Cover REVEAL ... MEGHAN QUINN... STROKED HARD coming soon

STROKED HARD will be here soon! Check out this teaser and don't forget to add STROKED HARD to your tbr!

STROKED HARD

Scheduled to release: November 1, 2016

Sports Romance

Cover Designed by: Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae

 Goodreads

He’s hot. Like, stop breathing kind of hot with his killer body, vivid blue eyes, and constant five o’clock shadow.

Did I mention his body?

Watching Hollis Knightly, Olympic diving gold medalist, man-pony specialist—and cocky bastard—stand up on the diving platform in nothing but a small piece of Spandex? Yeah, I’m beguiled.

And easily seduced.

I want to keep things light but he won’t leave me alone. And hell, if he’s not wearing me thin.

What is supposed to be a simple summer fling with a very hot man, has now morphed into a f*cked-up mess of feelings, attachment, and dare I say it…love. But I don’t do relationships. And Hollis Knightly does.

NOW AVAILABLE!

STROKED by Meghan Quinn

Released: July 19, 2016

Cover Designer: Murphy Rae

Sports Romance

Goodreads

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BLURB:

Reese King: Olympic medalist, underwear model, Greek god.



His body is chiseled from rock, sculpted by the weight room, and refined by water.



On a daily basis his skin is completely bare for everyone to see, tan and defined, only covered up by a minuscule piece of spandex. There is no denying his sex appeal.



I hate to admit it, but I’m head over heels infatuated with him.



There is one HUGE problem though. His achingly gorgeous abs, inked up arm, and cocky swagger belong to my boss, the high-profile, reality star bitch from hell and certified heinous human being, Bellini Chambers.



What I think is going to be an easy job assisting a glorified wench turns into a cluster f*ck of epic proportions.

STROKED LONG by Meghan Quinn

Scheduled to release: September 20, 2016

Sports Romance

Cover Designed by: Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae

 Goodreads

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2cAepAM

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2cdpvwA

Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2bMRByM

iBooks: http://apple.co/2cdfGyN

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2cEIijR

BLURB:

From his dirty-blond hair and breathtaking smile, to the abs from heaven and the irresistible V in his waistline, everything about Bodi Olympic-gold-medalist Banks screams hot piece of @$$.

Yet there’s more.

Dark shadows lurk behind his soulful, serious eyes.

I’m enamored. He’s captured me.

How can running an art foundation with Bodi Banks turns into a slow-burning, epic romance, even though he tries to push me away at every chance? How can I stay away from a broken, routine-driven man whose soul cries to be forgiven for a crime only he believes he committed? Or is that a lie?


**STROKED LONG can be read as a stand alone.

About the Author:

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if "It's Raining Men" starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Find me on Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/

May 31st is the Release day of YOUR MESS IS MINE by Stephanie Alba

Title: Your Mess Is Mine

Author: Stephanie Alba

Release Date: May 31, 2016

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I don't trust people who follow their hearts. Hearts are peculiar things. They're necessary muscles that keep us alive by pumping blood and oxygen into our veins. Hearts are also compulsory, often making us foolish. They pull us towards others with a force that aches, burns, and satiates you all at once. Before you know it that mass of tissue is no longer yours.

Maybe mine never was.

In my case, that draw came from a stranger that left my heart feeling both fulfilled and consumed.

I didn't expect to fight her for the last standby seat to New York City. I didn't plan on letting her get under my skin. Or the way her vulnerability tore me up inside and compelled me to care for her. She didn't plan on letting me witness her chaos.

Her anxious heart and my perfectionist mind let things get messy.

And though we didn't plan for it, our interrupting of each others' lives was exactly what we needed.

Sometimes the mess is the most beautiful part of life.

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We opted for dessert wine and some cheese instead of traditional sweets. The more wine she had the more unfiltered Margo became. She wasn't exactly holding back in the first place, but her last semblance of restraint melted away.

After paying for dinner, we walked out into the cold fall night. I wanted to take Margo somewhere I knew would make her nervous. Mostly, I wanted to push her to that point of no control to see if I could at least hold her again in some way. Any touch was better than none.

Sure, it was fucked up of me to purposely make her nervous, but I was desperate. And where in the past I would have blatantly flirted and tiptoed over lines with women, I didn't want to do that with her. I wanted her to come to me. There was something about letting things unfold naturally that pushed me to be on my best behavior.

It wasn't easy though. She'd lick her lips, beckoning me to look at them. Her tongue danced over her crimson lips, inducing a jolt of arousal that shocked through my entire body and ended in my cock. Images of what her naked body and imaginings of how she sounded when she came flooded my mind. I couldn't take it any longer. If I got her in bed, I wouldn't need foreplay. I probably wouldn't last very long either. Wouldn't that be painfully unfortunate?

In her tipsiness, she allowed me to put my arm around her waist as we walked. We'd done so in silence till I continued down some subway stairs. She jolted to a stop at the top and shoved against my arms. "Fuck no!"

Despite trying to pull her forward, she slithered out of my grasp. "Come on, you gotta do it if you're going to live here, Margo."

I took two steps down, leaving us at eye level.

Her eyes turned glassy, and they couldn't focus on me. She'd dart from my eyes to the half-lit buildings, or at the people ignoring her odd reaction. "I don't have to do it today, Hudson. I may not move at all…."

"Do you trust me?"

She hesitated, again looking around at her options for running away before eventually giving in.

"Then come here, I'll take care of you," I said, the truth of my words surprising me.

Reaching out to her, I waited for her to join me. She tilted her head and assessed me, staring into my eyes before lowering her gaze to my lips then throat. Was she that afraid of the subway? Or was it the offer of my hand?

I think it was my words. On the plane the night before, Margo looked at me with such surprise. Sure, we'd bickered, but I’d helped her, and she probably hadn't expected that. Maybe she'd never trusted anyone and didn't know why she wanted to trust me. Just like I didn't know why I wanted her so desperately, or struggled with that same unexpected confusion I couldn't silence.

Clasping my hand, she followed me to the automated machine downstairs where I purchased two one-way tickets. We approached the platform, and every little noise startled her. It was kind of cute to see her conquering her fears, but what impressed me was her need to prove herself to both of us. We boarded the over-filled train and had no option but to stand towards the back of the cart. With so many people around, we were squashed close together. I could feel the warmth radiating off her flawless skin. I could smell the remains of her incense and roses perfume that tempted me to lean in and press my nose and lips against her soft throat. The wine had also left me a little unhinged, stealing touches here and there. And she let me. Not once did she address my hand gripping her lower back whenever the train turned.

As if the universe could hear my plea, the train pulled out of the next station with a quick jerk and Margo's body propelled into mine. I caught her and wrapped my arms awkwardly around her waist. We were sealed together: her breasts on my lower chest, her torso leaning against my stomach and belt, the apex of her legs just barely cupping the center of my groin. I started hardening immediately, and I doubt it went unnoticed. All my hard edges were at home against her softness.

I couldn't help myself.

I pressed my lips to the top of her head and leaned over her. Holding my breath, I waited for her reaction to my brash affection, but she gave me back something I hadn't expected. She looked up at me and smiled. It was wide and brazen like her others, but it was also laced with a twinge of sadness. She whispered one thing. "You."

To which I replied, "Me?"

Margo nodded and pulled the collar of my shirt down before pressing her lips against my neck. They opened and left wet traces of her along my skin. It felt like fire—painful, searing, and warm. I wanted all of her, and I hoped that was Margo's way of telling me she wanted the same.

The train stopped and so did she. When she saw Times Square again, she inhaled deeply, the way someone does after swimming underwater for too long. With a squeeze of her shoulder, I led her straight into our hotel; the sooner I got her in private, the better. The elevator music was accompanied with my heartbeat and the machinery groaning around us. I could see all the ways I wanted to please her so clearly in my head, and every nerve ending in my body was burning with the need to touch her.

But I couldn't. I wasn't sure I could go through with it.

Have you ever had a moment so perfect that you don't want to do anything to fuck it up? That night with the girl in the dress and Chucks was a string of perfect moments all dangling together in my mind. Despite assuming I'd never see Margo again, I still didn't want to risk messing up the image I'd always have of her. It just didn't seem right, at least not if I initiated it. I didn't want her rejection to taint the pedestal she'd earned in my mind.

While I watched her walking ahead of me, I thought about making any move I could. I thought about kissing her again and seeing where it went. I considered just bluntly telling her I wanted to be inside her. Maybe she'd have liked that. But as she slid the key into her room door, I remained frustratingly mute. Margo turned and looked at me with heavy eyelids and flushed cheeks. In a raspy whisper, she said words I'd been dying to hear.

"Do you want to come in?"

"Really?" I stepped back. The desperation I had for her sincerity was drowning me in doubt.

Margo moved closer, pressing her soft center against my firm one. With her hand against my throat, feeling my pounding heartbeat beneath my stubble-laden skin, she looked up at me. Her gaze was penetrating and flooded with desire.

"Hudson, we've been eye-fucking each other all night, let's be honest now. I'm dying to know what you'll do to me if I let you."

With that admission, I became someone else. An animal. A tempted addict. A man craving only her. Grabbing her arm, I pushed her in and shut the door by slamming her against the back of it. She looked up with the most evocative grin and hummed in approval. Looking down at her, I grabbed her neck and wrapped my fingers around it.

"You have no idea what I've imagined tonight thanks to this fucking dress and that delicious mouth."

Before she could reply, I sealed my lips against hers. There was no turning back.

Stephanie Alba lives in Miami, Florida with her husband, her toddler and their two dogs, Milo and Van Gogh. She's obsessed with Disney, British history, traveling, romances novels, movies, and Halloween. When she's not glued to her laptop or writing in her notebook, she's either: running, planning her next vacation, binge-watching Netflix, reading, or chasing her toddler. 

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New Release from Samantha Towle ... THE ENDING I WANT

Samantha Towle has released her new book THE ENDING I WANT and we are so excited to share more info about the book with you - enjoy an excerpt below and a little note from Samantha. Make sure to enter the giveaway below too - Good luck!

♥ BUY THE BOOK ♥

*The Ending I Want will be releasing at $2.99 special from 5/10-5/13 - Grab your copy!*

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Taylor Shaw had the perfect life—until she was sixteen. That was when everything changed. From that moment on, life went from bad to worse…to the worst.
After recovering from a brain tumor, months later, she suffers the tragic loss of her whole family.
Since that fateful day, she’s been coasting through life.

Now, the brain tumor has returned, and Taylor decides she’s had enough. She’s going to take her fate into her own hands.
No more hospitals. No more surgeries. No more anything.
She’s going to join her family.
It’s her decision.
What she longs for.
The ending she wants.

She just has a list of things to do before she goes.
First, go to England.
Second, kiss a stranger…

Only, Taylor didn’t expect Liam Hunter, the stranger—with his handsome face, his six-foot-three of gorgeousness, and his oh-so-hot English accent—to change things.
To change her.
To change the ending she wanted.

What is a girl, who is standing on the edge of nothing, to do when offered the chance of everything?

A Note from Samantha: Writing The Ending I Want has been a cathartic and exhausting process for me, but I have loved every second of writing it. I relate to this story more than any of the stories that I’ve written before. Maybe that’s because there’s a piece of me in this book. And not in Taylor having a brain tumor, because fortunately I’ve never had to endure anything like that. But for me, it was the need to feel free from something that has crippled me for many years, just like Taylor is crippled by her own pain. Taylor wanted to die to be free. I never wanted to die, but I did want to be free, in a way that’s hard to explain. But now, after years of feeling trapped by my demons, things that have held me back in life, I’ve found a way to get the freedom I needed. I’m still a work in progress, but I’m working better now than I ever did before - just saying this cryptic stuff out loud is a big step for me. So, writing Taylor in the way I did was a big deal for me. I really hope that you love this story, and see strength in Taylor's choices rather than weakness.

“Go to England. Kiss a stranger. Have lots of sex,” his deep voice rumbles out the words I wrote.

He glances at me over his shoulder, a shit-eating grin on his face.

I don’t even bother with trying to get the list back now. What’s the point? He’s already seen it.

Bastard.

I fall back into my seat, my face feeling like a blowtorch went at it. “You’re an asshole,” I mutter.

He turns to face me, my list in his hand but still held out of my reach. “Aw, don’t be like that, Taylor, from Boston. I was just curious to read it.”

I’m pretty sure he’s going for contrite, but he’s failing miserably.

I glare at him. I’m going for death-by-laser stare.

It doesn’t work because he gives me a panty-dropping smile. I’d like to say I’m unaffected, but I’m not; however, I don’t let him know that.

“Curious? I don’t think so. An effing thief? Yes.”

He laughs. “I’m sorry. But you don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s a good list.” He looks back to my list. “Have sex with a stranger,” he continues on reading. “Have sex with a stranger outdoors. You do know I can help you with all of these, right?” He lifts a brow at me.

I give him the middle finger.

He laughs again and looks back to the list. Then, he stops laughing and stares at me with what can only be described as complete horror. “You’ve never had oral sex?”

Fuck.

Why the hell did I put that on my list?

New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal and international bestselling author Samantha Towle began her first novel in 2008 while on maternity leave. She completed the manuscript five months later and hasn't stopped writing since.

She has written contemporary romances, THE MIGHTY STORM, WETHERING THE STORM, TAMING THE STORM, TROUBLE, REVVED and REVIVED.

She has also written paranormal romances, THE BRINGER and the ALEXANDRA JONES SERIES, all penned to tunes of The Killers, Kings of Leon, Adele, The Doors, Oasis, Fleetwood Mac, and more of her favourite musicians.

A native of Hull and a graduate of Salford University, she lives with her husband, Craig, in East Yorkshire with their son and daughter.

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Samantha Towle's THE ENDING I WANT Release Week Giveaway

COVER REVEAL

Title: Marriage to a Mister

Series: Daughters of Regency #1

Author: DeAnne Cherry

Release Date: May 5, 2016

Lady Fleur Osborne knows several things to be true: her father would likely continue to turn away every suitor at the door, her sister could very well end up unmatched by fault of her clever mouth alone, and that Fleur herself is perfectly happy to say goodbye to the marriage mart and devote her days to caring for her father and his estate.

But fate, it would seem, has little care for Fleur’s wishes, and its plans are made known by way of two matchmaking fathers, a Viscount's unexpected proposal, and a murderous flowerpot that thwarts their carefully laid schemes.

Evan Woolf has been content to stay away from the ton and its mischief, happily sequestered in his dusty library with his work, the choice in no way due to the chance of seeing Lady Fleur again. It has been too long since he has seen her, and the pain between them has deepened the chasm to bounds impassable.

But when the two collide in a scandal the likes of which only France could provide, Evan finds himself given a second chance, and it’s one he won’t squander. And in the end, the flower and the wolf may find themselves in love once again, against all odds, and with a match made forever.

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When DeAnne was a little girl she didn’t want to be a doctor, an astronaut or a firewoman, and she definitely didn’t want to be a writer. She was going to be an Egyptologist, and that was that.

One day, while working as a library aide at her middle school, DeAnne picked up a beat up old book called The Reluctant God by Pamela F. Service, mostly because the cover had a young modern girl with flaming red hair leaning over a mummy in a sarcophagus. The story wasn’t a piece of literary mastery by any stretch, but it did have a time traveling Egyptian prince, and a plucky strong willed girl who both come together to solve the mystery and save the day. That was enough to have DeAnne grabbing every book within reach ever since.

Her reading taste may have expanded from fantasy, but it never wandered into the realm of romance until one day her mother handed her a historical romance novel to read while she was on bed rest with her twins. DeAnne scoffed, surely her mother didn’t expect her to read such ridiculous fluff, but she was quickly running out of things to read so she read it and something unexpected happened. She loved it, and she never looked back.

Born and raised in a tiny town in Oklahoma, DeAnne is married to her best friend Randy and has four beautiful and equally mischievous children. She works days with her husband at their graphic design studio and at night she writes love stories. A far cry from being an Egyptologist, but a better life she couldn’t imagine.

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NOT THE ONE by Amy Daws

Title: Not The One

Author: Amy Daws

Release Date: Dec 8, 2015

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~Not The One is Full Length Standalone Adult Romance~

My name is Reyna Miracle.

Even though a part of my name is Miracle, there’s nothing miraculous about me.

My body portrays the tales of my life.

Every feeling, every heartbreak, every emotion.

Marked. Inked. Stained.

A walking canvas of my messed up truth.

But there’s one confession I can’t put in a tattoo.

A confession that will kill me to tell, but my best friend died before I had the chance.

Now I’m left with him.

The only one who can hold me in the night and squeeze that spot on my neck that feels like my lifeline between sanity and chaos.

But we don’t work together.

We’re absolute poison for each other.

We’re a stifling, suffocating, sickness of darkness.

But I feel safe...because I’ve made an art of pushing people away.

Now he’s pushing back…

And making me believe...

Making me wonder...

Maybe, just maybe...

I could be the one.

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After several swallows, he closes his eyes and lowers the bottle. “Easy there, sport.” My voice has a menacing tone to it. “We both said we were going to cool it on the drinking.”

“You just nicked my entire glass of red!” he retorts.

“You look like this isn’t your first bottle, Hayden.”

He sighs heavily and glares at me. His damaged, hard gray eyes searching my face for further argument. Mindlessly, he glances down to my chest and the lids of his eyes droop as heat flourishes beneath them.

I instantly know he’s no longer angry about the wine.

He begins to stalk slowly toward me—his tall, wiry build gliding silently across the white tile floor. I back up until I hit the half wall beside the fridge. “We said we weren’t going to do this anymore, Hayden.” I hold my hand out, pressing it to his firm stomach to stop him from coming any closer. I want to walk away, but a larger part of me wants to stop thinking about Liam. And there’s only one way to do that.

Hayden sighs and grabs a piece of my hair. He brings it to his lips. “You look sexy as fuck, Rey. I like your hair like this.” He rubs the silky, dark strand against his lips. A playful smirk dances in his eyes.

“Nice key change, Hay. But you should take those fuck me eyes elsewhere.”

He hunches over and nuzzles his mouth into my neck, licking and kissing a trail up to my ear. “Now why would I want to do that?” he whispers, his voice husky.

I can feel him grinning against my skin as goose pimples flare out on my neck beneath his warm breath. I ball up a chunk of his T-shirt into my fist for some semblance of control. His hands move to grip tightly around my waist and I could scream at my body as it arches into his embrace.

This is exactly what Hayden does to me. He makes me lose all sense of thought and purpose. It’s part of the draw. He’s a freaking mess like me and I ache for the pleasure I know he can grant me.

“We say a lot of words,” he mumbles against my neck and nips playfully. “Let’s do less saying…and more fucking.”

Amy Daws is a commercial producer and lives in South Dakota with her husband and daughter. The long-awaited birth of Lorelei is what inspired her passion for writing. Amy is a lover of all things British and her award-nominated romantic comedy series, The London Lovers Series, is centered around Americans in London. It's emotional and self-deprecating with lots of humor sprinkled in. On most nights, you can find Amy and her family dancing to Strawberry Shortcake’s theme song or stuffing themselves inside children’s-sized playhouses because there is nothing they wouldn’t do for their little miracle.

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