Teardrop Shot, an all-new sexy and angst filled sports romance from New York Times bestselling author Tijan is available now!

                             




He came out, all ready, saw me, and shook his head. Giving him the biggest smile I could muster, I handed over his coffee and dangled my keys. “Let’s go.” My neighbor was coming home from his night shift at a factory. He was trudging down the hallway when he saw us, lifted a hand in greeting, then stopped. His head shot upright and his shoulders stiffened. He rotated swiftly on his heels, his eyes wide and bulging. He held up a hand. “Is that—” “No.” Lying. Another superhero quality of mine. “It’s late, Bill. That’s my brother.” Reese squashed a laugh and nodded to the guy. “What’s up.” It wasn’t a question, but a greeting, and he hustled me past my neighbor. I gave Reese a look as we went to my underground parking spot. “He’s going to hammer me later. He’ll know he wasn’t seeing things.” “He’s a fan?” “The biggest.” Reese smirked, meeting my gaze over the top of my car. “Bigger than you?” We were entering cheesy territory here. We needed to scale it back. “I have a cardboard cutout of you,” I told him. “In my closet.” He froze. “You’re joking.” I was, but now I had to buy one. “Wouldn’t you like to think that.” Settling into my chair, I felt better—more familiar terrain again. “But the funny thing is, next time you come, you won’t know if I was serious or if I bought him after I told you.” Reese just rolled his eyes, putting the coffees in the cup holders for both of us. He was looking around as I pulled out of the lot. “This is actually a nice place.” “The underground parking is nice. The apartment building itself is okay. Nothing great.” I didn’t tell him how the lights in the laundry room would dim, so if I used those machines, I had to prop the door open with a rock. Or how I’d only do my clothes between seven in the morning and nine. Nine was the latest. After that, people were stirring, and there were a few neighbors I wasn’t so sure about. Reese whistled as I pulled up to departures seven minutes later. “You weren’t kidding. That’s close.” “And you’ve barely had your coffee.” He yawned now, blinking a few times. “I’ll grab some inside. You can have it.” I parked, but didn’t shut off the engine. “Do not get out,” he warned. I grinned. “Wasn’t planning on it. We really don’t need to go to that level, with the hugging, would we kiss or not… Too many strings, friend.” He smiled back, but his eyes had started to smolder a bit. He leaned over, dropping his voice, “I’ll answer one of those questions.” His lips caught mine in a good, firm kiss, one that sent my senses spiraling and stole just the slightest bit of oxygen from my lungs. I might’ve needed to gather my bearings as he pulled back and grabbed his bag from the back. Before he turned, he gave me a second kiss, this one lighter. “Go home. Go to bed,” he said as he reached for the door. “Text me when you park, and again when you’re inside your place. Humor me. I’m a friend. I can care.” He was starting to leave, but I tugged on his shirt. He paused, looking back. “And after that?” I asked. “We’re friends. Let’s play it by ear.” Our gazes held, a shared reminder of the other details in our agreement. I saw his darkening, so I let go. “Okey-dokey. Hope you don’t get mauled.” He laughed. “It’s too early for that.” But we both knew the truth. It could happen. As if reading my mind, he amended, “It’s usually not that bad. If it is—and I don’t think it will be—airport security is good with celebrities here. They’ve got a special room and everything. Plus…” He reached in his bag and pulled out a baseball hat, dragging it low over his eyes and flicking up his hood. “This is pretty incognito.” His height wasn’t, but I decided to pick my battles. “I’ll expect twenty questions by the time you land.” He laughed. “Don’t think so. I’m going to be sleeping that whole time, but I’ll text you updates just to annoy you.” He got out, but bent back down, his tone more serious. “Do me a favor? Only take that job if you want it. Don’t take it because you feel desperate. I can loan you money, if anything.” That wiped all joking aside. “Reese.” Dammit. “I’ll never lose myself in a guy again. Ever.” “Yeah, but before you didn’t have a friend who could loan you money until you got to a place where you could pick something that actually made you happy.” His eyes flashed a warning. “Now you do. Just think about it. It’s a loan. I’d give one to another friend in the same spot.” I rolled my eyes. He chuckled. “Drive safe. I liked screwing you. Let’s do it again and soon.” “I changed my mind. Get mauled!” I could hear his laugh as he shut the door and headed inside, his bag over his shoulder. Only a couple guys squinted at him, their heads cocked to the side. He was right. His incognito look really was incognito, but he was still frustrating. And I was hoping for thesoontoo. Driving back, my phone kept buzzing. Reese: Checking in. Reese: I had to check my bag. It’s too big for a carry-on. Reese: Two autographs. Reese: Going up the escalator now. Reese: At the security line. The guards are cool. They promised not to be angry when Thunder beats the Coyotes. Reese: Through security. He knew I couldn’t answer. I was driving. Reese: I’m at gate A6. Reese: This is a nice airport. I always forget till I get here. Reese: I upgraded to first class. Reese: Coach wants to make sure I get back in time for meetings this morning. Reese: Still not boarding. Just letting you know. After parking, I grabbed my phone. Me: It’s supposed to be questions. Like, if I asked security if I could put a body in my bag, could I still check it? Questions like that. You’re not following the rules. Reese: Fuck the rules. These are my rules. Reese: You do questions. I do updates. Deal with it. Reese: Except now. Are you back at your place? Me: Yes. Walking upstairs now. Reese: No updates from you. Well. Yes. Tell me when you get in your place. I turned down my hallway. Bill’s door opened and his head popped out. His hair was scruffed up like he’d been trying for a Mohawk. “No bullshit. Was that him?” I was about to break a fellow Reese Forster fan’s heart. “It was my brother.” He glared. “You’re not fucking with me?” “No.” “Oh.” That was it. His head went back in, and he slammed his door shut. Immediately Mrs. Rings yelled from her apartment across the hall. “STOP SLAMMING THE DOORS! EVERYONE FUCKING SHUT IT!” And her parrot a second later. “STOP SLAMMING FUCKING SHUT IT!” And then, “SHUT IT, BORIS!” And her parrot again, “EVERYONE FUCK IT AND GO TO SLEEP!”

"Nine was just as hilarious as it was dark and violent. Just as deep and emotional as it was smoking hot. NINE stars!!!"- BB Easton, bestselling author

Nine: The Tale of Kevin Clearwater, the highly anticipated new standalone from USA Today bestselling author T.M. Frazier is available now!

                                 

Excerpt:

I look up into his dark eyes. “This is a dangerous game of cat and mouse we’re playing.” “More like a game of cat and bird,” he corrects. I straighten my posture, my nipples grazing his hard chest. “And we all know how that turns out in the end. The cat eats the bird.” Nine lightly scrapes his nails over my bare arms before pressing them into my skin. I gasp at the slight bite of pain. “No, the pretty bird swoops down from nowhere and sinks her sharp talons into the cat, marking him for life.” There’s no sarcasm in his voice. I don’t know how to begin to process what it is he’s saying. It takes all of my concentration to get out my next few words. “And...and then what?” Nine picks me up off the floor in one quick motion, flipping me back onto the bed. He crawls over my body, hovering above me, pinning my wrists to the mattress. He grazes his teeth over the sensitive spot behind my ear. He lowers his voice to a deliciously deep rumble that has me vibrating with his every word. “And then he eats her.”


T.M. (Tracey Marie) Frazier never dreamed that a single person would ever read a word she wrote when she published her first book. Now, she is a five-time USA Today bestselling author and her books have been translated into numerous languages and published all around the world. T.M. enjoys writing what she calls sexy‘wrongside of the tracks romance’ with morally corrupt anti-heroes and ballsy heroines. Her books have been described as raw, dark and gritty. Basically, what that means, is while some authors are great at describing a flower as it blooms, T.M. is better at describing it in the final stages of decay. She loves meeting her readers, but if you see her at an event please don’t pinch her because she's not ready to wake up from this amazing dream.



For Text Alerts: TEXT “TMFRAZIER” TO 77948 *Standard text messaging rates apply*

Blurb:
No one needs that many hookups!
Not even soon to be major league pitcher, Theo Von Bremen.
So, I help him by routinely thinning out his contact list—because I’m the best roommate ever. And he’s optimal baby daddy material.
For me—not Amanda 1, 2, or 3.
But since the man can’t take a hint; I’ll continue to spray his sheets with my perfume and accidentally leave my panties in his laundry.
That has to be enough to break a man eventually. Right?

*This novella is a prequel to Commander in Briefs featuring Aniston and Theo.

“Aly Martinez is one of the best in the business. You have to read her books.” --Meghan March, New York Times Bestselling Author

Written With You, the emotional and highly anticipated conclusion to The Regret Duet from USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez, is available now!

                          

                          
   

“Jewel E. Ann has once again crafted a flawless story that is utterly unique and unforgettable. Hands down my favorite book of 2019!”

-- Aly Martinez, USA Today bestselling author

Jersey Six, an all-new “intriguing, gut wrenching and raw” romantic suspense from Jewel E. Ann, is available now!

                          

Excerpt:

“We ate at the hotel.” Her lips twisted to the side. “Mind if I stick some stuff in my bag for later?” A tiny wrinkle formed between Ian’s eyes, just below the long sweep of his black bangs. “There will be lots of food available later too. But…” he shrugged, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees “…take whatever you want.” Jersey glanced over her shoulder at the food and the three other men in the room. She decided to wait a little while before shoving as much as possible into her bag like a free-for-all. “Thanks.” Jersey returned her attention to Ian. “So … you’re a singer. Like … are you a big deal?” Every word she spoke seemed to feed his level of happiness. “Well …” He rubbed his chin, twisting his lips. “We play music. People like to listen to our music. But no … it’s not a big deal. We’re not saving lives or anything like that.” She eyed him with suspicion for a few seconds. That smile of his didn’t feel worthy of complete trust. “Um … what exactly do you need me to do? What’s my job? They already took Chris. Will that big, bearded guy come for me too?” Jersey couldn’t remember his name. “No.” Ian stood, pushing his elbows out from his shoulders, twisting side to side. “Tonight you are just going to watch the concert from backstage. Tomorrow night you’ll sell merchandise.” “Drugs. You mean drugs, don’t you?” Ian paused his stretching, letting his arms fall limp to his sides. “Merchandise—T-shirts, posters, keychains, phone cases, hats, guitar pics …” “To who?” “Fans.” Ian grinned. “Okay. I might have understated all of this to you … can you name a famous singer? Old or new. Doesn’t matter. Just a famous singer.” “I had a foster parent who used to listen to Josh Groban.” Jersey gnashed her teeth, still feeling so much anger. Dena wasn’t just a foster parent; she was Jersey’s friend. “Okay. Well, Josh has sold millions of records, and he’s a huge star in his genre of music. Thousands of people pack venues all over the world to see him sing live in concert. And they sell merchandise of his at those concerts.” Jersey gazed unblinkingly at Ian as he scratched his jaw. “Well, I sing a different genre of music, but I, too, travel the world, singing to sold-out concert venues, andI have people who sell my merchandise at these concerts.” Jersey dropped her bag to her feet and planted her fists on her hips. “Listen, Coop. Stop talking down to me. I’m not an idiot. I know what a concert is. But earlier today you didn’t say what you did or what the job was you were offering. You bought a homeless person a hot dog and offered her a job. Of course, I’m going to think something sketchy might be involved.” Tipping her chin up, she held her breath to puff out her chest, pretending the recent revelation of Ian Cooper being a famous singer didn’t faze her one bit. Inside, Jersey’s heart hammered into her ribcage, and her mind reeled trying to figure out the day’s events. “Coop?” His lips twitched into a tiny grin. “It’s short for Cooper.” “Clearly.” Ian chuckled. “But my name is Ian. Everyone calls me Ian.” “I busted the nose and jaw of a kid named Ian. He tried to stick his cock in my ass. I’ll call you Tom, Dick, or Harry, but I’m not calling you Ian because that makes me want to physically harm you.” Ian’s eyebrows shot up his forehead as his head whipped back a few inches. “Coop it is.”


Jewel is a free-spirited romance junkie with a quirky sense of humor. With 10 years of flossing lectures under her belt, she took early retirement from her dental hygiene career to stay home with her three awesome boys and manage the family business. After her best friend of nearly 30 years suggested a few books from the Contemporary Romance genre, Jewel was hooked. Devouring two and three books a week but still craving more, she decided to practice sustainable reading, AKA writing. When she’s not donning her cape and saving the planet one tree at a time, she enjoys yoga with friends, good food with family, rock climbing with her kids, watching How I Met Your Mother reruns, and of course…heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, panty-scorching novels.