Saturday, March 1, 2014

Cover Reveal: Forbidden No More by Christy Dilg


Title: Forbidden No More
Author: Christy Dilg
Release Date: Summer 2014
Genre: Erotica Romance
 
 

Synopsis:

Two dissatisfied marriages sparked an affair between Laney Collins, and Dr. Chance Turner. The connection they had was instant and powerful. Now, one year later they are ready to embark on the journey of husband and wife together. Will they be able to be faithful to each other, with others desperately waiting in the wings for their relationship to fall apart?

Laney plans the wedding to the love of her life, while her world is turned upside down and fears take over her mind. The insecurities with her body changing leads for a strained relationship with Chance causing her to close him out. There is only so much a man can take before he loses his ability to be supportive.

Chance branches out on his own, by opening his own clinic. Stacy Nickelson is the beautiful architect that is working on the plans for the new building. She has an eye for the handsome unmarried doctor. Will he return the feelings to Stacy? 

Will Laney and Chance find their way back to each other, or will they go in different directions before they walk down the aisle?

 

Model: Ashley Alexiss

Photographer: Robert Sleeper






Christy Dilg is an erotica romance author and also is as a full-time medical biller. She has released her first novel “Forbidden Forever” and is currently working on her next book “Forbidden No More”. When she’s not writing she spends her time with her husband and teenage daughter. She is also known as Radiation Girl after beating thyroid cancer and finally living life and embracing her glow. She hopes that her writing inspires others to live their dreams regardless of the outcome. She hopes that she can reach others through her stories and touch their hearts.  In December 2013, Christy was named to Amazon's Romance Editor's List of Fan Picks for Top Debut Author.

Social Links


Instagram: @fancy_grey

Twitter: @fancygrey



 
Forbidden Forever Links

 



Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/18i3YGI

 
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Cover Reveal: Determined and Derailed by Gracie Wilson

Determined and Derailed by Gracie Wilson
(Storm Corp #1)
Publication Date: April 29th
Genre: New Adult

Synopsis:
What do you do when those closest to you are gone? What happens when you stumble upon something you can’t turn a blind eye to?
During all the chaos that has become my life, I find friendships are tested, loyalties are betrayed and those left that I love are put in danger or killed.
Love is a messy thing and when you add Jax, your childhood crush, Nolan, who is your brother’s best friend, and Cohen, the new guy at work; it’s a recipe for disaster.
Don’t forget the non-stop confusion that has become my life too. My goal is to make it out of this alive, but even I don’t know if that is possible.
Who can I trust? Who will I finally decide to give my heart to? Will I get my revenge on those who have taken all that was important to me?
My name is Alexis Storm and my answer is to fight back.


Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19548017-determined-and-derailed



Gracie lives in Windsor, Ontario with her husband. Her grandparents, who live in a small town just outside of Windsor, raised Gracie with the support of her family. She is the oldest of three sisters and has a large extended family. In her spare time, she is a very active reader and diving into a new book every chance she can.

She writes New Adult/Adult Romances. “The Lonely Girl” was her first publication, although she now has three additional projects coming.  One, which is another series Storm Corp (April 2014), two Twisted(coming 2015) a trilogy, and Loving The Unloved is a stand alone that will be coming late 2014/early 2015
AUTHOR LINKS
http://graciewilsonauthor.weebly.com/
https://www.goodreads.com/graciewilson
www.facebook.com/graciewilsonauthor
www.facebook.com/gracie.wilson.author1
https://twitter.com/Gracie__Wilson
Feel free to contact her about her upcoming books at graciewilsonauthor@gmail.com






Blog Tour: Loverboy by Trista Jaszczak

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TOUR-ABOUTBOOK

Title – Loverboy  

 

Author – Trista Jaszczak  

 

Genre – Romance/Thriller  

 

Re-Release Date – October 31, 2013  

 

Publisher– Planettopia Publishing  

 

Cover Artist – Beetiful Designs

 

 



When Charlotte Murphy escapes from the ruthless serial rapist and killer, Loverboy, she finds herself completely lost and scared to death. Lost, frightened, recovering, and in the sights of a brutal killer. In a most odd but clever tactic from the police, they assign Charlie 24/7 live-in protection; a move that is supposed to comfort her and make healing easier. Somehow, despite the odds, Charlie finds a refuge in officer Nick Andrews and in his arms she finds the strength to heal and the courage to move on with life. Nick finds everything that he wasn't looking for in Charlie’s eyes and a fight against a killer that becomes personal.

 


 

TOUR-BUYTBRLINK

AMAZON | GOODREADS TO BE READ SHELF

 

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  Author Photo 

MEET TRISTA JASZCZAK Trista Jaszczak (jazz-ick) is the author of the Believe series, retold, and upcoming relaunches, Loverboy, What Lies Inside and the Darkness Falls series. She is an Air Force spouse and mother to two mischievous and rambunctious little girls. She is originally from Hamilton, Ohio but calls home where ever the Air Force sends her. She currently resides in Anchorage, Alaska where she finds endless inspiration in the pure Alaskan wilderness. When she isn’t writing, she spends her time with her family in the vast Alaskan outdoors, plucking away at her old guitar or working on self improvement in the gym. She loves the outdoors, the moon, old movies and music.

 

 

TOUR-GIVEAWAY 

 

Giveaway Prizes

One 1st Place Winner: Paperback Loverboy Handmade Book Thong (International Gift Card equivalent)

Two 2nd Place Winner: eCopy Loverboy with handmade Loverboy Bookmark (International OK)

Three 3rd Place Winners: eCopy Loverboy (International OK)

 

 

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Friday, February 28, 2014

Cover Reveal: Beware by Shanora Williams

beware front cover



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Synopsis

 
 
Ace is bad.
Very bad.
After losing my brother, I know I should stay away. So why can’t I?
He’s irresistible. He’s confident. He’s amazing… but he’s dangerous.
He was there the night my brother was killed. He watched it all go down.
I should stay away. The things I saw weren’t acceptable. They’re not even legal.
I should want Ace as far away from me as possible—I should consider him a monster and a threat to my life—but something keeps drawing me back. Something keeps bringing me to him. Something is making me… weak for him.
He’s warned me many times to stay away. He’s even threatened me. But I know, just as much as he does, that I won’t stay away. I won’t until I get answers.
But there’s one thing wrong with getting too many answers. It leads to lies. It leads to trouble. It leads to danger. But worst of all, it leads to me falling deeply and madly in love with him.
I’ve gotta be out of my mind.

Teaser
 

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Excerpt
 
 
Footsteps start up the complex stairs. They’re heavy. Slow. I try to control my breathing but it’s hard. The room that was once my sanctuary – my get away—now feels like a trap. A prison. I can hardly breathe.
Sealing my eyes, I listen as his footsteps get closer to my door until finally he stops. It’s quiet for a moment. I think he’s got his ear to the door, wondering what I’m doing.
Then he bangs on the door and I gasp. I don’t get up, though. He can’t get in. The door is locked and the chain is on. I don’t think he’d be dumb enough to kick the door in, knowing I have neighbors. Good thing they’re nosey. They’ll come looking for the noise immediately.
“London, I know you’re in there! Car’s in the parking lot.” His voice is no longer calm and casual. It’s angry and demanding. “Open the door.”
I don’t say anything, but I do stand and hold the knife in front of me just in case. I slowly walk out of my bedroom and towards the living room.
“Open it or I’ll kick it down. I don’t give a fuck who sees me.”
I gulp and gasp at the same time, which causes me to burp. And it’s pretty loud. Loud enough for Ace to hear.
Instantly, the door swings open and hits the wall with a loud thud. I scream as I fall on my side. When I look up, Ace is standing between the frames of his door, adjusting his tie. All I can make out is his shadow, but I can feel his eyes hard on me.
Stepping inside, he shuts the door behind him coolly. I scramble away with the knife in my hand. When I get to my feet, I dash for my bedroom and grab the telephone. He chases after me, warning me not to do anything stupid.
I dial 9, but I’m not given the chance to finish. He snatches the phone out of my hand and slams it down. I spin around, bringing the butcher knife in front of me again.
Ace takes a quick step back, glaring down at the knife. Then, a slow smirk forms on his lips. The lips I hated I admired once.
“I’ll cut you,” I threaten.
“You won’t,” he says boldly.
“I won’t?” I hiss, bringing the edge of the knife to his neck. “Don’t test me. I will.”
He raises his hands in the air, shaking his head. “When’s the last time you sharpened this bad boy, huh? Three years ago? It’s as dull as fucking a nun in bed.”
“I don’t give a shit! I can still cut you with it! Just… sit down!” I demand, circling him, knife still clutched in my hands and at his neck. “On the bed.”
He frowns. “No.”
“I don’t wanna hurt you, but if I have to I will!” I shout, voice wavering.
“That’s the thing… you won’t.” His tone is even.
I keep my tears back and my emotions behind me for now. I don’t want him to think I’m weak. I don’t want him to get away either. But deep inside I know I won’t hurt him. I won’t cut him. I’m too afraid to shed blood after seeing so much already.
With a bored sigh, Ace snatches the knife out of my hand and tosses it out of my bedroom. It skids across the hard wood floors, causing a clanking noise that makes my ears ring. I gasp, and start to run after it, but he grabs my arm tight and shoves me against the nearest wall. It’s not a hard shove. Nor does it hurt. But I’m still afraid.
As I tremble, he brings one of his large hands up and locks my face between his fingers. His eyes stare deeply into mine, his nostrils flared. From the slit of light filtering in through my window, he looks pissed. I know he’s going to kill me. I’m a witness.
“Listen to me,” he grumbles. His warm breath spills down my chest, across my cleavage. “I told you I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” I spit.
“I won’t. I’m not the one that killed Jonah. They did.”
Hearing Jonah’s name causes fiery tears to build in my eyes. “It’s your fault. I know it. Why wouldn’t they kill you, too? What were you doing there anyway? Why was Jonah there? Why did they kill him?” All of this is spilling out of me. I’m outraged. I’m pissed that Ace is still alive and my brother isn’t. I’m terrified. I’m… I’m a mess.
“Listen to me!” he demands, releasing my face to lock his hands on my shoulders. “I don’t know why they killed Jonah, all right? I don’t know why they didn’t kill me. But you have to understand… it’s what we do. It’s what Jonah signed up for. It’s business, and we can’t help when shit gets bloody.”
I process his words, give them some thought. “So… you’re the one that got him into that shit? What is it? What’d you promise him? I know Jonah, and I know he wouldn’t do something this bad without something in exchange.”
“I didn’t promise him shit.” Ace runs one hand through his slick hair. “He knew what he was in for. He was money-hungry, just like everyone else. He saw a way to achieve it and he went for it. It was a mistake… him coming to Atlanta.”
“How is that a mistake?” I demand. “I invited him. I graduated!”
Ace tilts his chin to meet my eyes. His are dark, and if I’m not mistaken, watery. I’m not given the chance to figure it out completely because he blinks and just like that, he’s angry again. “Don’t go to the cops. It’ll only get you killed.”
And with that, he releases me and walks out of my bedroom. I follow after him, grabbing his arm before he can get out the front door. “Killed by who? You?” I’m keeping my voice steady, but deep inside I’m scared out of my fucking mind.
 
Teaser
 

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MeetTheAuthor
 
 
AUTHOR BIO PIC
 
 
New York Times & USA Today Best Selling author Shanora Williams considers herself one of the wondrous, down-to-earth authors who's all about romance and the paranormal... but of course she always makes room for the many other genres out there. She's a huge lover of Starbucks and a big kid when it comes to Haribo Gummy Bears. If she could swim in Coca-Cola she would. She's a very avid reader and a fan of many others independent authors.
 

Teaser
 

Beware Teaser 1


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Cover Reveal: Everybody's Somebody by D. Breeze

 
Title: Everybody's Somebody
Author: D. Breeze
Expected Publishing Date: March 7, 2014
Hosted by: Tantalizing Promotions


Rhianne Shepard is odd. Well, she thinks she is. 
Actually, she's gifted, she's beautiful and she's extraordinary, but she's lonely. No friends, no family except her mother. Thinking she's destined to spend the rest of her life hidden in her solitary existence, she thinks that no one knows the REAL Rhianne even exists.

Jamie Travis does. Even though they've never spoken. Not once. He wants her to know that he cares, he knows she exists and he wants her to start living.

Circumstances throw them together, and Jamie thinks he finally has his chance to show Rhianne that she really is someone special. But he could never have guessed the battle he faces against the doubts in her mind, put there by a mentally ill mother, an estranged father and a gift that she might never understand.

Does he really have the ability to fight her inner demons, and win? Or is he fighting a losing battle?






Excerpt Blast: About Last Night by Ruthie Knox

We are pleased to be able to share an excerpt from Ruthie Knox's ABOUT LAST NIGHT!

ABOUT LAST NIGHT is a contemporary romance,
published by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House.

ABOUT LAST NIGHT is on sale for $.99 right now for a limited time only, so grab it now!








ABOUT LAST NIGHT Synopsis:

Sure, opposites attract, but in this sexy, smart, eBook original romance from RITA finalist and USA Today bestselling author Ruthie Knox, they positively combust! When a buttoned-up banker falls for a bad girl, "about last night" is just the beginning.

CathTalarico knows a mistake when she makes it, and God knows she's made her share. So many, in fact, that this Chicago girl knows London is her last, best shot at starting over. But bad habits are hard to break, and soon Cath finds herself back where she has vowed never to go . . . in the bed of a man who is all kinds of wrong: too rich, too classy, too uptight for a free-spirited troublemaker like her.

Nev Chamberlain feels trapped and miserable in his family's banking empire. But beneath his pinstripes is an artist and bohemian struggling to break free and lose control. Mary Catherine--even her name turns him on--with her tattoos, her secrets, and her gamine, sex-starved body, unleashes all kinds of fantasies.

When blue blood mixes with bad blood, can a couple that is definitely wrong for each other ever be perfectly right? And with a little luck and a lot of love, can they make last night last a lifetime?

Includes a special message from the editor, as well as excerpts from these Loveswept titles: Because of You, Ride with Me, and Midnight Hour.
  • A 2013 finalist for the RITA award in contemporary single-title romance from Romance Writers of America
  • A 2012 Reviewers' Choice Best Book Award nominee in the "Contemporary Love and Laughter" category, Romantic Times magazine
  • A Library Journal Best Ebook Romance of 2012
  • A Reviewers Choice Award 2012 Pick, All About Romance
  • A Best Contemporary Romance 2012 nominee at The Romance Reviews
  • A 2013 DABWAHA nominee



EXCERPT:


Cath leaned against a table strewn with crumpled tubes of paint and jars full of brushes, pressing her damp palms against the surface and willing her heart to stop pounding. You’re not really attracted to City. You’re just looking for your clothes, and then you’re going home. A blip, remember? This is a blip.

 Dimly, she realized he’d spoken. “Sorry, what?”

 His lips twitched, and the dimple made another appearance. “I only said ‘Good morning.’ Are you all right?”

 She’d been on the money predicting he’d have a posh accent, anyway. Maybe she could blame the hangover for her reaction to the smile. She needed to eat something. Or get laid.

 It had been a while. Could you still say that when it had been two years? It had been a while.

 “That depends,” she said.

 “On?”

 “On what I did last night.”

 He pursed his perfect lips, a frown line appearing between his eyebrows. “You don’t remember?”

 “Not much.” She drew her index finger along the surface of his worktable, as if checking for dust.

 “Do you remember refusing to tell me your name or where you live?”

 “We talked?” Funny, she couldn’t resurrect any memories of speaking to him. Only his hand, warm and solid, guiding her. Only the way he’d made her feel.

 The way he was still making her feel, come to think of it. She was bare-legged in this strange man’s apartment, asking him to reveal the details of what she’d done while drunk last night. The situation ought to have been intimidating. She ought to have been queasy with remorse.

 She wasn’t, and she could only conclude the reason was City. He projected calm.

 “You kept calling me ‘City,’” he said.

 Cath nodded. “Yep. That’s what I call you.”

 He gave her a wry smile, and she held on tight to the edge of the table. Maybe calm didn’t quite cover it. Not when he smiled, anyway.

 “That’s precisely what you said last night.”

 His voice wasn’t at all what she’d expected. It was low and warm and soothing, and it took the edge right off his fancy accent.

 “Did I say why I wouldn’t tell you my name?”

 The smile widened, and she decided it ought to be classified as a misdemeanor. Grinning with Intent to Discombobulate.

 “You told me you were sad and quite tired, but you didn’t require my help, and all you needed to set yourself to rights was a cup of coffee and something to eat.”

 “So how did I—”

 He raised one finger to prevent her interruption, his eyes twinkling with amusement. She’d never noticed how unusual his eyes were before. They were green over brown, both exotic and warm.

 “Then,” he continued, “when I tried to introduce myself properly, you covered my mouth with your hand and insisted we remain strangers, because you could tell I was a very nice man”—he pronounced the word <i>nice</i> as if it were a razor blade he was carefully spitting out—“and I’d be far better off not knowing you.”

 Cath was impressed. Her drunk self had more sense than she’d given her credit for.

 “That’s true,” she offered. “I’m not really your type.”

 He cocked an eyebrow but let the comment slide.

 “Since I’m here, I guess that means you took a pass on the opportunity to hop the next train and leave me to my own devices?”

 “It was nearly midnight,” he said, defensive. “All the shops were closed, there were no cabs to be found, you wouldn’t tell me where you lived or let me see you home, and you could barely stand up. So yes, bringing you here seemed like the right thing to do.”

 A thought distracted her from the question she’d been forming. “What were you doing at Canary Wharf at midnight on a Friday?”

 “Trolling for prostitutes.”

 He delivered the line in such a dry, remote tone, it took her a second to get that he was joking, but when she did, she couldn’t prevent herself from teasing, “You must have been so disappointed with the selection.” She glanced down at her small, decidedly unvoluptuous body in the oversized shirt.

 “I wouldn’t say that, love.”

 The dimple appeared again. She lost a few seconds gazing at his mouth, and then she came to and let her eyes slide down his torso to alight on his hand, which still held a paintbrush.

 She hadn’t expected the smile. Or the paintbrush.

 She definitely hadn’t expected him to flirt with her.

 “I’d been to see a film,” he explained.

 “I passed out,” she replied, attempting to steer the conversation back toward the safer ground of her humiliation so that she could get the details she needed and scurry home.

 “I suppose you did. You were terribly tired. I made a pot of tea, and by the time I’d finished you were asleep at my kitchen table. I tried to rouse you, but you said, ‘Leave me alone,’ and then something that sounded very much like, ‘Don’t murder me.’” He reported all this matter-of-factly, as if drunk women passed out on his kitchen table every Friday night.

 Which, for all you know, they do.

 “Nice of you not to.”

 “I seem to have convinced you I’m a nice man.”

 Cath nodded her agreement, though he didn’t look all that nice at the moment. The gleam in those green-brown eyes was positively rakish. She hadn’t thought City had a speck of rakishness in him.

 “Sorry about the stripping part,” she mumbled, partly because she was sorry but mostly because she wondered what he’d say.

 The smile he gave her made her toes curl, it was so wicked. “You do remember,” he said in that low rumble.

 “You were very, uh, gentlemanly about that.”

 “You were very intoxicated.” He turned away to set the paintbrush down on the tray at the base of his easel.

 “Yeah.”

 She stared at her toes until they uncurled. This was her cue to ask what he’d done with her clothes. She would have, only City asked, “How are you feeling?” and so she had to keep talking to him. She tried to mind it but failed. The man was proving to be an enjoyable conversationalist, and he was remarkably easy on the eyes.

 “I’m fine, thanks. I have a little headache, but the shower helped. And the toothbrush.”

 “Glad to hear it. Would you like breakfast? I fried up some bacon.”

 The mention of bacon made her stomach rumble.

 “That sounds like a yes.”

 “I do have a weakness for the bacon-sandwich hangover cure,” she admitted. “But it seems a little lowbrow for you, City. I can’t imagine you drunk, much less hungover.”

 He took a few steps closer and studied her, an unabashed appraisal that should have been rude or even scary but instead sent syrupy heat creeping through her abdomen. “Considering you don’t know my name, you seem to have a lot of ideas about me.”

 Oh, she had ideas. She had a whole slew of new ideas about him, and she needed to find an exit strategy quick, because none of them was on the list of things she was supposed to be thinking about. Banker, she reminded herself. He’s a banker, a very boring banker. Enough already. Just, whatever you do, don’t flirt with him.

 “I don’t need to know your name. I’ve seen you around, and I know your type.”

 Aaaand she was flirting with him.

 It won her a smirk. “What’s my type, then?”

 “For starters, you come from money. You went to expensive boarding schools, graduated from either Oxford or Cambridge, and now you work at a bank in the City—thus the name.”

 He frowned and wiped his hand over his mouth. What a mouth.

 “Just let me know when I get something wrong,” she offered.

 “By all means, carry on. You’re doing a brilliant job so far.”

 “Which was it, Oxford or Cambridge?”

 “Cambridge. Trinity College.”

 She resisted the urge to gloat. Gloating was well outside the range of acceptable responses to City on this particular morning.

 So is flirting with him.

 Right. But it was so much fun. She hadn’t flirted in ages.

 “Let’s see,” she said. “I know you like to jog. Judging by those shoulders and arms, I’d say you also row, yeah?”

 “Some. I play rugby, too.” He gave her half a smile, and she made an effort to suppress the image of City in a rugby jersey with pink cheeks and dirty knees, tussling over a ball. A human orgasm.

 Her good sense was now officially yelling Mayday!

 She was now officially ignoring it.

 “What do I do for fun, then?” He stepped even closer. This flirtation had turned into a two-way party. She needed to find a method of steering the conversation back toward bacon sandwiches and, say, the location of her skirt, because it probably wasn’t good that she could smell him now, and on this man linseed oil was an aphrodisiac.

 “Well, you go to the symphony, spend weekends in the countryside, and date women who wear twinsets and have names like—”

 Without the least bit of warning, he kissed her. Not a preamble sort of kiss, either. No, he really kissed her, one huge hand cupping the back of her neck, and his warm, firm lips knew exactly what they were doing, which was driving every single thought from her head. Only the man remained, the mouth, the sensations coursing through her, heating her up from the inside. Heating her up fastCould all bankers kiss like this?

 Cath rose on her toes, angling her mouth and pressing closer, but he pulled back a few inches. Then a few feet.

 She wanted to say something. The only word that came out of her mouth was a shaky “Whoa.”

 She tried again. “What was that, City?”

 “You tell me, Yank.” His lips curved into that sexy smirk again.

 “I’m pretty sure you just kissed me.”

 “Yes, I did. Shall I apologize?”

 “What for?”

 “It was terribly impolite. I didn’t ask your permission.”

 Cath leaned back against the table, crossed her arms over the tight peaks of her nipples, and tried not to smile like a girl who’d just been kissed silly. She failed. She was failing a lot around this guy. It ought to have been worrisome, or at least embarrassing, but his lips had liquefied her brain.

 First kiss in two years would do that, she supposed.

 “I was much more impolite than you. What with the passing out and all. You’re being very nice about it.”

 City scrubbed his hand over his jawline, pensive now. “I would appreciate it,” he said after a moment, “if you would stop calling me ‘nice.’”

 He took a step closer, and her heart rate spiked.

 “You are nice.” Her voice came out all weak and wavery. This was how Little Red Riding Hood had felt when she’d discovered the Big Bad Wolf wearing Grandma’s bonnet.

 “No,” he replied. “I’m not.”

 Another step, and his eyes traced a path over her arms, down her stomach to her hips. The brightly lit art studio made her purple underwear visible through the white T-shirt. She could tell that City noticed, and that he was enjoying the view.

 She sat down on the edge of the table. “You brought me here with impure motives?” The idea gave her a stupid thrill.

 He shook his head. “No. I developed them after you arrived.”

 Cath fingered the hem of the shirt where it hit her mid-thigh. “You shouldn’t admit to that sort of thing. It’s perverted to lust after half-naked drunk girls.”

 “Not perverted.” He stepped closer until his thighs brushed her knees. “Only male. And at any rate, you didn’t get me lusting with the strip show. Though it was . . . fetching.”

 “No?” It was a wonder she could speak at all, considering there was a tall, hard, hot man crowding her and using up all the oxygen. “What irresistibly attractive thing did I do, then?”

 One more step, and he was between her legs. “You talked. Rather a lot.”

 “About what?”

 “All sorts of nonsense. You’re not very fond of my country, I gather.”

 Cath shrugged, sheepish. “Sometimes I miss Chicago.”

 “I’d never heard you talk before. You ought to do it more. It’s charming.”

 “People who talk to themselves at the train station are generally understood to be crazy. Especially in your country.”

 “You could talk to me.”

 “I hardly know you.”

 “I’m superb,” he said. “You’re going to like me.” Big, warm hands covered her bare thighs, and she shivered. “Though I should probably reiterate, I’m not at all nice.”

 “I am,” she whispered. “I’m a very good person. Not the kind of girl who gets drunk and has to be rescued from train stations.”

 “I know.” He moved his hands up a few inches to the crease where her thighs met her hips.

 “Or who makes out with strange men on tables. I’m a thoroughly respectable woman.”

 “You don’t kiss like one.” He smiled that shark smile again.

 New Cath had a death grip on the tattered vestiges of her willpower, but she’d lost control over her body. Her palms smoothed over the muscles of his forearms, and her butt scooted her closer to the edge of the table by an inch or two. Or four.

 At least her mouth still worked. “I’ve reformed. The kissing is sort of a holdover.”

 “Don’t reform. I like you bad.”

 “I don’t want to be bad.” But her arms had reached up and twined around his neck, and she had to murmur the last part against his lips.

 “I do,” he said, and took over.
 
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ABOUT RUTHIE KNOX: USA Today bestselling author Ruthie Knox writes contemporary romance that’s sexy, witty, and angsty—sometimes all three at once. After training to be a British historian, she became an academic editor instead.

Then she got really deeply into knitting, as one does, followed by motherhood and romance novel writing. Her debut novel, Ride with Me, is probably the only existing cross-country bicycling love story.

She followed it up with About Last Night, a London-set romance whose hero has the unlikely name of Neville, and then Room at the Inn, a Christmas novella—both of which were finalists for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award.

Her four-book series about the Clark family of Camelot, Ohio, has won accolades for its fresh, funny portrayal of small-town Midwestern life. Ruthie moonlights as a mother, Tweets incessantly, and bakes a mean focaccia.

She’d love to hear from you, so visit her website at www.ruthieknox.com and drop her a line.  

LINKS: Website: http://www.ruthieknox.com/home/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/RuthieKnox

Twitter: http://twitter.com/ruthieknox

ABOUT LAST NIGHT Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13414764-about-last-night?bf=500&from_search=true

Ruthie KnoxGoodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5308032.Ruthie_Knox