Friday, 18 May 2018

New Release Spotlight: Hitting It by Kathy Lyons



Hitting It by Kathy Lyons
Series The Locker Room Diaries Series
Genre Adult Contemporary Romance
Publisher Entangled Brazen (Imprint of Entangled Publishing)
Publication Date May 14, 2018

Making it to the Major Leagues is all rookie ballplayer, Rob Lee, has ever dreamed of. But now, he’s a little overwhelmed with his new celebrity status. Everyone wants a piece of the new heavy hitter for the Indianapolis Bobcats. Still, he’s worked hard for it, and he doesn’t have many regrets. Although there is one…
If journalist Heidi Wong wants to keep her job, she needs to come up with a story—fast! That’s why she tells her boss that she knows the Bobcat’s reclusive new slugger, Rob Lee. And she does...in the Biblical sense. During Spring Break three years ago, she and Rob shared a torrid night on the beach. And she’s wanted him again ever since.
But everyone knows reporters and athletes don’t mix. Rob’s contract doesn’t allow him to talk to the press, and her job depends on it. Which is driving them both just a little crazy…



Chapter One
Heidi
“One margarita is not a rebellion!”
I stared at my best friend while twisting my hair into a tight spiral against my shoulder. It was hot in Ft. Lauderdale, and my long Chinese hair was acting up. “I never should have told you that,” I groused. One month ago, I’d mentioned that I wish I’d gone through an adolescent rebellion. I was a good Chinese girl who always colored in the lines, studied until my eyes failed me, and never, ever did anything fun. Since we’d been celebrating my twenty-first birthday with endless margaritas at the time, Samantha had taken advantage of my inebriation to bully me into joining her for spring break in Florida. It was, according to her, the perfect place to go wild.
She was right. With all the alcohol everywhere, people were losing their inhibitions left and right. And what was I doing? Wearing a one-piece swimsuit meant for doing laps and a shit-ton of sunscreen because skin cancer was real.
“But you did tell me,” Samantha pressed. She was in a bikini that maximized her ample chest and tight ass. Her underwear covered more of her body than what she was wearing now, and yet she gleefully strutted her stuff in a way I’d never dare to do. There was just so much body there on display, while I felt naked in a short sundress. “And it’s my job as your best friend to make sure your birthday wish comes true.”
“It wasn’t a birthday wish. It was a wistful side comment.”
“Potato, potahto.” She grinned as she shoved a brown bag into my hand. “Happy birthday!”
“You already got me a present.” She’d helped to pay my airfare down here. But I was human enough to open the bag. Inside, I saw a white T-shirt and a flash of bright red. “What—?”
Fifteen feet away, the announcer at the beach bar spoke up, his voice thrumming loudly through the speakers. “Free margaritas for all the contestants in our wet T-shirt contest! Come on, ladies, what would you give for the best tequila on the beach?”
Understanding blossomed along with a full-body blush. “I am not—”
“You like margaritas, right?”
She knew I did.
“And you wanted some rebellion. What would upset your parents more than a wet tee contest?”
“Failing my LSATs?”
Samantha rolled her hazel eyes. “We’re not trying to tank your future. Just cut loose and strut those boobs.”
“I haven’t got any to strut!” It was true. Chinese genetics didn’t lend themselves to full cleavage, but that didn’t stop Sam. She was busy shoving me into a bathroom of less than pleasant odors. I wrinkled my nose at more than the scent. It was the tiny scrap of red lace bikini bottom that I held out with shock. “I can’t wear this! Not in public.”
“Free margaritas,” she repeated. “Come on, this is a tame contest. Everyone has to wear the full tee.” Then she was all business as she physically stripped me out of my swimsuit. You wouldn’t think a curvy, short girl could be so efficient, but Sam worked summers at a nursing home. She could strip an obese octogenarian in less than a minute. My five-foot-four body was nothing compared to that.
“Are you doing it with me?” I asked, my voice muffled as she pulled the T-shirt down over my head.
“I paid for the tee. And that’s my third-favorite bikini bottom, so be grateful.”
“But—”
“Step in,” she ordered, as she held out the red lace.
I obeyed immediately. It was her tone of voice. I’d been conditioned since birth to follow unquestioningly when a female used that tone. Thankfully, Sam was the only woman outside of my mother and grandmother who’d figured that out. But I had my own weapon to use against Sam.
“You’re going with me or I’m not helping with your term papers.”
“Heidi—”
“Word.”
She sighed. “You know that’s not how that expression is used, right?”
I folded my arms across my not-so-ample chest and looked as stern as I could in a thin white tee and a scrap of red lace.
“You’ll do it?” she pressed.
“If you do.”
“Great!” Then she grabbed another tee out of her backpack. A moment later, she’d popped off her bikini top and pulled on the thin fabric. Then she proceeded to bunch and knot the tee in a kind of fabric magic that not only managed to support her full breasts, but also allowed them to bounce in a really attractive way.
“You were planning on doing this all along.” It wasn’t a question.
She rolled her eyes at me as she started yanking and knotting my top. “How many times do I have to say it? Free margaritas!”
“It’s just a sales promise until we’re drinking them.” Was I really considering this? Could I stand on a stage in front of hundreds of leering guys and let my nipples pop like beacons? But what could it hurt? I mean, of all the possible teen rebellions, this was pretty tame. And yet it felt like I was throwing off the shackles of my strict Asian upbringing and stepping out into the true American-girl experience. Pert boobies and all.
“I need to drink at least one beforehand,” I said to Sam.
She grinned and gave me a high five. “Then let’s go get it.”
I drank two and tried not to think of the calories. And then I was supposed to get up on the stage. It had been hard enough to walk out of the bathroom in this outfit with bodies pressed all around me. But to climb onto the stage? That took real courage, even if Samantha had blocked me in from behind. No way was she letting me escape.
At least the tequila had set up a warm glow throughout my body. And the music was nice with a good solid beat. We were supposed to pop out through a curtain in the back, get drenched in ice water, and then strut for a bit. Easy-peasy, right?
My nerves had my heartbeat thrumming in my ears. Was I really this brazen? The announcer called my name. “Heidi Va-va-va-voom!”
I shot my roommate an incredulous glare. My last name was Wong. Not a single va-va in it. Sam just gave me a thumbs-up and then pushed me through the curtain.
A roar surrounded me and a couple of wolf whistles. Oh my God, the sound was deafening. And just when I was getting my bearings against that tidal wave of sound, the water hit me. On both sides. Icy wet and straight to the chest.
I gasped as the frigid cold hit me, instinctively hunching against the impact. But then the noise of the crowd started to change. I made out some words, all of them crude. Part of me wanted to turn around and run. How dare they say those things to me? But then I’d asked for it, hadn’t I? What the hell was I doing?
I don’t know what got me past the panic. It could have been the tequila. Or maybe I was just pissed off. Either way, I started to shut out the noise and focus on the music. I’d been a dancer once, back when I was eight and hated the scratchy tutu. Now, I was a mature twenty-one and I’d been moving to the music in my bedroom for years. If I closed my eyes, I could almost be right back there, bebopping for my stuffed-animal audience.
So that’s exactly what I did. I closed my eyes and began to dance. It was a low bump and thump, not really dancing at all, but I still did what I could. It was impossible to forget that this was in front of a zillion people—though mostly guys—all leering at my chest. But after a few moments, I began to enjoy myself.
These guys were looking at me. They were admiring my body in a purely physical way. And they liked it. Better than I liked myself. So maybe I ought to give us all a little shimmy, a little bounce, and a slow, sensuous smile.
What was the worst that could happen?

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GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS: Open internationally. Two winners will be chosen - one will receive a $25 Amazon gift card and one will receive a $15 Amazon gift card (winners chosen at random). This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Entangled Publishing. Giveaway ends 5/18/2018 @ 11:59pm EST. Entangled Publishing will send one winning prize, Pure Textuality PR will deliver the other. Limit one entry per reader and mailing address. Duplicates will be deleted.


Kathy Lyons is the fun, contemporary side of USA TODAY bestselling author Jade Lee. She loves sassy romance with lots of laughter and sex. Spice is the variety of life, right? Okay, so maybe two kids, two cats, two pennames, and writing over 50 books has messed with her mind, but she still keeps having fun.

Or hang out with her sexy historical half, Jade Lee. Titled heroes with dark secrets are Jade's passion. Especially when they fall for women who add more than just spice to their lives.


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Thursday, 17 May 2018

New Release Spotlight: Stripped by Tara Wyatt


Stripped by Tara Wyatt
Series The Blue HEAT Series
Genre Adult Contemporary Romance
Publisher Avon Impulse
Publication Date May 15, 2018


The first in a sexy new series from Tara Wyatt!

Detective Sawyer Matthews isn’t just having a bad day—he’s having the worst day. His hunt for the criminal who killed his team member has stalled and now… he’s got to play nice with his new, totally unwanted partner. It’s not that she isn’t qualified, or that he doesn’t like her—it’s because he knows what she looks like naked. So very, very naked.

Brooke Simmons finally landed her dream job working for H.E.A.T, an elite undercover detective squad, and she’s not giving up simply because she had a one-night-stand with her sullen—but undeniably sexy—new partner. They’ll just have to keep it professional. Easier said than done, considering their first case requires Sawyer to infiltrate a drug cartel operating out of a male strip show. Watching him do his best Magic Mike impression every night isn’t just hot—it’s torture.  

Sawyer doesn’t need any distractions, yet his attraction to Brooke is explosive and he can’t resist going for round two. Or three. Or four. But as their investigation progresses and danger mounts, they’ll have to put their jobs, hearts, and lives on the line to fight… for each other, for survival, and for justice.



The elevator doors slid closed and Sawyer tugged Brooke against him, wanting to drown in her mouth, in her body. To feel something good. To forget about the near constant ache in his chest, just for a few hours. Drinking, punishing workouts, burying himself in cases, nothing worked. So it was time for a new plan. He was going to fuck this woman’s brains out and make her lose her damn mind in the hopes of shutting his off. A night of distraction and relief. Exactly what he’d been hoping to find. After the night she’d had, he was confident that she needed this—wanted this, deserved this—just as much as he did.

As he crushed his mouth to hers again, she moaned, her tongue stroking against his, sending more blood rushing to his already hard cock. He trailed his hands down her back and to her ass, giving her cheeks a firm squeeze. With a soft chime, the elevator doors opened onto her floor, and she broke the kiss. Threading her long, slender fingers through his, she led him down the hall. Her blond hair fell in styled waves around her shoulders, and when she glanced back at him over her shoulder, her warm brown eyes sparkled at him as she smiled. God, she was pretty. High cheekbones, delicate features, killer smile. She was tall, at least five-foot-ten, with slender arms and long, toned legs. Clearly fit, she moved with an athletic grace that he’d found appealing the second he’d laid eyes on her. Small, perky breasts, and what had felt like an equally perky ass, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he got her out of that dress.

As far as distractions went, he could’ve done far, far worse. She’d come across as funny and confident despite her horrible night. She’d exuded a warmth that he’d found immensely appealing. He’d tried so hard to stay numb in the weeks since his best friend’s death, but she’d melted that hard knot in his chest so easily, reminding him of what it was like to feel good.
The ripped strap of her dress slid down her shoulder, and he reached forward, pushing it back into place, letting his fingers linger on her soft, warm skin. She turned suddenly and fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling his mouth back to hers, kissing him hungrily, catching him off guard. A low, gruff moan rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest and he slid his arms around her, pulling her tight against him. Her body fit perfectly against his and a surge of something hot and sweet curled through him, and he knew he’d made the right decision to try to pick her up. Vaguely, he wondered where she was from, what her last name was, what she did for a living, but none of that mattered for tonight. This wasn’t a date. This was sex.

Not that he dated, in the traditional sense. Hadn’t since the divorce. No, it was always just sex, and he liked it that way. Simple. Easy. Painless.

He deepened the kiss, claiming her mouth as images flashed through his mind. Everything he wanted to do with Brooke. To her. Have her do to him. Given the deliciously greedy way she was kissing him, she seemed to be up for what he liked, what he needed, but he had to be sure. Something was coiling tight inside him, and he knew it was only a matter of time—minutes, probably, with how damn good her mouth felt—before it snapped free and he gave in to the hot oblivion that came with hard, dirty fucking. He broke the kiss and spoke low, urgent words against her throat. “Tell me if I get too rough with you.”

Heat flared in her eyes and she rocked her hips against him, letting out a shuddery breath when his erection slid against her hip. She bit at his bottom lip, tugging and then releasing him with a slow smile. “I like rough.”

Halle-fucking-lujah.

She scraped her nails down his chest, just enough to sting even through the cotton of his T-shirt, and he smiled. For the first time in weeks, luck was on his side, because he had a feeling that this woman was exactly what he needed tonight. He kissed her again, deep and bruising and she sighed against his mouth. Blood rushed through his veins, and his cock throbbed against his zipper. The temptation to back her up against the wall and fuck her in the hallway was strong, despite the likely indecent exposure charge they’d both get when caught. Something was building between them, an explosive need, each kiss, every touch fueling the fire. He needed this woman with an intensity that ripped through him like nothing he’d ever felt before.

With a growl, he broke the kiss. “Which room?”

Her hands trembled a little as she fumbled for her key card in her bag, and a sense of pure, masculine satisfaction cascaded over him. He’d done that to her, with his mouth, his hands, the few words he’d said. And he couldn’t wait to do more. She led him two doors down from where they’d stopped and slipped the card into the slot. The lock released with a click, the little green light flashing.

Green light. Go.


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Tara Wyatt is an award-winning romantic suspense and contemporary romance author known for her fast-paced writing, humor, and sexy love scenes. She lives in Hamilton, Ontario with the cutest dog in the world and a husband who makes all of her heroes look like chumps.


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