Monday 8 June 2015

Blog Stop & Review: Risk It by Jennifer Chance


Risk It

Rule Breakers # 4
By: Jennifer Chance
Releasing June 2nd, 2015
Loveswept


Risk It

Rule Breakers Series


Jennifer Chance’s Rule Breakers series turns up the heat as a wealthy playboy and a beautiful con artist engage in a high-stakes game of seduction.

As dominating in business as he is in bed, Rand Sterling Winston IV always gets what he wants. And even before he realizes that she’s scammed him into paying triple the cost for her friend’s painting, he wants Dani Michaels. To catch her alone, Rand demands that she personally deliver his purchase. The attraction between them is immediate and electric, and he knows she feels it, too. So when the part-time petty thief rebuffs his advances, he gives her a choice: a night in jail or an evening with him.

Despite her checkered past, Dani has never met someone like Rand: brooding, intense, and oh so tempting. Only a man with a broken soul could make control feel this dangerous. Still, when Rand proposes a no-strings, no-holds-barred affair, Dani’s more than a little intrigued. It’ll be the trickiest con she’s ever run and a chance to indulge her steamiest fantasies—nothing more. But as their encounters grow increasingly intimate, Dani uncovers a vulnerable side to Rand’s steely exterior and opens her heart to the ultimate risk.



One thing this book isn't and that is predictable! It's intriguing story that just keeps you wondering where it is heading to next, before it goes off in an entirely different direction.

Dani is street wise and a master con-artist. When she impersonates an assistant at the Palm D'Or Gallery where her friend Erin is showcasing her art for the first time, Dani decides to use her skills to deceive Rand Sterling Winston IV into paying three times the value for a painting. What Dani doesn't count on is the “Golden Boy” specifically asking for Dani to personally deliver his newest art acquisition.

Rand Sterling Winston IV knows he's met his match when he's knowingly conned by the beautiful woman posing as an assistant at an art showing he's attending. He's instantly drawn to this woman who massages his huge ego and decides to play along in her game. When Dani Michaels shows up at his office with his painting, he is shocked when she calls his bluff and prefers to be arrested and put in a jail cell for theft rather than have dinner with him. At that point the stakes are upped and a new game moves them to an entirely different level.

The protagonists begin a dangerous game of oneupmanship, fueled by the sexually charged chemistry that flows freely between them. Scoring virtual points against each other is a way to breakdown barriers. Both protagonists are strong-willed - each trying to push the other as far as they can before reaching breaking point. Only they both have different end games in play. Leaving you to wonder if they are capable of having a relationship on equal playing field? Neither protagonists are who you think they are as the layers of their fake facades are peeled away. These are two damaged people from completely different worlds that against the odds and over time manage to somehow gel and “get” each other.

This is book four in the Rule Changers Series and the second one I have read. Like the previous book, Risk It can be read as a standalone.

4 stars

***arc generously received from the publisher Loveswept via NetGalley***

Dani found herself staring into a large, graciously appointed reception area that screamed money, and a whole lot of it. The oil paintings on the walls glistened in muted silver frames, the chandelier looked like it had been dusted about fifteen minutes ago, and the gleaming dark-metal receptionist’s desk—looking ever-so-slightly like a coffin at a state funeral—blended perfectly with the charcoal-gray walls and champagne-colored carpet.
The woman sitting behind the desk appeared to have been purchased out of the same catalog as the rest of the room. She looked up at Dani without a trace of warmth, then smiled as if she were passing a kidney stone. “Miss . . . ?”
“Michaels,” Dani said brightly, holding up the painting as she strode forward. “Are you Ms. Pearson? I was asked to deliver this to you from the Palm—”
The secretary cut her off with a raised hand, pressing a button on her desk console. “Mr. Winston will be with you shortly.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Dani said. “I can just give it to you.”
The woman flinched as if Dani had just offered to give her herpes. Instead of answering, she gestured to the large chairs scattered around the monochromatic space, a gentlemen’s club for the color-blind. “May I get you anything to drink?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Dani’s phone chose that moment to buzz again. She set the painting on the secretary’s enormous desk, then reached into her purse while tracking Ms. Pearson’s scandalized expression. “This will just take a moment, I’m sure.”
Between them, one of the lights on Pearson’s desk console flickered green. Her face unfroze enough to betray relief. “Mr. Winston is ready to see you. I’ll take you right in.”
Dani shrugged. Sorry, Jimmy. Today he was well back in her line of crazy. He’d have to wait his turn.
Ms. Pearson knocked lightly on the door, then waited a nanosecond before swiping her keycard. Dani heard a lock unchink, and lifted her brows in appreciation. Key-locked security during business hours? They really must be worried about the barbarians at the gate. She followed the woman inside, taking in the massive space as she was formally announced. It was chock-full of carefully spaced furniture, paintings, and a surprising number of objets d’art, some of them quite small. And quite expensive-looking. And quite definitely within easy reach.
Don’t even think about it, she warned herself. And yet . . .
“Thank you, Helen. Please get home safely.” The rich, cultured voice seemed to flip on every nerve ending in Dani’s body, and she shifted her attention back to her mark. She’d forgotten how much power the guy’s voice held.
Rand Sterling Winston IV stood at his desk, but his warning wasn’t lightly made. His entire office was encased in glass, and the storm had picked up outside, the rain now battering the glass as the night crowded down. “I’ve ordered the car brought round,” he said.
Ms. Pearson stiffened primly at Dani’s side, and Dani sensed her subtle not-glance. That’s right, Helen. We’re totally going to screw on your desk while you’re gone. “I’m not yet finished —”
“It can wait. I’ll be in early tomorrow.”
The secretary heard the same subtle command that Dani did. Funny, it didn’t seem to bother the woman so much. “Of course, Mr. Winston.” She turned to Dani. “Miss Michaels.”
Dani nodded, holding up her wrapped package like a peace offering. She’d tried to convince ol’ Helen to take the painting off her hands back in the Platinum Ballroom. It wasn’t Dani’s fault that she made the boss man go all weak in the knees.
Helen didn’t look impressed. She managed to close the door with a displeased yet still very polite snick, and Dani looked at Winston, who was now gazing solemnly back at her. He leaned against his desk and folded his arms.
Dani offered the painting to him. “Your spoils, Mr. Winston.”

He just smiled.

They stood there a moment more, assessing each other like circling wolves. Dani felt a bead of perspiration slip down her neck, and cycled through her options. If Winston had figured out that she’d scammed him, it didn’t change anything, she told herself. His check had cleared, and he’d had days to reverse it. That meant the con was done, and that she’d won. Even if he’d realized she’d conned him, she’d still won.
“Please, open it,” he said, surprising her. He gestured to a small table across the space. “I’d like to see again what my little impulse purchase has netted me.”
“Of course,” Dani said. He was playing her, she knew, his gaze heavy as she walked across the room and set the wrapped painting on the table, frowning at the thickly taped corners. Before she could look up, Winston appeared at her side, a slim letter opener in his hand. “Will this be strong enough?”
“I’m sure.” This close, she could smell his cologne. Of course he would be wearing cologne. And not too much of it either, just enough to tickle her senses and make her even more aware of him. Without his heavy winter coat, and wearing a sleek black suit, with a silky blue button- down shirt open at the neck, he seemed even more sensual, more vital, more dangerous on this cold, wet, miserable Boston night, with the rain sheeting down like the end of the world. Dani admired how steady her hands were as she slipped the letter opener under the package’s edge and knifed through the tape, her movements quick and efficient. She’d worked with her share of box cutters, switchblades, and shivs, after all.
Winston apparently noted her efficiency with a blade as well. “Hmm. It’s Miss Michaels, correct?”
 “Correct.” Deftly, Dani sliced through the edge of the paper and unwrapped the painting. It had been reset into a lovely silver and grey frame, the gentility of the rich wood serving to make the stark sensuality of the figures within its boundaries even more unsettling. Rand leaned forward, peering at the painting, and his heat was like a physical presence between them. Once again, she was struck by how much larger he seemed up close than he did from a distance, as if his body held more power than it should, leashed so tightly under control that you didn’t notice it until it was almost too late. Now, standing next to him, she was nearly overwhelmed by the man’s intensity. His sharp gaze was focused on the artwork, true, and yet it seemed to encompass her as well, even though he wasn’t looking at her. He reached out and stroked the frame of the painting, and she imagined how that touch would feel: rich with promise—and threat. Watching those long, cool fingers, feeling them on her skin, in her hair . . . it was all Dani could do to hold her ground.

Link to Follow Tour: Here

Jennifer Chance is the award-winning author of the new adult Rule Breakers series. A lover of books, romance, and happily-ever-afters, she lives and writes in Ohio.
Author Links: Website | Facebook Twitter | Goodreads


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Cover Reveal: Revved by Samantha Towle

We are SO excited to share  Samantha Towle's cover for Revived (Revved #2) with you!! Enjoy a sneak peek excerpt below! Revived is scheduled for release on July 12th!!!

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India Harris didn’t have the best start in life. Abandoned as a baby, she and her twin brother, Kit, spent their lives in foster care, only having each other to rely on. Then, at a young age, a relationship with the wrong man left India pregnant. Wanting to give her son the life she never had, she put herself through school and graduated with honors.
Now, at the age of thirty, she’s a highly respected therapist.
At the top of his game as a Formula One driver, Leandro Silva had everything—until an accident on the track left him staring death in the face. After enduring twelve months of physical therapy, Leandro is now physically able to race, but his mind is keeping him from the track. Frustrated and angry, Leandro’s days and nights are filled with limitless alcohol and faceless women.
Entering the last year of his contract, he knows he has to race again, or he’ll lose everything he spent his life working for. Forced into therapy to get his life back, Leandro finds himself in the office of Dr. India Harris.
Falling for his uptight therapist is not part of Leandro’s plan.
Having unethical feelings for her patient, the angry Brazilian race car driver, is not part of India’s plan.
But what if the wrong person is the only person who is right?

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Leandro

My eyes move to the magazines on the table. There’s a sports mag peeking out from under the fashion mags.

Leaning forward, I pull it out, instantly wishing I hadn’t.

Top of the magazine is a picture of me, with the caption ‘What the bad side of Formula 1 looks like’.

Nice.

So, now I’m the bad side of F1. Good to know.

I already know what the media say about me. How I’ve turned from a great racer into a drunk, and a whore.

They’re not wrong on the whore part – well, whore is a bit harsh, I don’t charge for my services. And I wouldn’t say I’m a drunk. I just like to drink, a lot.

I shouldn’t read the article, I know this, but the sadistic part of me has me turning those pages.

Finding the article, eyes scanning the text, I pick out the usual shit.

Why is Silva no longer racing? Physically he’s healthy. Is it mental problems? Fear over racing because of his accident. Is that why he drinks – drowning his misery in alcohol? Such a shame to see, a once great driver, fall from grace so dramatically.

Frustration and rage grip my chest like a vice.

Fuck this. I don’t need this shit.

Even though I can’t race, it’s not like I actually need to.

I don’t need to race. I just need to drink and fuck. That’s all I need now. All I’ll ever need.

Liar.

I am a liar, and a chicken shit. And that’s why I’m sitting in the waiting room of a therapist.

Maybe I’m beyond help.

Tossing the magazine back on the table, I get to my feet ready to leave this place, just as the door opens, revealing the epitome of what I could really do with screwing right now.

My eyes trail up the toned, tanned legs, to the fitted pencil skirt that I would happily hitch up to see the magnificent pussy that I bet lies beneath. A pale pink blouse is tucked into that skirt, covering what look like a fantastically sized pair of tits. Silky blonde hair sits on her shoulders. Hair that I would enjoy getting my hands all tangled in, while I fuck those bright red lips of hers, enjoying seeing that lipstick smeared all over my cock.

My dick pulses in my jeans, more than ready to proposition her with the offer.

“Mr. Silva.” She steps forward. “I’m Dr. Harris. But please call me India.”

She’s Dr. Harris?

This, hitch-your-skirt-up-and-let-me-fuck-you-right-now, woman is my new therapist.

Well that’s just fucking great. It’s not like I can bang my therapist.

I put my cock on hold, and giving her my best smile, the one that always has panties dropping to the floor, I say, “And you can call me Leandro.”




samantha towle
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 and TROUBLE.
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.


♥ READ THE SERIES ♥
Book 1 - Revved

revved


Race car mechanic Andressa “Andi” Amaro has one rule—no dating drivers. With a good reason behind the rule, she has no plans on breaking it.
Carrick Ryan is the bad boy of Formula One. With a face and body that melts panties on sight, and an Irish lilt that leaves women on their knees, begging for more. He races hard and parties harder. The youngest driver to ever sign with F1, he’s still at the top of his game five years later, breaking hearts on and off the tracks.
When Andi is offered her dream job working in the glamorous world of F1, she leaves her home in Brazil, positive she can handle working for Carrick. But she’s not prepared for the off-the-chart sparks that fly the moment they meet.
Now, Andi has a crush on the one man she can’t have, and her resolve is about to be put to the test, because Carrick has decided he wants Andi, and he plans on testing her to the very limit...

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