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Saturday, October 21, 2017

Leather and Gold by Gemma Snow πŸ’— Pre-Release Spotlight & eBook Giveaway πŸ’— (Historical BDSM Romance)



Emmeline Westington Wright, widowed duchess of South Framley, sent Captain Alexandre Pierron Simonnet to the Americas eighteen months ago, presumably in search of her errant brother, the Marquis of Fulton. But when Captain Simonnet returns to South Framley and the duchess's Roseburn estate, she must admit to herself that the errand was nothing more than a way to keep the devilishly handsome and tempting captain far enough away where she will not succumb to her desires. They are the kind of desires she has only ever indulged with her late husband, William, hidden away in a darkened room, below the prim and proper halls of Roseburn.

Her lust for Captain Simonnet has not diminished in the past months, instead growing stronger and more potent until she invites him to meet her in the rose garden at midnight. There, she shows the captain all of her secrets, that hidden room, her own desire to cede control, to be taken care of--by him. As she had hoped, Alexandre is familiar with her lifestyle and sets down the rules, before laying her over his lap and giving her all that she most desperately craves--or almost all.

Because despite herself and her raging need, Emmeline knows that her want goes deeper than a salacious affair. She has known Captain Simonnet, William's best friend, some ten years now, craved him for three. Tonight, in the light of their pleasures and vulnerabilities and moments of profound trust, she might just admit to herself that she wants more than a single night or a week or a month--she might just want a life together.




She wore her riding clothes, but instead of a skirt, her long, powerful legs were clad in a pair of fitted britches. Despite himself, Alexandre gazed up the length of her body, his own surging to attention at the simple, overwhelming need to touch her, to know she was real and not another ale-soaked imagining deep in the night. He wanted to run his fingers up the length of her calf, to kiss the inside of each pale thigh, to tease and torment the duchess as her image had done to him so many nights. Then he wanted to plunder her body with his mouth and hands and rod until the sun rose.

The duchess raised an eyebrow, and Alexandre sank to one knee before pressing a kiss to her outstretched hand.

“Do rise, old friend,” she said with a small laugh. “We have much to discuss, but first, are you and your men in need of a good meal?”

Alexandre rose, finding she had stepped just an inch closer to him. The distance, small as it was, put them very nearly too close for the thin grip he kept upon his tethered desire.

“My men remained at the docks, Your Grace,” he replied. “As for myself, I should not wish to keep you. I can certainly find my way to the kitchens. As you may recall, I spent a great many summers at this house when William and I were home from Eton.”

But while William, his closest friend, had inherited a dukedom, Alexandre, the second son of a second son, had taken off for the seas to become the family explorer. No fewer than fifteen years had passed since he’d first walked through Roseburn’s grand entrance, and he was still not entirely familiar with all the nooks and crannies hidden in her glittering halls.

But when the duchess glanced at him with a sardonic light in her deep brown gaze, Alexandre wished to explore only one of those secret places—wherever the duchess went to sleep at night.

“I know better than to keep a hungry explorer waiting, Captain,” she said. She nodded to the footman, and he disappeared into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Amazing how she did that, commanding a small army of staff and a great village of farmers and weavers, often without uttering a single word. There could be no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was a leader—and a powerful one, at that.

“You are wise beyond your years, Your Grace,” Alexandre replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he looked down at her. She wasn’t nearly so tall as she seemed. Not that she was a small woman, with her body rounded and curved like an hourglass, full plump breasts straining against the jacket just below his chin. Even in the formfitting riding outfit, her flesh glowed lush and generous, and Alexandre couldn’t deny how he longed for her—had longed for her for so many months.

“You have news.” The duchess sat upon a chair as if it were perfectly respectable for the highest-ranked woman in a day’s ride to wear britches and boots and share amiable conversation with a roughened sea captain.

“I do,” he replied, accepting her gestured invitation to sit across from her. “Did you wish to hear it all at once or…”

“I do. Please, share what you have learned.”

Alexandre nodded and reached into the pocket of his worn leather jacket to pull out a letter. Though frail from its many months of travel, it still bore the original, if faded, wax seal of the Marquis of Fulton’s signet ring.

The duchess accepted the missive but made no move to read the contents. Instead, she fixed her eyes upon him, her gaze intense and knowing, as if she were reading him rather than the letter. Peer into my mind, Duchess, and you’ll be sure to learn a great many things you have no wish to know.

“He is staying in the Americas,” she said. “He has settled down, forsaken the land. He loves her, of course, and wishes us all well. He is sorry, but he just can’t return. Did I get that all right?”

Alexandre didn’t quite know how to respond. She had gotten it all right, and in the face of his answering silence, steel resolve masked the sadness in her eyes. Finally, he nodded, pausing just a moment before he replied.

“The marquis was quite insistent,” he said. “The letter should explain in further depth, but he waxed until hoarse about his love for the American lass, and refused to follow us home. Short of force, we had no other way of bringing him aboard the ship.”

The duchess placed the letter down upon the table, still sealed. “Well, that is my brother, is it not? I suppose I don’t know what I should have expected.” The soft puff of a sigh escaped her lips, and she very nearly relaxed, if the straightness of her back and the sharpness of her jaw could ever be considered relaxed. But she sat just a little softer, as if she were behaving less as a duchess and more as a…friend?

Alexandre stood, and when he turned, her gaze was hot upon his back. Even the weight of her watching him turned his body molten and made him want to strip her down right there in the damn drawing room, made him want to wrap the chains he wore around her slender ankles and—

“Do forgive me for overstepping my bounds, Your Grace,” he said, walking over to the liquor cabinet William had long ago hidden in a bookshelf at the far end of the room, “but it appears you are in need of a strong drink.” He poured two glasses from the secret decanter and returned to settle once more into the seat before her.

The duchess laughed. “Ah, Captain Simonnet.” She accepted the tumbler of whiskey he offered. “It is not past six in the morning. Surely that is too early for a strong drink.” Their fingers brushed across the edge of the cut glass, and Alexandre realized that her hands were bare, that the smooth skin of her fingers pressed against his. Such a simple, small touch that feels anything but.

“Not if you are accustomed to life as a sailor,” he replied. “I have spent many months at sea, Madam, and if I know anything, it is that it is never too early for a strong drink.”

She sat forward, swirling the drink in her glass with a contemplative expression before bringing it to her lips. She didn’t react to the strong liquor, and that she could drink whiskey without flinching was yet another remarkably erotic detail in the picture of why she made him ache so desperately.

“Is life out at sea lonely?” she asked, as if her mind had gone on some adventure, returning to the moment only after several leaps of topic.

“It can be,” Alexandre answered honestly. “I have my crew, naturally, but it is easy to miss for companionship.”

Her eyes flickered at that, a sparkle of golden across deep brown. Interest, perhaps? Or maybe I’m just imagining it, hoping for it. I see signs of her returning my desires everywhere—how do I know what’s real? Only, he didn’t think he was imagining it, not this time.

“And do you find it?” she asked, and was it in his own mind or did her voice waver just an inch, as if she were well aware of the deeper implications in her words? “Companionship, I mean.” Oh, the duchess knows. She also knows that dangerous waters lie ahead, and she’d be wise to heed those old pirate warnings.

But she wouldn’t. Alexandre knew her better than that, and he swallowed the rest of his whiskey, focusing on the burning spice that lit his throat aflame, but it didn’t provide the distraction he needed. Nothing could distract him from the topic of companionship in a conversation with the duchess who haunted his dreams, as they sat alone in the pastel drawing room. Alone.

“Sailors have their reputations for good reason,” Alexandre replied at last. “I shall allow you to answer that question for yourself, Your Grace, however you believe fit.”

To his great surprise, she placed a hand upon his wrist. He clutched hard at the now empty whiskey glass at the contact, but he couldn’t possibly ignore her touch.



To be released October 24

    


Inked Hearts by Lindsay Detwiler πŸ’— Book Blitz & Signed Book Giveaway πŸ’— (Contemporary Romance)



“Six years, a complex about my freckles, a love for pastrami, and a fear of failure.
That’s what he gave me before slaughtering my heart and my faith in men.”

Suffering from the sting of betrayal, twenty-eight-year-old Avery Johannas quits her job and moves hundreds of miles away to Ocean City, the beach town of her dreams. With the help of her zany roommate, Jodie, Avery finds a new career, home, and freedom. Throughout her self-exploration, she makes only one rule: She won’t give her heart to a man again. She’s living for herself this time.

But then she meets Jesse.

A tattoo shop owner, the green-eyed Jesse Pearce is wild with a touch of mystery. As Jesse and Avery explore Ocean City and their friendship, they’ll have a hard time drawing a line in the sand between their hearts.

When summer nights get a little more heated than either expected, they’ll have to ask themselves: Can they let go of their notions of love, or will their hearts be permanently inked by past pain?



    



Friday, October 20, 2017

InnocenceForSale.com/Jane by Ada Scott πŸ’— Book Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway πŸ’— (Romantic Suspense)



If Looks Could Kill… He’d Have Killed Even More People…

Jane

Would I sell my innocence to save my grandfather’s life? In a heartbeat.

My dreams of immersing myself in the world of art will have to be put on hold while I do whatever it takes to raise the money he needs for the operation.

When I turned up at the hotel to give my winning bidder what he paid for, I never expected that it would be the one man who’s been dominating my fantasies lately. I never expected what would happen next either…

Caleb

It’s not about love. She’s auctioning her innocence, but I want her for her other talents.

Maybe I should never have dragged her into my world, the underbelly of Las Vegas. Without a doubt, I shouldn’t have fallen for this girl, but I defy any man to not melt under her smoldering beauty. I had to make her scream my name, over and over again.





“Innocence for Sale…?” I mutter under my breath as I browse through the site. I narrow my eyes. Looking into it further, it turns out to be some high-dollar service to buy a girl’s virginity. Damn. You really can put a price on anything.
There seem to be a couple live auctions running at the moment, one of them for a girl named Jane that catches my eye even with a blurred photo. I click through to her bio page.
I sit back in my chair and cross my arms, staring at the blurred picture. She looks happy enough. She’s not exactly an escort, either, so she might be even less conspicuous to bring along than the real thing.
To my surprise, I see in her little bio paragraph that she’s an art student, an artist in her own right and an art historian. A smile crosses my lips. Icing on the cake. My old plan begins to fade as something new takes its place. Having someone on my arm who knows art could be an even bigger and better opportunity for me, and I kick myself for not thinking of it sooner. If I don’t hear anything sketchy, maybe she can spot something. At least it covers another angle without drawing attention on me.
Then I see her price, and my eyes go wide. She’s...not cheap, that’s for damn sure.
Why does that make me more interested

Please double-check the price before you buy



 

AndrΓ© by Sybil Bartel πŸ’— Book Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway πŸ’— (Contemporary Romance)



AndrΓ©
The Marines trained me to set my sights and wait for the shot. For eight years, I guarded my brothers and defended my country. Now I protect my clients. My personal security firm is the best in the business because I leave nothing to chance… until a dark-haired, hazel-eyed spitfire crosses my path.

She and her sexy-as-hell striptease were supposed to be a one-night distraction. But too late I noticed the branding on her back and my blood ran cold. This woman wasn’t a distraction—she was a death sentence.

Knowing who she was left me no choice. I took her on as my client. But running from her past wasn’t an option.

The Marines didn’t train me to retreat. They taught me to engage.

One shot. One kill.



“Kendall,” I whispered, half in disbelief, half in fucking horror.

“You can’t save me.” No intonation in her voice, her statement was pure resignation.

I asked the only question that seemed relevant. “Who else knows?”

“Candle.”

“No handler?”

She shook her head. “No. No witness protection. I refused.”

It was probably the only thing that’d kept her alive. Anyone knowing where or who she was would’ve been a target. Adrenaline pumping, my pulse Mach one, I stared at her in complete fucking shock. This woman had just signed my death warrant.

My nostrils flared with an inhale. “Chica—”

“Walk away, AndrΓ©.”

I opened my mouth to say something I’d regret, but she beat me to it.

“You can’t stop this,” she warned. “Go back to work. Pretend you never met me. Deny everything.” She picked up her dress. “I’ll be gone before you get home.”

I ran a hand over my face. “I don’t even know what to call you.”

“If you say my real name, you’ll be dead before you utter the last syllable.”