Wednesday, September 30, 2015

The Good, the Bad, and the Vampire by Sara Humphreys


Trixie loves testing her man, "she wiggled her hips against the hard length of him. “Like I’ve been telling you,” she whispered. “I can handle myself. By the looks of it, I can handle you too, cowboy.” Dakota is a reasonable man, “fine by me, darlin’.” He whisked over and planted a firm kiss on her lips before smacking her butt. “But turnabout is fair play. If I’m naked, then so are you and I won’t keep it to lookin’. There’ll be lots of touchin’. But we are burnin’ moonlight. Let’s get a move on and see if you can find your rock pyramid before the sun comes up.” I enjoyed this book Dakota knew how to handle his woman.

Rebel Cowboy by Nicole Helm


Dan is getting a ride awakening when it comes to living in the country,  "he looked around the kitchen with a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, I hadn’t given it much thought. McDonald’s nearby? I haven’t had one of their hash browns in years.” She stared. And stared. And stared a little more. Dan grimaced. “No McDonald’s, huh?” Dan really is a sweet and caring man, “we can figure it out, honey. I’m not going anywhere .” Not any damn where until he knew she would be okay. Hell, maybe not even then." I really enjoyed this book I loved Dan.

Heir to the Duke by Jane Ashford


Violet is all about being fair when it comes to her man, "the bows unraveled. The nightgown slithered softly to the floor. “I saw you naked this morning,” Violet said. “Turn about, fair play.” I loved this book Violet was quite the free spirit and Nathaniel was always supporting her.

RELEASE DAY BLITZ: Second Nature by A.E. Watson

Title: Second Nature (Crimson Cover Mysteries, Book Two)
Author: A.E. Watson           
Genre: YA romance, horror, mystery, and thriller
Hosted by: Lady Amber's Tours
Flirting, first love, fighting for your life.
All the things that represent a spectacular fall in Crimson Cove, named after the sight one sees when the trees all turn red in the crisp autumn air.
When school starts and the events of the summer no one is likely to forget haven't been solved, the five girls decide to take matters into their own hands.
But the problem with lifting stones to find the secrets hidden under them is that you never can tell just what lies beneath.
For the five unlikely friends, what lies beneath involves each and every one of them.
And as the story twists and turns, they start to see they are each connected to the murder and the disappearance still rocking the small sea side community.
Don't miss the exciting second book in The Crimson Cove Mysteries.
I am the mother of two beautiful girls who are growing up so fast, the wife of a cute guy in a uniform (my own personal hero), and a writer.
My family will tell you it doesn't exactly fall into that order. Especially around dinner time when I "Cook" from a takeout menu with my face plastered to my computer. I also have two cats who I adore more than I should, like more than people I know, and a dog. He is a beagle who is naughty but just so darned cute. He gives you that little beagle face and then steals your slice of pizza.
I have a busy mind and even busier fingers. I can write fast and keep track of a large cast, but I can't remember why I'm at the grocery store. I try to write lists but they always end up being notes for books or indie bands. I LOVE INDIE MUSIC! I talk to myself in the car and sing too loud for my skill level. The invention of Bluetooth has made talking in the car less awkward but if you hear me singing, run. I love writing. I love my characters like they are my friends and I am telling their version of the truth.
My worst flaw is the horrid English accent which I read everything with. If I read aloud it comes too. I'm not English, so I can't even do the accent which makes it awkward for anyone who is nearby.
My favourite authors are Robert Jordan and Jane Austen and Robert Mccammon and Jim Crace. I think Stephen King and Dean Koontz have the most unique imaginations. I have the hardest time not LOVING Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger. I know all the serial killers have a copy but I adored that novel. It made me feel a thousand different things and one of them was more alive. (And not in the least bit serial killer-ish) When I grow up I want to be James Patterson or Nora Roberts. I aspire to be like them, always trying to hone my skills and work harder. My genres are all over the map. I have Paranormal Romance, Contemporary Romance, Science Fiction, Erotica (under Sophie Starr my porn name so my mom doesn't know), Thrillers, and even some Romantic Comedies. If you would like to reach me for whatever reason, please visit me at my facebook page You can also email me at Thanks for checking me out and I hope you got lost in something I wrote or it made you so HAPPY/SAD/BLISSFUL/TURNED ON/ANGRY/EXCITED/FRIGHTENED/HORRIFIED/MAD that you couldn't believe it. The list of what is coming out this year is not completed. I will keep my Facebook page as up to date as I can. Here is a short breakdown of my genres and pen names. TARA BROWN- My main page and essentially my brand. Books published under Tara Brown will be adult and mostly suspense and romance. The Lonely and Single Lady Spy Series are among those. Not intended for young readers, at all. 18 and over. AE WATSON - My pen name for Young Adult books. Born, HERE, The Seventh Day, White Girl Problems, etc. This is my page that is safe for YA readers of a mature reading level. ERIN LEIGH - Adult Romance and Chick Lit. 18 and over recommended reading level. TL BROWN - Adult Paranormal, Science Fiction, and Fantasy. NOT FOR YOUNG READERS AT ALL!! SOPHIE STARR - Adult Only Erotica. NOT FOR YOUNG READERS AT ALL!!!!!!!! Hope you have a great day and of course, happy reading! Remember to read at your comfort level. Not all books published by me, Tara Brown, are suited for everyone.
Author Links: Facebook:
Halloween Scream
October 31, 2015
The noise of the creaking stairs, the ones I had just crept up, sounded like it echoed in my ears. Someone had followed us here. “Jake,” I whispered, hoping he was messing around. If he was, I would be angry. I lifted one leg after the other and slipped my high heels off, holding them both so I could tiptoe through the half-constructed mansion without making noise. Jake didn't answer, but the footsteps had stopped from the moment I whispered. The scary movie marathon we’d had before Rachel died flashed through my head, bringing ideas and memories with it. I tiptoed around the corner, brushing my Frankenstein’s bride dress on the rough edge where the unfinished walls met. The drywall scraped against me, making me wince as I hurried along the corridor to the back deck. Whoever was in the house with me was either moving silently too or they were standing still, listening. Either way, I had a terrible feeling this wasn't a game. That meant one thing: Jake was injured or hiding. And I was alone. My heart raced, my eyes burned from not blinking—fearful I would miss something—and my mouth was as dry as a mouthful of popcorn. The floor creaked. I froze. “Sierra,” someone whispered into the dark. My skin crawled when I realized it wasn't Jake. It wasn't his whisper. I’d heard that enough times, always in the dark, to know it wasn't him. “Sierra, don't be scared.” It sounded like something it couldn't be, but I didn't believe. I stayed perfectly still, waiting for the moment I needed to run to the back deck and jump down onto the sandy beach. What had the girls in the horror movies done wrong? What could I avoid? My mind raced, remembering the runners always got caught. They always got stabbed. Usually in the back. The thought of it made my skin burn where I imagined the knife would slice. The hiders always got caught. They were the ones breathing too loudly or hiding in stupid places. “Sierra, I won’t hurt you if you come to me.” I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second and waited for the answer, the right choice, to pop into my head. A dog barked, making me jump and open my eyes. The sound was joined by the creaking of the floorboards again. With gentle breaths and controlled movements I crept along the hallway, entering the spot where the kitchen or master bedroom would likely go. The house was freshly sealed with windows and doors, but it was still in the drywall stage with plywood floors. The massive back deck was through the white French doors, facing the beach and open ocean. The moon offered light, enough to make shadows move with me. I hurried to an alcove I assumed would one day be a nook for a breakfast bar or maybe the ensuite soaker tub. I pressed my back against the wall and stared at the bright white French doors. If I could make it to them, I was free. If only I had my cell phone, I could call the police or Jake or Vincent. Someone would come and help me. Even Ashton might answer. But that wasn't an option. I scolded myself for my weakness in me and forced my focus to be on the doors. They were my answer. They were my hope. As I exhaled and plotted my moment to run and everything I would do from that point on, the floor creaked in the hallway behind me. It was now or never. Live or die. I took one more breath and pushed off from the wall…

RELEASE DAY BLITZ: Billionaire With a Twist 3 by Lila Monroe

Title: Billionaire With a Twist Part Three
Series: Billionaire With a Twist #3
Author: Lila Monroe
 Release Date: September 30, 2015


Warning: love on the rocks.

Sexy bourbon billionaire Hunter Knox hired me to turn around the failing family business, but I wound up losing him the company he loves. Now I have to make it right - which won't be easy when he's off the grid at a cabin in the woods, drinking himself into a sexy rugged stupor.

But if there's one thing I know, it's that Hunter is worth a shot. Or two. He better line them up, because after tonight, I'm never drinking again.

Purchase Links


Also Available





Hunter brought the cold glass bottle to my lips, and I closed my eyes to better appreciate the flavor.

“Mmmmm.” Hints of caramel, a touch of cinnamon, and was that…nutmeg? I licked my lips. “Tastes like autumn.”

“Next,” Hunter said softly. There was a clink as he set down the bottle, and another as he picked the second one up. Then that cool glass was against my warm mouth again, and I shivered as I felt his breath ghost against the back of my neck. I could practically feel the heart radiating off his body behind me. A drop of condensation slipped down the neck of the bottle, rolling down the fevered skin of my neck.

Oh, right, the beer. I took a gulp, hoping the cool liquid would calm my disordered thoughts. No such luck—but it was delicious, strongly hoppy this time, notes of lime and orange and vanilla, with a peppery finish. “Damn, that’s good. It’s like spring!”

“I’m glad you like it,” Hunter murmured. His arm encircled my waist—no, he was just reaching for another bottle, no, that was his other hand, this one was definitely resting on my waist, lightly, just above my hipbone.

I didn’t dare open my eyes, for fear I would find I was only dreaming.

“Another?” Hunter invited.

“Yes please.” My voice was a whisper, hoarse with desire I hoped he couldn’t hear.

And there it came, his gentle hands guiding it to my mouth, the smooth glass with its beads of moisture kissing my skin, and that that ambrosia sliding slowly down my throat: brown sugar and anise and a hint of…chocolate.

“Ooooooh,” I moaned in appreciation. I licked my lips.

And heard a sharp intake of breath from Hunter. “You like that?” he whispered.

“So much,” I replied, feeling the heat in my body gather itself tight and low.

Even with my eyes closed I was vividly aware of how close he was standing to me; I could smell him, hear each breath he took. His hand on my waist seemed to grip a fraction tighter, wrinkling the fabric of my dress—the hand holding the bottle seemed to tremble slightly, I could feel his breath ruffling my hair as he bent closer, those warm lips only inches from—

My eyes burst open and I almost leapt away from him. We didn’t have time for sexual tension! That was what had gotten us into trouble in the first place. My mind fluttered rapidly over possible topics of redirection.

It was difficult. It mostly wanted to think of Hunter shirtless.

Maybe pantsless too.

Yeah….definitely pantsless.

Author Bio

Amazon bestselling author, queen of the short-reads, and expert at playdough, Lila Monroe loves to read and write tales of sexy Billionaires. Combining her love of writing, sex and well-fitted suits, Lila Monroe wrote her first serial, The Billionaire Bargain. Lila enjoys writing, as it gives her a flexible schedule to spend time with her kids and a wonderful excuse to avoid them. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, who strips out of his well-fitted suits nightly.

Author Links



I've come to terms with the fact that since Hunter is an alpha male, when he broods it's meanly and he lashes out, “we were barely anything.” Hunter’s voice seemed to answer my very thoughts. “And then it ended. Now, can you please be quiet? This conversation is putting me to sleep.” Ally isn't afraid to let her man know how much she needs him, “please, Hunter,” I whimpered. “I need you, I need you too, I’ll make you feel so good, I swear—” I was babbling, my brain overloaded with hormones, but my hands knew what they were doing, sliding down that strong chest towards his belt, unbuckling it and unbuttoning his pants." Hunter is a smart man he knows when he has something good, and that good being all that's Ally, “want to sink into you,” he murmured against my skin. “Want to sink into you and be with you always, be strong with you, feel you with me, feel you around me—” This was a great ending to the series, I'm glad that Hunter got what he deserved because he was a hard working man.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Worth the Risk by Savannah Stuart aka Katie Reus


Stephen knows how to treat his woman, “I told you I take care of what’s mine.” He sat on the edge of the bed and before she could guess what he meant to do, he reached between the juncture of her thighs and cleaned her." This series may be short novellas but they pack a punch with sexiness and entertainment.

Unmask by Xavier Neal


Like the all the rest of the McCoys Drew is blunt and to the point,  “your a** wouldn't look good covered in a coat.” Immediately taken off guard by my words her face flushes again. “However, I would be okay with effing you on one of those counters.” The color deepens and I add, “As long as there are no lab rats around. Those would kinda kill the mood.” Drew is one cocky man,  “that's because I'm pretty amazing,” he says in such a cocky way I can't help but smile. “In fact...why don't I show you how amazing I am and give you another reason to enjoy Christmas morning?” I liked this book wasn't pleased about one thing, but at least Melody and Drew got what they deserved.

Healed by the Dragon: Parts 1-4 by Jessie Donovan


This is the one I've been waiting for, Finn and Ara's book, and I was not disappointed in how it started Finn is still a huge flirt, "Finn’s Scottish accent filled her ear. “I see your flashing dragon eyes, Arabella. If your dragon ever wants to come out to play, I’ll be first in line.” Finn's dragon is an impatient thing, "I’m a dragon. I don’t care about anticipation. I want to kiss Arabella and when she is ready , I also want to eff her." I'm so eager to get to part two.
The thought of another male touching his woman brings out the animal inside him, "growling, he brought his face an inch closer . “Then I can’t guarantee that male’s safety.” Finn that boy drives a hard bargain at times, “give me permission to look at your body and I’ll keep quiet,” Finn answered. She raised an eyebrow and he added, “Well, for a little while, at least.” Each part of this book gets better and better.
Once Ara gets a taste of her man's goods the woman can't get enough, “I need a bloody second, woman, or I’ll take you right now. Is that what you want?” When Finn is at the will of his woman and horny he'll agree to anything, "never blinking, Finn answered, “Of course I effing agree. I’ve been dreaming of this for months.” Finn's threats are really sexy, "Finn’s eyes flashed to slits. “Mention my ***k again, and I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to my bed.” With each installment of this series, the sexual frustration keeps heating up.
Finn knows how to work his woman over nice and good, “thank eff, because I’m beyond tired. It’s going to take days of hot baths to ease the soreness between my legs.” Finn is not shy about voicing his wants, "I wish we could spend the rest of our lives like this, just snogging in the open. Sex would be fantastic too . I'd love to see the sun caress your skin as you leaned against a tree and I took you from behind." Each couple gets better and better.

Sinful by Jennifer Dawson


There are times Leo doesn't realize that he's wrapped around his woman's finger, or is it she's wrapped around his finger, “Saturday is my nana’s birthday party.” Her face falls and something twists in my chest. Before I can even process what I’m saying, I grasp her hand and squeeze. “You’ll come with me.” I really loved this book. The men in this series are strong, and caring, and I'm so excited for Brandon's story to come next.

Dark Blue by Ranae Rose


Jackson is one sexy man, "he groaned, capturing her wrist and pulling her close. “What if I want to give you special treatment? I’ve got all kinds of ideas on how I could make that ticket up to you…”  This is a great start to a new series I can't wait for Elijah's book.

BLOG TOUR REVIEW: Last Hope by Jessica Clare & Jen Frederick

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In the explosive new Hitman novel from the bestselling authors of
Last Kiss and Last Hit a jungle mercenary
and a female target find love on the run...
Barnes & Noble:
Mendoza: I grew up in the slums and lost everything I loved to poverty, illness, and death. I had only one skill to leverage myself out of my circumstances—violence. Being hired out as a mercenary hitman brought me money and built an empire. But all that I've fought for is in jeopardy. My next job: Steal secret information that could bring down world governments. Find my target. Destroy it. But then, I meet her.
 Ava: Karma hates me. When my best friend Rose is kidnapped, I have no choice but to take a job as a mule for a pair of criminals intent on selling top-secret information to the highest bidder. I should have known that bad luck tends to cling, because the plane I'm on goes down. That I survived a crash-landing was a miracle. And so was being rescued by Rafe Mendoza—hot, sexy, dangerous. The thing is, he wants the information that I need to free Rose. I can't let him have it, but I need his help. And I need to fight this crazy attraction for this mercenary with hungry eyes. Rose is depending on me, and I won't let her down, no matter how appealing Rafe is.
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The ricochet of the bullet has swollen my eye shut. I might be slightly concussed from the free fall from six thousand feet into the jungle. I’ve no clue where we are and we have no supplies, but I’ve never been happier than when Ava stuck her tits into my face. Those babies felt like the softest pillows ever created and I would’ve been happy to suffocate in damp valley of cleavage. Maybe I’d even get the chance to lick her sweat away.
I might have groaned and pretended my injury was worse to lengthen the moment. Her delicate hands smoothed over my forehead and, it may have been my imagination, but it seemed liked she might’ve lingered over my hair. Dig in, I want to grunt.
“What the heck is that sound?” Ava clutches me to her.
If I don’t answer, does that mean I can stay in this position forever? Because I want to. Actually, no, I’d like to move over and suck one fat tit into my mouth until it’s hard as a diamond. Then I’d like to slide down until my mouth is level with her pussy and see how salty sweet she tastes between her legs. The beast between my legs roars to life and it’s a good thing that the monkeys above us scream again, causing her to jump and strike my good eye with her elbow. The pain serves as a reminder of where we are, who I am, and what the fuck I should be paying attention to.
“It’s the howler monkey. They sound like humans screaming or sometimes like the jaguar. They’re kind of dumb and if we found Afonso’s gun, we’d be able to kill one and have meat every night for a week.”
She shudders. “I don’t want to eat monkey.”
The jungle is hot and wet during the day and cold at night. If the mosquitos don’t eat you alive, the jaguars and anacondas might. Not very many people can crash-land into the middle of the Amazon and make it out alive, but I’m upping our odds from around 20 percent to 50 percent based on Ava’s positive attitude. Unless my eye heals up, I’m not giving us more than that. If we could find the Boy Scout bag, though, we could bring our odds up significantly.
“There’s plenty of food in the Amazon from plantains to fish, so if you don’t like monkey, we won’t eat it.”
She shudders again. “Thank you.”
“You a vegetarian?”
No, that couldn’t be right. Didn’t she eat some prosciutto at the café? But I want to hear it from her. I want to know everything about her.
“No, but for some reason eating something that screams like a human freaks me out.”
“Monkey is off the menu,” I say, making no attempt to move away from her rack. “I have a knife in my belt.”
“Do you have anything else besides the knife?” she asks. Her tone is accusatory like I’m holding out on her.
“No,” I say slowly. “Just the knife.”
She narrows her eyes and then reaches out with her good hand and pokes my waistline. “What about that?”
“My pants? I don’t think that they’d fit you or they’d be a good weapon. Besides, I’d rather my legs didn’t get eaten by mosquitos.”
“Look, if you just plan on leaving me behind, then do it now. Don’t string me along.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Just my luck to perv on a crazy woman.
“That!” she spits out, and this time her finger jabs lower, right into the meat of my dick. I flinch back. “I can tell you’re packing something. What’s that thing in your pocket?”
“None of your fucking business,” I growl out, my happy feeling sucked away. I can feel the heat rising in my face that has nothing to do with the humidity. I will my erection to subside but as she stares at it, it does nothing but grow.
“Oh my god. Is that a . . . that’s not a gun, is it?” Her lips part in shock.
“No.” The erection isn’t going to go down anytime soon. Not with her eyes wide with wonder. She raises her gaze to me and then drops back down again, and hell if she doesn’t lick her fucking lips. I turn away, unzip, and then pull the shaft straight up behind the waistband of my cargo pants. I fasten the zipper, carefully, and then pull my T-shirt down over the top. It hides most of the problem. “Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.
I surge to my feet, catching her off guard. She stumbles back and thankfully stops staring at my junk. “Enough,” I growl more roughly than I intend. “We have important things to concentrate on, like where are we going to sleep for the night.”
She looks stricken and nods in agreement. “Sorry, I just was taken by surprise. You don’t have to tell me what’s in your pocket if you don’t want to. But I need to remind you that we’re in this together.”
I feel like an ass. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry that she thinks my dick is fake. That’s a new one.  
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LAST HOPE EXCERPT (Previously Posted)
I wake up with my face pressed against a warm, broad chest and my legs tangled in the leaves of a tree. Somewhere close by, I hear birds chirping. There’s sunlight dappling my face and everything feels damp.
Everything also hurts.
I’m dazed and my head is ringing with pain, and the sun is beaming right into my eyes, which is freaking annoying as hell. I rub a hand across my face and it takes me a few moments to realize that I shouldn’t see the sun at all if I’m inside an airplane.
Then I remember the storm. The thunderous boom as the plane was hit by lightning. Screams. The wing catching fire. The chaos of Afonso with his gun. Free-falling through the cabin, my grip on the seats the only thing keeping me from flying through six thousand feet of empty air.
Mendoza’s hand ripping out of mine when the cabin depressurized. The screams of people going silent.
I remember him, too.
A noise from somewhere nearby catches my attention. It sounds like heavy breathing. I open my eyes and look around.
I’m still strapped to my seat. There’s a portion of the plane underneath me, and the two seats Mendoza and I buckled into are still together.
He’s next to me, the broad chest I’m currently draped across. His eyes are closed, dried, crusted blood around the injured one. He’s got an enormous bruise on his forehead and his arms are around me, as if he was trying to protect me even as we fell.
“Mendoza?” I ask, sitting upright and pulling out of his arms. Sitting up makes everything in my body scream with pain. My ankles hurt, but I don’t know if it’s because they’re seriously injured or because they were tucked under the seat in front of me, which is also still attached. I test my legs, untangling them from his longer ones, and wince at the pain shooting through my body. It feels like I’ve been trampled in my sleep. My ribs hurt, and my right arm radiates agony.
But . . . I’m alive. I sit up a bit straighter and look at my right arm. The purse I’ve carried for days is gone. The skin is puffy and turning purple. When I flex my fingers, the pain brings tears to my eyes. I look away from it, faint and sick to my stomach at the sight. It’s not just the pain but what it represents. I’m a hand model. I can’t do a thing if my hands are jacked up.
Not that it matters right now.
“Mendoza,” I say again, because I’m about to panic, and panic hard. “Wake up. Please.”
He doesn’t stir.
Fear clutches me, and I grab his shirt with my good hand and give him a shake. “Mendoza?”
That doesn’t wake him, either. I press my cheek to his chest and listen for a heartbeat.
It’s slow and steady. Whew. I sit up and examine him again. The knot on his forehead is huge. Maybe he just got knocked out. I’ll have to figure out how to wake him up once I figure out where we are. It looks like our section of the plane somehow separated from the rest of the wreckage, which is why we’re alive and not a skidmark on the ground.
I shift in my seat and the world tilts. My eyes go wide and I freeze in place, then look around.
I can see trees overhead, and sunshine, but it’s just now occurred to me that we’re not on the ground. The chairs are tilted and everything shakes when I move.
I’m pretty sure we’re in a tree. Clutching at the arm of the chair, I sit up carefully and look around.
I see nothing but air and leaves, green vines and dappled shadows. In the distance, I hear the sound like heavy breathing again. I look at Mendoza, but it’s not him. Oh God. Is it Afonso? Is he still here? Biting my lip, I crane my neck and try to peer down below. We’re at least twenty feet off the ground.
It’s like the wreckage has been swallowed up by a wall of green. Green and wet. On the jungle floor, there’s more greenery and what looks like smoking wreckage. Pieces of the plane are scattered all over the forest floor, along with a few scattered suitcases. In the distance I see another row of chairs, this one facedown in the dirt. The heavy breathing starts again, and this time I see the source: a jaguar, stalking through the wreckage.
My eyes widen and I go very still.
A heavy rain begins to fall, spattering me from above. I don’t move. My gaze is on that jungle cat as it sniffs through things. If it notices us, I don’t know what we’ll do. Mendoza is unconscious and if I try to move him, we might both fall out of the tree . . . and land right in front of the cat.
The situation hits me and I start to cry. I’m alone. I’m really fucking alone. I’ve never camped a day in my life, much less been in a jungle. I look down at my hands. They’re my livelihood. My way to earn a living. My income depends on them being soft and perfect, my nails elegant ovals.
I have a long gouge down the back of one hand, and my pinky is bruised and swollen. My wrist looks like an elephant’s leg, if elephants were black and blue. Not gonna be hand modeling for a long while after I get out of here.
If I get out of here.
I’m sorry, Rose. I’m trying. I’m trying so hard. I shudder back a sob as the cat slinks into the underbrush, something dangling and arm-sized in its mouth. I’m in the jungle with a busted hand and a stranger that just wants the information I’m carrying . . .
And I don’t even have the information anymore. The purse is gone. I sniff hard, trying to fight back another sob that’s threatening to break free.
“Don’t cry,” a voice says softly.
I turn and look at Mendoza. His shirt is sticking to his big body, wet raindrops splatting down his face. He looks at me and smiles crookedly, and lifts a hand to try to touch my face. “Don’t cry.”
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Hitman Series Reading Order
Last Hit (bk 1)
Barnes & Noble:
Last Breath (bk 2)
Barnes & Noble:
Last Hit: Reloaded (bk 2.5)
Barnes & Noble:
Last Kiss (bk 3)
Barnes & Noble:
Last Hope (bk 4)
Barnes & Noble:
Meet Jen & Jessica
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Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog.  She's been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line
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Author Jessica Claire
This is a pen name for Jill Myles.
Jill Myles has been an incurable romantic since childhood. She reads all the 'naughty parts' of books first, looks for a dirty joke in just about everything, and thinks to this day that the Little House on the Prairie books should have been steamier.
After devouring hundreds of paperback romances, mythology books, and archaeological tomes, she decided to write a few books of her own - stories with a wild adventure, sharp banter, and lots of super-sexy situations. She prefers her heroes alpha and half-dressed, her heroines witty, and she loves nothing more than watching them overcome adversity to fall into bed together.
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I don't understand why Ava would need to apologize, I mean isn't it every man's dream to have their women compliment their goods, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings by calling it Godzilla. I guess I figured guys just love to brag about their p***s size and that it would be funny, but it wasn’t and I’m sorry.” Ava is strong, independent, and she has a heart of gold, “I am,” I say, and lift my chin. “A lot of them have been abused in the past and they’re afraid to ask for basic stuff or to tell you that you’re buying a crap brand. They feel more comfortable coming to someone like me.” Although Rafe doesn't have a sexy mafia accent, he's still one sexy beefcake. I loved this book.