I had the perfect life until tragedy struck, turning my world upside down.
Now I’m focused on picking up the pieces and starting over.
Easier said than done, right?
The last thing I needed was the lingering stare from the sexy-as-sin homicide detective. And those soft touches, making me feel things I wasn’t ready for.
I tried to keep things casual, but lines started to blur, and instead of pushing him away, I found myself pulling him closer.
I wanted to pretend that his kisses weren’t bringing me back to life. I tried to hide the smile that would break out whenever he entered a room.
I convinced myself that nothing was happening because he was the type of man a woman like me tried to avoid…. sexy, charming, and way too confident for his own good.
Losing my first love almost destroyed me. I wouldn’t survive it a second time.
So, when the unexpected happened, and our relationship was put to the test, I found my newly built life hanging in the balance.
And it might just turn out to be more complicated than I can handle.
Perhaps I should have listened to that little voice in my head after all.
He told me I could have whatever I want, but why does the one I want have to be the one I can’t have?
S. Jones is a contemporary romance author from Upstate New York. She has a strong passion for writing and reading stories that will rip your heart out before it’s put back together again.
If she’s not buried in her writing cave, she’s usually reading or planning out her next vacation. She loves to travel to different places and spends all her free with her husband, and two college age children.
When the weather permits, you can find her outside walking her golden retriever, or enjoying a nice cocktail by the pool. She loves cooking and entertaining for her family and friends.
When she’s not holding a glass of wine in one hand and her kindle in the other, she loves to hear from her readers at:
Title: Hot for Me Author: Tam DeRudder Jackson Genre: Rock Star Romance
ADAM
A bonafide pop diva, all sass and scandal, Cristy Valor commands headlines wherever she goes. The tabloids love her—and love to hate her. From the first time her sexy alto voice rolls over me, she has all my attention. When she joins Balefire on our latest tour, she sashays across the stage in her wild-ass costumes and parties hard enough to keep up with my boys and me. She drives me batshit crazy—and I love every second of it.
Sex on stilettos.
Pure trouble.
Our sizzling chemistry could shoot a rocket into space, and it’s not long before I crave her. For the first time in my life, I want to share everything with a woman. But Cristy is hiding something, something that holds her back from giving me all of herself. She’s about to find out that I’m a patient man—and I always get what I want.
Cristy
Adam Tron is the poster boy for tall, dark, and sexy. His bass rhythms are enough to make me cream my panties every time I hear them. Flirting with him during our live shows is a rush but nothing compared to what happens when I finally give in to my lust and share his bed. The problem is, sex isn’t all he wants.
For my entire career, I’ve set the narrative, teased the tabloids with scandals that kept them too busy to look into my past, too busy to discover the secret that could end the party for good. Adam Tron could wreck me, steal my heart—and my music. I can’t let him in. I can’t let him discover the secret behind the nightmares I have nearly every night. He thinks he can slay all my monsters, and it would be so easy to let him. But if he finds out the truth, will he still be hot for me?
Unlike our first show, Cristy didn’t change her costume again before the end of our last set. When we stepped backstage to catch our breaths before the encore, I expected to see her, maybe tell her how fucking awesome she’d been out there. But she didn’t join us. The crowd’s demands for more didn’t leave me time to ponder the situation as I downed a bottle of water and joined my guys back out in front of the frenzied fans.
As we played the first few notes of “Something’s Gotta Give,” Cristy skipped onstage to join us. I had to work hard to maintain my concentration on the song as she danced for the audience in an outfit that reminded me of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. That is, if Dorothy only wore the blue plaid apron part of her dress over some kind of frilly underskirt that barely covered her ass. And those shoes? Red-sequined stilettos fitted with enormous bows? So fucking hot.
She sashayed her way from Dakota to Blu, drawing everyone into the party she was having with us. Right as we came to the pause before the bridge, she deliberately stepped in my direction, the look in her eyes a dare—pure trouble. I didn’t even try to stop the grin spreading over my face as I watched her come for me.
“We’re not in Kansas anymore, are we boys?” she purred during the bridge as she ran a bright blue manicured nail down the middle of my chest.
My breath caught in my throat. My fingers stilled on my bass for one note. And Cristy Valor laughed. I swear she gave her ass an extra shake just for me as she strutted toward the front of the stage.
I finished playing the show in a daze. As the last notes of the final encore reverberated off the back of the stadium, the five of us stepped to the front of the stage, made our final bow, and ran backstage together. Cristy fist-bumped and high-fived each of us as we laughed in pure joy. What a fucking rush.
Before we split to go to our respective dressing rooms, she leaned up and whispered in my ear, “See you in a few minutes.” Like an idiot, I stood there grinning my face off. Jack rescued me from looking like a total moron when he dropped his arm over my shoulder. “Come on, Tron. Let’s hit the showers. Then we can play with the ladies.”
Tam DeRudder Jackson is the author of the paranormal romance Talisman Series and the contemporary romance Balefire Series. Her favorite “room” in her house is her back patio where she dreams up stories of romance and risk. When she’s not writing her latest paranormal or contemporary romance, you can usually find her driving around with the top down in her convertible or carving turns on the slopes of the local ski hill. The mom of two grown sons, Tam likes to travel, attend rock concerts, watch football and soccer, and visit old car shows with her husband. She lives in the mountains of northwest Wyoming where she spends most of her free time trying to read all the books. Her TBR piles are threatening to take over her office, and she’s fine with that.
Title: Pierce Her Author: Kelly Finley Series: Come for Me #1 Genre: Romantic Suspense
She’s the hero. He plays one. That’s why falling in love could be the biggest—and best—mistake of her life…
Former Marine Charlie Ravenel devotes her life to protecting women. A job that’s left its mark on her—body and soul. When she’s not working, she’s safe hiding in the shadows. Alone. But when a young celebrity finds herself tormented by a dangerous stalker, Charlie vows to keep her safe.
One problem. She’ll just have to avoid her client’s sexy co-star—the alluring one who seems so intent on breaking down Charlie’s defenses…
No one really knows Daniel Pierce. They think they do. Millions want him. But no one knows what’s beneath his heroic veneer. He doesn’t let them. Until her.
Charlie, with her arousing smile and razor blade tongue, attracts him like no other. He’d do anything to ease her pain, to make her his. How can he lure her into giving him a chance?
If Charlie has any hope of overcoming the demons of her past in time to save the girl, she’ll have to trust her gut…and Daniel. But what if trust is a luxury she just can’t afford?
PIERCE HER, Book One in the COME FOR ME series, is a steamy, romantic suspense novel featuring a kickass heroine who just happens to fall for Hollywood’s sexiest man alive.
Relief dropped the tension in her shoulders when she turned to unpack the rifle. She had to turn away. Away from Daniel Pierce to and her breath.
What the holy fuck was that, Charlie Girl?
Her body howled awake at his handshake. At his touch. The first time in six years it had responded to any man.
As a bodyguard, the sets she worked on accustomed her to being surrounded by beautiful people, men and women. She had seen, hell fought off, how such beauty was as much a burden as a blessing for many of them. She learned to treat them like nobodies. Or anybodies. It was one of the many reasons they trusted her.
But damn. Daniel Pierce, famously the sexiest man alive, possessed so much exquisite physical DNA it required a full audit. Sure, she had seen him plastered across covers and screens. A sudden flush fired up her cheeks for the solo plea‐ sure she gave herself at the sight of his photo a few times in the past. But that was a screen, a fleeting fantasy. This was him, palpable and in person. And oh, where his staggering bounty of beauty stopped, his sexy charisma raced, lapping her body for the win.
Damn, Charlie Girl. She adjusted the scope on the rifle. Slow your roll. You’ve got a job to do. A girl at risk.
And she’d fucking asked for this. Asked Anders where the cast hung out. Wanting to meet each one of them. Off set. In a setting where their guard was down. In a setting where a stalker may betray himself.
She wasn’t wheels down in Madrid for twenty-four hours, kissing her relaxing trip to Miami with Juliette goodbye, before she found herself jumping into the damn deep end of this job. Right into the ocean of Daniel Pierce.
And it was raging wet.
Over six feet of hulking muscles wrapped down a body that famously took discipline and sacrifice to achieve. Black hair fell in soft waves, framing aqua eyes as deep as a cenote, enticing anyone to jump in. Stubble blanketed a square jaw and deep cleft chin. Pillow lips formed a perfect soft bow, almost feminine, until they flashed a white-hot, hungry smile.
He was cast as Zeus, the god of gods who had no equal, many enemies and could bed any woman in a comic book series turned movie franchise. Two films had dominated the box office in the blockbuster series. A third was rumored. And everywhere Daniel Pierce went, he was “Zeus” to his fans. Charlie read how many followers and press also branded him— “Sex God.” Careful, Charlie Girl. With a look like that, you’ll have a lot more to protect than a girl.
Kelly Finley is fiction author of contemporary romances featuring bada** women and grown-a** men. She lives in the Carolinas with her husband and family. A rebel with many causes, she fancies black leather, dirty jokes, and smart mouths.
Thrilled by a flipped script and ticked off by women portrayed as weak, she noticed how many steamy, sexy heroines were missing, particularly from suspense and military romance. Her friends shared the frustration and told her to practice what she has taught for twenty years. Her books feature characters we champion and love—ones with shameless heat, brave hearts, and whip-smart minds.
She’s most likely at her keyboard right now, putting the next heroine on the page.
