Rook by J.C. Andrijeski blitz with giveaway
Rook
J.C. Andrijeski
(Bridge & Sword: Awakenings #1)
Publication date: April 22nd 2017
Genres: Adult, Post-Apocalyptic, Romance, Science Fiction
From USA TODAY bestselling author, a psychic warfare alternative history set in a gritty version of Earth. Contains strong romantic elements – a book in the Bridge & Sword World. Apocalyptic. Psychic Romance.
“You are the Bridge…”
Allie Taylor lives in a world populated by seers, a second race discovered on Earth at the beginning of the 20th Century. Psychic, hyper-sexual and enslaved by governments, corporations and wealthy humans, seers are an exotic fascination to Allie, but one she knows she’ll likely never encounter, given how rich you have to be to get near one.
Then a strange man shows up at her work –– then another –– and pretty soon Allie finds herself on the run from the law, labeled a terrorist and in the middle of a race war she didn’t even know existed. Yanked out of her life by the mysterious and uncommunicative Revik, Allie discovers her blood may not be as “human” as she always thought, and the world of seers might not be quite as distant as she always imagined.
When Revik tells her she’s the Bridge, a mystical being meant to usher in the evolution of humanity––or possibly its extinction––Allie must choose between the race that raised her and the one where she might truly belong.
—
EXCERPT:
I CHOKE… CHOKED… am choking… caught inside a fisted clutch of light, an egg-shaped pocket that holds me unflinchingly in place.
Inside that heated glow, I birth.
Stars swim past me in a pale swath, sky broken by sharp eyes and lightning flashes, snaking charges of gold and orange and crimson, the late side of the setting sun.
I am with him again.
I have never left him.
Now we lie together on a bed, wrapped into and around one another, alone in a single room in a building full of seers. I know I am supposed to be like them. I know I’m supposed to be the same as those women I met when we came in off the street––yet he is the only one here who feels at all like me. His breath warms my skin, his fingers wrap around me, stroking my face and neck and hair, stroking my arms and fingers and lips.
The pain between us worsens, a spike that arcs, starting as a gentle pull before it keens steeply up, inexorable, becoming gradually more unbearable, until I am sure my insides will be ripped out, torn into so many pieces there is nothing left.
Beyond where I lay, a golden ocean beckons. It is familiar.
Even more familiar than the mountains we share, the grief over our pasts.
He is there, too.
I’m sorry, he says. I did this. I did this to you. I’m sorry––
Shhh. My voice is steady, somehow apart from the lights clashing, the ghosts winging over both of our heads. Revik, it’s all right.
Don’t leave me, Allie. Don’t leave me alone with this.
I feel confusion on him, confusion in his own words, what he means by them. The feeling intensifies though; his hands tighten on my skin.
The pain worsens, too, making it hard to see.
Still, my own words come easily, without thought or regret.
I won’t, I tell him. I never will.
There is a question in this. The question shocks his heart.
I am asking him for something. My light is, anyway. I can’t say it’s a conscious question, not fully, but the intensity behind it is real, and it feels entirely like me.
I am asking him for something.
I want a promise from him. A vow.
I want him to give himself to me.
It is nonsense, what I am asking of him, but I don’t withdraw the question, nor try to qualify it in any way with words. I only wait, seeing what he will say. Before I’ve fully understood either the question or the possible answers he might give, he’s agreed.
A surrender lives in that agreement.
I feel shame there, too, like he knows he should say no, but he cannot––will not. He clasps my fingers, and I see tears in his eyes. They bewilder me, touch me sharply through the pain and he pulls me closer until…
He kisses me. It is a brief kiss. Clumsy. Awkward. Yet it is tender, too. Meaning lives there, more meaning than I can comprehend. I feel him agree again, and it feels final that time. It is absolute. He is certain now.
The vow is set. It is more than a promise.
It feels like an ending and a beginning, all at once.
Even as I think it, the night sky disappears. Above us, light weaves into complicated patterns, in and out like a shuttlecock between silk threads. I have a fleeting impression of time removed. The weaving of the threads grows more and more complicated, more subtle, more beautiful and intimate and more connected to my heart.
I watch a painting form in that vastness of sky, a painting of fiery, diamond light, in a pattern too breathtaking for words. My struggle stops, even as the pain I felt before melts into warm breath, a feeling of ending, of beginning.
I know, somehow. This is familiar to me.
I feel it in him, too, that surge of familiar.
The feeling is so heart-wrenching, so intense, I cannot see anything else.
He belongs to me. He belonged to me before I asked the question.
We know one another here, and a timelessness lives in that knowing, something that lives so far from my conscious mind it feels almost alien. That deep sense of familiar is something I can’t explain to myself, something I understand without words, without really understanding it at all.
Something is… different.
I don’t know it yet, but it will never be the same again.
Author Bio:
JC Andrijeski is a USA TODAY bestselling author who writes paranormal mysteries and apocalyptic fiction, often with a sexy, romantic and metaphysical bent. JC has a background in journalism, history and politics, and loves martial arts, yoga, meditation, hiking, swimming, horseback riding, painting… and of course reading and writing. She grew up in the Bay Area of California, but travels extensively and has lived abroad in Europe, Australia and Asia, and from coast to coast in the continental United States. She currently lives and writes full-time in Bangkok, Thailand.
To learn more about JC and her writing, please visit jcandrijeski.com.
If you want an email when JC’s next book is released, as well as special giveaways, offers to read books early and other prizes, join her newsletter, THE REBEL ARMY, at: http://hyperurl.co/JCA-Newsletter
JOIN NOW and you’ll get a FREE BOOK!
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Lady of Sherwood by Molly Bilinski blitz with giveaway
Lady of Sherwood
Molly Bilinski
(Outlaws of Sherwood #1)
Published by: Clean Teen Publishing
Publication date: April 24th 2017
Genres: Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Young Adult
Robin of Lockesly was neither the son her father wanted, nor the daughter her mother expected. When she refuses an arranged marriage to a harsh and cruel knight, the deadly events that follow change her destiny forever.
After a night of tragedy, Robin and the few remaining survivors flee to Nottingham. With a newfound anonymity, they start to live different lives. There, she and her band make mischief, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. But charity isn’t the only thing she wants–she wants revenge.
As the sheriff draws his net closer, Robin’s choices begin to haunt her. She’ll have to choose between what’s lawful and what her conscience believes is right–all while staying one step ahead of the hangman.
Lady of Sherwood is a unique young adult retelling of the beloved Robin Hood legend. Filled with action and romance, this new series follows a teenage heroine through her fantastic, yet dangerous adventures.
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo
—
EXCERPT:
Other girls—some of the youngest ones from the kitchen—came from the brush. Smoke clung to them like a shroud, and tears had run in rivers down soot-stained cheeks. Ginny, the youngest at six, ran to Jemma and attached herself like a limpet to the older girl’s legs.
“Where is everyone else?” Robin asked, glancing between them and then back at the flaming manor. “Where is—where’s—” Her face heated even as the rest of her body grew chilled, and she stuffed her first in her mouth to muffle her scream.
“We are the only ones.”
Robin looked up at Kitty, surprised to find herself on her knees in the damp grass. She curled her shaking fingers into fists, and then rested them on her thighs. “How—what happened?”
“That man,” the girl went on, absently twisting her skirt in her hands. “The one who’d been courting you… he came for you in the night. When he couldn’t find you, he gathered everyone in the great hall.”
“Except you lot?” Jemma inquired.
“He was hurting her.” Kitty’s eyes took on a glossy quality. “He had Maggie by the hair, and he was hurting her. She had Ginny behind her, protecting her. I—I hit him over the head with a candle stand.”
“We went through the old tunnel,” another voice piped up. Maggie slipped her hand into Kitty’s. “Me and Kitty and Ginny.”
“And my—my mother?” Robin took a deep, shuddering breath.
“She kept her secret. We heard ‘im, shouting. He wanted to know where you was.” Ginny, this time. She wandered away from Jemma, and Robin opened her arms for her to nestle into. She’d helped Jemma look after the younger servants on the sly for years. Whether they’d been orphaned at birth or left to the streets, Jemma had brought them each back to the manor, and she’d given them a home and a hope the rest of the world didn’t offer. “She didn’t tell, Robin. She didn’t tell him where you was.”
“I heard Charlotte say you were gone,” Maggie said quietly. “She’d gone to your mother’s chambers to tell her. Miss Jemma was gone, too, and so was your bow.” She shrugged, a delicate lift of her shoulders. “We all thought you had gone to the field.”
“And she said nothing?” Robin’s heart beat hard against her ribcage.
“Lady was very brave,” Ginny murmured.
“She was,” Robin agreed. “Like you are. You all.” She looked at each of the other girls, who stared back, clearly waiting.
It hit her then—they were waiting for her. With the only survivors of the manor in front of her, and her mother dead—God rest her soul, God hold them all in His hand—it occurred to her in that moment. She was the Lady of Lockesly.
Author Bio:
Molly is a 2013 graduate of William Smith College with a bachelors in chemistry. She puts her science powers to use by day and is a novelist by night (and weekend…and any five minutes she can find). When she’s not writing or working, she’s
scoping out coffee shops, exploring her new city (Buffalo, NY), taking day trips to Canada, and putting together puzzles.
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The Future of Sex by Aubrey Parker blitz with giveaway
The Future of Sex
Aubrey Parker
(The Future of Sex, #1)
Publication date: May 16th 2017
Genres: Adult, Romance, Science Fiction
Love doesn’t matter. Romance doesn’t exist.
In the year 2060, sex is a game of extremes. No desire is unexplored and even the unimaginable is possible.
Alexa Mathis, head of the monolithic O Corporation, has found a prodigy she believes will drive her sex empire to rapturous new limits: Chloe Shaw, a common girl with uncanny gifts that make her a powerful escort.
Chloe doesn’t believe in love. She believes in ecstasy, and her employer’s newest tool to usher “the future of sex”: an intelligent network known as The Beam.
And so it is until she meets Andrew … and the whole world changes.
The Future of Sex is a 12-part romance/sci-fi series exploring the line between today’s conception of love and the sensations that await us in the future.
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo
—
EXCERPT:
“Close your eyes.”
Andrew was startled. He’d been listening to music when Chloe entered, and hadn’t heard her approach. His door was unlatched, without a digital lock. He hadn’t been kidding about being poor. His connection was isolated to the terminal playing the music. He lived like a bohemian, and his apartment was little more than masonry and glass. She felt guilty about using her Beam connection to ferret out Andrew’s address, but
once her hands were on his hips, her chest pressing into his back, Chloe no longer cared.
“You surprised me.”
She reached toward the terminal — a simple, no-frills model — and touched his screen to change the music, choosing something soft and lyrical to replace it. Something sappy and lovelorn that her mother would mock.
“Close your eyes,” she repeated.
He hesitated. She couldn’t see his eyes because she was behind him, but Andrew’s body language betrayed a man at attention. His moment of reluctance gave her pause until she realized his doubt was about himself rather than her.
“Chloe …”
“Just do it.”
She sensed his eyes closing. Then she rested her hands on his chest, palm flat. The movement was sensual, but not sexual. Her default would have been to go below the belt, so she kept her hands high.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Feeling.”
“I wish I worked out more.”
“Not feeling you. I meant that I’m attempting to feel. To emote.”
“How is it going?”
“I don’t know.”
And she didn’t. Chloe was feeling just fine, but it was like an ingrained response to Andrew’s presence. If he were feeling doubtful or down, her chameleon nature would want her to adapt, to touch him in just the right ways and say just the right things. She wasn’t sure if her genuine reaction — if she’d ever felt such a thing — was the same.
“You don’t know?”
“What do you want me to say, Andrew?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“What do you want from me? How would you have me feel?”
Andrew hesitated. “Is this a test?”
He sounded concerned, or even more doubtful than before — the opposite of his usual carefree, playful self. Something had been wrong at the park, and it had occupied Chloe’s mind, heavy like an anchor, ever since. That same thing was still wrong, but had matured into something else.
“No,” she said. “It’s not a test.”
“I don’t want you to feel anything. You feel what you feel.”
It was such a simple thing to say, yet Chloe didn’t know if her body and mind understood.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Nervous.” It was the truth, but she wasn’t sure if it was her base or something more meta. Was she nervous for her own reasons, or because she wasn’t sure how she truly felt?
“Me too,” he said.
With her flat palms, Chloe could feel his heart. “I can tell.”
“I don’t know what to make of you, Chloe.” His words were rushed as if he’d been dying to say them.
“Nobody seems to.”
“I don’t know if I like you for you, or if I like the person you’re becoming so that I will like you.”
Chloe turned Andrew around. She didn’t have to tell him to open his eyes. He did so automatically, those usually-playful orbs suddenly so serious.
“So,” she said, “you can tell.”
“I don’t know what I can tell.”
“You’re conflicted. There’s something wrong.”
“Conflicted,” he echoed. “But nothing’s wrong.” Then: “At least, I hope not.”
“But you don’t know.”
“Honestly? I don’t.”
“My whole life is about feeling, but it’s always as a response.” Chloe swallowed, hesitant to voice what was coming. “But I know how I feel about that — about your hesitation.”
“I think I love you, Chloe.”
“But you don’t know.”
He shook his head.
A tear tickled the corner of her eye.
“And I know how I feel about that, too.” He moved to kiss her.
“Don’t.”
“I want to.”
“Because I want you to?” Chloe asked. “And I want you to because you want to?”
Andrew tipped his head a little; he didn’t have to say that Chloe’s double-talk was confusing them both. He pressed his lips to hers, felt her lack of response, then pulled back. “Does it matter?”
Author Bio:
I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life’s largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.
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Excerpt Reveal: Black Tie Optional by Ann Marie Walker with giveaway
The Proposal meets Two Weeks
Notice in Ann Marie Walker’s
new standalone romantic comedy, Black
Tie Optional!
BLACK TIE OPTIONAL
Wild Wedding #1
Ann Marie Walker
St. Martin’s Press
The
Proposal meets Two
Weeks Notice in Ann Marie Walker’s new standalone romantic
comedy, Black Tie Optional, which New York Times bestselling
author Jennifer Probst calls, “a fun, sexy romp that will keep every
reader entertained!”
Everything about Coleman Grant III oozes power and sex. And not the perfunctory
kind either, but the sheet clawing, heart stopping, gasping for air after
you’ve screamed so loud you can’t breathe kind. From his dark wavy hair that
stands in an artfully rumpled mess, to the blue eyes that sear your skin, to
his full, sensual lips – on the surface he’s pure perfection.
Too bad
he’s an asshole. An arrogant, uptight corporate raider hell bent on destroying
the environment one species at a time.
Everything
about Olivia Ramsey screams hippie humanitarian. From her blond hair tied in a
sloppy bun, to her faded jeans with the Bonnaroo patch sewn on the thigh, to
her combat boots still splattered with mud from the previous day’s site visit.
So it makes
perfect sense that they would get married. In Vegas. Stone-cold sober.Cole
needs a wife. Olivia needs to save an endangered species. But what starts as a
marriage of convenience soon turns into a battle of wills and sexual tension.
Love is a game, and Olivia and Cole are ready to win.
Chapter One
Just like
clockwork, Olivia thought. She watched the gas-guzzling SUV roll to a stop
alongside the curb, its hazard lights blinking as if some sort of justification
for bringing a full lane of Chicago’s morning rush hour to a grinding halt.
Every day the sleek black car stopped in exactly the same location so the
almighty Coleman Grant III could get the same extra hot, double shot Americano
from the same big-chain coffee shop, bypassing the smaller, neighborhood
establishments trying to stay afloat as corporate America runs them into the
ground.
A mountain of a man in mirrored
aviator shades jumped out of the front seat to open the rear door, giving
Olivia a clear view of the luxury vehicle’s interior. Two leather captain’s
chairs with fold down keyboards and armrest tablet holders sat facing several
television monitors mounted above what appeared to be a full-service bar. Forget running a business, it looked as
though Coleman Grant ran NASA from his back seat. Honestly, what could possibly
be so important that it couldn’t keep until he got to the office? The commute
from his Gold Coast penthouse to his Loop headquarters was less than two miles.
Hadn’t the guy ever heard of just chilling out with some tunes?
Olivia approached the car just as
Grant climbed out of the back seat. He paused to button the jacket of his navy
blue Tom Ford and for a moment she forgot he was an arrogant, self-righteous
prick hell bent on destroying the environment one species at a time. For a
moment, she allowed herself to take in the physical perfection standing in
front of her. From his dark wavy hair that stood in an artfully rumpled mess,
to the blue eyes that seared her skin, to his full, sensual lips – everything about
Coleman Grant oozed power and sex. And not the perfunctory kind either, but the
sheet clawing, heart-stopping, gasping-for-air-after-you’ve-screamed-so-loud-you-can’t-breathe
kind. But then his eyes narrowed and his lips curved into a knowing smirk and
Olivia remembered exactly who she was dealing with.
“Mr. Grant,” she began.
The bodyguard moved to step between
them but Grant waved him off. “Ms. Ramsey, what a surprise,” he said, not at
all surprised since this was the eighty-third day in a row she had approached
him. Not that it mattered. She had no plans to stop these sidewalk sessions
until he either agreed to her demands or filed for a restraining order.
He made his way toward the coffee
shop with Olivia tight on his heels. “You know, most people simply make an
appointment with my assistant.”
“I’ve tried that, Mr. Grant. But for
some reason your schedule is always full.”
“Pity,” he said, his voice void of
all emotion. When he reached the glass doors, he yanked one open. “Please,
after you.”
Bastard. Normally he charged in like
he owned the place, never mind if she or anyone else got a face full of door. How
dare he try to throw her off her game by acting chivalrous. As if the man had a
courteous bone in his body. Olivia stood frozen in place, debating how best to
handle this latest twist in their balance of power. As she did, Cole’s gaze
raked her from head to toe, from her blond hair tied in a sloppy bun, to her
faded jeans with the Bonaroo patch sewn on the thigh, to her combat boots splattered
with mud from the previous day’s site visit.
She hated to admit it, but the
scrutiny of his gaze was unnerving. And it wasn’t just the laser like focus.
There was something about his expression, as if he wasn’t looking at her fully
clothed in a shop brimming with customers, but rather undressing her with his
eyes. She shifted in place, debating if she should call him out for his piggish
behavior or simply stick to the topic at hand.
“Suit yourself,” he finally said,
stepping through the doors and leaving her alone on the sidewalk.
Not so fast. She took a deep breath
and joined him at the service counter.
“Mr. Grant, as I’m sure you’re aware, the northern long-eared bat was
recently granted protection as a threatened species under the Endangered
Species Act.”
“Rather difficult to forget given
your daily reminders. Although I must say, Ms. Ramsey, you disappoint me. No
visual aids today?” He turned away from the counter with his extra hot, double
shot Americano to find Olivia standing behind him with an 8 x 10 glossy in her
hand. “Ah, it seems I spoke too soon.”
“This particular species of bat has
been the most impacted by white-nose syndrome and the resulting decline in
their numbers is what—”
“Those really are the most vile
creatures,” Grant interrupted. “Have you ever considered taking up the cause of
a more appealing animal, say a manatee?”
“There aren’t any manatees in Lake
Michigan.”
“Precisely.” He smirked. “Perhaps
you could move? I’m sure you could find some poor, unsuspecting Floridians
worthy of your attention.” He raised his left hand and for the first time
Olivia realized he was holding a second cup. He thrust it in her direction and
without thinking she took it, dropping the photograph as she did. “You seem
like the type who would order your latte with a hundred and one specifications,
but hopefully skinny vanilla will do.”
Olivia blinked. He bought her a
coffee? What the actual fuck? Did he really think he could charm his way out of
the hot seat? She had spent her entire adult life and most of her teens
speaking on behalf of those who couldn’t. It was going to take a lot more than
a few random acts of fabricated kindness to get her off his back.
She was about to tell him not only
where he could stick his latte but how in her twenty-eight years on earth she’d
never ordered a “skinny” anything, when he turned toward the door. She bent to
scoop up the photo then hurried after him, fast talking her case all the way to
the curb where his bodyguard stood waiting with the door already open. As
usual, Grant didn’t say a word, much less defend his stance. Instead he simply
flashed a grin that would have made her drop her latte, not to mention her
panties, if she didn’t find him to be lacking in not only morals and ethics but
quite possibly a soul.
He gave her a quick nod before
ducking into the car. “Until tomorrow,
Ms. Ramsey.”
With that, the door slammed shut and
the SUV pulled into traffic to the sound of protesting horns.
“Asshole,” Olivia muttered under her
breath. “Gorgeous asshole, but still.” She turned on her heel and started down the street with her head held high. Coleman Grant III might have been trying to
make a mockery of her attempts to persuade him, but their standoff was far from
over. A slow grin curved her lips as an idea began to take shape. She’d just
pulled her smartphone out to send herself a reminder when it began to vibrate
in her hand.
“Are you bringing your swimsuit?”
her best friend asked before Olivia had even managed a hello.
“To the desert? You’re joking,
right?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“Cassie, I know you’ve had your head
buried in cookbooks for the past few years but surely you can remember how a
vacation works…lounge chairs, suntan oil, blended drinks with tiny umbrellas
that make you say ridiculously inappropriate things to cabana boys.”
“I have never said anything
inappropriate to a cabana boy. And that’s sexist by the way.”
“Cabana person?” Olivia laughed at
her own joke. “I’m playing. But you’ve got to lighten up a bit. We’re headed to
Vegas, Sin City, what happens there stays there and all that.”
“You sound like a tourism ad.”
“All I’m saying is you better be
ready to party Hangover style.”
Cassie snorted. “Yeah, cause that
worked out so well for them.”
“I promise I won’t leave you
stranded on a hotel roof.”
“This is a bad idea. I should be
staying here and looking for a job.”
“You’re the sister of the groom. You
can’t very well ditch out on the bachelor/bachelorette festivities. Besides, if
I can break my ‘Harass Coleman Grant’ streak for a few days, then you can
certainly give the stand mixer a rest.”
“How’s that going by the way?”
Olivia groaned. “New day, same
story. ”
“Maybe it’s time to—”
“Move on? No way.” While it was true
that working freelance allowed Olivia a certain amount of latitude, she prided
herself on never giving up. There was no way Coleman Grant was going to blemish
her perfect record. “I’ll just have to double my efforts.”
Cassie laughed. “I’m actually starting
to feel sorry for the guy.”
“Don’t be fooled by the looks. He
might be hotter than Ryan Reynolds and Ian Somerhalder combined, but underneath
that perfect exterior beats the heart of an ogre.”
“Sounds like someone has wet
panties.”
“Why Cassandra Miller, is that
smutty talk I hear coming out of your mouth? There may be hope for you yet.”
“Don’t change the subject. You’ve
got the hots for this guy.”
“Hardly. He’s eye candy all right,
but he’s also a spoiled, self-centered asshole who think it’s his way or the
highway. Not this time though.” Olivia nodded to herself. One way or another he
was going to give in to her demands. Coleman Grant III had finally met his
match. He just didn’t know it yet.
Ann Marie
Walker writes
steamy books about sexy boys. She’s a fan of fancy cocktails, anything
chocolate, and 80s rom-coms. Her super power is connecting any situation to an
episode of Friends and she thinks all coffee cups should be the size of a bowl.
If it’s December she can be found watching Love Actually but the rest of the
year you can find her at AnnMarieWalker.com where she would be happy to talk to
you about alpha males, lemon drop martinis or supermodel David Gandy. Ann Marie
attended the University of Notre Dame and currently lives in Chicago.
Cover Reveal: Falling for Dante by DJ Hunnam with giveaway
Falling for Dante
DJ Hunnam
(A Clean Slate Novel, #2)
Publication date: May 31st 2017
Genres: Contemporary, Erotica, Romance
I fell for my brother’s best friend when I was just a kid. He broke my heart, one unforgettable night, in a frat house bathroom. Now he’s back and ready for a second shot. There’s just one problem. I’m damaged goods.
I’m a demon…
On and off the football field. The only thing I like more than scoring touchdowns is scoring with the ladies. When my best friend’s little sister begs me to take her virginity, I’m not surprised. Erica has had a crush on me since she was a teenager. So I do what any man would. I reject her.
Fast forward five years and Erica has blossomed into one irresistible woman. Too bad she still hates my guts. Convincing her to give me another chance might be the hardest play I’ve ever had to execute. But I’m willing to give it the old college try.
I’m a fool…
For falling for Dante. He stole the playbook to my heart when I was fourteen years old and has been running defense with his ever since. I offered him everything. My heart. My soul. My body.
Now I’m running scared. From my past. From my present. From the feelings that Dante stirs up every time he’s around. It’s only a matter of time before I trip and fall into the arms of the only man I’ve ever loved. But will the fall come at a premium my heart can afford?
Author Bio:
First introduced to the genre by her grandmother, DJ Hunnam is an author with a true love for great romance novels. After reading hundreds of them over the last twenty years, she finally decided to put pen to paper and craft her own. She loves to write
about strong heroines who fall in love with sexy heroes, while tackling real-world problems.
When she isn’t writing, you might find her curled up with a book, chasing her two wild sons, or pursuing her own HEA with her husband of ten years. She’s a sucker for dark chocolate, a good bottle of Malbec, and a sexy six-pack.
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