Release Day: Fall For Me by J.C. Emery

Melanie Kincaid is a trust-fund baby with a knack for sassy comebacks and unnecessarily complicating her privileged life. So, of course she would have to fall in love with a man she can't have.

Jameson Hayes is a NYC firefighter for Manhattan’s oldest ladder company with big shoes to fill and a city to protect. He’s strong, sexy, and not looking for the complications Melanie brings. But he can't stay away from her either. The attraction between them is immediate and the pull between
them is crazy powerful. But she's only home for the summer and long-distance relationships never work.

Unfortunately, Melanie’s beauty and smart mouth are a lethal combination and Jameson isn't the only Hayes who's interested. As if his brother isn't enough to compete with, now the city's most famous arsonist wants to claim her as his next prize. Jameson can't stand to watch Melanie get hurt and she can't seem to keep herself out of trouble.

Fall for Me is the first Ladder Company novel, a stand-alone companion series about New York's most elite firefighting family with hot alpha heroes, snarky heroines, and an arsonist hell-bent on destruction.

To be added when live

“Mom!” I move through the foyer and into the open great room— a large, open living/kitchen combo— where I leave my suitcase and kick off my flats before I hit the carpet. What the hell is she doing with gas? That stuff is toxic.

“Well?” Mom says, appearing at the edge of the hall on the other side of the kitchen. She has a hand towel around her neck and one of her many yoga-specific exercise outfits on. This one is a light blue and she’s barefoot. Monica Kincaid is dedicated to many things in life— her husband Christian, her daughters (the youngest, especially), and her charity projects— but yoga is the one out of all of it that I don’t understand. It puts her at peace, she says.

“Well?” I ask and drape the dress bag over the island counter top in the kitchen and move around to prop myself up on one of the bar stools. God, that gasoline smell is driving me mad.

“Are we planning a spring wedding yet or what?” Mom says with a grin. Her nose wrinkles, catching the scent of the gasoline, I’m sure. “Janet and I have been taking bets.”

“God, Mom,” I say and place my head in my hands.

“No really,” she says, “Tell me.”

“Nothing happened,” I say. Verbalizing it is even more disappointing than it probably should be. Apparently, Mom and Dad were also in on Jameson and Royal’s surprise trip. It took all of an hour after they landed for Janet Hayes to text me telling me she wishes she could have been there. It was sweet, but then she suggested she needed to leave me alone so I could spend as much time as possible with Jameson. And that we shouldn’t be disturbed. While the level of investment our mothers have in our has-yet-to-happen relationship is borderline creepy, the support is pretty awesome. It’s a rarity to find a woman as kind and loving as Janet Hayes is. Even if she doesn’t really know appropriate boundaries and likes to talk about when her sons were starting puberty… in all the gory details. I know more about Jameson’s solo activities when he was a kid more than I care to.

“You must be joking,” she says and heads to the fridge where she pulls out a single-serve cup of yogurt. “That man flew down to that god-awful place—,”

As a child, JC was fascinated by things that went bump in the night. As they say, some things never change. Now, as an adult, she divides her time between the sexy law men, mythical creatures, and kick-ass heroines that live inside her head and pursuing her bachelor's degree in English. JC is a San Francisco Bay Area native, but has also called both Texas and Louisiana
home. These days she rocks her flip flops year round in Northern California and can't imagine a climate more beautiful.

JC writes adult, new adult, and young adult fiction. She dabbles in many
different genres including science fiction, horror, chick lit, and murder
mysteries, yet she is most enthralled by supernatural stories-- and everything
has at least a splash of romance.

WEBSITE  TWITTER  FACEBOOK   AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE   GOODREADS

Blog Stop & Excerpt: Shadow Of Doubt by P.A. DePaul

The new SBG novel from the author of Exchange of Fire.

When her secretly filmed tryst shows up on the internet, Michelle Alger goes on the run. She has no choice. Not only was her one-night stand the son of a US senator, but he’s been murdered—and she’s the number one suspect. With both the senator and an avenging drug lord on her trail, her life is in danger. There’s only man she can trust. He saved her once, but will he still be her hero six years later?

Captain Jeremy Malone and the rest of Delta Squad have the senator’s order: find the mystery woman who killed my son. But to Jeremy, she’s no mystery. Six years ago his team of Green Berets rescued her from the torturous clutches of a Colombian cartel, and he’s never forgotten her. His personal and covert mission: find Michelle before anyone else. When he and Michelle do meet again, the sparks are explosive and consuming. They’re also dangerous as hell.

Because with each new bit of evidence, Jeremy suspects that Michelle’s innocence may be a ruse—a beautiful trap set by a woman who has even more secrets yet to bare.

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FOR SHADOW OF DOUBT

Michelle paced the length of the room for the thousandth time. There were exactly eighteen steps from the bathroom door to the sad excuse of a table. Not the biggest rooms here at the OTE.
A long moan drifted through the left wall followed by a slam, then rhythmic banging.
“Oh, God. Yes,” a woman cried. “Give it to me, daddy.”
Whomp. Whomp. Whomp. The cheap picture over the bed rattled with “daddy’s” frantic pace.
Michelle rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Really?” she asked the stained tiles. As if her situation wasn’t bad enough, she now had to listen to a bad porno.
She glanced at the clock. 5:22 p.m.
Her fingertips felt cold. She went to rub her hands together only to find her palms had a thin layer of sweat. How messed up was that? Darn nerves.
For years she had fantasized about this moment. So many versions ranging from innocent to completely far-fetched had captivated her dreams. Only Fate would deliver the version where she was holed up in a seedy motel with Big Daddy providing the sleazy soundtrack.
“Yes! Right there! Harder!”
She tuned out the “Oh-Gods,” and the “That’s-the-spots” and replayed her favorite fantasy. The one where Captain Jeremy Malone sought her out only to find out she had been given a new identity and placed in Witness Protection. Devastated by the government’s unwillingness to tell him where she had been relocated, he made it his personal mission to find her. Though it took years, he finally discovered she became a park ranger in Indianapolis. He immediately requested leave from the military and showed up at her apartment door.
She laughed at her foolish daydreams. Even if the man had hunted her down, then what? Her track record since Colombia had been Michelle, zero; Disaster, every time.
The looks of disgust on her partners’ faces when they saw her body usually killed whatever passion she had been able to muster through the fear and memories. Only one man had seen beyond carnage and made her feel as if it would be okay.
A hoarse shout bled through the thin wall followed by a lot of groaning. Hopefully that signaled the end of “daddy’s” session.
Had she done the right thing calling Cappy? How long had he been in Indianapolis? God, had she been this close to him all this time? What if he’s seen the news? Would he call the police, FBI, Army to tip them off? She started to panic. Oh no. What had she done?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Michelle jumped at the sound on her door. The blood drained from her face and her heart pounded against her ribcage. No way in this short span of time could it be another drunk with the wrong room. Which meant . . . He’s here. All her insecurities rushed through her brain as she stared at the door. Everything from her thunder-thighs to her lack of makeup and hungover status swamped her.
“Michelle?” a muffled, deep male voice called on the other side. She’d know that intonation anywhere. It slid over her, tightening the knot in her stomach. She rubbed the dancing area and snagged on a button. Jerking her head down, she started cussing. She still had on the ugliest uniform ever. Not one ounce of sexiness could be wrung from the drab olive and gray clothing.
Sweat pooled under her arms, not helping her confidence and—
Wait, what was that? She squinted and dabbed a spot on her shirt. Great. She had on the most god-awful stained uniform ever.
This was so far from her fantasy she could only hang her head. About par for the last twenty-four hours.
Knock. Knock.
“Michelle,” Captain Jeremy Malone said again. “It’s safe to open the door.”
No one shouted “POLICE” or “FBI.” That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Didn’t they have to identify themselves first before entering? That meant he was alone, right?
She threw her shoulders back and strode across the room. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and opened the thin wood.
Holy Cheesus on wheat toast.
How could she not recall how HUGE he was? And that was saying something, since she was considered tall. But he had to be at least a half a foot over her head. Not only tall, but ripped with muscles . . . Like no-way-could-this-exist-in-real-life muscles sprouted beneath a tight T-shirt. Since he had worn a helmet the last time they met, she had never gotten to see he had dark brown hair, buzzed in a military crew-cut. His stance was all business; exuding strength and power and don’t-mess-with-me-cause-I-know-eighty-ways-to-kill-you. But one feature commanded her attention—the same one haunting her for years. His eyes. Those wonderfully expressive deep coffee-colored eyes.
“Cappy.” She shuddered. After so many years of longing, she was finally staring into their depths . . . and he was staring right back.

** BOOKS FROM THE SBG NOVEL SERIES **

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P.A. DePaul is a multi-genre romance author including paranormal fantasy and romantic suspense. She originally hails from Carroll County and Baltimore County, Maryland, but also lived in Macon and Warner Robins, Georgia. She currently resides in a beautiful community just outside Philadelphia.

Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest

New Book Spotlight: Heart's Desire by T.J. Kline

Heart’s Desire 

Healing Harts # 1

By: T.J. Kline

Releasing April 28^th, 2015

Avon Impulse

Heart's Desire

Healing Harts Series

TJ KLINE’s brand new Healing Hart's series kicks off with HEART'S DESIRE

If you could have anything, do anything… what would it be?

Jessie Hart has a soft spot for healing the broken, especially horses and children, but her business is failing and bankruptcy is looming. The one man who can save Heart Fire Ranch is the last man she wants to take advice from - financial expert Nathan Kerrington - the same man who broke her heart eight years ago.

Nathan Kerrington has it all, except the one thing he’d wanted most - Jessie. Now that he’s finally freed himself from his corrupt family, he wants to make amends. When he’s called in to save Jessie’s ranch, he sees his chance to win her back - if only he can prove to her that she can trust him with her heart…

“What in the hell are you doing out here?” She felt the urge to cross her arms over her chest as she swam backward toward the shallow end of the pool until her feet could touch the bottom. How dare he come into her backyard uninvited? To violate her sanctuary?

“I just came out for a swim. It was quiet so I assumed everyone was already in bed.”

Nathan’s brows drooped as he moved toward her, the water only reaching his lower ribs. She didn’t remember him being so tall, or his presence being so imposing. Nathan had always been impressive but now he seemed larger than life. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man that set her so on edge. Or how he could make her stomach feel like it had suddenly broken out with a deadly case of butterflies at the same time. She realized she was still retreating and stopped, standing her ground and arching a brow in defiance.

“Well, some of us still had work to finish. I’m so sorry I couldn’t take the day off to entertain you.” She swam toward the stairs, dismissing him, but felt a hand gently circle her wrist.

The butterflies in her stomach took off, beating against her ribs, making it difficult for her to breath. How could his touch still do this to her? How dare he touch her? Her traitorous body had held onto the memories of Nathan without her permission.

It shouldn’t still bother her that he’d never called, but after the last night they’d spent together, she’d thought it meant something to him, that she’d meant something. But as it turned out, he’d done her a favor. He’d saved her the embarrassment of telling him she loved him, and he’d made it easy to despise him. It sure made him a convenient target for her ire now.

She shot him a scathing look over her shoulder, then down to his hand still holding her captive.

“Look, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, Jess. I’m just here to help you.”

“Yeah?” Jessie jerked her arm from his grasp. “I don’t remember asking for your help. I don’t need your help, and I don’t want it.”

“Wow, I remembered you being a pistol, Jessie, but it would have been nice if someone warned me that you’d taken bitchiness to a new level.”

“Excuse me?” She turned back to him slowly, appalled at his audacity and hoping for his sake she hadn’t heard him correctly.

“I just don’t understand this whole two-year-old, I’ll-do-it-myself thing.” He shrugged. “It’s obviously not working. I get that you hate me and you’re scared but—”

She walked toward him, moving through the water, until she stood toe-to-toe, looking up at him, her eyes barely reaching his shoulder. “I am not scared.”

Nathan noticed she didn’t correct his assumption about him. He let it slide and arched a brow, cocking his head to the side as a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You sure about that?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re running a dude ranch, alone I might add. One that normally takes several people to operate. You’ve got no clients booked now and none for the future. This place is sinking faster than the Titanic, and you’re not scared?” He scoffed, his green eyes looking down on her. “You should be scared because, if you’re not, I don’t think I’m going to be able to help you.”

Jessie took another step toward him and narrowed her eyes. “Did you miss the part where I didn’t ask for your—”

“I heard you. You don’t want my help,” he mimicked. “But, let’s face it; I’m your best option right now.”

She turned her back on him and climbed out of the pool. “You’re my only option or you wouldn’t be here. I doubt you can help anyway. If I remember right, you were pretty hopeless the last time you were here. You could barely mend a fence. What do you know about running a dude ranch?”

“Apparently, almost as much as you do.” She glared at him as she reached for her towel. “Jessie, you might know horses, but I know business. I can save this business, but only if you quit fighting me and cooperate.” Nathan shook his head and followed her out of the pool. “Look, I get that I hurt you. It was never my intention. But it was a long time ago.”

She laughed, but the sound was sad and bitter, even to her own ears. “Don’t flatter yourself, Nathan.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. Jessie’s mouth dried up as her eyes followed the water sliding down the planes of his face, the moonlight making shadows over his jawline. She forced herself not to not follow the path of the water any farther than his broad shoulders. She might tell herself that he wasn’t her type anymore, but she was treading into dangerous territory. There was no sense looking for temptation.

Nathan was walking, talking, raw sexual attraction, and she was sure he used it to bend women to his will often. Her body might not know the difference between the past and the present, but Jessie wasn’t about to let his sexy smile and hard muscles distract her focus again. She wasn’t the same innocent girl who had believed in fairy tales eight years ago. He’d taught her a lesson she wasn’t likely to forget.

“I’m sorry. I owe you that. After I left here, things got . . . complicated. I was wrong not to call.”

How long had she wanted to hear those words? She realized she’d been staring at the planes of his chest, highlighted by the moonlight. She flicked her eyes up to meet his, trying to get her brain operating again.

“I’m surprised you never told Justin.”

“Of course not! What should I tell him? That his best friend seduced me and then left without another word?” She moved to stand in front of him and poked a finger against the solid wall of his chest. “Besides, I didn’t see the point after you turned your back on him, too. I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to ever trust your lying ass again.”

“That wasn’t what happened.” His voice was husky, seductively mesmerizing as his fingers brushed over the back of her hand.

She could barely make out his face in the near darkness, but she could feel the gentle invitation in his touch. It transported her back in time. To a time when she was young and trusting and naïve. A time when she believed in love that could withstand any trial.

She tried to ignore the grief and the loneliness that washed over her. It made her wish Nathan would make the first move, that he would wrap his arms around her, allow her to bury her face against his chest and seek the comfort she longed for, if only for a moment. The isolation she’d felt for the past few months filled her and tears threatened, burning at the back of her eyes.

Damn it, she couldn’t cry in front of this man, or anyone else, just because she felt a little sad. She quickly pulled her hand away from his grasp. She didn’t need sympathy. She didn’t want it, especially from this man. She just wanted him to go away.

She could almost hear her father’s voice. Cowgirl up, Jess.

As if sensing the change in her demeanor, Nathan laughed quietly. “Don’t worry, Jessie, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone you aren’t always a hard ass.”

Jessie smiled sweetly before lifting her hands and giving him a quick shove backward.

Droplets of water splashed over her feet as he fell into the deep end of the pool.

Link to Follow Tour: Here

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T. J. Kline was raised competing in rodeos and rodeo queen competitions since the age of 14, She has thorough knowledge of the sport as well as the culture involved. She has had several articles about rodeo published in the past in small periodicals as well as a more recent how-to article for RevWriter. She is also an avid reader and book reviewer for both Tyndale and Multnomah.

Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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Cora Carmack's Secret Announcement

HERE’S THE SCOOP!

Fans of Cora Carmack’s Rusk University, we have a SUPER exciting announcement:

ALL CLOSED OFF, Book 4 in the Rusk University Series, is coming!!!

Check out this message from Cora!

*WARNING: This letter contains spoilers for All Broke Down. If you haven't yet read that book, read at your own peril. SECOND WARNING: this letter talks about fictional characters as if they are real people. Sorry I'm not sorry. THIRD WARNING: The letter below broaches a serious topic that could be a trigger for some people*

Hello beloved readers!

The first person who read one of my Rusk University books was my older sister. I gave her All Lined Up when I finished, and her first question was "Are Ryan and Stella going to be together?"

At the time, I told her no. I had plans for both of them that included their own storylines. I thought they were too much alike. They'd make great friends. They might even hook-up, but in the end... I couldn't envision anything serious for them. So I actually rewrote some of their scenes trying to make that aspect of their connection more obvious. And still, when All Lined Up released, amidst the chatter about sweet Carson and sassy Dallas, I had people asking if Stella and Ryan were next. I denied it again (and again and again).

But sometimes in writing, the stars align and a character will become bigger and more real than you could have possibly imagined. It's a wonderful experience, but in Stella's case it was also incredibly heartbreaking. While I was writing All Broke Down, the news was inundated with information about the Steubenville rape trial and other tragedies and injustices like it. Tragedies where women have been violated first by an attacker, then by judgmental and hateful people, and finally by a justice system that repeatedly fails survivors of sexual assault. Having grown up in Texas, where too often football stars are treated like gods and can get away with just about anything, it hit particularly close to home. And since All Broke Down featured a passionate activist heroine, I felt compelled to reference this chronic dark underbelly of elite sports.

I can remember vividly sitting on my couch, brainstorming how I would incorporate such an event into the book. I had thought the assault would happen to an unknown character, and maybe I would focus on the way it divided the team and the school and the town. But like I said... Sometimes a character will become bigger and more human than I anticipated. And it sounds crazy, but in my mind, I felt Stella push her way forward and say, "Mine. This is my story." I immediately began to cry. Sob, really. Because I loved her as a character. She was hilarious and strong and didn't take crap from anyone. She was everything I always hope to be. And I didn't want her to go through that. Even as I cried, my brain began to tell me that it made sense. Stella was vibrant and enjoyed a wild party. She was not afraid of her sexuality, and she had no problem with casual sex. She was the kind of girl that probably had a reputation. The kind of girl who could be heinously and violently taken advantage of, and people would STILL blame her. Because she was in the wrong place, wearing the wrong clothes, behaving in the wrong way. But just because it COULD happen to her, didn't mean I wanted it to. But once again, Stella was there in my head saying, "Someone needs to tell this story. And I'm strong enough to do it. Let me." And when Stella chose her story, she also chose the man I'd been adamant wasn't right for her. Because as it turns out... Those two characters who I thought were too alike aren't so alike anymore. And Stella needs Ryan to help her hold on to that vibrant and strong girl she was before.

So I let go of all the plans I had for her, and allowed her to tell me her story, which is about more than just sexual assault. It's about the aftermath. Depression. Shame. Guilt. Anger. Injustice. Victim-blaming. Slut-shaming. It's about the way that kind of event can change everything-- how you relate to people, how you think, how you dream, how you love. It's about the way the rest of the world moves on to the next big tragedy, and you're still left holding the broken pieces of who you used to be, with no idea how to put them together again or even if you want to. It will be the most difficult story I ever tell. And the most important. Because it’s a story that belongs not just to Stella, but to millions of people around the world. It’s a story that belongs to a new person every 107 seconds*. And that’s just in the United States. Think about that for a moment. 107 seconds. Stella’s story won’t be any easier to read than it will be to write. But I hope you’ll help me drag this story into the light.

So now I’ll step off my soapbox and just tell you about the book…

ALL CLOSED OFF:

Stella Santos is fine.

Maybe something terrible happened to her that she can’t even remember. And maybe it drives her crazy when her friends treat her like she’s on the verge of breaking because of it. Maybe it feels even worse when they do what she asks and pretend that it never happened at all. And maybe she’s been getting harassing emails and messages for months from people who don’t even know her, but hate her all the same.

But none of that matters because she’s just fine.

For Ryan Blake, Stella was always that girl. Vibrant and hilarious and beautiful. He wanted her as his best friend. His more than friends. His everything and anything that she would give him. Which these days is a whole lot of nothing. She gets angry when he’s there. Angry when he’s not there. Angry when he tries to talk and when he doesn’t.

When Stella devises an unconventional art project for one of her classes all about exploring intimacy—between both friends and strangers—Ryan finds himself stepping in as guinea pig after one of her subjects bails. What was supposed to be an objective and artistic look at emotion and secrets and sex suddenly becomes much more personal. When he hits it off with another girl from the project, Stella will have to decide if she’s willing to do more than make art about intimacy. To keep him, she’ll have to open up and let herself be the one thing she swore she’d never be again.

Vulnerable.

*****

ALL CLOSED OFF will be releasing sometime in early 2016. I don't have a date yet for several reasons. The first and most important, is that I want to do this story justice. And as such, I have no intentions of rushing the process. Secondly, I'll be returning to indie publishing for the remainder of the Rusk series. As you can probably tell, this story means a great deal to me. And by having the ultimate control over everything from timing to editing to price, I'll be able to ensure that I'm able to create exactly the story I envision. Unfortunately, that means you won't be seeing the paperback of ALL CLOSED OFF on the shelves in most stores. Nor is it currently available for pre-order. But I hope you'll add the book on goodreads, follow me on social media, and/or join my newsletter. I promise to shout it all over the place when I have a set release date or pre-order links.

Thank you for listening as I told you the evolution of Stella's story. When it's finished, I hope you will feel as passionately about it as I do.

All my best,

Cora Carmack

*Statistic from RAINN (Rape, Abuse, Incest National Network)

And an opportunity to add your voice to

Stella’s…

Stella’s experience is only one story of many. She was with someone she trusted when it happened, and the only memories she has are pieced together from her own blurred recollections and the things people have told her.  Not everyone’s experience with sexual assault is the same. Each person reacts, copes, and overcomes differently. And while this book is about one specific character’s journey, I would like to tell as many sides of this story as possible. As Stella grapples with her thoughts and emotions she’ll be searching for advice, for comfort, for a place where people understand her and can identify with what she’s experiencing. There will be room for truth within the fiction, and if you’d like that truth to be yours, this is your chance.

If you have a story like Stella’s, and you want your voice to be heard….

If there’s something you wish more people understood about what you’ve gone through….

If there’s something you’d like to tell people struggling with a story like yours…

I’d like to give you the opportunity to add your voice to Stella’s. Use the hashtag #WhenItHappened and let your voice be heard on your own by posting on your own social media, or if you’d rather I share your words fill out this google document and tell me your story. You can fill out this form anonymously or not. I’d like to begin this discussion now because April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. But my hope is to include as many stories as possible within the book itself.

So many have stories of #WhenItHappened. Your voice and your story deserve to be heard. I’m listening.

#WhenItHappened Google Form: http://goo.gl/forms/4VRjWgZYSW

Cora Carmack is a twenty-something New York Times bestselling author who likes to write about twenty-something characters. She's done a multitude of things in her life-- boring jobs (like working retail), Fun jobs (like working in a theatre), stressful jobs (like teaching), and dream jobs (like writing). She now splits her time between Austin, TX and New York City and spends her days writing, traveling, and spending way too much time on the internet. In her books, you can expect to find humor, heart, and a whole lot of awkward. Because let’s face it . . . awkward people need love, too.

Website ** Twitter ** Facebook **Newsletter **Author Goodreads

Cover Reveal: Twisted Bond by Emma Hart

I’m an Italian-Texan woman in a family full of cops. I’m passionate and shoot before I think. You only f*ck with me if you’re stupid.

Photograph cheating spouses. Hand over the evidence. Cash my check.

That was my plan when I returned home to Holly Woods, Texas, and became a private investigator.

Finding the dead body in my dumpster? Yeah… Given the choice, I think I would have opted out of that little discovery, especially since all three of my brothers are cops. And my Italian grandmother is sure the reason I’m single is because of my job.

Of course, my connection to the victim is entirely coincidental. Until I’m hired by her husband to investigate her murder and shoved bang-smack into the path of Detective Drake Nash.

My nemesis, a persistent pain in my ass, and one hell of a sexy son of a bitch.

Shame he still holds a grudge from that time I shot him in the foot twelve years ago, or we could have something. In another life.

So now all I have to do is avoid my nonna’s blind dates, try not to blackmail my brothers into giving me confidential police files, and absolutely do not point my gun at Drake Nash. Or kiss him. Or jump his bones.

All while I hunt down the killer.

Sounds totally simple—until a second body proves that sometimes things that start as coincidences don’t always end up that way…

(Twisted Bond is book one of the Holly Woods Files series and while it does not end in a cliffhanger, it is not a standalone.)

“Get out!” I yell, my voice hoarse.

“I’m sorry?” Drake recoils.

“Get out. Of my building,” I add, moving toward him as he
walks backward. “If you don’t have a warrant in your ass pocket, get the fuck
out. Now.”

He grabs my wrist and pulls me into him. “Listen to me,
cupcake. Someone got real lucky last night, and that someone was you. You
weren’t here when your killer wanted you to be. Yeah, I said yours. They know
you’re waitin’ for ‘em. Most nights you’d be here, right? But last night,
because I pissed your ass off, you weren’t. Know what that tells me?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” I manage through gritted
teeth.

“It tells me this killer is watching you. You ain’t safe.
They’re waiting to strike, and it’s gonna be the second you’re alone. We’re close.
I can feel it. You’re their target now. And this killer? They want to kill
you.”

“No shit,” I whisper, looking away from him. “I won’t back
down. I don’t care what you say. They can try and kill me. I’ve dealt with
worse.”

“Stop being a pain in my ass.” He grabs my chin and forces
me to look into his eyes and all their devastatingly icy glory. “Someone.
Wants. To. Kill. You.”

“I know.”

“Yet you don’t care.”

“I care,” I whisper, holding his gaze. “But did you ever
think that I’m your best bet at catching this person? If they’re watching me,
if they want to kill me, they’re there. Waitin’, like you said. And that means
they’re gonna come to me. Not you. Not anyone else. Me.”

“Yeah, I thought it. But I don’t like it.”

“Ain’t your job to like it, Detective. It’s your job to deal
with it.”

“You’re right. It ain’t my job to like it, but I ain’t
exactly dealing with it either.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” he leans in, his touch relaxing just a smidge,
“It means that I don’t like it. I’m not dealin’ with it. And the thought of you
bein’ in the kinda danger you are scares the ever-lovin’ fuckin’ shit out of
me.”

By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies - usually wine - and writes books.

Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.

She likes to be busy - unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.

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New Release: Wicked Exposure by Katana Collins

Wicked Exposure

Wicked Exposure # 1

By: Katana Collins

Releasing April 28th, 2015

Aphrodisia, an imprint from Kensington

Nothing left to hide…

A forensic photographer with the NYPD, Jessica is devastated to receive word of her sister’s death in a robbery gone awry. But when she arrives home in Portland and the local PD asks her to take pictures, she finds more than she bargained for. With each new photo she exposes more of her sister’s secret erotic life. And when she shares her discoveries with Sam, the super sexy local detective, she experiences passion she never knew possible. But Jessica soon learns she’s merely a pawn in a deadly game of betrayal and revenge and begins to wonder if her next picture could be her last…

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I pressed the binoculars to my eyes, watching from the other end of the street as she moved gracefully up the front steps despite the bulky luggage dragging behind her. Her sunglasses, shifted to the top of her head, pulled her silky brown hair back from her forehead, acting as a headband. She craned her neck back and looked up at the house.

Cassandra’s house. The house that I needed more than anything. Using the binoculars, I scanned Jessica’s body. A camera bag was strapped over one shoulder and bounced off the small of her back as she cocked a hip, examining the stoop. A wry grin crossed my lips and the weight of my own Nikon pressed into my lap. I lifted it, dropping the binoculars down, and with several swift clicks, I captured the moment in time. A moment that was seemingly uneventful. A moment that within Jessica Walters’s life probably wasn’t even a blip on her radar.

But that’s the thing with photography. It takes nothing moments and immortalizes them, suddenly creating more than there ever was before. When—and if—Jessica ever sees this photograph, she’ll be thrust back into the smells, the thoughts, the emotions of today . . . right now. Even though in the moment, it meant nothing to her.

If Jessica was a good girl—if she did exactly as she should— these photos would never need to see the light of day. She’d never need to know just how close I’ve been all this time. Just how close she is to falling into the same fate as her sister. But in case she decides to be a hero, I’d be here . . . watching. And waiting. Because if there’s one thing I had to guess that the Walters sisters had in common, it was martyrdom.

A shudder rolled through my body. The weight of my gun pressed into the clip at my ankle, its warm steel an easy reminder of how simple it would be to end this right here and now. Kill Jessica and the house would go into an estate auction, easily swept up by me. A thrill rushed through my body; an excitement at the memory of pulling the trigger. The feeling of a gun pulsing in your hands as a bullet careens toward your victim. There was no feeling quite like taking a life. But no. I had to remain under the radar until Cass’s death had blown over.

Sweat gathered at the nape of my neck and rolled down my spine, getting caught in a musky puddle between my shoulder blades. I cracked the driver’s-side window, and orange light sprang through the split, illuminating the otherwise dark, tinted sedan.

I sucked in a breath of the crisp afternoon air. This had to be a clean kill. Shooting in cold blood right now defeated the purpose of how carefully we had murdered Cass. Last minute? Yes. But calculated and tidy. The way I liked things in life. Organized. Clean. We had the plan in place for that night and were ready to kill, if needed. And oh, how it was needed.

But still, a small part of me trembled, excitement pulsing in my veins. Would Jessica run? Fight back like Cass? Or would she beg for her life, falling to her knees in tears? I closed my eyes imagining Jessica submitting to me—to death—while I stood above her. Powerful. What would her screams sound like? A breeze rushed through the open window and across my dampened brow. The screams were the best part.

My heart hammered as I jerked the camera back to my face and zoomed in as closely as I could to her neck.

Click.

Strong, lean shoulders tensed from beneath her shirt and I nibbled the inside of my cheek as she pulled out a set of keys, opening the door.

I shouldn’t want to kill her as much as I did. But death was the ultimate form of control.

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Katana Collins splits her time evenly between photographing boudoir portraits and writing steam-your-glasses romances. In addition to navigating life as a small business owner, a first-time homeowner, and a newlywed, she is the author of the Soul Stripper trilogy and the graphic novel Cafe Racer, co-written with her husband Sean Murphy. She and her comic book artist husband commute back and forth as they please between Brooklyn and Portland, Maine, with their ever-growing family of rescue animals. She can usually be found hunched over her laptop in a cafe, guzzling gallons of coffee, and wearing fabulous (albeit sometimes impractical) shoes. Visit her on the web at katanacollins.com

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