Spotlight on Fated by Allyson Young #NewRelease #Erotic @EvernightPub
Fated by Allyson Young
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Length: Short Story/Novella
Genre: Contemporary, Western, Erotic Romance

Reece Murdoch is back in Barrister, Wyoming after his military tour. Ostensibly returning to take the position of Sheriff, he plans to confront the woman of his dreams. After what they’d shared, he’d foolishly believed Candace Grant would wait, but all his heartfelt letters were met with silence. And now she is avoiding him and freezing him out.

Candy Grant is never going to allow Sheriff Murdoch a civil conversation, let alone a discussion. Oh, he’s interested—probably thinking he can waltz right back into her life. Except he’d gutted her, leaving six years earlier without warning and only eight scribbled words. She’s since lived a fast, shallow existence she’s determined to continue, and never get hurt again.


Reece needs a plan, one to address Candy’s propensity to speed while asserting his lawful authority—with handcuffs and a night of house arrest. Will the truth set them free?


Excerpt: 

Reese Murdoch slouched comfortably against the broken-in seat of the county’s second best cruiser, gripping the wheel with one big hand.
He found himself sighing. Barrister wasn’t a bad place. Born and raised there, he knew pretty much all the inhabitants. Being elected as Sheriff had been a no brainer, being a military man home from Iraq and all, presumably well versed in weapons and leadership. Both true, except he was hampered by a paltry budget, and the people he’d sworn to serve and protect were scattered over a huge part of the state. Good thing the work wasn’t onerous.
No doubt that would change over time, people being what they were, but he was bored for the most part. The one thing—person—who could easily obliterate that boredom didn’t deign to recognize either his existence or his authority, and he hadn’t decided which plan to pursue in that regard. It’d been months, but if he’d learned anything in the military, it was that an offensive had a better chance of succeeding if one gathered solid intelligence and formulated a careful plan of attack. He wryly admitted he’d come home because of Candace Grant, if only to determine why she’d ignored all of his efforts to get in touch with her over the years. Some might call it closure. He just plain wanted her, and knew enough about women to know that while her demeanor said one thing, something else was operating behind that icy exterior.
  In the meantime, there was the odd drunk and disorderly to deal with, complaints about cattle rustling to investigate, a few domestics—and didn’t he hate those—and some traffic violations.
The road dipped to accommodate an arroyo, and he rose up out of it to crest the slight hill. And speaking of traffic violations, the unmistakable silver Bimmer hammering in his direction, trailing a dusty rooster trail, caused him to grind his teeth and war with his responding arousal. Damn her. She was going to kill herself one day in that stupid car, maybe before he put the final touches on his plan. Flipping on his lights, he considered his strategy, noting the way the smaller vehicle’s hood dipped in response to the application of brakes. She’d been flying along.
She pulled the Bimmer over, and he drifted on by to pull a three point turn and come up behind her. Candace hadn’t made eye contact at all, staring straight ahead through the windshield, and he figured she had to know it was him. She didn’t cut his deputies dead. He took his time, watching Candace’s profile in the side mirror, willing his professionalism to the fore when all he really wanted to do was drag her back to the cruiser, handcuffed, and take her home. Someplace safe—and easily accessible for both their pleasure. The plan suddenly came together.
Approaching the open window, he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “You were hitting seventy, Candace. We’ve had this discussion before.”
She didn’t reply, instead thrusting her paperwork toward him. Her picture on the license didn’t fit with the stony visage looking dead ahead. Despite the customary, don’t smile, hair tucked behind your ears, dictates of the DMV, Candace’s full mouth, with its eminently bitable bottom lip somehow quirked up at the corners, and there was no mistaking the sparkle in those baby blues. Just as he remembered her—full of life and joy, bubbly, vivacious, and all those adjectives people applied to her. But then, he’d admit he’d hardly given her anything to smile about, primarily because she wouldn’t give him the time of day. That was gonna change.
Tugging the license and registration from her stiff fingers, he decided to play her game. “Step out of the vehicle, Miss Grant.”
That garnered him a wary look, a quick glance that she instantly modified into boredom. He didn’t miss the way she flickered her eyes to her watch. Was she meeting someone? On her way to a hot date? Sheridan lay in that direction, and whatever Candace got up to, she didn’t do it in Barrister. The rumors he’d overheard flourished. Reece had access to a different form of contacts and knew the truth of some of those rumors. He wasn’t surprised about Candace’s interests, merely disappointed he hadn’t been able to guide her and take the journey with her. But he’d done what he had to back then. That she hadn’t accepted his explanation and apology, wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to discuss it further, grated him raw.
He opened her door and stood back, breaking procedure, instantly grateful for the way the door frame concealed his sudden erection, his cock saluting the vision emerging from the Bimmer without any regard for his bigger brain. The top she wore hardly covered her attributes, cried out for him to touch the silky fabric and tug on those discreetly concealed laces. The length of shapely leg revealed by the short skirt flirting around her thighs forced his hands to grip the metal until he thought it might groan beneath his grasp.
Once again his woman was on the prowl, and he was damned if he’d let her take what she was offering up to Sheridan or any other place loaded with men who couldn’t possibly appreciate her the way he planned. Disappointment again soured him, and he impatiently shoved it aside. He’d waited long enough.
“What?” A hint of nervousness whispered through the aloof question.
“This is the third time, Miss Grant. I assume you recall the consequences are for persistent speeding.”
Narrowing, blue eyes locked with his, then a flush of pink colored her décolletage and rose up the long, lovely column of her throat to paint her cheeks. She spoke between set lips, criminally thinning that lush bounty, another crime she’d pay for in the end.
“Give me the ticket, Sheriff. I’ll pay it like I did the others. Help out with your salary.”
 “Step out and assume the position.”


Buy Links:


About the Author: 

Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband of many years and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.
Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the dark side of romance. 
Author @ElkeFeuer talks Character Professions and Deadly Bloodlines
CHARACTER PROFESSIONS

Choosing a character’s profession is tricky. I mull over it for months, making sure it fits the character and the story. If my character is shy and reserved chances are they won’t be a salesperson. I also ask if their job fits the story. If the character needs to be an amateur sleuth then doing a job that doesn’t allow them to solve the mystery is neither practical nor realistic. Not to say it can’t be done, but should be considered when developing a character and how what they fit into the story.

For my first book, For the Love of Jazz, I changed the occupation of my heroine to create more ‘on screen’ time with the hero that built their relationship as a couple and drew them together to solve a fifty-year-old murder. Surprisingly, readers thought her being a restoration architect was unusual. Nailed it!

For my current release, Deadly Race, the heroine is a female racecar driver and a teacher. Car racing isn’t a paying profession in Grand Cayman where the story is set, so I knew she’d need a paying job and one that allowed her to race cars. Teacher was a winner.  The broad contrasts between both careers let me to show a softer side of my heroine. She’s in a dominantly male sport no one wants her in, including her family, so she’s tough and driven, but I wanted readers, and the hero, to see there was more to her. Teaching children was one way to show that.

A character’s livelihood is a great way to create backstory and give insight to who they are either by the type of job or how they go about it.

Although a character’s profession may seem minor compared to other elements that make them who they are, I think it’s an important one.


DEADLY BLOODLINES – Book 2 in the Deadly Series
Elke Feuer

Target Audiences:
Mystery Readers 
Crime Fiction Readers 
Romantic Suspense Readers
Readers who like strong female characters
Readers who enjoy different professions for the heroine

Book Blurb:
Race car driver Remy Borden likes fast things: bikes, cars, and men. Her plans to become the first woman from the Cayman Islands to race internationally gets sidetracked when she’s injured and pulled from the final race because of a fiery confrontation with another driver.

Life goes from bad to worse when the racetrack owner is killed and she’s suspect number one because his death puts her back in the race. But racing again proves difficult when Dr. Jackson Wilson insists she stop racing until she heals, making her wonder if his ‘doctor’s orders’ don’t have ulterior motives-the racetrack owner was his friend.  

She and Jackson search for the truth behind the murder when accidents start happening at the racetrack, and an adoring fan gets too close. Soon the simmering attraction between her and Jackson boils over, forcing her to admit Jackson makes her think of a life beyond racing.


About the Author:
Elke was born and raised on Grand Cayman and lives there with her husband and two kids who keep her on her toes.
She’s a cof­fee­holic, check­list fanatic, and future space explorer. She has a sarcastic/quirky sense of humor and loves meet­ing new people. When not writing, she's helping other writers in Cayman through her organization CayWriters.
The author of For the Love of Jazz and Deadly Bloodlines, book one in her Deadly Series. She stumbled into writing romantic suspense because of her fascination with serial killers, but writes other genres because characters keep telling her their stories and she's a sucker for a crazy story.
What people say about Elke
“Elke knows how to create a page turner and will leave you begging for more”
“Elke is an up and coming author to watch”

Connect with Elke:
Contact: hotcaymanmama@yahoo.com

Buy Links:
Amazon: http://myBook.to/DeadlyRace (universal link to all Amazon sites)  


Excerpts (1):
“I didn’t really have a relationship with her. She was someone I wanted, but she didn’t know how I felt until an hour ago.” Would she decide to kick him out of her apartment for either leading her on or being a complete ass?
She gripped the couch tightly and it collapsed beneath her hands. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth twisted in anger. Here comes her emotional eruption. He braced himself.
“You put me through all of that for nothing?” She said it with so much control he wondered where she got it.
“It wasn’t nothing to me,” he reasoned.
“Wasn’t nothing? Do you know how many times I felt guilty because you had a girlfriend, or know how many nights I lay awake imagining I’d go to hell for the dirty thoughts I had about you in this apartment, inside and outside your car, even the examination table in your office?” She paced before him.
Jackson was speechless, and turned on, as he thought about everything she’d just mentioned. He remembered the night she kissed him in the car and wondered what would’ve happened if they hadn’t been interrupted, or if they’d been in a secluded area instead of outside her apartment.
“Hey!” she shouted, pulling him from his erotic thoughts of her spread out over the roof of his car.
“Stop that! You don’t get to have a fantasy in the middle of my rant. Got it?” Her index finger pointed at him.
He wanted to smile, but knew she’d probably knock his lights out if he did. “Please continue,” he said as politely and seriously as he could.
“Why couldn’t you be honest with me?” She ran a hand through her hair.
Honest about that? She couldn’t be serious? “Honest about wanting someone I hadn’t even told how I felt? I hardly knew you, Remy, and you wanted me to share something I’d kept secret for nearly two years?”
“Two years?” Her voice echoed in disbelief.
It sounded ridiculous to hear it out loud.
She must’ve thought so, too, because she laughed. It started as a light chuckle, but then escalated to full, out loud, boisterous laughter until it was so extreme she fell to the floor behind the couch.
He walked over to where she lay. “It’s not that funny,” he insisted.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and laughed harder.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this at my expense.” He extended a hand to help her up, but she waved it away as another fit of laughter overtook her. “You might not believe this, but I’m incredibly shy.”
She roared louder and gestured with her hand for him to stop talking.

He couldn’t blame her for laughing. He’d been anything but shy around her. She had a knack for bringing out emotions in him that were less than passive, with her audaciousness and that unfiltered mouth of hers.
Teaser of Filthy Marcellos: Lucian #ComingSoon
So ... Friday is here again, which means I'm sharing a teaser from the first book in my Filthy Marcellos trilogy,  Filthy Marcellos: Lucian.

Ready? Enjoy ....

“Do you hear that, Gio?”
“Hear what?”
Lucian jerked his thumb towards the exit door. “Listen, man.”
Sure enough, under the hum of the crappy music and the faint sound of voices, there was a cry. It was low but filled with terror. Clearly female. Only a brief moment passed before another higher shout from a male responded.
Lucian didn’t even think about it. He was practically running down the remainder of the hallway, crossing the distance in large strides in what felt like milliseconds. Gio was fast on his brother’s heels, not questioning Lucian’s motives at all.
The metal door slammed open under Lucian’s palm with a bang. At the same time, the Eagle Lucian had kept tucked in the back of his dress pants was firmly seated in his free hand, the safety clicking off and the hammer pulling back in one swift motion.
The gun, his most trusted and favorite of the many weapons Lucian had, was eleven inches long from back to barrel. With brushed chrome, it fucking shined under any light. Just the size alone was frightening. The weight of the gun, if someone didn’t know how to handle it properly, could weigh down any man’s grip.
Not Lucian.
Instantly, the barrel of Lucian’s Eagle met the temple of a man he recognized as being one of the bouncers at the front of the strip club that let them in earlier without checking. In the man’s one hand was Jordyn’s throat. His other hand was between her thighs, touching parts of her body he clearly wasn’t allowed to be feeling. By the look of fear and revulsion in Jordyn’s eyes, she didn’t want his hand there, either.
The blues of Jordyn’s eyes were filled with tears, a redness creeping in over her face. The bouncer was holding much too tightly to her throat. She probably couldn’t breathe properly. It hurt Lucian to see a woman, especially this one, in that position.
“Remove your fucking hands from her body, right now,” Lucian said, a darkness creeping into his tone.
The man laughed. “Fuck you, pretty boy. This isn’t your business here or your place. Step off.”
“Let me explain what this weapon will do to you. From this range, it will remove over half of your skull and face. It will turn your brain to mush. They will not recognize you after I kill you. They will be cleaning your matter from this alley for months because that’s all that will be left of your head. When the bullet rips into you, it will toss your body ten feet from mine. I’m sure death will be instantaneous, unfortunately, but it’ll be awfully fun for me to pull the trigger.”
Lucian pressed the barrel harder to the man’s head. “Go on, keep touching her. Piss me off more. Make my fucking night a little bit better. Maybe I’ll have my brother blow your kneecaps out before I turn your face into hamburger.”
“You wouldn’t make it out of here alive, Mafioso.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Lucian bared his teeth and growled a sound that came from somewhere in the back of his throat. He didn’t recognize it. He’d never made a noise like that before. Frankly, nothing had ever pissed him off quite like this man hurting Jordyn did.
Jordyn choked. “Let me go, Chaz.”
“Now she’s asked for you to let her go, so I suggest you do,” Lucian said.
Chaz’s grip loosened slightly, but he glared hatefully at Jordyn without even bothering to consider Lucian or the threat he posed. “Doesn’t matter anyway, chica. We’re all gonna see it and have it whether you want to give it up, or not. Club Property, Jord. No one’s gonna save your ass after tonight. Got that? It’s all you are now. Club Property.”
With that, Chaz released her throat and removed his hand from between her thighs. Lucian dropped his gun to his side, but made sure his shoulder hit the man’s as he passed.
“Don’t touch her again,” Lucian threatened. “Ever.”
Again, Chaz laughed. “Club Property, pretty boy.”
The door didn’t close behind the bouncer as Gio was there to keep it open. With a single glance at his brother, Gio got the point and let the door close, but Lucian knew he was waiting for a knock to let his brother back in.
“You okay?” Lucian asked, turning back to Jordyn.
The girl was holding her neck with one hand, tears beginning to spill over her cheeks. Splotches of reddish color had saturated her face and throat as she gasped in a lungful of air.
“Hey, it’s all right,” he said when she didn’t answer. “Bastard is gone.”
“No, it’s not!”
Lucian jerked away from Jordyn as if she slapped him. “Excuse me?”
Jordyn stood, anger clouding her pretty features as she stood toe to toe with him. “Why would you do that? Christ, do you even know what you just did?”
“Saved you from being raped?”
“From Chaz?” Jordyn spat out a laugh, bitter and dark. “That fool has been chasing after me since I was sixteen. I’m not worried about him. I can handle his dumb ass.”
Lucian frowned. The scene he walked in on was not one that looked to be in her benefit.
“I’m not going to apologize,” he told Jordyn.
“It wouldn’t fucking make a difference if you did,” she retorted hotly. “Now, I have to explain why some Mafioso is chasing after me.”
Chasing after her?
“What?”
“Like you were being discrete in there?” Jordyn asked sarcastically. “Staring at me and touching me? That might be fine and great in your world, but here, that’s not okay. It’s just not! Those guys, think of us girls like we’re their property and you … You know what, never mind. Get out of here. Maybe I can fucking save what bit of safety I might have left.”
Lucian didn’t have a clue what she was going on about, but it didn’t sound entirely good. “Is that what you need, sweetheart, safety?”
“What I need is for you to go.”
“But—”
“Go,” Jordyn repeated fiercely. “Before something else you do leaves me in even more trouble.”
If that’s what she wanted, that’s what he’d do. Not that he particularly liked it. Lucian turned on his heel and rapped his knuckles on the door. Gio opened it immediately, a silent question passing from brother to brother.
Lucian nodded towards the hall. “Let’s go.”
When the door closed behind them, the phonebook blocking it from locking completely, Lucian let out a heavy breath of air.
“You good?” Gio asked.
“Club Property,” Lucian said, fixing his gun. “What’s that mean?”
“Just like it sounds,” his brother answered. “Property of the Club.”


*****


Blurb: 

Lucian Marcello is aware of the expectations following him as the oldest son of one of North America’s most infamous Cosa Nostra Dons. Family in his world is more than blood and sharing a last name. It’s the honor, respect, business, and the life. Being a Capo is just a stepping stone until it’s time for him to take on the role of underboss but a chance meeting with her could be the one thing he’d risk it all for.

She is exactly what he didn’t know he was looking for.

Jordyn Reese spends her time trying to stay under the radar of a man who wouldn’t think twice about killing her. Unwillingly affiliated with a dangerous MC gang, her life is dominated by the men surrounding her and her future rests solely in how useful she can be for them. The last thing she needs is some Mafioso gaining her more unwanted attention from the club.

He is everything she should stay away from but can’t.

Notoriously violent when it comes to getting what he wants, Lucian will stop at nothing to make the target on Jordyn’s back disappear. But sometimes the worst threats are the ones you can’t see until it’s too late. The truth behind Lucian’s history is about to take center stage in more ways than one, and it’ll either save him … or kill him.


This world leaves everyone a little filthy.

***

Filthy Marcellos: La Cosa Nostra is not just a choice of regime and routine, it’s a culture. Born as mafia royalty, the Marcello brothers were raised ingrained with the beliefs and rules of what it meant to be a Mafioso prince. It is for life. Their status is considered a given right. They will always be these people. They will always be Marcellos.

Add to Goodreads TBR 
Blog Tour: Spotlight on Spanked by the Bad Boy by London Saint James #TopTen @LSJRomance


Title: Spanked by the Bad Boy
Series: Bad Boy Fever
Author: London Saint James
Publisher: Decadent Publishing
Release Date: November 4, 2014
Genre: Contemporary, erotic romance, suspense, thriller, spanking

Heat level: 5
Word count – 49k
Cover art by Mina Carter



Blurb:
As the personal assistant to the owner of one of the top engineering firms in Denver, Tiffany Brooks has worked hard at maintaining a professional façade, intent on ridding herself of terrible habits—like her attraction to bad boys. But when the owner of DC Construction rides his chopper into her world two years after their one-time anonymous sexual encounter, everything turns upside down.


Declan Cage is the type of guy who makes a lasting impression, especially with women, yet the gorgeous assistant at Stoub Engineering never remembers his name—or does she? Intrigued by her game, her sexier than sin body, and an infuriating prissy attitude, Ms. Brooks is begging to be taken into hand, and he’s the man to do it.


Armed with the knowledge Declan doesn’t recognize her, will Tiffany give in to her desire for him yet again, or will her past come back to haunt them both and ruin their chance at something real?


Spanked by the Bad Boy Top 10 Facts
1.      Declan Cage—a man with some rough edges that’s got a heart hidden beneath the bad boy façade.
2.      Tiffany Brooks—someone who has allowed her abusive past to shape her dealings with people, especially with men.
3.      Declan—intrigued by Ms. Brooks.
4.      Tiffany—so wants to deny her attraction to Mr. Cage.
5.      Declan and Tiffany—heat things up between them.
6.      Declan—isn’t going to let Tiffany brush him off.
7.      Tiffany—finds out there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to Declan.
8.      Declan—will do whatever it takes to have a relationship with Tiffany.
9.      Tiffany—the past comes back to haunt her in more ways than one.
10.  Declan and Tiffany—achieve something real.







Buy Links:



Tiffany Brooks heard the familiar tocato-tocato-tocato sound of a purring motor. She swiveled in her office chair to look out the window and saw him park his custom chopper next to her car on the paved lot of Stoub Engineering.

Straddling his chrome bike wearing chunky leather-work boots, jeans, and a simple white T-shirt, Declan Cage set her heart to pitter-pat.

She touched her chest and groused, “You’re not attracted to him, Tiffany.” Tucking a piece of sable-brown hair behind her ear, she straightened her shoulders and put on her toothy-white smile. “Good morning,” she said when he entered the building.

“Morning, Ms. Brooks.”

She observed him coming toward her desk and willed her face to look pleasant, yet restrained. She needed to keep her gaze particularly uninterested in him although the smug politeness she plastered across her features was hard to accomplish. Declan had a swagger that made her want to gawk at him.

“How are you today?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said. “And you?”

“Fabulous.”

Her response was a blank faced, “I’m sorry. I’m not good with names.”

He crinkled his brow, and the muscle in his jaw flexed. Yeah. There it was. The look. She’d definitely gotten under his skin.

“I’m Declan.” He turned slightly to show her his back and gestured over his shoulder toward the logo. The silver skull ring he wore on his thumb gleamed. “From DC Construction,” he said. She couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles bulged beneath the shirt.

“Oh yes.” She waved her hand about. She knew who he was and had immediately recognized him the first time he’d sauntered into the office over a month ago. She’d played it cool then, and she’d play it
cool now. Besides, revealing her little secret would be nothing but detrimental. Yet even if it was a dangerous game, she loved bugging the hell out of him with her I’m-bad-with names thing, especially since she imagined he wasn’t used to a woman forgetting him.

Continuing with the I’m-a-busy-professional-who’s-not-impressed-by-you farce, she casually glanced at her laptop, flipped the lid closed, then looked back up at him. “How may I help you today?”

“Matthew called me this morning. He said he left some plans here and I should come by to pick them up.”

“Plans for the Cherry Hills project, right?”

Declan smiled, and his dimples made an appearance through the brownish stubble on his face. Tiffany shook her legs beneath her desk a couple of times then stopped the nervous movement, glad he couldn’t see them.

“Yes,” he said. “For the parking garage.”

She rolled her chair back and stood, sliding her hands down the sides of her hips, hoping to smooth out any wrinkles in her skirt and secretly wishing to bring attention to her curves. She removed her sweater so the silk and lace tank top hidden beneath could be seen. When she flopped the garment over the back of her chair, she straightened her spine and pressed her ample breasts out.

“Follow me,” she said, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

Satisfied she’d given him a fairly good view of her hourglass figure, she glanced up. Declan stood beside her, and even though she wore four-inch heels, he towered above her. His height sort of intimidated her, but her body didn’t seem to impress him.

Crap.

He pulled a cell phone from the leather holder hooked to his jeans and stared at the screen. “Sorry,” he said in a bored tone. “I forgot to send a text.” His fingers tapped. He put the phone away in a lackadaisical manner. “Lead on.”

Unwilling to let his lack of interest faze her, she gave Declan her back and walked.

“The plans are in Mr. Stoub’s office.”

“Super,” he said.

She sashayed across the room with her chin held high, stopping at the marble counter across from the conference room and pointing toward the fancy coffeemaker. “There’s fresh coffee. Can I get you some?”

“No. I’m fine. But thanks for offering,” he said.

“Mm.” She continued toward the office, Declan following her. “Well.…” After walking in, she eyed several elongated white tubes sitting on top of the oversized desk and gestured toward one wingback chair. “Have a seat. It will take me a second or two to find the right drawings.” She walked around the office furniture as Declan sat on the edge of the chair. Picking up one tube, she read the label.
“Sawyer,” she said and set it down in too much of a rush. Her hand accidently hit the other containers. They jostled and started to roll. She tried to stop their momentum, but several of the cylinders went over the side and hit the floor. “Geez Louise.” Tiffanysidestepped and bent to get them.

Declan had already jumped up to help her.

“Here, let me,” he said, coming to her side and squatting next to her.

When he reached for the mess, his right arm brushed against the top portion of her left shoulder. She sucked in a breath at the contact and thought her heart would stop from the frisson of energy snapping over her skin. Every part of her body became aware of him. He was potent. And virile. A rough, intoxicating man in his prime. Refusing to be reduced to a quivering weakling, she reminded herself he was only a man, akin to any other, and turned to see his face.

“Thank you.”

He met her gaze. “Anytime.”

Those eyes.


The color of the sea. Deep, blue-green, and fathomless.

Who was she trying to kid? Declan Cage wasn’t just any man. She looked away and focused on something else. Tiffany fixed her attention on the clutter she’d created, but she was still watching him—staring at his large hands while he gathered up the blueprint holders. She licked her lips and pictured those hands on her body, fondling her.



Author Bio & Links:
London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.

As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.
Bad Boy Fever FB Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/badboyfever
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/LSJRomance





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