STANDA Bleeding Stars Stand-Alone NovelComing May 22nd“Stand is a lyrical dream of power and strength that will steal your mind, body and soul…A mind blowing 10 stars!!!” Queen Zany Book Blog
From NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author A.L. Jackson comes the next seductive, unforgettable Bleeding Stars Stand-Alone Novel…
Zachary Kennedy has never been known as a fighter, but he’ll never regret fighting for her…
I’m Zee Kennedy.
Quiet. Reserved. Predictable.
When my brother died, everyone thought I was just the good guy who stepped up to take his place in the band.
No one knew what I was hiding. The one thing I’ve been fighting for.
For seven years, I’ve never lost focus.
Not until one chance encounter with Alexis Kensington.
Now she’s become my greatest temptation.
I knew better than to touch her, but now that I’ve had a taste, I can’t get enough.
Her kiss becomes my air. Her body my salvation.
She needed a savior and somehow she became mine.
Taking her was a betrayal. But keeping her means risking everything.
One look at Alexis Kensington, and I know she’s worth the fight.
Will my past continue to keep me down or will I finally find the strength to pull myself up and Stand…
My hands lingered on the keys, and she reached out and set her hand on top of mine.
Warmth and light.
It invaded my senses. Clouded my judgment.
My hand flipped over, palm up, and she threaded her fingers through mine. Her head angled, so soft, this girl so fucking good.
“What is it you want, Zee? What is it you can’t have?”
You.
Flames leapt into that space between us. Alive and dancing and inciting.
A siren’s call.
My tongue darted out to wet my lips, and I was shaking as I lifted our entwined hands. I brushed my knuckles along the silky flesh of her cheek. I swore I saw the trail of pink it left behind, the simplest touch affecting this girl.
She released a shuddered breath. It mingled with mine.
Our mouths were close—too close—and our noses just touched as we hovered in that space.
“I want things that will only ruin me, Alexis. But you…you make me want to wish for them anyway. Make me believe there’s a chance that maybe they could belong to me.”
Tension tethered us, this rigid band that had me rocking in indecision, every second getting closer and closer as I fought the foolish ideas that tried to take root.
Giving in would only destroy me. But none of that seemed to matter when I leaned in and brushed my lips at the corner of her mouth.
Her fucking delicious mouth.
Because fuck. I just needed a taste. Something to take with me. Something to tuck away, even when doing it felt like some kind of brutal tease.
Alexis gasped at the contact. I edged back the barest fraction, and she was panting these tiny breaths.
Breaths I was breathing.
Her eyes locked on mine. Hungry and pleading. Brimming with belief and hope.
I ran my thumb over the corner of her mouth where my lips had just been. “You are so beautiful. I’ve never met a girl quite like you.”
Something so genuine took hold of her expression. “I hardly know you…and somehow you make me feel like I am. Like when you look at me…you see the person I always hoped I’d become.”
Everything stilled at her words.
At her confession.
Because that’s what I wanted.
For this amazing girl to know the way I saw her. That in her space, I felt something different from all the bullshit I’d dealt with for all my life.
I felt like someone different. Someone better. Like the person I’d once hoped I’d become.
I clutched her stunning face in my hands, searching for resolve. For that dedication that right then somehow felt out of reach.
“Zee,” she whispered.
That was all it took for that band to snap.
My hands drove into her hair. And my mouth? My mouth was devouring hers.
Frenzied in its demand. Pleading the same way as her eyes had been pleading with me. Saying all the things I couldn’t ever say.
Our tongues tangled, and my spirit coiled. Heat spread in a flashfire of need. Lust rose in the knitted air, like this intangible greed we both were grappling for, searching for the fastest way to get to the peak.
Our hands searched and clawed and explored. We were a mess of limbs as we struggled to get closer to each other where we sat side by side on the bench.
“Zachary…Zachary,” she whimpered, grasping me by the back of the head. She crawled forward so she could straddle me.
Motherfuck.
My hands sank into her hips, and she edged up and pressed those gorgeous tits against the wild beat thundering in my chest. A groan rumbled out from somewhere in my soul.
She felt so perfect. So good.
I wanted to touch her. Explore her. Claim her.
My dick raged against its confines, all that delicious heat at the apex of her thighs grinding against my jean-covered cock.
It’d been too long. Too damned long. I was goin’ out of my mind.
GIVEAWAYGrand Prize: $25 Amazon Gift Card
A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.
Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, as well as the newest BLEEDING STARS novels. Watch for the next installment STAND, coming Spring 2017.
If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.
Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson - Sign up to receive her newsletter http://smarturl.it/NewsFromALJackson or text “aljackson” to 24587 to receive short but sweet updates on all the important news.
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I met Bianca in an elevator.She was on her way to interview me when we got stuck.The beautiful, raven-haired reporter assumed I was a delivery guy because of the way I was dressed.She had no clue I was really Dex Truitt, the wealthy, successful businessman she’d dubbed “Mister Moneybags”—her afternoon appointment.Bianca told me how much she hated Dex’s type—snobby, over educated, silver- spooned men who didn't appreciate the simple things in life.So, after the elevator finally started moving again, I cancelled the interview and let her believe I was someone I wasn’t—a bike messenger named Jay. I loved the way she looked at the fake me and didn't want it to end.I began dating her as “Jay”—all the while letting her interview the real me over email.I didn’t expect that our chemistry online would be just as hot.I didn’t expect the mess I’d gotten myself into.I didn’t expect that Jay and Dex would fall in love with her.And she was falling for two men.Only, both men were me.And when she found out, we were both going to lose her.Nothing could have prepared me for that day. And I certainly wasn't prepared for what came after.All good things must come to an end, right? Except our ending was one I didn't see coming.Add to GoodreadsPRE-ORDERBarnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play | Audio | Amazon paperback**No Amazon ebook preorder. Will go live on Amazon on release day. **Sign up for Penelope & Vi’s mailing list now and be the first one notified when it goes live!MEET BIANCAI sighed audibly. Are we even moving? It was seriously the slowest elevator I’d ever taken. Frustrated, and maybe a bit anxious to get the interview over with, I took another shot at the elevator panel. Again, pressing the button repeatedly, I groaned, “Come on. I’m already freakin’ late.” I breathed a sigh of relief when the car seemed to finally pick up speed. But then, it jolted to an abrupt stop, and the elevator went pitch black. “Well now you’ve gone and broken the damn thing,” a deep voice said from behind me. Startled, I jumped and bobbled my cell phone in the dark, which resulted in it falling. From the sound of it smashing against the floor, I knew it had broken. “Shit! Look what you made me do.” I bent over and patted the floor, but I couldn’t find it. “Can you at least give me some light so I can find my phone?” “It would be my pleasure.” “Thank you,” I huffed. “If I had a cell phone on me.” “Are you kidding? You don’t have a cell phone on you? Who walks around without their cell phone?” “Maybe you should try it. If you weren’t so obsessed with yours, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.” I stood, and my hands went to my hips. “How so?” “Well, you were so busy typing away on your phone, you didn’t even notice another passenger was in the car with you.” “And?” “Had you seen me, you wouldn’t have jumped hearing my voice and broken your phone. Then we would have had light, and you would be able to see that elevator panel well enough to push that button another twenty or thirty times. I’m sure that would’ve helped.” I felt the man moving around behind me. “What are you doing?” When he answered, his voice came from a different place. It was to my left and beneath me. “I’m on the floor looking for your cell phone.” It really was pitch dark. I couldn’t see a thing, but I felt the air move, and I knew he must have stood back up. “Put your hand out.” “You’re going to put my phone in it, right?” “No, I’ve taken down my pants and I’m going to stick my dick in it. Christ, you’re really a bitch, aren’t you?” Thinking he couldn’t see me, I smiled at his sarcasm and put out my hand. “Just give me my phone.”MEET DEXWow. My little ball player was quite the fox. I’d only seen her from the back before the lights went out. Now, I was staring into her beautiful, big brown eyes, feeling like this elevator mishap wasn’t such a bad thing after all. She cleared her throat. “The lights came back, but we’re still stuck.” I clicked on some of the buttons. “Seems that way. But this is a step in the right direction. I bet this thing will be moving in no time.” And by this thing moving, I do not mean my dick, although I could have sworn I felt it twitch when she just licked her beautiful full lips. Do that again. Fuck. She is beautiful. My eyes travelled down the length of her body then back up again, loving how the small buttons on her conservative blouse formed a path up to her delicate neck. I wouldn’t have minded sucking on that skin. Maybe I could entice her to play hooky with me. “Where are you headed once we get out of here?” I asked. “The thirty-fourth floor,” she said. What? What is she doing going up to my floor? I know she doesn’t work for me. I would have remembered that face, those eyes. “What kind of business you have going on up there?” “I actually have the pleasure of interviewing Mister Moneybags himself.” My stomach sank. Ohhhh. This didn’t bode well for me. I swallowed then cocked my head to the side and played dumb. “Who?” “The elusive Dexter Truitt. He’s the CEO of Montague Enterprises. They occupy the entire top floor.” Trying to seem like I was not seriously about to lose my shit, I asked, “Why do you call him Mister Moneybags?” “I just picture him to be this crabby, money-hungry asshole, I guess. Sounds like a fitting name. Of course, I don’t actually know him.” “Why do you think that way about him, then?” “I have my reasons.” Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times Bestselling author. With more than a million books sold, her titles have appeared in over fifty Bestseller lists and are currently translated in twelve languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six. Website | Facebook Fan Group | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She’s a fifteen-time New York Times bestseller of twelve novels. Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 12-year-old girl with autism and a 10-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island. Connect with Penelope Ward Facebook Fan Group | Facebook | Website |Twitter | Instagram
Title: Wounded
Author: Abby Brooks
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 20, 2017
Blurb
For every wound, there is a scar. Raised on fame and fortune, Liam McGuire is a spoiled man-child. His handsome face blinds the world, but I see through it to what he is inside. Ugly. When his tour bus rolls off the road, Liam’s rushed to the hospital where I work. A jagged scar runs the length of his face, ruining his good looks and jeopardizing his career. As his nurse, I’m around him more than I’d like, but the more I get to know him, the more I realize the world wasn’t blind to him. I was. Liam McGuire feels deeply and loves wildly, throwing himself into everything he does with more passion than I ever dreamed possible. With that intensity aimed at me, the scars slashed across my own heart start to heal. He is fire and I’ve been cold my whole life. Am I ready to thaw? Or is life better—safer—when I’m cold and numb?
I close the front door behind me and head straight to the piano. Sit at the bench and stare out through the open window and play.
I play for them. I play for Tyler. I play for who Michael and I were, and for who we’ve become. The music rips itself out of me and tears fall from my eyes, dropping on my hands, but still I play. Before long, I sense movement at the doorway. My fingers slow and then stop, cutting off the melody on a harsh note. “Don’t stop.” Liam sounds groggy. “It’s beautiful.” “It hurts,” I say, sniffing. “Ahhh.” There’s more movement and then he’s sitting next to me, his shoulder pressing against mine, his sleep-warmed skin almost too hot for me in my agony. “That’s why it’s beautiful.” I pull my hand from the keys and put them in my lap. “There’s nothing beautiful about pain.” “Behind every beautiful thing, there’s some kind of pain.” Liam puts his hands on the keys, lets them wander around a melody. “I think Bob Dylan said that.” The urge to lean into him, to borrow some strength from his size and his warmth is so strong I almost succumb to it. Almost. Instead, I put my hands on the keys and wind my melody around his. “What’s wrong, Bailey?” Liam keeps his voice low, almost a whisper. “It’s just a bad day,” I whisper in return. His fingers chase the melody towards mine. His skin brushes mine and chills rush through my body. I stop playing and stare up at him. “Why are you being nice to me?” “Maybe I’m still mostly asleep.” Liam smiles, the moonlight streaming through the window catching the scar winding down his face. Without thinking, I run my finger along it. My touch light, just a whisper of contact. “Does it still hurt?” Liam leans into my hand, pressing my palm against his cheek, and closes his eyes. “Deeply.” The low rumble of his voice touches the aching part of my soul and I know he’s not talking about the scar. I pull my hand away and study his face as he opens his eyes and stares down at me. The space between us takes on a life of its own, shrinking and contracting with each and every one of our breaths. I lean into him, needing contact. Needing sensation and oblivion and a reason to step outside of myself for a while. “Today’s the day they died.” I blink several times but don’t look away. “My parents.” “How?” I shake my head and the world spins drunkenly. It hurts to be this exposed, as if my whole body is a raw nerve, our words grinding against it until the pain forces me to cry out. “I’m sorry,” he says, bringing his hand to my cheek and threading his fingers into my hair. I lean into him and close my eyes, swimming in grief and guilt, desperate to feel anything but the way I’m feeling right now. I lick my lips. Open my eyes and find him close. So close. He drops his hand from my cheek, his eyes searching my face. There’s a moment. The two of us knowing what’s about to happen and trying to decide if we should let it, and then Liam kisses me. His hands slide up my arms and clutch my shoulders. His lips are warm and supple against mine. Our breath fills the room, twining with the rustle of fabric as I bring my hands to his back and grip his shirt in my fists. I breathe him in. His clean skin and the scent of his cologne are so foreign to me. They’re unlike any of the smells that I sometimes imagine still linger around this house, triggering memories with the power to bring me to my knees. Liam is different. Nothing about him reminds me of my past, and there’s salvation there. Safety in his newness. In his total lack of knowledge of me from before. I can be anything with him. Our kiss deepens, the stubble of his beard scraping the delicate skin on my cheeks. I open to him, lean into him, and his tongue darts out to meet mine. He pulls back but keeps his hands on my face. “Have you been drinking?” I nod. “It’s a bad day.” Liam’s eyes burn into mine, moving across the planes of my face. He takes a breath like he wants to speak, only to close his mouth and look away. “I’m sorry, Bailey,” he says after a moment. “I don’t want this because you’re drunk and hurting. And I know, deep down, neither do you.”
And then he stands and walks out of the room, leaving me to stare after him, cold in the wake of his fire.
Author Bio
Abby Brooks is a romance author who lives with the love her life and their three kids in a small town in Ohio. She loves dancing in the kitchen, laughing with people she loves, and reading way too late into the night. She also loves hearing from her readers!
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