Bittersweet Duet Series by Melissa Jane: Double Release Day Blitz & Giveaway
The Paris Secrets Trilogy by Michele Renae: Book Blitz & Giveaway
Swing by Missy Johnson & Carly Grey: Cover Reveal & Giveaway
Laila had already overcome many heartbreaking obstacles in her twenty-five years… but none compared to this. With her brother missing and no other family to speak of, Laila has no idea of the evil that shadows her every move. Now in the hands of a notorious cartel family, she quickly learns that trust and betrayal are a deadly mix.
Aiden had a plan. One that was operating smoothly until Laila surfaced in his father’s mansion. With time against him, he must work night and day to right the wrongs that threaten to expose his ultimate betrayal.
Juan and Aiden share many differences, but the one thing that threatens to tear their family apart is the one thing they want to claim as their own, no matter what the costs.
This series continues with Part Two: Crimson Desert (Bittersweet Duet)
WARNING: This book contains violence, and sexual themes. Intended for readers 18+
“Please don’t let him come near me again,” I sobbed, sitting forward. I knew it sounded like I was pleading and I was at peace with that. Maybe he could be further swayed into helping me.
“If I had stayed, he would not have laid a finger on you to begin with and he knows it.” There was sincerity in his words as his eyes met mine. “Like I said, it won’t happen again.”
Aiden reached over to the basin and grabbed a washcloth. Submerging it into the bath, he wrung out the excess water and, cupping my chin, gently wiped the tears and mascara from my cheeks. I closed my eyes and allowed the heavenly warm water to caress my skin. I relished Aiden’s soft hands that made me want to melt into them and his breath sweet on my face. Perhaps the stark comparison between the touch of both men was playing tricks on my mind.
My eyes shot open to find him staring intently back, a faint frown marring his features. Our faces were no more than eight inches apart and an unfamiliar magnetic pull existed between us.
Aiden cleared his throat and pulled his eyes away from mine, a sense of discomfort settling between us.
“Has there been any news about my brother?” I asked, aiming to be more professional in this game of kidnapping while struggling to ignore the vibes between us.
Aiden’s head snapped to face mine, this time I knew the look of reproach was directed at me. I watched, feeling slightly reprimanded as he tossed the washcloth on the tub edge and turned to the towel rack to dry his hands.
“I have to go,” he said coldly, his tone a stark contrast from moments earlier. It felt like a slap in the face from a man I was beginning to place my trust in. It was a foolish notion.
I was the fool.
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“We are only a few men against hundreds who are happy to see us all die, even though they have never met us. They have never even met Hector or Juan, yet they would do almost anything for them. It’s hard to compete against that. All things considered, we have done well to stay alive.”Danny was right and I had only made it harder for Aiden to look out for me. “So what happens next?”
“What did Juan say to you when we were shooting at him?”
“That he would come back for me. That I belonged to him and that he would be watching everything I do.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Cos he has done well so far.”
Danny looked to window lost in contemplation. “We go after him.”
“What? That’s crazy.”
He looked back to me, not a hint of humor in his chocolate brown eyes. “Not crazy. It’s survival. We can’t keep running forever. The whole goal was to keep you safe and out of harm’s way, then go back for the kill.”
“Kill?” This had never been mentioned before.
“Aiden wants Juan’s blood and he will stop at nothing.”
in the writing world, Melissa Jane has delved into a complex world where light
and dark clash in unforgivable ways. Romanticism takes on darker influences
while malevolence attempts to interfere with courage. Jane knows no boundaries
when it comes to discovering the endless personalities that exist within our
world. No one is exempt from love, not even those condemned to a life of pain
and betrayal where revenge is the only safe passage to true freedom.
Book Title: The Paris Secrets Trilogy
Author: Michele Renae
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: August 1, 2014
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
Now get all three stories in the Paris Secrets trilogy in one volume! Included are WINDOW, SCREEN, and the exciting conclusion SKIN.
WINDOW: The first time she sees her new neighbor, his sexy smile arouses her curiosity—and her desires. His hard, chiseled muscles and playful invitations are irresistible. Bared before their windows, framed and displayed above the streets of Paris, they embark upon a provocative affair.
Their daring game of exhibitionism lures her back for more and more, and she quickly realizes he is the man she has dreamed about.
Yet she’s never heard his voice. Never felt his touch. Never thought she’d experience something this exquisite.
Or this bold…
SCREEN: She fell willingly, seduced by the erotic foreignness of all that he was. Words can be more powerful than touch. Stimulate and engage the senses, then watch what happens…
They began a daring affair a few weeks ago, baring skin, sensual secrets—their very souls—before their bedroom windows, situated across the street from one another. Now they’ve taken it to the next level. The laptop screen has added sound to their intimate liaisons, and his voice, that delicious French accent, is oh, so sexy. His laughter teases good shivers across her skin, and his sensual commands seduce her deeper into a world of erotic play. Fantasies lure them into a new intimacy and a surprising trust that the two strangers who have never touched welcome.
Yet frustrations grow as she pines for his touch. They must meet. Soon. But a secret is revealed that will challenge their desires and the trust both have earned.
SKIN: Are you ready for two bodies to collide in an irresistible crush of desire? They’ve experimented with sight, voice, and trust in their inventive sexual romps that began as a flirtatious affair before a window and advanced to provocative cyber sex. He fell in love with her. She is still waiting for his touch.
Exquisite. Bold. Gorgeous. Those are the words that lured her into the Frenchman’s heart. She is the American woman who has learned to set her inner vixen free, and he is the handsome and light-hearted Monsieur Sexy.
Finally the lovers abandon their apprehensions and come together. All senses are engaged, including the delicious glide of his masterful hands over her skin. A dashing musketeer, black velvet Louboutins, and Da Vinci’s mysterious Mona Lisa all become a part of their liaisons. It is easy to fall into a trusting relationship that feels as if it were meant to be.
But there are yet challenges that will try their connection and which will force them to decide, once and for all, if they were meant for one another…
…or if secrets will break them apart.
Michele Hauf is an author of over 60 stories in the fantasy, action/adventure, historical and paranormal romance genres, and writes erotica as Michele Renae.
Michele is good at daydreaming, kitty wrangling, navigating Paris from memory, and locating parking spots close to the front door. She is not so good at making bath bombs, being patient in line at the Post Office, and reading only one book at a time.
I pulled aside the sheer and attempted to engage x-ray vision to see through his curtains. The way the night muted the window I couldn’t see well, though if the curtain were open his light would reveal the interior of his bedroom as if it were a diorama lit up at a museum.
When the curtains suddenly parted, I panicked and almost slammed the sheers shut, yet made the save by raising my glass in a silent toast.
“Just your friendly peeping Jane,” I muttered. “Can’t sleep?” I wondered.
The man held up a glass of milk and rubbed his eyes in the universal signal of sleeplessness.
I lifted my glass in another toast, and he matched it. We drank our respective libations. If a girl could get drunk off water, it was going to happen when the view was so tantalizing.
He leaned a shoulder against the window, brazenly unselfconscious of the fact that he stood in only his boxer briefs—that emphasized his package nicely. Or maybe he was aware and wanted me to take a good long look.
I did. And I wished it was my birthday. Or Christmas. This Catholic chick would even settle for Hanukah at this point. Right now any reason to open a package was good by me. As I assessed the abundant gift displayed behind glass and cotton, it hardened noticeably, forming a nice firm bulge that angled toward his hip. It must serve a good handful for him.
I sucked in my lower lip.
Call it lack of sleep. Call it needing to get laid more often than the once every month or so rotation I’d been on lately. Call it…fascinated by his soft, sexy smile that twinkled in his eyes, and that extremely enticing, hard, huge package.
He winked at me.
My heartbeats stopped for a full ten seconds. Count out ten seconds. That is one hell of a long time. His sexy wink stole away my breath and threatened to keep it from me. His regard glided over my heart, stunning it still with a powerful beguilement spell.
Smirking, I resumed breathing. Arousal tended to make me breathe faster. My heartbeats kicked back into gear, though a little faster and lighter now, like butterflies beating the airstream that encircled the universe.
Touching the empty water glass to my lips, I dipped a lash flutter at him. I wasn’t an expert in flirtation, but I’d read books, and had actually researched different forms of kissing for a romance novelist. I pointed at him, and gave him the thumbs up sign.
He lowered his head in an embarrassed shrug. A few dark curls spilled over his ear, and he brushed them back. Could the man be any cuter?
Setting his glass of milk on a marble-topped dresser across from the end of his bed, he then put his forearm to the window and propped his palm against a temple. His gaze sought mine and I let him have the connection. Or was it my soul he’d connected to? Could souls flutter?
No, wait. I was getting ahead of myself. It was just a look shared between two people who stood, scantily clad, in their respective windows. No soul mating going on here, folks. Move along. No pictures allowed behind this line.
What he did next was to be my undoing. I just wouldn’t know it for months to come. He pointed to me, holding the gesture for a few seconds…then, he made a motion of slipping the robe from my shoulder.
Eyebrow lifting, I defied him with a tilt of my head. My slightly-longer-than-shoulder-length hair spilled off one shoulder. Cheeky of him. Very forward. I wasn’t that kind of girl.
But right now I needed to be that kind of girl more than I needed to breathe.
He shrugged and splayed his palms in a ‘what can I say?’ gesture.
And for some reason, maybe lack of sleep, or glue-induced insanity, I tapped into the vixen I knew existed somewhere inside me. That part of me who pranced before the mirror on tiptoes when I tried on a new dress or a sexy pair of panties. The seductress who pursed her lips at the reflection in the mirror, yet who shuddered at the idea of actually doing such a thing before a real, live, breathing male.
Oh, tiny vixen. It’s your time to shine. Or at least turn up the dimmer switch to the next level of brightness.
I slipped the yellow silk robe from my shoulder. Taking particular notice of the slide of fabric over my skin, I focused on that instead of the man watching me. Swift, light, as if a brush of a lover’s hand, it sent a shiver down my arm and perked the hairs over goose flesh. The silk draped above my breast, the little embroidered bee crushed within the folds.
As I shifted my shoulders back, allowing the other sleeve to drop down, the robe spilled even further, both sleeves landing at the crooks of my elbows. My nipples tightened, much less from the fabric, and more from anticipation. Or was it fear? The tremble in my chest gave me away. But I was determined, so I continued.
I didn’t feel compelled to cup my hands before my breasts, so the lightweight fabric splayed open, shifting across my skin in delicious tingles, and inspiring a heavy inhale of courage on my part.
The man’s smile deepened, and he nodded at the sight of my exposed breasts. His thumbs up sign didn’t seem lecherous so much as a quiet thank you. Because there I stood, in the middle of the night, exposing myself to a complete stranger who I hardly knew. Hell, I didn’t know him at all.
Wait. The other night’s window wave and book sharing counted as a first meeting, right? Sure, we were old friends.
Struggling with the weirdness of my newly-emerged exhibitionism and the need to wrap the silk back across my breasts and flee for safety under the comforter, I exhaled slowly and breathed in through my nose. Aware that the action lifted my breasts, I noticed that he was even more acutely tuned in.
Too much. Too fast. What the hell are you doing?
Right. Enough with playing the wanton for the night. I pulled up the robe, kissed the palm of my hand and blew him a kiss. Then I shuffled into bed and switched off the lamp.
Snuggling into the sheets, my head crushing into the pillow, I closed my eyes. A smile curled my mouth. I’d never done anything so brazen before. Ever. It was completely out of character.
My introvert’s crown had just tilted. And the vixen within giggled.
I wondered if he was still standing there, waiting for my return? Dare I look?
I pulled up the comforter to my nose.
“Tomorrow night,” I whispered. “It’ll be his turn to reveal something to me.”
Authors: Missy Johnson & Carly Grey
Publication Date: December 2014
The last thing I expected from my husband for our anniversary was another man.
But that’s exactly what I got.
Six feet tall, sexy as fuck and a cock that made my eyes water.
While he watched.
I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did.
Or to see this whole other side of my husband that I never knew existed.
But now I’m hooked.
I want more.
I need more.
I crave more.
“Why do you like to watch?” she asks, her voice curious. Her eyes drop as though she’s embarrassed by her question. I smile at her innocence, wetting my lips as I think about it.
How can I possibly put into words the pure arousal I feel watching her be fucked by another man? There’s something so raw, so sexy about watching another man pleasure her. I feel powerful and powerless at the same time.
Being there in the room, it’s almost like I’m standing outside of my own body seeing things I would never ordinarily see.
The curl of her toes when he slides his hand between her thighs.
The gentle arch of her back as his finger moves inside of her.
Hearing the soft moan escape from her lips, and seeing the stiffness of her nipples as he rolls his tongue over them.
Knowing that I am in control even though I’m not.
How can I possibly explain that to her?
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