie star jawline. His lips were carnal and luscious, the bottom more plump than the top with a slight indentation in the middle. As I watched, his tongue swept out and caressed it, his top teeth biting it as if he were deep in thought. He raked a hand through his dark, longish messy hair, held it suspended above his head for a few seconds and then released it, letting it swish back into its tousled yet perfect place.

I tore my eyes away.

Something about him sent loud warning bells ringing in every atom of my body.

Danger, danger. Don’t touch that.

But my gaze would not be denied as I took in the tight black shirt and sculpted chest that was obviously used to the inside of a gym, right down to an arm that looked like it could snap a board in half—or me.

Nice biceps, Mr. Beautiful.

The pièce de résistance was the vivid blue and orange dragonfly tattoo displayed on his left arm. It was larger than my hand and took up most of his bicep. My eyes traced the contours of the design from the papery wings to the multi-faceted eyes. A bold black color outlined the insect, giving it a masculine feel.

Gorgeous.

True Religion jeans stretched down long legs and ended in a pair of black Converse without socks, giving him a boyish quality that was in direct contrast to the crazy-sexy-bad-boy vibe he had going on.

Him tonight?

Maybe. He was the polar opposite of Hartford who was blond, lean, and tattoo-free.

I nibbled on my fingernail. How do I get him to notice little ol’ me?

Just then a redhead with fluffy Farrah Fawcett hair strode up to his stool, bold as brass, wearing a tight, white mini-skirt that barely covered her booty. She brought with her the smell of sweet, cloying perfume, the kind I always got spritzed with at the mall.

She flicked her hair over her shoulder, casually rubbed her finger down his arm and struck up a conversation. Her fake, black lashes—which she’d somehow managed to get outside the eyeholes of her mask—batted. She puffed out her well-developed chest.

He smiled back at her with a wicked grin, his relaxed body language telling me he was confident when it came to women. She whispered in his ear, boobs right in his face, but whatever he said back wasn’t what she wanted to hear because a few ticks later, she crossed her arms, glared at me, and stalked away.

I blinked. What had I done?

Then he turned and pointed his devastating smile at me.

Shit, he’d made eye contact—as much as you could with a claustrophobic mask on.

But wait…

Was he crazy?

Because if he’d turned down her flirtation, I didn’t have a shot.

I didn’t know how to do the fingers-tip-toeing-up-his-arm-thing and sexy hair flicking. I didn’t know a thing about applying fake eyelashes. I didn’t know how to make my breasts sit up that high. I looked away from him and took another shot, feeling anxious and strangely off-kilter.

Mr. Beautiful ordered a drink from the bartender, his British accent smooth as silk as it washed over me. I froze. I almost knew that voice—deep with soft rounded vowels that made you tingle in your lady parts.

What was it about this guy that had me all jacked up and hot for him?

Hello, tequila, my inner voice said. But it was more than that.

Getting brave, I pivoted on my barstool, and found Mr. Beautiful’s eyes on me once more, searching my face. As if he too recognized the pull between us.

My heart played hopscotch, jumping against my chest. My skin prickled. I shivered.

Did I know him?

It clicked.

Dax Blay?

It was his voice, the same deep quality, the kind of voice that made you want to hop into his bed and ride him like a cowgirl.

My breath hitched, and I swallowed down the emotion that zipped up my spine whenever I thought of him. He was my one mistake, the time I’d tossed inhibitions and carefully laid plans aside and went with my instincts, only to have them tossed back in my face.

But the man next to me wasn’t Dax. Thank God.

Last spring at the campus-wide end of the year fraternity party with Hartford, I’d seen Dax, and he’d had shorter hair, like always, and zero tattoos. Yeah. No way.

Plus, last I heard, he was in Raleigh where his father lived.

Yet…

Dax was British. He could have family here. Maybe he got a tattoo?

Nah. I mean, what were the odds of us both being at the same club on the same night in a country where neither of us lived?

I tore my eyes off Mr. Beautiful and waved at a bartender for more limes, but somehow my tennis bracelet snagged on the bodice of my dress, leaving my wrist dangling like a wet dishrag in a most inappropriate place.

I wiggled my arm.

Jiggled it.

Even went so far as to jerk, but it wouldn’t separate.

Sweat popped out on my forehead. Holding my breath, I twisted and tugged the bracelet, forcing the delicate material in my bodice to stretch beyond normal limits.

“Well, hell,” I breathed, pausing to assess.

Skin-tight with a plunging neckline, the dress was mostly a stretchy fabric held together by sequined straps and a zipper on the side. Slated as part of my honeymoon wardrobe, it was a Tory Burch and had cost four hundred dollars, the most I’d ever paid for a fun outfit, and no way did I want to damage it. I might have to return it to rent an apartment at Whitman.

Lulu. I needed Lulu. She was a whiz with wardrobe malfunctions.

I spun around on the barstool and used my free hand to wave at her, but she was slinging herself around dancing, having a great time and completely oblivious. I resorted to flapping both hands at her, one high and one low. Several people waved back with baffled expressions, but Lulu didn’t notice. Dammit.

I groaned and slumped down in my seat, ready to scream. Now what? Go to the bathroom and repair it there? Good plan.

But the club tilted when I stood, the strobe lights making me squint as they flashed in my face. I wobbled in my leopard print heels—that Lulu had insisted I wear—and grabbed the stool to keep my balance. `

I sucked in a breath to gather myself, but I couldn’t think straight. The room spun, and I was suddenly queasy, and why did I slam all that tequila, and oh my god, my wrist is currently attached to my tit like a T. rex arm.

I had to get out of here before someone noticed what an idiot I was.

Trying to be stealth like, I reached across the bar to get my beaded clutch, but because it was my left hand and not my right that I used most of the time, I got off balance and stumbled—and my ankle folded in on itself. I yelped as my shoe catapulted off my foot and vaulted off toward the dance floor, while I fell forward, straight into Mr. Beautiful’s lap.

Filthy English (unedited excerpt)

Copyright Ilsa Madden-Mills

The British are HERE!

Are you ready for Filthy English?

Add to your TBR for a July 11th release here: http://bit.ly/28MpTlk

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.

She’s addicted to all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding heroes in books. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she’s a Gemini), Sephora make-up, and tattoos.

She has a degree in English and a Master’s in Education.

When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.

A Wall Street Journal, NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author

More Books by Ilsa Madden Mills

DIRTY ENGLISH – #1 Amazon Bestseller

Amazon

VERY BAD THINGS – Briarcrest Academy Series #1

Amazon

VERY WICKED BEGINNINGS – Briarcrest Academy Series #1.5

Amazon

VERY WICKED THINGS – Briarcrest Academy Series #2

Amazon

VERY TWISTED THINGS – Briarcrest Academy Series #3

Amazon

Cover Reveal – Filthy English by Ilsa Madden-Mills

The BFF’s are bloody thrilled to bring you the cover reveal for Filthy English! This stand-alone is the follow-up to the Amazon #1 Best Seller and BFF Bestie Dirty English! We’re not so patiently awaiting Dax and Remi’s story! ❤️

A smokin’ hot British player…

A jilted girl…

One night of mistaken identity…

She didn’t plan on attending a masquerade party.

Once back at Whitman together, they endeavor to pretend they never had their night of unbridled passion in London.

But that’s damn hard to do when you live in the same house…

One night. Two damaged hearts. The passion of a lifetime.

*A modern love story inspired by Romeo and Juliet*

Check out our review of Dirty English

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.

She has a degree in English and a Master’s in Education.

When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.

A Wall Street Journal, NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author

More Books by Ilsa Madden Mills

DIRTY ENGLISH – #1 Amazon Bestseller

Amazon

VERY BAD THINGS – Briarcrest Academy Series #1

Amazon

VERY WICKED BEGINNINGS – Briarcrest Academy Series #1.5

Amazon

VERY WICKED THINGS – Briarcrest Academy Series #2

Amazon

VERY TWISTED THINGS – Briarcrest Academy Series #3

Amazon

Coming Soon – Bossman by Vi Keeland

BOSSMAN

(A standalone novel)

A Contemporary Romance novel

New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author Vi Keeland