Are you ready to meet Brock Wellington?
The Bachelor Auction by Rachel Van Dyken will be released on October 4th, but… Did you know you can Pre-order your own paperback for a January delivery!
NOW AVAILABLE for Pre-order
Get your copy here:
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Pre-order this RomCom and receive the e-book on October 4th!
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Blurb
Cinderella never had to deal with this crap.
Jane isn't entirely sure that Cinderella got such a raw deal. Sure, she had a rough start, but didn't she eventually land a prince and a happily-ever-after? Meanwhile, Jane is busy waiting on her demanding, entitled sisters, running her cleaning business, and . . . yep, not a prince in sight. Until a party and a broken shoe incident leave Jane wondering if princes---or at least, a certain deliciously hunky billionaire---maybe do exist.
Except Brock Wellington isn't anyone's dream guy. Hell, a prince would never agree to be auctioned off in marriage to the highest bidder. Or act like an arrogant jerk---even if it was just a façade. Now, as Brock is waiting for the auction chopping block, he figures it's karmic retribution that he's tempted by a sexy, sassy woman he can't have. But while they can't have a fairy-tale ending, maybe they can indulge in a little bit of fantasy . . .
To celebrate this AMAZING release, Rachel would like to offer ONE LUCKY WINNER an Epic Prize!
(Signed Set of The Bet Series + $10 Amazon gift Card)
Share link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/MDk5NjRmMDM5ZDM4YTBjYWM0YzAyYzM0NGI2ODRhOjkwMw==/?
THANK YOU!
We are very excited to bring you the cover for SAY YOU WANT ME by New York Times Bestselling Author Corinne Michaels. This highly anticipated novel guaranteed to pull your heartstrings will release on OCTOBER 31.
From New York Times Bestseller, Corinne Michaels, comes a new friends to lovers standalone romance.
There's no way I'll fall for Wyatt Hennington.
He can keep his Southern drawl, irresistible smile, and those pick up lines all to himself. It's bad enough that I made the mistake of sleeping with him once. It will never happen again. I don't want nor need some cowboy complicating my life.
But I don't always get what I want.
Whether I like it or not, our lives are intertwined. Trying to keep him out of my heart is futile. He'll find every loophole and embed himself there.
The problem is—I don't know if he even loves me. And when the ground crumbles beneath us and our world shatters, I'll finally know if he truly wants me or if we are only fooling ourselves . . .
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Corinne Michaels is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author of The Salvation Series and Say You'll Stay. She's an emotional, witty, sarcastic, and fun loving mom of two beautiful children. Corinne is happily married to the man of her dreams and is a former Navy wife. After spending months away from her husband while he was deployed, reading and writing was her escape from the loneliness.
Both her maternal and paternal grandmothers were librarians, which only intensified her love of reading. After years of writing short stories, she couldn't ignore the call to finish her debut novel, Beloved. Her alpha heroes are broken, beautiful, and will steal your heart.
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Title: Jailbait
Author: Emily Goodwin
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 6
Grayson King is anything but royal…
Pepper Davenwood is the embodiment of class…
They say opposites attract, but what happens when they collide?
Recently released from prison, the only thing Grayson wants more than a fresh start is a chance to prove himself to the only woman he’s ever loved. But with a past he can’t talk about, a criminal record he can’t explain, and the mess his father left in wake of his sudden death, Grayson knows it’s not going to happen.
Until it does.
And now that he’s back in her life, Grayson realizes the very woman he’d give up everything for might be the one to take it all away. Because the heart knows no limits when it comes to love, and Grayson will do whatever it takes to keep Pepper safe.
Even if it means breaking the law…again.
Jailbait
Copyright 2016 Emily Goodwin
Prologue
Grayson
Rich bitch.
I stop in the middle of the driveway, hot sunlight warming me in my leather jacket, and watch her cross through a breezeway, heels softly clicking on the cobblestone. Wind blows her hair around her face, and strands of gold shimmer in the sun. Laughter floats through the air, hardly audible over the bubbling fountain surrounded by perfectly groomed white flowers. She’s busy talking on the phone as she gets into a black Tesla, and doesn’t even see me.
But it’s not the first time I’ve seen her, nor is it the first time I’ve walked up these thick, stone steps leading to the Davenwood Manor. I set my gaze on the dark oak double doors, covered in intricate carvings and the letters “D” and “W” etched into the frosted glass.
The Tesla quietly comes to life and takes off down the driveway. I turn, unable to help but admire the beauty of both the car and the driver. I don’t like the way my heart flutters when I get a glimpse of her face in the rearview mirror. Her golden brown hair tangles behind her in the wind as she accelerates. She’s so grown up, miles from the scraggly girl I used to run around with. I blink and turn back to the doors, noticing a security camera tucked away in a corner of this ostentatious covered porch, and knock on the door.
Just seconds later, the door is pulled back and I’m hit with a blast of cold air.
“Good afternoon,” a voice comes from inside. I’m not able to see the speaker in the dark foyer. “Mr. King, I presume?”
“Yes,” I say gruffly.
The outline of a butler dressed in all black comes into view. He bows his head slightly and extends his arm. “Come in.”
I step inside the century-old mansion, remembering the first time I set foot in this place twenty years ago. I couldn’t wait to get inside then, thinking it looked like a place Bruce Wayne might have spent his childhood before he turned into a vigilante. And maybe—just maybe—there could be a badass billionaire living in here too that I’d stumble into when I got lost on my way to the bathroom. That never happened, of course, much to my childhood disappointment.
“Mr. Davenwood is waiting for you,” the butler continues and turns, leading me through the foyer. The place is dim, and all the dark wood and faded paintings aren’t helping. Weird, how I feel so closed in from the lack of light when this place is fucking huge. The same familiar smells hang in the air: wood polish, leather, and an earthy perfume. The scent of the rich.
I follow behind the butler. I’ve been in here before, but can’t navigate around all 20,000 square feet. The house darkens the further in we go, and I can’t help but feel like I’m walking into the belly of the beast. The butler opens another set of heavy oak doors, and steps to the side. Sunlight pours through two-story windows that are surrounded by bookshelves that run from the floor all the way to the ceiling. A balcony runs around the perimeter of the bookshelves, and a metal ladder is attached to the shelves. A large desk is situated in front of a cast iron spiral staircase. A man who I haven’t seen in years sits at that desk. I pause, keeping my face neutral. Those years have not been kind to him.
“Grayson King.” With a crunch of leather, Alcott Davenwood rises from the tall chair and buttons his navy blue jacket. “It’s been too long.” He gives a curt nod to the butler, who steps out of the library and closes the door. Alcott turns his attention back to me with a slight smile on his thin lips.
I move my head up and down, unsure of the etiquette of the rich. I don’t really give a shit, but I’m too curious to make a wrong move and piss the guy off. We haven’t seen each other since my father’s funeral six years ago, and suddenly he’s calling me, asking that I come from my home in California to this estate in New York with no explanation as to why.
“Thank you for coming,” he says and moves around the desk. “You look well, considering.” Standing a few feet in front of me, he looks me over before clapping me on the back. The greeting is over quickly, and he extends his hand to the velvet couch. I sit on the edge, flicking my eyes around the library.
Alcott goes back to his desk, and with a heavy sigh, sits in the tall chair. He puts his elbows on the desk and swallows. “You’re wondering why I called.” He’s not asking; he knows I’m in the dark. “There’s no easy way to put this, and you know I’m not one to bullshit around things.”
I don’t know that, because I don’t know Alcott Davenwood. My father did, and the years of friendship and trust between them has created some sort of weird bond between the man and myself. If my father trusted this man, then I trust him. My father didn’t hand out trust and friendship to just anyone. And if it wasn’t for Alcott, his attorney, and his money, my father wouldn’t have been able to get custody of me and I’d never escaped my drug addicted mother living in a run down apartment in the ghetto of Chicago. I’ve only seen Alcott a few times in person, but I know I basically owe this man my life.
That’s never a good debt to have.
“I’m dying.” Alcott’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“What?” I say, even though I clearly heard him.
“I’m dying,” he repeats and puts his hand to his chest. “Lung cancer.”
I blink, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry…but why are you telling me?”
Alcott lets out a hearty laugh. “A fair question. I’m a businessman, Grayson. Protecting my assets is a priority, and there is nothing more important to me than my daughter. I’m sure you remember her.”
Of course I remember Pepper Davenwood. She’s not someone you can ever forget. Though judging by the way she peeled out of the driveway in her expensive car, she sure as shit doesn’t remember me.
“Pepper is safe, well guarded. She knows this. Hell, the world knows this. No one will touch her…while I’m alive.”
Silence falls between us as things click into place. “How long do you have?”
“The doctors gave me six months.”
“How long ago?” I find myself leaning forward.
“Six months ago. I’m on an experimental drug that’s giving me more time. But as with life, it’s never enough.” Alcott inhales deeply and looks out the window. His face remains stoic, but I catch a glimpse of emotion in his eyes. A ruthless businessman coming from a long line of rich assholes, Alcott Davenwood has made a fair share of enemies in his day. His gray eyes move back to me. “I assume you know why you’re here now.”
“Why me?”
“I need someone capable,” he begins to explain. “You’re a man with a particular skill set, one that can come in handy while protecting my daughter.”
I feel my chest begin to tighten as it hits me that Alcott Davenwood knows me a hell of a lot better than I know him. It makes sense though; I wondered how the hell my father was able to pay my bail and afford that lawyer just months before he passed. I swallow hard and look at Alcott, still having a hard time wrapping my head around how someone like him—a high society man, with an aristocratic family tree, and more money than God—could be such good friends with a man like my father, who’s biggest claim to fame was becoming VP of The Jackals Motorcycle Club for three years before his heart attack.
Alcott Davenwood and Nicolas King were polar opposites. Maybe that’s why they made such good friends, kept the interest in each other’s lives. My father rarely spoke of his time in the Army, but I know that’s how they met.
“And,” Alcott lowers his voice, leaning forward over his desk. “I need someone I can trust.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You trust me?” I could bust out laughing right now, but don’t. The thought of something happening to Pepper is sobering.
“I do trust you,” he says, speaking each word slowly. “You are your father’s son.”
“You know my past…I’ve done some bad things,” I blurt.
Alcott’s eyes narrow and his weak smiles widens. “So have I.”
The man before me is aged, weakened by sickness. Yet I find him more intimidating than anyone I’ve ever met, and I’ve met some fucked up people. Because a man like Alcott Davenwood has money, and money can buy anything.
“Don’t you have hired guards?” I can’t help but ask.
“Many. But the thing is, they work for me. And when I’m gone…” He trails off with a shake of his head.
Yeah, I get it. Once Alcott is dead and gone, the company and all the Davenwood riches fall to Pepper, his only child. And last time I checked—granted it was years ago—Pepper had no interest in taking over the empire. She’ll sit back and let whoever the hell her father assigned assistant status to make the decisions. She’ll be a sitting duck, at the mercy of the highest bidder.
Fuck.
“My Pepper is a smart girl,” Alcott goes on. “Smart, and kind.” He says it like a flaw, like he’s saying she’s lazy or vain. Alcott might be the only person in the world to think kindness is a flaw, but when people are constantly trying to pull the rug out from underneath you—and that rug happens to be made of billions—maybe you see the world differently.
“So,” he continues. “Are you interested in the position?”
“What exactly do I have to do?” I ask, though it doesn’t feel like I have much of a choice. If I say no, I’m fairly sure Alcott Davenwood would see to it the rest of my life is even shittier than it already is.
“Learn Pepper’s habits, where she likes to spend time with, who her friends are…without being seen.”
“You want me to spy on her?” I lean back on the soft velvet couch, cocking an eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t phrase it that way,” Alcott tells me, though really, I could think of worse things than watching Pepper all day. “Knowing who she associates with now before the public learns of my demise is imperative.”
Before the pubic… “Pepper doesn’t know, does she?”
“Only the doctors at Good Faith Methodist Hospital and now you know. And I’d like to keep it that way.”
I move my head up and down, looking right into Alcott’s eyes, and wonder why the fuck would he keep this from his daughter? My old man and I weren’t exactly best buddies, but when it came down to his final hour, I wished I’d known and taken advantage of the time we had together.
An image of Pepper flashes in my mind, to the fleeting time I got to call her mine. She was eighteen and full of rebellion and lust. I remember the times I’d sneak over, coming through the woods and meeting her in the courtyard. She’d bring me up into her room, and we assumed no one knew. Judging by the blinking red light in every corner of this room alone, this place has as much security as the White House.
It’s a wonder Alcott never skinned me alive. Though in hindsight, I wasn’t a threat. I didn’t care about her money or her family name.
Only her.
“I will pay you well,” Alcott says. “More than double what you’re making and Cal’s Customs, and more than you’d ever be able to earn on your own given your…your status.” My criminal record, he means. “And I will provide you with a place to live, a new phone number, and a vehicle more conspicuous than that hunk of metal you ride around.”
My fingers twitch, wanting to curl into fists. Don’t insult my bike, no matter who you are…and how the fuck does he know all this? Right. You can buy information. I internally shudder. No wonder he needs someone from the outside to watch over Pepper.
“I prefer to provide you with whatever you need…leave the past behind you, so to speak,” he says and narrows his eyes. He leans forward, looking me right in the eye. “This may be presumptuous of me, but I assume you want out.”
My mouth goes dry and sweat breaks out along my back. Alcott knows fucking everything. And of course I want out. I never wanted in. No one gets out alive. No one. I look Alcott hard in the eye, and he raises his eyebrows ever so slightly, telling me it’s possible.
No one has gotten out alive…but no one had a billionaire buying their freedom either. I might have a snowball’s chance in hell, but if I can get out, get away, and keep the skin on my back…fuck. It’s worth it on its own.
“Glad we can come to an agreement,” Alcott says.
“I haven’t accepted the job yet,” I remind him.
Alcott looks at me, the smile gone. I keep my face set, a bit of a permanent scowl darkening my features. It’s in my nature to play hardball, to not let anyone not let anyone know what’s going on beneath the surface. If I were a betting man, I could make a decent profit by betting that Alcott already knows what I’ve worked so damn hard to bury.
Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have called me. And I wouldn’t have risked everything to come here. But I’ll be damned to admit it to anyone else, let alone myself.
I’ve been in love with Pepper Davenwood since the day we met.
Emily Goodwin is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of over a dozen of romantic titles. Emily writes the kind of books she likes to read, and is a sucker for a swoon-worthy bad boy and happily ever afters.
She lives in the midwest with her husband and two daughters. When she's not writing, you can find her riding her horses, hiking, reading, or drinking wine with friends.
Hosted By:
Title: Weighing of the Heart
Series: Of the Heart #1
Author: Jessica Florence
Release Date: Sept 28, 2016
Add on Goodreads
What happens when the myths of old become reality?
Thalia Alexander has lived her life in peace until her twenty fifth birthday when she has a strange dream about a man.
A tall, dark, and sexy man that shows up at her work the next morning.
Tristan Jacks is trouble with a capital T, but for some strange reason she is drawn to him like nothing she has ever experienced before. He has this possessiveness and adoration for her that she can’t explain. It’s like they have known each other forever.
Thalia’s strange dreams continue to stalk her as her relationship with Tristan builds to be a love that will last the ages.
And when those dreams and reality start to clash, will Thalia be able to handle the truth?
Could the world of ancient myths truly exist in modern times?
Thalia Alexander has lived her life in peace until her twenty fifth birthday when she has a strange dream about a man.
A tall, dark, and sexy man that shows up at her work the next morning.
Tristan Jacks is trouble with a capital T, but for some strange reason she is drawn to him like nothing she has ever experienced before. He has this possessiveness and adoration for her that she can’t explain. It’s like they have known each other forever.
Thalia’s strange dreams continue to stalk her as her relationship with Tristan builds to be a love that will last the ages.
And when those dreams and reality start to clash, will Thalia be able to handle the truth?
Could the world of ancient myths truly exist in modern times?
Jessica Florence, Kaleidoscope of Romance
Author <3 PotterHead <3 Movie Geek Extraordinaire.
Writer of Surviving Valentine. The of The Heart trilogy, Evergreen, Lights of Scotland Series, and The Final Love series.
When she's not writing her next invigorating story. You can find her running her own business, and spending time with her husband and daughter in southwest Florida.
Title: Written in the Scars
Author: Adriana Locke
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Kari March Designs
Photographer: Lauren Perry, Perrywinkle Photography
Cover Model: Ghent Scott
Release Date: October 20, 2016
Blurb
Falling in love is easy.
Falling out of love is the hardest thing in the world.
And Elin and Ty Whitt are terrible at it.
The first time the local basketball star smiled at Elin, she was a goner. It was just so damn easy to fall for the dark-haired hometown hero with his charming smile and strong, athletic build.
Thousands of sleepy smiles, aimless drives down country roads, and squeaks of the backdoor after a swing shift later, reality hits. And it hits hard. Falling in love was definitely the easy part. Watching it break apart was impossible.
Through the tears, the second-guesses, the memories of a life built together, the world keeps spinning. With each turn comes clarity and hope—sometimes in the form of a pair of muddy boots by the back door or from the words of a wise friend.
When Ty shows back up with a new found determination to put his family back together, Elin's torn between the fights of the past and the possibility of a new start. This is the man that holds her heart, the man she loves beyond anything else. But this is also the one person in the world that can cause her the most pain.
Life’s not always easy. Love’s not for the faint of heart. But with life comes lessons and Ty and Elin have the scars to prove it. But it's their love written in those scars that will hold them together … or break them apart.
Falling out of love is the hardest thing in the world.
And Elin and Ty Whitt are terrible at it.
The first time the local basketball star smiled at Elin, she was a goner. It was just so damn easy to fall for the dark-haired hometown hero with his charming smile and strong, athletic build.
Thousands of sleepy smiles, aimless drives down country roads, and squeaks of the backdoor after a swing shift later, reality hits. And it hits hard. Falling in love was definitely the easy part. Watching it break apart was impossible.
Through the tears, the second-guesses, the memories of a life built together, the world keeps spinning. With each turn comes clarity and hope—sometimes in the form of a pair of muddy boots by the back door or from the words of a wise friend.
When Ty shows back up with a new found determination to put his family back together, Elin's torn between the fights of the past and the possibility of a new start. This is the man that holds her heart, the man she loves beyond anything else. But this is also the one person in the world that can cause her the most pain.
Life’s not always easy. Love’s not for the faint of heart. But with life comes lessons and Ty and Elin have the scars to prove it. But it's their love written in those scars that will hold them together … or break them apart.
Author Bio
USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.
She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather's nice and there's always a piece of candy in her pocket.
For sneak peeks, giveaways, and more, please join Adriana's Facebook Group, Books by Adriana Locke, or her Goodreads group, All Locked Up.
She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather's nice and there's always a piece of candy in her pocket.
For sneak peeks, giveaways, and more, please join Adriana's Facebook Group, Books by Adriana Locke, or her Goodreads group, All Locked Up.
Author Links
Adjust. Adapt. Accept.
But never give up hope.
Falling…
Falling…
Falling…
When eighteen-year-old cousins, Julie and Mary Anne Adler, are plummeted onto a grassy field surrounded by a post-apocalyptic world, they have no idea where they are, or how they got there. In this unfamiliar wasteland run by a group of refugees called the Sector, the girls search for answers.
But things get complicated when one of the men in the Sector finds himself enamored with Julie. Despite Julie’s own feelings toward him, she knows she and her cousin must return home. Now it’s up to them to find a way to escape this strange and isolating place…
Or die trying.
We stand and look around. We're on the edge of a plot of land about the size of a football field, and three-quarters of the edges are lined by a chain-link fence. A large stone wall surrounds the field beyond my view. No mountains. The road, only several feet in front of us, leads three different ways, yet something in my brain is pulling me back to the other end of the field. I turn, hoping to see a sign that will let me know where we should begin. In the distance stands the skeleton of a rusty old water tower flanked by the remnants of what I can only guess was once a typical town.
“Do you see my car?” Mary Anne asks.
I shake my head. Just as I move to take a step, a loud whistle sounds off, followed by sirens, and my body jumps in surprise. Two vehicles round the corner and charge straight for us.
Mary Anne stiffens when she sees them, her hands covering her ears from the deafening sound.
“Run!” I scream, reaching for her arm, but she refuses to move.
The sirens cease, but the engines rev louder as they pick up speed. I can’t leave her, and they’ll easily catch up to us before we even make it halfway across the field. Several men holding guns come into view.
One man’s raspy shout to, “Get down!” thunders out above the engine. “On your stomach!”
Mary Anne and I glance at each other, her wide eyes mirroring my own fear as we drop to our knees. With my forehead pressed against the cool ground, my aching body is the furthest thing from my mind. Tires are crunching on the street just ahead before they come to a stop, and I know they’ll be here soon.
We shouldn’t be here.
I hear more shouts and voices raised. Lifting my head slightly, the two modified vehicles looking straight out of a Mad Max movie stand before us, four men in each, all carrying firearms. All eight of them jump out and start walking toward us.
“Get back down!” one of them shouts from the road. I quietly resume my place with my head down.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” I hear a smile in this guy’s voice.
“Stand up,” a third man gruffly commands.
I hear movement from Mary Anne’s direction and realize she’s doing what she’s told, only now I’m too scared to stand. “Can you help us?” Mary Anne stammers. “We need to get back to our car.”
She’s asking them for help? My first instinct is that they are foes, not friends, but I hope she’s right, even though Mary Anne has never been great at reading people.
Footsteps approach. “Get up, girl,” the gruff voice demands again and nudges my leg roughly with his boot.
A small pain from my leg strikes up my body, and I try to ignore it as I slowly rise and observe the men several feet away on the pavement, ready to raise their weapons. I immediately notice they are all wearing matching dark shirts and dark pants tucked into combat boots. The uniforms giving away that they’re military of some sort, along with the guns, worries me that we might be in trouble for unknown reasons. Trespassing?
The gruff man who nudged my leg is standing directly in front of me on the grass, examining me as though I’m an alien. His salt and pepper hair frames his face perfectly, and his sullen eyes give me the impression he’s seen hard times. He appears to be older than my own grandfather, yet I’d have to place my bets on this guy if the two of them were to ever get into a fight. I’ve never seen an older man in such great shape.
I shift my sights back to the grass and concentrate on squishing my toes into the soaked bottoms of my sneakers.
“They’re just girls,” I hear the guy with the smile in his voice say from somewhere in the background. He steps out and stops when he sees me, blinking a few times before his gaze moves to Mary Anne and then back to me again. I feel like cattle on sale as all the men quietly examine us.
“You know as well as I do that girls can cause just as much damage as men,” Gruff responds as he moves to Mary Anne, his husky tone booming in the open air.
Bria Starr grew up in a small town in Minnesota and continues to live there with her husband and two kids. She’s a stay at home mom who is very close with her family, loves junk food, and is always cold. Her favorite things include reading books, writing, listening to music, and watching too many movies.
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