Unprofessional by JD Hawkins
Release Date: March 22nd
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Designer: Letitia Hasser from RBA Designs
Model: Christian Hogue
What happens when the internet's favorite playboy falls in love?
I have the best job in the world. Date beautiful women and write about it.
But I want to take it to the next level: instead of writing about my experiences make it into an online reality show.
But here is the catch. My boss wants me to share the show with a woman co-host. And he wants that woman to be my best friend and co-worker, Margo.
I’ll date beautiful women and she’ll date hot men. Sounds fair enough.
So now I have to watch her fake date hot men. I used to love going home with a different woman every night, but suddenly this isn’t as fun. Seeing Margo with anyone else is driving me crazy.
And the more time I spend with her working on the show, the less I want to keep our relationship in the friends’ zone. And the harder it is to stop myself from imagining her bent over the copier.
Things are about to get unprofessional.
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“Thank god you live on the ground floor,” I say, as I rummage for her keys in her bag with one hand while keeping her from falling with the other. It’s not that I haven’t been to Margo’s place before, but when we hang out it’s usually at work functions or the occasional bar, and at the moment I can’t shake the feeling that I’m intruding a little.
“You know, you’re really fucking hot,” she slurs, giggling. My cock stirs at the brush of her lips so close to my neck, her warm breath against my skin. I have to shake it off.
“And you’re really fucking drunk,” I reply with a forced laugh, as the key finally catches and I kick the door open.
“No…I mean it,” she says as I step into her apartment, still holding her in my arms. “You’re like…the most beautiful man.”
“That’s very sweet of you,” I say, as I open a few wrong doors (closet, bathroom) until I find her bedroom. I walk in and lay her down on the bed, then pull away, setting her bag on the night table. “You should probably just rest a bit, let it pass.” I unlace her boots and ease them off gently, setting them on the floor before straightening up to go. This feels familiar, although I haven’t carried a too-drunk Margo home from a party and put her to bed since our undergrad years. “You need anything? Water, or—”
“Yeah.” Margo smiles.
Instead of answering, she mischievously beckons me closer. I look at her, dress rolling up around her thighs, twisting her body up in the sheets, my imagination starting to whirl a little.
“Come here!” she yelps impatiently.
This could mean trouble—the problem is, I like trouble. I groan and go nearer to the bed.
“Closer,” she giggles, and I’m taken with the smile, the way she grinds into the bed…
Her hand pulls on my shirt, her smile goes and instead her mouth is open now, weakened like she’s preparing to kiss me. I could so easily fall into her here, so easily bring my mouth onto hers, put my own hands under her clothes. I can almost taste her, appetite stirring…
Except being a real man doesn’t just mean knowing when to make a move, it also means knowing when you shouldn’t.
“Nice try,” I say, pulling back.
Margo laughs and pounds her fists onto the bed with disappointment.
“But I need to see what’s under your shirt. You still got those Grand Canyon abs, I bet.”
“Ok. That’s my cue to go,” I say, half-out the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“No! Come on! Please! I remember the view was fucking amazing. Just a little peek. A tiny little peek for old time’s sake. Come on, Owen! Don’t be an asshole. You know you want to show it off.”
I look back at her, hand on the doorknob, and find myself laughing.
“Happy now?” I say, pulling up my shirt a little way.
Margo screams and falls back onto her pillows laughing.
“I knew it! Just as perfect as that night you got locked out of the girl’s dorm,” she says, as I close the door and leave.
When I get back to my car, I’m still smiling.
About the Author:
JD Hawkins writes erotic romance with modern-classic alpha males and strong, independant women. He currently lives with his wife in Los Angeles, CA. He loves to travel and has lived in many places, including New York City, India and Thailand. When he isn't writing, JD enjoys surfing, training in Mixed Martial Arts, reading and taking naps. He's always loved making up stories, especially ones inspired by real life.
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Cheater by Rachel Van Dyken is NOW LIVE!
What are you waiting for? Grab your copy TODAY!
Lucas Thorn wasn’t born a cheater. All it took was a single moment—say, a certain disastrous incident on the night before his wedding—and boom. Reputation destroyed forever and always. So now he owns it. He has a lady friend for every night of the week (except Sundays—God’s day and all), and his rules are simple: No commitments. No exceptions.
But a certain smart-mouthed, strawberry blonde vixen is about to blow that all to hell.
Avery Black has never forgiven Lucas for cheating on her sister. And suddenly being forced to work with him is pretty much a nightmare on steroids. Of course, it does afford her the opportunity to make his life as difficult as possible. But no good revenge scheme comes without payback. Because he didn’t become the Lucas Thorn without learning a few things about women.
Now Avery’s lust for vengeance has turned into, well, lust. And if Lucas stops cheating, it’s definitely not because he’s falling in love…
➳ PURCHASE LINKS:
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2kXKMz6
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About the Author:
Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!
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He was the leader of the mafia. I was about to fall in love with him, and his name…Cole Mauricio.
Cole by Tijan is NOW LIVE!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2leLlzL
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2lpfblG
I shouldn’t have remembered him.
He was just a guy who walked through a restaurant. I didn't know his name. We never made eye contact. There was no connection between us at all.
But I could feel him.
The tingle down my spine. The command in his presence. The snap of tension in the air around him. That was the first time I saw him, and I was captivated.
The second time was different.
He was in the mysterious back elevator of my apartment building. Our eyes met for a fleeting second before the doors closed, and I was staggered. My breath was robbed. My senses on high alert. My body hummed.
That was just the beginning.
He was the leader of the mafia. I was about to fall in love with him, and his name…
Once inside the elevator, I stood to one side, watching him. He returned my gaze.
We still did not touch.
My chest tightened, hoping no one would call the elevator at that moment. We sailed past the lobby, the second floor, and stopped at mine. I put in the code, and the doors opened to my home.
I drew in a breath, filling my lungs again. God, it was time.
Stepping out with shaky knees, I bypassed the light switch. The full moon lit up my entire floor. I went to the kitchen and paused at the island. “Did you want something to drink?” I caught sight of the tequila and wine on the counter. There was more than enough.
Cole stepped up behind me and followed my gaze. “Were you going to have a party?” he asked, his breath coating the back of my neck.
I shivered, closing my eyes for one delicious moment. “I stocked up. I thought a friend was coming over tonight.”
His hand rested on my back, nudging my sweater aside to touch my skin. “He?”
“She. Sia.” I looked over my shoulder. He was so close. “She stood me up for a date.”
A faint smile showed. “I need to send her a thank-you card.”
“Please don’t sign it.”
I turned around, easing my back against the island. Cole placed his hands on either side of me, trapping me in place.
“Because she’s slightly obsessed with you, though she’s in love with someone else now. She could circle back,” I joked.
“We saw you one night.”
“When?” He leaned away, but his hands remained on the counter. It was like he was giving me breathing space on purpose.
“At Gianni’s. We went there the night I moved in.”
He didn’t move, but I could feel him pulling away. A protest started in my head, but I bit back the words. He didn’t reply. He was waiting for me instead.
I continued, “You came in with a bunch of men and went upstairs. That was it.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did you talk to anyone?”
“What do you mean?”
My forehead wrinkled. “Sia networked with the hostess. They exchanged cards. Sia said the girl was a model. She recognized her from the Gala. That was it. Oh, well, another server sat with us for a drink later on. But they mostly talked with Sia about the Gala and about photographers—stuff like that.”
He relaxed, his hands loosening their hold on the counter. I was scared to ask what he was so worried they’d told us.
“I don’t know who you are.” I lifted a hand, placing it on his chest. His heart was racing, just like mine. My mouth parted in surprise. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
He glanced down at my hand and held still. He was thinking something over. I held my tongue, worried it was me, that he was second-guessing this night for us. I wanted to tell him there was nothing to worry about, but it sounded ridiculous. I really had no idea. So I waited it out, my heart pressing against my rib cage.
When he looked back up, the hunger was in his eyes again—dark, primal, and more evident than ever. He took my hand and leaned in, closing the distance between us. With his other hand, he cupped the side of my face. “I wasn’t second-guessing this. I want you to know that.” His touch was tender.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Something else, but it wasn’t you.”
“This is one of those moments where you wish you could tell me, but you can’t? Not yet?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. His eyes moved from mine to my lips. “Something like that, yes.”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” I started to tease, but then his head dipped down, and his lips were on mine.
I gasped. The pleasure was immediate. His mouth was gentle, but as he felt my body’s reaction, he applied pressure. His touch grew more demanding, then I was kissing him back. I wanted more. Someone groaned. That was me.
His hand slid around to the back of my neck. He held me in his grip as his mouth explored mine, opening over me and slipping inside. My hands grasped his shoulders, just holding on. All I could focus on was his tongue. I met his with mine and reveled in the sensation. But it wasn’t enough. Need shot through my whole body.
My hands slid under his shirt and moved over his back and shoulders. His body was just as powerful as his presence. I felt the shift of his muscles. They trembled under my hands. The feeling was intoxicating. I had power over him, and I wanted more. I wanted to see how much power I actually had.
Pulling back, I studied him.
He was panting lightly. So was I.
I could see him wondering what I was going to do, so I reached back to the counter and started to lift myself. His hands caught the backs of my thighs, and he lifted me the rest of the way. Now sitting on the edge of the island, my legs parted, and he was back between them. His mouth went right to mine.
I couldn’t get over what I was doing. I didn’t care.
I didn’t think I would care the next day, the day after, or however long this lasted. I had no clue. I only knew I had one night. One long night.