PROMO: Release of The Rock Star Romance Ultimate: Volumes 1 & 2

Rock Star Romance – Each volume is over 1500 pages of sexy rock star goodness!

About the Books:

This is an exclusive collection of rock star romances by New York Times, USA Today, and other bestselling rock star romance authors.

All of the digital proceeds from both volumes of the anthology will go to the North Texas Food Bank.

Collectible paperbacks & digital copies will be available for a limited time!! Grab your copies while you can!!

AVAILABLE NOW!!

Volume 1 – Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2oTij0t

Volume 2 – Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2PaM1J2

I have to say that I have not read all of these, but I have read Dirty Like Me by Jaine Diamond and it was an amazingly hot read. You can see my review by clicking here. I’ve also read Manaconda. You can read my review here. Plus, MJ Fields is one of my favorites, and although I have not read Memphis Black yet, I’m sure it doesn’t disappoint.

Plus, proceeds go to the North Texas Food Bank. For anyone who has read my bio I’m a North Texas girl who moved to Missouri, but Texas will always be my heart. Sexy rock star books for an amazingly low price to help support a charity that helps many North Texas families especially during this time of year. Can’t go wrong with these deals! Click on the links above to get your copies now.

NEW RELEASE: Dom Diaries: Serving the Senator by L.M. Mountford

Erotica, BDSM– 69 Pages

About the Book:

He is my Hades.

I’d played the role of a goddess, bound and chained for the service of mortals.

He freed me.

He freed me, unchained me and taken me to his underworld, his dark realm where he’d brought out all my forbidden and secret desires.

And now I’m his.

His attendant. His servant…

Serving the Senator is a sizzling new release from the lord of Lust.
Loaded with tension and sizzling chemistry, it is a modern reimagining of the ancient myth of Hades and Persephone.
A stand-alone romance, it is loaded with scenes of an adult nature that feature BDSM, Dominance play, and so much heat, they may very well melt your e-reader…

Released 9/7/2019!

*As always by clicking on the above cover it will bring you to the Amazon purchase page.

New Release: Office Mate (Milford College #2) by Noelle Adams

Contemporary Romance – 124 Pages

About the Book:

The last thing I want is to share my beautiful office with an uptight, unfriendly new English professor. I don’t care if he’s incredibly hot. He’s still the worst office mate in the world.

We’re stuck together for a year, and that might be too long for me to resist discovering what’s hiding beneath his buttoned-up appearance.

Office Mate is the second book in the Milford College series, novellas about the faculty and staff of a small liberal arts college.

Released 8/21/2019!

Excerpt:

“Hey,” I say as I come in, dropping my keys onto my desk and turning to face him.

He looks up from his computer. His expression is unsmiling but not angry. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry about before. I’m not sure what got into me. I’m not usually so… irritable. I’m really sorry.”

His mouth turns up just a little. His eyes soften palpably. “Evidently I’m an irritating kind of person, so that probably explains it.”

“No, you’re not!” I lower my tone as I continue. “You’re really not that irritating. I should never have implied that about you. It’s just that I’m usually really good at getting to know people, and I’ve been frustrated that I can’t seem to get to know you.”

He frowns. “You don’t know me?”

“Of course not.” My eyes are wide in surprise. “You think I’ve gotten to know you?”

“I thought we were making progress.” He seems bothered by that piece of information, and he looks down at his desk as if he’s thinking. “I’m afraid I’m never going to be the life of the party, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“I know that. I mean, I don’t care about that. I like all kinds of people. I just feel like you’ve got so many walls up I can’t seem to get around them.”

“Maybe if you wouldn’t run away every time things start to get better between us.”

Shit. He has no idea. I have to run away occasionally, but it’s not because I don’t want to get to know him.

It’s because I want to tear his clothes off.

No way I can admit that to him.

I clear my throat and think fast. “I haven’t run away that much. You just confuse me.”

“What can I do to be less confusing?” Leave it to Evan to go about getting to know someone with the same sober determination he uses to tackle everything else.

“I don’t know. Don’t you ever just hang out and relax?”

“You want to hang out with me?”

Yes. Of course I do. In particular, I want to hang out in bed with him. “I just meant to get to know each other a little more. So we can get along better and be more comfortable sharing the office.” There. That didn’t sound too bad. That didn’t give away my irrational lust for him.

He nods. “I like to bike, but that’s obviously not your thing. I can go with you when you walk, if you’d like. Or…”

“Or what?”

“I was thinking about watching the Lord of the Rings movies since you like them so much.”

My heart clenches. Ridiculously. “You were?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you can watch them with me. I would enjoy that.”

“You would?”

“Yes. Would… would you?”

“Of course I would.” His eyes never leave my face.

“What if you don’t like them?”

“I’m sure if you like them, then they can’t be that bad.”

We smile at each other, and I let out a long breath.

I still have way too many papers to grade today, but things are definitely looking up.

*As always by clicking on the above cover it will bring you to the Amazon purchase page.

 

NEW RELEASE: Unchaining You by Vic Tyler

RELEASE DATE: MAY 23rd

 

About the Book:

If he hates me for what happened 8 years ago, just imagine how he feels now…

Do I feel bad for accidentally hooking up with the one who broke my heart?

… No.

Should I feel bad for extorting him for a job that I need?

… Probably.

But like I said, I need the job.

Life’s kind to some people.

Exhibit A: Devon Leo

Hot, brooding loner in high school → hot, brooding billionaire tech tycoon who’s an international mans!ut.

Exhibit Me: Skylar Kay

Your everyday average nobody → college dropout, moonlighting stripper nobody who’s drowning in debt.

The least he can do for breaking my heart is give me a job.

Yeah, the one I blackmailed him for.

I just didn’t think the job was for a position under him.

I’ll have to be careful not to get under him. Again.

Because this time, his reputation isn’t just on the line.

My heart is.

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Skylar

A slow, synth beat starts to thump, muted, from the speakers all around the dim room. I was hoping for something a little more upbeat since I’m running on three hours of sleep, and the velvety couches lining the walls of the VIP Room are starting to look like plush black clouds at this point of the night. If I strain my ears, I can hear the enthused and muffled whomp-whomp-whomp in the main room where everyone’s hunting — for money or attention.

The VIP Room is just quiet enough for the patrons sparsely spread throughout the area to converse with the dancers whose time they’re procuring hourly. Of course, some of them aren’t really looking for conversation.

Like Bill.

The pudgy, leering man sitting in front of me looks up hungrily as I lean forward to fill his vision with my heavy breasts. Even though they’re taped down securely, I’m still paranoid that the thin, elastic straps of my black, lacy bikini are going to snap, leaving me with no more than black, lacy pasties with sad, dangly tentacles.

I say ‘bikini,’ but it’s the kind you’d never wear in public unless you want to scandalize parents at the public pool and become a budding teenage boy’s first wet dream. The kind that would never survive a cannonball, and the one that makes your nightmare of seeing your bikini pieces floating up right next to you come true. More like a skinny dip-kini.

“Destiny.”

Bill holds out a few Andrew Jacksons, and I push my hip toward him so he can slip it into the side string of my thong. He takes his time, his dry fingers grazing roughly against my skin, taking advantage of the one opportunity during our time together that I let him touch me. After all, he’s more generous with his tips when I let him brush a feel or two during our hour.

Lowering my voice to a sultry hum, I purr, “Stay for a little longer, Bill.”

He chuckles in that not smooth way — the sound gutturally choked by his bubbling lust.

“Can’t tonight, baby.” He lowers his voice, trying to sound seductive. “Unless you want to come home with me.”

He arches his brow with a cheesy smile as his fingers touch his wallet.

It makes me feel dirty. Very, very dirty. And not in the sexy way.

For eight hours a night, a few nights a week, my sensitive bitties of skin are slapped on with cash like I’m a papier-mache project. I’m basically rolling around in money, and if you mix in a little paste, you can make a cash cast out of me. But let me tell you, the whole ‘rolling in dough’ thing is an idea that’s only appealing to be entertained theoretically.

I mean, money’s pretty gross if you think about it. You never know where it’s been. Stuffed in wallets, forgotten in pockets, hidden in shoes or bras, dropped in gasoline-laden puddles on the street, handled by greasy, pizza-oiled hands, rolled to snort coke, slid into a stripper’s asscrack.

The first time I went home with a huge stack of tips, I did it. I spread out a bed of green and laid down on it. It’s really not that exciting. But go ahead and try. And if you’re more like me than you are Ebenezer Scrooge, you’ll find out that carpeting your floor with money doesn’t make it any softer.

It’s still cold, hard cash. In a cold, hard world.

I fight the urge to scrunch my nose, instead lowering them to watch my manicured fingers walk up his white dress shirt, his suit jacket lying forgotten next to him to minimize the layers between us. “You know I can’t go home with customers.”

Can’t, won’t, don’t want to. What’s the difference? In the end, it’s not going to happen.

Some of my clients are sweethearts. Just lonely ones. But some men, like Bill, wave around their money using the carrot-and-stick approach. The cash being the carrot, and the stick being… well, their stick. When I say I don’t provide those services, they don’t back down.

They raise their offer.

Bill’s eyes travel over me as he continues fingering his bulge. The wallet, of course. It’s not the only thing bulging in his pants, but at least he knows which of the two I’m interested in, period.

The lines in his shoulders relax as he gives up for the night and leans back against the couch. His doughy cheeks pull back into a smile.

“Shame,” he drawls pointedly, hinting at how much I’m missing out.

Considering that chipmunk sized tent he’s pitching, I’m pretty confident I’m not missing out on much.

But I hood my eyes seductively and pout a little bit. “You can always stick around for a little longer. You know how much I love spending time with you.”

Ten months ago, I would’ve never imagined I could make a man empty his wallet just by changing where and how I look at him.

I still remember my first day at Starlette when Sage, the strip club’s house mom, pulled me back from making my awkward rounds waddling around the floor. It was my first wearing six-inch fuck-me heels when I’ve only ever worn two-inch-high Mary Janes for church.

She pursed her lips and said, “Honey, if these men wanted to look at a woman who looks as miserable as you do out there, they’d go home to their wives.”

She made a science out of flirtation and laughed when I whipped out my trusty pen and paper. Gave me a big “mhm, you do that” when I said I’d go research all about ‘the art of seduction.’

Even now, Sage likes to joke that her greatest accomplishment to date is turning “Sunday School Skye” turn into “Devilishly Dazzling Destiny.”

Flashing a toothy, hopeful smile, Bill changes tactic. “Then how about dinner? Tomorrow night?”

I’m obviously not going to get him to stay another hour tonight. Lowering my voice huskily, I brush back his hair with the lightest of touches. “Dating is against the rules. But you’ll be the first to know if that ever changes.”

My own rules. Nothing against the other dancers who do date their customers. Believe me, I heard some of the cute love stories shared in the back, and even I’ve dreamed about a sexy, respectful millionaire who can’t resist me after a crotch grind, a motorboat, or an hour of very fulfilling conversation in the half-nude who wants to get to know the real me. And then I remember my clientele includes… well… Bill and his ilk.

No offense. Bill behaves (most of the time), and some of my regulars are nice. But even if I were interested in any of them (which, spoiler alert, I’m not), my stomach doesn’t get all fluttery with butterflies when they’re talking about their wives and kids. A club isn’t exactly ideal breeding grounds for a relationship… or breeding.

That doesn’t mean I don’t pretend I want them. I do. I pretend hard.

Winking at Bill, I peel myself off the couch and straighten as I turn around, looking at him cutely over my shoulder. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to handle a heartbreaker like you.”

He chuckles low in the back of his throat. “Baby, I’d never break your heart.”

I feel a little bitter on behalf of his wife. She’s probably sitting home right now on a Wednesday night, helping their six-year-old son with his alphabets or maths or coloring homework, while he’s here, dishing out his paycheck for a few boob shimmies and butt rolls.

But I shouldn’t complain. After all, Bill is a platinum donor to the Skylar Kay Survival Foundation.

“You break my heart every time you leave.” I wink before walking away, swaying my hips and letting my ass shake.

A couple of wandering eyes flit over to me as I sashay through the room. This is about as private as it gets for those who don’t have enough dough to cough up for some actual one-on-one time in one of the Champagne Rooms.

Nothing sketchy happens back there, of course. At least, it’s not supposed to. But it’s not unusual for a dancer to take off her bikini top for the several extra hundreds she’s getting for the same hour-long session.

I’ve never, and I won’t ever. Not because I think I’m better than any of the other women (God knows I’m in just as much of a shithole, if not in a worse one, as some of them). But I’m just not that comfortable with exposing my nips to strangers who don’t even know my real name. Only my ex-boyfriend has ever seen my bare nipples, and that’s not going to change for any amount of money.

I envy the girls who dance here because they love flaunting their gorgeous bodies and basking in the spotlight. But I’m not one of them.

I love dancing — heck, I wanted to be a professional dancer — but I’d rather dance with clothes on and not on a stage with a pole on it. I’m a statistical cliche working here out of desperation.

“You can always come home with me,” Bill says optimistically, trying one last time as we head toward the exit. “You know I’ll take real good care of you.”

It does make me wonder whether men’s bedroom skills improve if they pay for sex. Do they try to make the most of their money? Or is it an easy done deal since the sex is an expectation?

I’d assume the latter.

Is it terrible that I assume they’re mediocre at sex? Maybe even bad at it? Horrible? The lose-faith-in-mankind’s-manhood kind of sex?

Either way, I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been around one and a half naked guys. The second one was a Tinder date that finished with a handjob that lasted twenty seconds. We took a longer time taking our pants off. Not our clothes. Just our pants. Like I said, he didn’t even see my nipples.

Tinder Dude definitely made me lose faith in Tinder, and I haven’t even tried hooking up with anyone since. Why bother if I’m just a heated, fleshy replacement for some Kleenex?

At the door, the bouncer stands menacingly with his thick, meaty arms crossed, glaring at the pasty, Pillsbury Doughboy-esque businessman.

Bill knows the drill. He pulls his wallet out so fast, I would’ve missed it if I blinked.

I brush my fingers along his elbow as I press my boobs against his arm, drawing his attention to my cleavage.

“Come see me again, Bill,” I coo. “You know I’m here from Wednesday to Saturday, eight to four.”

Maybe I should become a camgirl instead. I got the script down pat.

Thanks for watching my strip show! Don’t forget to click on that Subscribe button to watch me fiddle my channel!

Bill doesn’t bother hiding his disappointment when I pull away, but the tease is what keeps him coming back every week.

“Destiny,” he murmurs, his eyes still glued to my tits. He raises them to wink at me. “You’ll warm up to me one day.”

Internally, I cringe. I really, really doubt it.

But winking with a perfectly practiced, sugary sweet smile, I croon, “See you next week, Bill.”

 

*This book is scheduled to be released 5/23/2019. Clicking on the above book cover will bring you to Vic Tyler’s Amazon page where you’ll be able to find the book once it’s available.

 

New Release! In Sickness and in Health by Libby Malin

John Baylor decides to wed quickly when he thinks he doesn’t have long to live. When he finds out his prospects aren’t as dire as he’d originally believed…everything changes, and he has to decide if he can make a go of a marriage that had been based more on the “in sickness” lines of their vows than the “in health” part.

Ava Fulton moved to Bethany Beach, Delaware to lick her wounds after a DC scandal sent her into hiding. There, she decides the best way out of her problems is to marry a millionaire, and she just so happens to remember one from high school, John Baylor, now a very successful man who’d shyly tried to court her as a teen. When she reconnects with him, though, she finds he faces grim health news and tries to be a good helpmate through his medical crises. Only after they marry does she realize she’d wed him planning to be a widow, not a wife. They struggle to make a go of their union and a new life in general, eventually heeding an inner call to something greater than either of them together.

About the Author:

Libby Malin is the author of contemporary, inspirational, and historical fiction. She writes under the names Libby Malin and Libby Sternberg. Her romantic comedy “Fire Me!” was bought by a major studio for film, and her retelling of the Jane Eyre story, “Sloane Hall,” was one of only 14 books featured on the Simon & Schuster “Off the Shelf” blog to celebrate the 200th anniversary of Charlotte Bronte’s birth. Publishers Weekly has called “Fire Me!”  “…an amusing tale of a woman who finds herself and love while trying to get fired… Readers…will enjoy Anne’s antics and daydream of making their own splendid exits from hellish jobs.”  PW also called her first chick lit novel, “Loves Me, Loves Me Not,”  a “whimsical look at the vagaries of dating…” while Booklist labeled it “charming…a clever debut.” Midwest Book Review called her book, “Fall from Grace,” about a philandering evangelical’s path to redemption, “a novel for our times.”

New Release Sale Price – $.99

In Sickness and in Health is available now for the launch price of 99 cents in the Kindle store. The low price will be in effect for a few months more, until the paperback is available.

Links:

Kindle store: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07NWTZ5WQ

An excerpt at Libby’s blog: https://libbysbooks.wordpress.com/2019/02/26/excerpt-in-sickness-and-in-health/

A short Q and A about the novel at Libby’s blog: https://libbysbooks.wordpress.com/2019/02/20/in-sickness-and-in-health-new-novel/

Libby’s website: www.LibbyMalin.com