by K. Webster and J.D. Hollyfield
Publication Date: May 21, 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy
For nearly a year, they’ve been at war.
Cops. Forks. Eggs.
Two feuding neighbors who couldn’t be more opposite, forced to live next door to one another.
Neither is backing down.
She drives him crazy with her loud nineties rap music.
He gets under her skin the way he obsesses over his stupid perfect lawn.
She fantasizes about having sex with the hot nerd—but with duct tape over his dumb mouth.
He has dirty dreams of the bombshell beauty where he bangs the crazy right out of her—nightmares of course.
Anger isn’t the only thing heating up between these two.
They think this is a battle only one of them can win…
The growing attraction between them, though, seems to be far more stubborn than the two of them combined.
K Webster is the author of dozens romance books in many different genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. When not spending time with her husband of twelve years and two adorable children, she’s active on social media connecting with her readers.
Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen.
Creative designer, mother, wife, writer, part time superhero…
J.D. Hollyfield is a creative designer by day and superhero by night. When she is not trying to save the world one happy ending at a time, she enjoys the snuggles of her husband, son and three doxies. With her love for romance, and head full of book boyfriends, she was inspired to test her creative abilities and bring her own story to life.
Life in a Rut, Love not Included is her Debut Novel. J.D. Hollyfield lives in the Midwest, and is currently at work on blowing the minds of readers, with the additions of her new books and series, along with her charm, humor and HEA’s.
Publication Date: June 4, 2018
Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Organized Crime. Erotic, Heist Romance
1. trick or deceive.
• obtain by deception.
She was named most appropriately.
Cozen Taylor has more than earned her place as one of North America’s most successful thieves. Her name is whispered amongst criminal elite as the go-to thief when someone needs a heist.
She has never failed.
A call from the Miami-based Astor family could change all that with a job that seems almost impossible to complete. The mark should be simple—a stolen family heirloom, the man who has kept it hidden for over twenty years, and six months to return the piece to its rightful owners.
Nothing is ever that easy.
Three-hundred million for a successful heist. No smart thief would turn the offer down. Cozen didn’t expect a complication like him to put a kink in her plans, though. Sargon Makri—tall, dark, gorgeous, and entirely dangerous. For her life, her heart, and for the success of the heist.
The last thing Cozen needs to be thinking about is Sargon, and how she can get him into her bed … especially when he just happens to be her mark’s bodyguard. The thrill of the job has never been more addicting to Cozen, and she will risk everything to make the heist a success.
But at what cost?
From author Bethany-Kris comes a whole new world. A North American network full of criminals battling to stay on top, and painting the streets red in war as they dabble in the game of betrayal. Malicious, cunning, forbidden, and violent—welcome to The Empires and Badlands.
Then, he held out a black velvet box. It was the size of his palm with two tiny hinges on the other side. She didn’t immediately reach out to take the box, instead letting Sargon decide what she was supposed to do with it.
“A gift,” he said.
She didn’t even pose it as a question.
Sargon tried to smile, but it just ended up looking like a half sneer. “Yes, from Jett. Open it.”
Cozen flipped the top open on the velvet box, and eyed the golden piece resting inside on crushed velvet. Two thin ropes of gold connected by dangling gold bars. It was a simple design, but still beautiful. A piece that could be layered, or worn by itself.
“He thought,” Sargon said, “that it would match the ring on your thumb.”
Instantly, Cozen withdrew her hands from the necklace in the box, and covered the ring on her thumb to hide it.
“He notices everything,” Sargon added, “and he found that you don’t take the ring off. He figured you might like something to accentuate the ring, and compliment it at the same time.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
That wasn’t a lie.
“Would you like me to help you put it on?” Sargon asked.
The last thing Cozen needed was this man’s hands on her body. Her stupid desire spoke up before the rational part of her brain could.
“Yes, I would,” she said.
Cozen got a nice show of Sargon’s fast reflexes as he yanked the jewelry out with one hand, snapped the lid closed on the box at the same time, and in a blink, had discarded the box to his back pocket. Never once did he take his eyes off her.
Stepping closer, he moved behind Cozen, and allowed the necklace to dangle over her throat. At the first graze of his fingertips along her skin, she sucked in a fast breath. Her best bet was to talk while he worked as to keep her libido in fucking check.
“Sargon—where does that come from?” she asked. “The name, I mean.”
“Persian, mostly, and my bloodline comes from Iran.”
“Huh. And how did you come to work for Jett?”
Talking wasn’t really helping all that much. She could still feel his fingers sliding over the side of her neck where her pulse raced in her throat.
Sargon’s fingertips pressed softly into the spot, showcasing her traitorous emotions to him. To his credit, he didn’t mention a thing.
“He stumbled upon me, you could say,” Sargon murmured in her ear. “As most of my bosses do. I am—sort of—a jack of all trades. I never settle in one place for long, and there’s always something new on the horizon. It keeps me entertained and never bored, anyway.”
Cozen closed her eyes, and briefly sucked in a deep breath. She hoped it would help to settle her. It really didn’t. She was still just as turned on and unsettled by Sargon’s close proximity has she had been seconds before.
This man was going to be a problem for her.
A big one.
“Relax,” Sargon said behind her. “Calm your heart.”
“Perhaps you should stop touching me, then.”
“Ask me to, and I will.”
It was Sargon’s phone ringing that sent them two of the moving feet apart, but it was the caller who sent them out of the apartment.
Jett was waiting.
Cozen nearly forgot.
Sargon was dangerous, she knew.
In more ways than one.
Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to four young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.
To keep up-to-date with new releases from Bethany-Kris, sign up to her New Release Newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD
Contemporary Romance (with erotica)
Published Date: April 3, 2018
Publisher: Limitless Publishing
Mitch Johnson, the tall, hot-tempered, brown-eyed cowboy with the potential to bring my career crashing down around me. He’s a distraction I can’t afford—and a temptation I can’t ignore.
Full Book Description
My job is everything to me, and climbing the corporate ladder is my one and only goal. Now that I’ve landed an important account for a popular dude ranch, I’m more determined than ever. There’s just one problem I didn’t count on…Mitch Johnson, the tall, hot-tempered, brown-eyed cowboy with the potential to bring my career crashing down around me. He’s a distraction I can’t afford—and a temptation I can’t ignore. But the real kicker? He also happens to be the ranch owner’s son, which means I’m about to saddle up more problems than I can handle.
He tipped his hat and led Alexis to the herd. Feeling clumsy and off-kilter, she followed the rancher over to the available horses, trying not to stare at his long stride and tight backside.
He stopped in front of a fiery chestnut thoroughbred. “Would you like the mounting block?”
“I think I can get up from the ground.” The horse appeared taller as she inched closer to it. His intense red coat matched her hair.
“His name is Blazing Star, but just call him Blaze.” Mitch patted the horse’s neck. “He’s a thoroughbred, but a good boy and won’t startle.” A smile reached his lips as he handed her the reins. “As long as you can get up on the first try.”
“I’m sure I can.” The words came out harsher than expected. She hated when people doubted her. Scooting to the side of the beast, inhaling the pungent smell of horse that reminded her of college riding, she tightened her grip on the reins, grabbed some mane, and slipped a foot in the stirrup. Yoga helped keep her flexible, but the stirrups sat high and her legs weren’t that long. Hopping a couple times on her grounded foot, she gathered momentum and pushed up and off.
Hands were on her backside, helping to lift. She plopped into the saddle, riled by the wrangler’s audacity, but when she twisted to tell him how inappropriate he was, the cowboy had already sauntered away to help another patron. Alexis gathered up her reins and led Blaze to the water trough.
Jo Jo joined her there. “I saw it all.”
“Saw what?” Her eyebrows furrowed.
“You flirting with the handsome guide and him helping you on the horse.” Her friend appeared petite on the large horse as she pointed toward the band of wranglers all mounting their rides. “Nice work. Well played.”
“You’re crazy.” The need to push her friend’s arm down so no one would think they were talking about the staff overwhelmed her, but she didn’t want to let go of the reins and reach over.
“I wasn’t flirting and didn’t need his help to get on the horse.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.” Jo Jo looked longingly at the mounting block.
“Next time, I’ll remember to just say no to using the mounting block.”
Alexis reined her horse away.
Release Date: May 19
For centuries, the Drakoryan lords have taken sacrificial maidens. As a village widow, I thought myself safe from their attentions. I was wrong.
I am Thera the Healer, and I blame the Drakoryans for the death of my husband and father. They were killed before our dragon lord rulers resettled us in the Drakoryan Valley ahead of war with the ShadowFell.
Now they seek to recruit village men into their army to fight the enemy. But I seek to convince my people that the enemy is not some black dragon we have never seen, but the one who keeps us.
Now the Drakoryans are accusing me of sedition, and seek to neutralize my influence in a manner I will not accept. They seek to wed me to five Drakoryan lords tasked with keeping order in my village.
They won’t get what they want without a fight.
As I walk through the village, I think of them. Even in the cold, I fancy I can still feel the heat of their huge bodies as they surrounded me, hear the steel in those deep voices when they refused to release me from this fate. It was in those moments that I realized the power of the Drakoryans. I’d thought I’d seen it when they became dragons, but their true power lies within. There is a force in them that speaks to something deep inside me, something I’d buried along with the bloody shirt.
They have given me leave to stay at my cottage at night, yet I know that will end. By day, one or the other is not far from me. Each evening now, we take our meager meals together, and when we do, I say little, having little to say. Instead, I listen, seeking to discern the nature of these men who have vowed to make me their mate.
The Lords of Kry’bil speak of the needs of the village and worries over the continuing cold. They speak of asking the witches for permission to hunt the woods for meat. I continue to learn from their conversations. These strong Drakoryan males are deferential to the feminine power in the mountains. Magda, the healer who mentored me, told me that healers have a special connection with the divine. I think of how I can sense an illness before it is described to me, and of how easily the vision of my Bran came to me wish a message. Perhaps there is magic in me, too? Perhaps, I think, there is magic in all women.
Magic in women. But magic in men, too.
Sometimes, my eyes fall on the lords, and I catch myself staring at their hard chests, their large hands, the corded ridged muscles of their forearms. I think of how it would feel, being pressed into furs beneath one of their powerful bodies, of parting my legs to be entered by a cock I’m sure would be more than sufficient to fill the aching need I try to deny. At those times, I doubt myself, and fear the image of Bran was nothing more than a manifestation of my own loneliness and physical need, just another misguided impulse, not unlike revenge.
Yet sin or sign, I am drawn to the Lords of Kry’bil a little more each day. My nipples harden when they say my name. I feel the heat coming off their bodies as they pass and feel moisture seep from my throbbing pussy. The woman in me is stirring awake. Having felt passion, I know what I am missing, and when I walk from a cottage to find all five waiting for me with serious expressions, my heart leaps a little in my chest.
“Can we have a word?” Lord Erdorin asks. I nod, looking at them from under the hood I’ve pulled up over my head.
“We can wait no more, Thera. Drakoryans are not like other men. Once a mate is named, we burn and weaken if the wait is long.” He glances towards the mountain. “We cannot afford the luxury of weakness. Not now.”
I swallow nervously as he continues.
“It has always been the practice for us to battle for first rights, but you are no virgin.” He pauses. “We will have you, Thera, however you will decide in what order.”
“How?” I ask. “How do I choose?” My eyes travel from one to the other.
Dark-eyed Erdorin, his jaw dark with stubble, wears his wavy hair at shoulder length. Gyrvig, with his russet hair and beard is different from the others. Jareo wears his long hair in a single braid. He is the sternest, the most serious.
And then there are the twins, dark and bearded. I tell them apart now by their birthmarks. Tyri’s is on the left. Yrko’s is on the right.
“Choose,” Gyrvig says. The heat coming from him is the strongest. Jareo hangs back, staring intently. He has a fighter’s eyes. The twins, so large, so fierce, wear the same expression of want. I look back at Erdorin and give him the answer that seems most fair.
“Very well,” I say. “Oldest to youngest.”
A fresh wave of heat comes off of Erdorin. His brothers’ disappointment is palpable.
“We will sleep outside tonight.” Jareo says.
“No…” I shake my head. “If I must…if we…let it be in my cottage, in my home. I will not be taken on the floor.”
Erdorin smiles. “I have seen the bed in your cottage, little one. It is small like you. We will end up on the floor just the same.”
I scowl. “Perhaps. But it is my floor. I would awake in my own house tomorrow.”
“Very well.” He gives me a nod. “I will come to you at candle time.”
He turns away then, and I realize I am trembling.
The wait is over. Tonight I will be claimed by the first of five Drakoryan lords.
Ava Sinclair bio:
Variety is the spice of life and Ava Sinclair writes a little something for everyone, from dark romance to menage to kinky AF age play. But the one thing that is consistent in her books are strong storylines, alpha males, and strong women whose hearts and bodies aren’t given up without a fight.
Ava lives in southern Virginia, where she enjoys hoarding books, hiking, running, spoiling her cats, and spending time with her Eurasian eagle owl, Lucius.
Social Media links for Ava Sinclair
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/Author-Ava-Sinclair-490738981084361/