Prologue Reveal – Catching Carly by Emma Hart

 

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Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000035_00027]My name is Carly Porter… And I’m really good at bad decisions.

How do I know this, exactly? Well, not including the time I accidentally bleached my eyebrows or sprained my ankle changing a lightbulb…

I had sex with my best friend’s brother.

Zeke Elliott has been a thorn in my side for eleven years. A very sexy, very tempting, very freaking annoying one. With big…hands.

And now my clitoris has a crush on the guy.

Seriously. I can’t look at him without my vagina performing accidental kegels. Which would be fine, but he’s Cain’s brother. I hate him. He’s off limits, right?

Right.

 

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Catching Carly Prologue Excerpt

“This never happened.”

Zeke raises an eyebrow. “Nothing has happened.”

I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. “Don’t be a dick. You know what I mean. This is only going to happen because I’m a little drunk.”

“I thought you said it never happened.”

“You’re being a dick.”

His grin is wide and a little cocky. “So right now it’s happening because you’re a little drunk, but tomorrow it won’t have happened.”

I nod. “That’s right. You and I will forget it ever happened.”

His blue-green eyes sweep the length of my body before he meets my gaze, his lips dropping into a self-sure smirk. “Trust me, Carly, you won’t be forgetting this when I’m through with you.”

“Through with me? What am I? A naughty child awaiting punishment?”

“Look, if you want me to spank you, I’m good with that.” He raises his hands in front of his body. “In fact, I’m more than good with that.”

I blink at him. It really doesn’t help that he has his hands up like that. He has big, rough hands that would feel pretty good across my ass…

Good lord, Carly. Focus.

Wait. Does that count as focusing? I think it might.

Hmm…

“We’ll see,” I finally say, clearing my head of that momentary fog. “The point is, whether your ego insists I’ll remember this tomorrow—”

“You will.”

“—Or not,” I continue, ignoring him. “As far as everyone else is concerned, it never has and never will happen. Are we clear?”

“Crystal. Now, are you going to shut the hell up?”

“No. As a rule, I don’t shut up. Ever.”

Zeke steps forward, shutting the distance between us in less than three seconds. He lifts his hand to my chin and cups it, dipping his handsome face down close to mine. “That’s fine. I think I’ll prefer it when you’re screaming for more and calling me God.”

I raise both of my eyebrows. “I’m not going to call you God.”

“I guarantee you’ll feel differently when you’re having the best orgasm of your life.”

“That’s ambitious.” I’ve had some pretty good orgasms. Mostly battery-operated ones, because they can’t cum, so they don’t have to stop.

Zeke circles his strong arm around my waist and yanks me right against him. The force with which my body hits his makes me gasp, something that only makes his smirk a little stronger. “That’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

“Again,” I say, swallowing. “Ambitious.”

“Carly?”

“What?”

He lowers his face so the tip of his nose brushes mine and locks onto me with his gaze. “The next time you talk, you’ll be screaming my name.”

I open my mouth to rebuke that ridiculous—yet hot—statement, but he’s quicker. He drops his mouth to mine and takes my bottom lip between his. His teeth graze over the soft skin, and an uncontrollable shiver rockets down my spine.

Dear god, he’s barely touched me and I want to whimper like a puppy wanting a belly rub.

Except, of course, I want him to rub a whole lot more than my belly.

And do a whole lot more than rubbing while he’s at it too.

This is dumb. I know this. It’s dumber than dumb. It’s the most stupid idea in the history of stupid ideas.

Hell on a Harley Davidson, I’ve lost my goddamn mind.

 

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About the Author

 

emma-hart

By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies—usually wine—and writes books.

Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.

She likes to be busy—unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.

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Cover Reveal – Notes of the Past by Jodie Larson

Title: Notes of the Past
Series: Lightning Strikes #2
Author: Jodie Larson
Release Date: March 20, 2017
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I love women. And it’s easy to see why. Being the lead guitarist for the country’s hottest band, Lightning Strikes, has them practically jumping into my bed and walking out the door just as quick. Which is perfect for me. Emotions complicate things, and I don’t do complicated. Not anymore.

Sure, I was in love once, and it was great. Then it was gone. That’s when I vowed never again. Life is better without empty, broken promises.

After five years of hard work, sacrifices, and determination, everything I’ve ever wanted is in my grasp: a successful career, touring city after city and being accountable to no one.

Then she starts appearing in the crowds. The girl I once loved, and who walked away.

Only, Tatum Mitchell wasn’t just any girl; she was my girl.

Will she be the wedge that drives the last part of my heart away, or will she break down the walls I’ve built? We’re connected through the lyrics of our heart and the notes of our past, but is that enough?

*May be read as a standalone*  

Excerpt for Notes of the Past

Prologue

Sunlight dances across the room as the warm spring breeze carries the scent of the blooming lilacs through the open window. Tatum’s musical laugh hits me as I tackle her to the bed, her blond hair fanning out around her. When I suggested we skip school to stay home all day, I didn’t actually think she’d go along with it. She was hesitant at first, but when I told her my parents were gone, the little devil inside her wanted to come out and play.

And here we are, locked away in our own private oasis where we can be free. In one month, we’ll be free to do this all the time. No more glaring eyes or disapproving faces from the losers at school and the teachers who keep breaking us apart. Why isn’t it appropriate to make out with your girlfriend in the hallway?

I’ve been in love with Tatum Mitchell for ten years. She’s only known about it for two. Now, with senior year coming to an end, we’ll have more carefree days like this. And we won’t have to skip school to be together.

“Myles! Stop! You’re going to make me pee my pants.” I can’t help but continue my assault. Her laughter is addictive. I can never get enough of it.

“No. You’re at my mercy. I’m kidnapping you to be my love slave and obey my every command.”

It’s not entirely a joke. There have been many nights where I’ve dreamed of us going away, leaving everything behind. We’d live off the money from the gigs and random bars we’d play in. Then, one day, we’ll strike it big, get the giant house and recording contracts and live happily ever after.

“Love slave?” She sits up after I relent and pull back. “You need to think of something else because that’s not happening.”

I tap my chin. “Sex slave?”

Tatum narrows her eyes. “Try harder.”

“Mine forever?”

Her glorious smile melts my heart. This woman is my everything. There’s no one on this earth that will ever compare to her. I can’t believe I’ve found the one.

“Definitely yours.” Tatum twirls a finger along my chest, snuggling close to my side. “Since we’re discussing forever, maybe we should actually talk about it.”

Turning my head, I kiss the tip of her nose. “Okay, what should we talk about?”

“Kids. How many?”

“It’s a little early to start thinking of that, isn’t it?” Hell, we’re only eighteen. I’d like to think kids will be way down the road. We need some alone time first.

“Humor me.” Tatum bats her eyelashes, knowing she’s got me where she wants me.

“Well, how many little me’s could you tolerate running after?” I ask, brushing some hair from her face.

She laughs. “If they’re exactly like you? Maybe one. But if they’re like me, probably three.”

“And if they’re a good combination of us both?”

“Then four,” she says with a laugh.

Out of nowhere, images of Tatum pregnant with our child pop into my head. Kids have never been on my radar, but the thought of rubbing her swollen belly and feeling our baby kick brings a smile to my face. It’s the ultimate way to mark her as mine.

Not to mention her boobs are going to be huge for a few years. Added bonus for me.

“Okay, what else?” She runs her hand down my shirt, tracing my abs. I flex them a little, just so she has more to maneuver around.

“Wedding. Big or small?”

“Small. I don’t want a huge fuss. Just our family and friends.”

I nod. “Agreed. But you better wear white.”

“Seeing as I’m dating you, I’m sure everyone knows I’m not pure,” Tatum says with a smirk.

That fucking smirk. I’d love to kiss it right off her face. Not yet.

“And career? What if one of us makes it big?”

Her lips connect with mine, teasing and tasting, coaxing me to open for her. A change of events, but one I’m willing to comply. Her sweetness runs over my tongue as I take the kiss further, locking her in my arms.

She pulls away, breathless and panting. “I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

“And what if I’m a plumber?” Not likely. Doing anything that doesn’t involve the guitar isn’t an option. I’ll play lowly gigs at the bars my whole life before that’ll happen.

“Then I’ll be the best plumber’s wife out there.”

I slip my hand under her waistband, playing with the top of her panties. “And if you become the world’s greatest guitarist, I’ll gladly be your back-up.”

Finding my way past her barrier, I find the smooth, wet skin I’m looking for. Her eyes light up with excitement as I play with her body.

“Kiss me.” It’s a request she doesn’t have to ask twice for.

Rolling her over, I lose myself into the woman I love, who’s going to give me everything I’ve ever hoped and dreamed for.

The room spins as I sit up in bed, my heart frantically trying to stay in my chest. Looking around, everything’s different. This isn’t my room or my bed. My guitars aren’t in the corner, nor are my music sheets scattered across the desk.

And the woman sleeping next to me is a stranger, another nameless face to occupy my nights.
Why does this dream keep happening? It was the past, long gone and buried. Or so I thought.

Plans change, shit happens. People leave.

Who needs plans? I’m living in the right now, worrying about no one but me.

And that’s how I want it.

About the Author

Jodie Larson lives along the shores of Lake Superior in northern Minnesota with her husband and four beautiful daughters. Writing has always been something she enjoys and uses it as an escape, in addition to getting lost in her numerous books. Her family is highly supportive of both her love for reading and writing. A lover of all things happily ever after, she writes romantic novels because the world could use a little more love.