STAYA Bleeding Stars Stand-Alone NovelComing January 23rdShe stared back at me with big chocolate eyes. Molten. Her gaze washed over me like lava. Burning up everything in its path. “You are so beautiful,” she said, voice hoarse. “Peaches,” I whispered as a warning. Wasn’t sure I trusted myself with her right then. “You are. Did you know…did you know the first time I saw you…when you were lying covered in blood and you opened your eyes and looked at me, that I saw it? Something so beautiful and raw and powerful. Even when you’d been broken. The way you looked at me shook me straight to my bones. And then tonight…what you did for me…I don’t…” I roughed a hand through my thrashing hair, a perfect mirror to my thrashing heart. “Peaches.” Another warning. I didn’t deserve the way she was looking at me. Like I was good and right when I was no better than the bastard we’d left lying back there on the floor. So slowly, she reached out, shaking fingers gentle as she traced them along the scar that marked that night beneath my eye. A tremble took me whole. Energy pulsed and shivered and shook. Shit. I gripped her by the wrist and pressed the underside to my nose. “You’re killing me, darlin’.” “And you’re saving me.” A hard frown hit me. “It was you who did all the saving.” Sitting back a fraction, she shook her head. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be home tonight, hiding in the dark.” Her tongue darted out to sweep across her lips. “I never would have been brave enough to go there or to stand up to him. To say those things.” “But that’s where I think you’re wrong, darlin’.” This time it was my turn to reach out and touch her. I cupped the side of her face, glancing between her and the road. “I think you’re so much braver than you’ve been giving yourself credit for. I see it there. Feel it every time I look at you. You’re incredible, Willow. Every time you walk through my door, I know it. So good that I know I shouldn’t be doing whatever the fuck it is I think I’m doin’ with you.” She was still panting those breathy pants, and she leaned into my touch. “I…” she attempted before she looked down, averted her gaze. Even with her head downturned, there was no missing the blush creeping to her cheeks. She hesitated before she spoke. “When you kiss me…it doesn’t feel like pretending. It feels like the best thing I’ve ever felt.” I swallowed hard, crossing a line. Pushing into the boundaries that should have been firmly set in place. “That’s because when I kiss you? It’s not pretend. When I tell you you’re gorgeous—the best thing I’ve ever seen? I mean it. And when I look at you…” I touched the center of my chest, feeling ripped open wide. Exposed. Maybe telling her the truth when it wouldn’t do either of us any good was wrong. But there was no hiding when this girl was looking at me that way. “I feel it right here. We might be pretending, but you can’t fake this.” Like she didn’t trust herself, she pressed farther against the door. “You make me want things…things I know I shouldn’t want.” “And what is it you want, Peaches?” I prodded low, knowing full well I was pointing us in the direction of no return. “Told you when I came into your store that I’d give you anything.” “I want…” She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, nervous or unsure whether to give me the truth. Blood pounded mercilessly through my veins. Thickened with lust. All of it clouded my judgment, knocking loose my center of gravity. Because I knew the look on her face. Desire was written across her like a musical score. The way her body rocked and trembled and silently pled. Desperate to be played. I knew I should close my mouth. Shut this down. Drop her at home. Instead, I let the words slide free. “Tell me, Peaches.” The needy rasp fell from between her lips. “I want you to touch me.” PRE-ORDER NOWiBooks: http://smarturl.it/stayibookspreorder Google Play: http://smarturl.it/StayGooglePlay Barnes & Noble: http://smarturl.it/StayNook Kobo: http://smarturl.it/StayKobo Signed Paperbacks: http://smarturl.it/StayPaperbacks Be notified of LIVE release on Amazon: http://smarturl.it/liveonamzn Synopsis:From NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author A.L. Jackson comes the next sexy, gripping Bleeding Stars Stand-Alone Novel… I’m Ash Evans. The life of the party. Hot. Rich. Charismatic. A tattooed rock star with the world at my feet. I burn through women faster than the strike of a match. I’ve embraced my lifestyle and live it to the fullest. Until the day my lifestyle caught up to me. Willow Langston found me at my lowest. Literally. Facedown in a puddle of my own blood. I owe her my life and I have three months to repay that debt. What I never should have done was touch her. Kiss her. Take her to my bed. Love wasn’t supposed to be a part of the equation. I gave up that nasty complication a long damned time ago. Now I want her more than my next breath. But she doesn’t know what I know. Do I leave to protect her? Or can I face my demons and ask her to Stay?Connect with A.L.Facebook: http://smarturl.it/ALJacksonPage Reader Group: http://smarturl.it/AmysAngelsRock A.L. Jackson Author App: http://smarturl.it/ALJacksonAuthorApp Amazon: http://smarturl.it/ALJacksonAmzn Bookbub: http://smarturl.it/ALJacksonBookbub Twitter: @aljacksonauthor Instagram: @aljacksonauthor Snapchat: @aljacksonauthor
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Title: The Bartender
Series: Modern Love #1
Author: Piper Rayne
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: February 1, 2017
Blurb
Who knew sleeping with the enemy could be this fun? Was the one night stand a good idea?
Well, no. Probably not in retrospect.
In my defense I had just moved back into my grandparent’s house, I’d lost my dream job, and a guy on Tinder had stood me up. It was like life had suddenly stamped ‘LOSER’ on my forehead. So when the guy behind the bar started giving me THE look…you know, the one that promised I’d be screaming his name into the wee hours of the morning? When that guy also has the perfect amount of scruff on his chiseled chin, biceps bulging out of his t-shirt, and a cocky grin you knew he’d earned in the sack…when he gives you that look, you don’t bother to figure out what your six degrees of separation are. You jump on that horse and ride it! Pun fully and completely intended. And accurate by the way. I fully admit to feeling sorry for myself and acting impulsively, but by the time I’d figured out WHO the bartender was, I was already falling for him.
Excerpt
An hour and a half later and hot stuff has come around the bar to take the seat beside me and join me on my mission to get shit-faced. I have to admit, I’m enjoying his company, but it doesn’t exactly make him Employee of the Year given the fact that he’s supposed to be working.
“Won’t your boss be mad that you’re drinking on the job?” I ask. That damn dimple makes another appearance again before he answers. “Nah, he’s cool. It’s dead in here tonight. If anyone comes in, I’ll be sure they get what they need.” His gaze rakes up and down my small frame, and I get the distinct impression that he’s picturing me naked. Jeez, I hope my nakedness looks amazing in his brain. Given the half-crooked smile on his face, I think it must. I wonder if his imagination is good enough to picture that dimple in my ass that doesn’t ever seem to want to disappear, regardless of how much I weigh. As if he’s tempted fate with his words, the bell over the door dings and an older gentleman walks in and seats himself at one of the bar tables across the room. “Be right back.” Cole pats my hand before he rises from his seat. It was an innocent gesture, but it makes me think dirty things. The heat from his hand seeps up my arm like a bee sting and settles somewhere in my chest. I watch him walk away and can’t help but notice the way his ass perfectly fills out his jeans. It bunches and flexes as his long strides take him across the bar. Maybe Lennon is right and it has been too long since I’ve been with a man. It’s then that I realize that Tinder dude still hasn’t shown up. The bar isn’t busy, probably since it’s the middle of the week, and I’ve been chatting—okay, flirting—with Cole and hadn’t realized how much time had passed. I grab my phone from my purse and open the app to see that I have a new message. Pussylickr69: Not coming. Sorry found someone else who wasn’t so much werk. Fury causes my face to heat as I type out a quick reply that might be, and by that I mean most definitely is, alcohol-fueled. Whiteebanter: Yeah, I can see how thirty minutes of conversation is too much foreplay for you. Fuck you and your lack of knowledge of the English language. You spell work with an ‘o,’ dipshit. There. That’ll show him. With a frown, I drop my phone back into my purse. “Everything okay?” Cole asks as he takes the seat beside me again. I sigh. “Yeah, I just found out that Pussylicker isn’t coming anymore.” Cole nearly spits out the sip of drink he’s just taken and has a coughing fit before he fully recovers. “Excuse me?” “I was waiting for a guy from Tinder to show up, but he just ditched me because apparently it was too much work to have a drink with me before taking me back to his place to bang me.” I spin my glass in place on the bar top. “You’re trolling for guys on Tinder?” Cole howls with laughter so hard he has to hold his stomach. I love the way the laugh looks on his face—the way it crinkles his eyes at the corners and how it showcases his perfect teeth. But all that aside, it’s irritating. “It’s not that funny.” This guy might be hot, but right now he’s working my nerves. “Actually, it is. Why the hell would a woman like you resort to finding someone to fuck on a dating site?” The way the word ‘fuck’ rolls off his tongue has all my womanly parts contracting and wishing that it was an invitation to do just that. But never mind that, because I’m annoyed at him, I just barely remember through my drunken haze. “What do you mean a woman like me?” I try to do air quotes around the last part, but my balance isn’t what it was three hours ago, and I almost topple off my stool, so I quickly grab on to the bar in front of me. “Beautiful. Intelligent. Likable. Smartass.” He ticks each word off on one hand while he speaks and he says it like he means it. I hold his stare for a minute before realization dawns. “Hey! I’m a B.I.L.F. You know, like a M.I.L.F. Only different.” I’m so impressed that I thought of that given my current state. Cole chuckles with an amused gleam in his eyes. “Only better,” he says. Our gazes lock for a beat and it’s at that moment I know that if I offer myself up to this guy, he’ll be more than willing to send me on the walk of shame tomorrow morning. Heat rushes into my cheeks and I look away. As much bravado as I had earlier about my Tinder escapade, I’m not sure I can do this. Be this girl so full of confidence that she bangs a stranger with no qualms about it. My elation has crash-landed on the ground as I realize I’m not able to pull the trigger and make an advance toward him. I also know I’ll probably regret it forever because this man is so far beyond good-looking that it’s a speck in the rear-view mirror. Not to mention the fact that he’s sexy as hell and seems to be a decent human being. Which is more impossible to find in the Bay area than someone who doesn’t think they’re allergic to gluten. I take a deep breath and finish the last couple of gulps of my drink and push the glass in Cole’s direction. “Another, please.” Cole tosses back the rest of his drink and I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat while the liquid slides down. Damn. That is sexy. Why is that sexy? “I’m going to join you for another as well.” He gets up off his bar stool and before walking away he comes to stand directly behind me. “Assuming you want me to stick around?” His breath washes across my neck and my ear and I close my eyes for a brief moment to enjoy the sensation. “I’d like that,” I say with all honesty. “Good. I know the first guy let you down, but don’t worry… I’ve been told I lick pussy like a boss.” And with that, he walks away while I struggle to keep my heart from pounding out of my chest. I’m out of my league with this guy. I know it and there’s a good chance that he knows it, too.
But ask yourself this, ladies… if you were called up to the big leagues from the minors, would you say no?
Author Bio
Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two established authors for the price of one. You might be wondering if you know us? Maybe you’ll read our books and figure it out. Maybe you won’t. Does it really matter?
We aren’t trying to stamp ourselves with a top-secret label. We wanted to write without apology. We wanted to not be pigeon holed into a specific outline. We wanted to give readers a story without them assuming how the story will flow. Everyone has their favorite authors, right? And when you pick up their books, you expect something from them. Whether it’s an alpha male, heavy angst, a happily ever after, there’s something you are absolutely certain the book will contain. Heck, we’re readers, too, we get it. What can we tell you about ourselves? We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We're both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We're both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.
Author Links
The night I met Drew Jagger, he’d just broken into my new Park Avenue office. I dialed 9-1-1 before proceeding to attack him with my fancy new Krav Maga skills. He quickly restrained me, then chuckled, finding my attempted assault amusing.Of course, my intruder had to be arrogant. Only, turned out, he wasn’t an intruder at all.Drew was the rightful occupant of my new office. He’d been on vacation while his posh space was renovated. Which was how a scammer got away with leasing me office space that wasn’t really available for rent. I was swindled out of ten grand.The next day, after hours at the police station, Drew took pity on me and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. In exchange for answering his phones while his secretary was out, he’d let me stay until I found a new place. I probably should have acted grateful and kept my mouth shut when I overheard the advice he was spewing to his clients. But I couldn’t help giving him a piece of my mind. I never expected my body to react every time we argued. Especially when that was all we seemed to be able to do.The two of us were complete opposites. Drew was a bitter, angry, gorgeous-as-all-hell, destroyer of relationships. And my job was to help people save their marriages. The only thing the two of us had in common was the space we were sharing. And an attraction that was getting harder to deny by the day.ADD TO GOODREADSAvailable for Pre-order on iBooks, B&N, Google Play, and Kobo now!Preorder at iBooks ➜ Preorder at B&N ➜ Preorder at Kobo ➜ Preorder at Google Play ➜ Pre-order paperback ➜ Receive an alert when it’s live on Amazon Sometimes what you’re looking for comes when you’re not looking at all.-UnknownDREWI hate New Year’s Eve. Two hours in traffic to make it not even the nine miles home from LaGuardia. It was after ten o’clock at night. Why weren’t all these people at a party by now? Whatever tension two weeks in Hawaii had relieved was already back to coiling tighter and tighter inside me as the town car inched its way uptown. I tried not to think about all the work I was coming back to—the endless string of other people’s problems to compound my own: She cheated. He cheated. Get me full custody of the kids. She can’t have the house in Vail. All she wants is my money. She hasn’t given me a blowjob in three years. Listen, asshole, you’re fifty, bald, pompous, and shaped like an egg. She’s twenty-three, hot, and has tits so young they almost reach up to her chin. You want to fix this marriage? Come home with ten Gs in fresh, crisp bills, and tell her to get on her knees. You’ll get your blowjob. She’ll get her spending money. Let’s not pretend it was ever more than it really was. That doesn’t work for you? Unlike your soon-to-be ex-wife, I’ll take a check. Make that out to Drew M. Jagger, Attorney at Law. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling slightly claustrophobic in the back of the Uber, and looked out the window. An old lady with a walker passed us. “I’ll get out here,” I barked at the driver. “But you have luggage?” I was already exiting the back of the car. “Pop the trunk. It’s not like we’re moving anyway.” Traffic was at a dead stop, and it was only two blocks to my building. Tossing a hundred-dollar tip at the driver, I grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and took in a deep breath of Manhattan. I loved this city as much as I hated it. 575 Park Avenue was a restored pre-war on the southeast corner of Sixty-Third Street—it was an address that gave people preconceived notions about you. Someone with my last name had occupied the building since before the place was converted into overpriced co-ops. Which is why my office was allowed to remain on the ground floor when other commercial tenants were tossed out years ago. I also lived on the top floor. “Welcome back, Mr. Jagger.” The uniformed doorman greeted me as he swung open the lobby door. “Thanks, Ed. I miss anything while I was gone?” “Nah. Same old, same old. Peeked in on your construction the other day, though. Looking good.” “They use the service entrance down Sixty-Third like they were supposed to?” Ed nodded. “Sure did. Barely heard them the last few days.” I dropped my luggage inside my apartment, then headed back downstairs in the elevator to check things out. For the last two weeks, while I was screwing off in Honolulu, my office space had been getting a total renovation. Cracks in the high, plastered ceilings were to be patched and painted, and new floors installed to replace the old, worn parquet. Thick plastic remained taped over all of the interior doorways when I walked in. The little furniture I hadn’t put in storage was also still covered with tarps. Shit. They aren’t done yet. The contractor had assured me there would only be finish work left by the time I returned. I was right to be skeptical. Flicking on the lights, I was happy to find the lobby completely done, though. Finally, a New Year’s Eve with no horrible surprises for a change. I took a quick look around, pleased with what I found, and was just about to leave when I noticed a light streaming from under the door of a small file room at the end of the hallway. Thinking nothing of it, I headed to turn it off. Now, I’m six foot two and a half, two hundred and five pounds, and maybe it was just my frame of mind, my not expecting to see anyone, but when I opened the door to the file room, finding her there scared the living crap out of me. She screamed. I took a step back through the door. She got up, stood on the chair, and began yelling at me, waving her cell phone in the air. “I’ll call the police!” Her fingers shook as she dialed nine, then one, and hovered over the last one. “Get out now, and I won’t call!” I could have lunged for her, and the phone would have been out of her hand before she realized she hadn’t dialed the final digit. But she looked terrified, so I retreated another step and put my hands up in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I used my best soothing, calm voice. “You don’t need to call the police. This is my office.” “Do I look stupid to you? You just broke into my office.” “Your office? I think you took a wrong turn at the corner of Crazy and Nutjob.” She wobbled atop the chair, holding both arms out to regain her balance, and then…her skirt fell to her feet. “Get out!” She crouched down and grabbed her skirt, tugging it up to her waist as she turned her back to me. “Do you take medication, ma’am?” “Medication? Ma’am? Are you joking?” “You know what?” I motioned to the phone she was still holding. “Why don’t you push that last one and get the police over here. They can drive you back to whatever loony bin you escaped from.” Her eyes widened. For a crazy person—now that I was really looking—she was pretty damn cute. Fiery red hair piled on top of her head seemed to match her firecracker personality. Although from the looks of her blazing blue eyes, I was glad I’d held off on telling her that. She pushed one and proceeded to report the crime of entering one’s own office. “I’d like to report a robbery.” “Robbery?” I arched an eyebrow and looked around. A lone folding chair and crappy metal folding table were the only furniture in the entire space. “What exactly am I stealing? Your winning personality?” She amended her complaint to the police. “A breaking and entering. I’d like to report a breaking and entering at 575 Park Avenue.” She paused and listened. “No, I don’t think he’s armed. But he’s big. Really big. At least six feet. Maybe bigger.” I smirked. “And strong. Don’t forget to tell them I’m strong, too. Want me to flex for you? And maybe you should tell them I have green eyes. Wouldn’t want the police to confuse me with all the other really big thieves hanging out in my office.” After she hung up, she stayed standing on the chair, still glaring at me. “Was there also a mouse?” I asked. “A mouse?” “Considering you jumped up on that chair.” I chuckled. “You find this funny?” “Oddly, I do. And I have no fucking idea why. It should annoy the crap out of me that I come home from a two-week vacation and find a squatter in my office.” “Squatter? I’m no squatter. This is my office. I moved in a week ago.” She bobbled again while standing on her chair. “Why don’t you get down? You’re going to fall off that thing and get hurt.” “How do I know you’re not going to hurt me when I get down?” I shook my head and contained my laugh. “Sweetheart, look at the size of me. Look at the size of you. Standing on that chair isn’t doing jack shit to keep you safe. If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be out cold on the floor already.” “I take Krav Maga classes twice a week.” “Twice a week? Really? Thanks for the warning.” “You don’t have to ridicule me. Maybe I could hurt you. For an intruder, you’re really kind of rude, you know.” “Get down.” After a full minute stare-off, she climbed off the chair. “See? You’re as safe on the ground as you were up there.” “What do you want from here?” “You didn’t call the police, did you? You almost had me there for a second.” “I didn’t. But I can.” “Now why would you go and do that? So they can arrest you for breaking and entering?” She pointed down at her makeshift desk. For the first time, I noticed papers all over the place. “I told you. This is my office. I’m working late tonight because the construction crew was so loud today that I couldn’t get done what I needed to. Why would anyone break and enter to work at ten-thirty at night on New Year’s Eve?” Construction crew? My construction crew? Something was going on here. “You were here with the construction crew today?” “Yes.” I scratched my chin, half believing her. “What’s the foreman’s name?” “Tommy.” Shit. She was telling the truth. Well, at least some of it had to be the truth. “You said you moved in a week ago?” “That’s right.” “And you rented the space from whom, exactly?” “John Cougar.” Both my brows shot up this time. “John Cougar? Did he drop the Mellencamp, by chance?” “How should I know?” This wasn’t sounding good. “And you paid this John Cougar?” “Of course. That’s how renting an office suite works. Two months’ security, first and last month’s rent.” I shut my eyes and shook my head. “Shit.” “What?” “You got conned. How much did all of that cost you? Two months’ security, first and last month? Four months in total?” “Ten thousand dollars.” “Please tell me you didn’t pay cash.” Something finally clicked, and the color drained from her pretty face. “He said his bank was closed in the evening, and he couldn’t give me the keys until my check cleared. If I gave him cash, I could move in right away.” “You paid John Cougar forty thousand dollars in cash?” “No!” “Thank God.” “I paid him ten thousand in cash.” “I thought you said you paid four months.” “I did. It was twenty-five hundred a month.” That did it. Of all the crazy shit I’d heard so far, thinking she could get space on Park Avenue for twenty-five hundred a month took the cake. I broke out in a fit of laughter. “What’s so funny?” “You’re not from New York, are you?” “No. I just moved here from Oklahoma. What does that have to do with anything?” I took a step closer. “I hate to break the news to you, Oklahoma, but you got ripped off. This is my office. I’ve been here for three years. My father the thirty before that. I was on vacation the last two weeks and had the office remodeled while I was gone. Someone named after a singer scammed you into giving him cash to rent an office he had no right to rent. Doorman’s name is Ed. Walk through the main building entrance, and he’ll verify everything I just said.” “That can’t be.” “What do you do that you need office space?” “I’m a psychologist.” I held out my hand. “I’m an attorney. Let me see your contract.” Her face fell. “He hasn’t brought it by yet. He said the landlord was in Brazil on vacation, and I could move in, and he would come back on the first to collect the rent and bring me the contract to sign.” “You’ve been scammed.” “But I paid him ten thousand dollars!” “Which is another thing that should have tipped you off. You couldn’t rent a closet on Park Avenue for twenty-five hundred a month. Didn’t you find it strange that you were getting a place like this for next to nothing?” “I thought I was getting a deal.” I shook my head. “You got a deal alright. A raw deal.” She covered her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.” ★★★★ We hope you enjoyed this extended preview! Vi Keeland is a native New Yorker with three children that occupy most of her free time, which she complains about often, but wouldn't change for the world. She is an attorney and a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, & USA Today Best Selling author. Over the last three years, eleven of her titles have appeared on the USA Today Bestseller lists and four on the New York Times Bestseller lists. In 2013, she released her first romance novel and never looked back. To date, she has thirteen novels released, with PLAYBOY PILOT also releasing in 2016. Her novels have appeared on #1 on Amazon and are currently being translated into German, Polish, Portuguese, Korean, Hebrew, French and Italian. 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