Chapter Reveal + Giveaway : Cold Hearted by Toni Anderson -Cold Justice Series – Book 6

Posted on 05/27/2016 by shellbellereads

COLD HEARTED by Toni Anderson releases May 31st – but we didn’t want you to wait to get a peek at what’s in store for you! Take a look at the first chapter below and enter to win a $25 giftcard!

About COLD HEARTED

Hunting For A Killer…Who Doesn’t Play By The Rules.

Detective Erin Donovan expects life to quiet down after the arrest and conviction of a serial rapist who terrified her university town last summer. Then two young women are brutally slain and the murders bear all the hallmarks of the campus rapist. Did Erin arrest an innocent man? Now her job is at stake and tensions are high and just when it looks like things can’t get worse, her department gets the help it needs to solve the double homicide–in the form of a man Erin has never been able to forget.

FBI Agent Darsh Singh has no interest in reliving the past. Three years ago, his feelings for Erin Donovan had him breaking all his rules about getting involved. Now his only interest in the former NYPD detective is figuring out if she screwed up a rape investigation and helped send an innocent man to prison. But being forced to work together rekindles their old attraction, and as Darsh and Erin fall for each other, the campus predator fixates on Erin. The race is on to identify the ruthless killer before he makes Erin his final victim.

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Read the first chapter of COLD HEARTED now:

He spotted her across the street, blonde hair shining like polished gold in the sunlight, her lithe body tormenting every Y-chromosome in a hundred yard radius. He pulled out his cell and took a snapshot to immortalize the moment. He’d thought she said she was returning later in the week. Obviously he’d been mistaken. He dialed her number and watched her pull out her phone. He waited for the matching smile to form on her lips, for her eyes to light up. Instead, she checked caller ID, grimaced, and let the call go to voicemail.

Horror rushed through him as she re-pocketed the phone and turned back to her companion. What the fuck? He killed the connection and collapsed to a nearby bench, hidden from sight by a mass of tangled bushes.

He’d thought she loved him. That she wanted to be with him…

God! He’d given her everything she needed, laid it out like a feast on a platter with a fucking apple stuffed in its mouth. She played you, dumbass.

Fury flayed his skin. Rage so hot and pure that the blood coursing his body burned his bones. She thought she could dismiss him? Like he was nothing? Like he hadn’t risked everything for her? His hand strangled his phone as he imagined it squeezing her alabaster neck.

A noise brought him back to himself, and he drew in a long breath.

A laugh.

A giggle.

His head jerked up. Students milled around. They were relaxed and happy after winter break. The monster had been caught. They were safe. Life could go back to normal.

Sheep.

How could they think they were safe when the person they were having coffee with might be a predator dreaming about ripping into their soft, white underbelly? Why were they so willing to swallow bullshit as long as it was confidently labeled “truth”?

The system was broken. Bad guys walked free every single day. Good guys rotted. Innocents died.

Idiots.

A cute freshman smiled shyly at him from the bench opposite. He stretched his mouth into an answering curve that revealed nothing of the shock and disappointment that still rippled through him. Women liked him. So why the fuck did she think it was okay to ignore him?

A plan formed in his brain—a plan that buzzed along his nerves with the blistering speed of electricity.

Should he do it?

It might mess up things, and he didn’t want to go to prison, but it would certainly get her attention. His brain raced over the possibilities. He knew how to do this. He knew how not to get caught. And it might keep things interesting. Life had been pretty fucking boring lately and, as he’d found out last year, there was nothing quite as satisfying as revenge.

The student hiked her bag on her shoulder and got up to leave. He eyed the flirty plaid skirt she wore over opaque black tights and tall black boots, then jogged to catch up with her. Made a joke. Made her blush.

It was almost too easy.

He laughed and realized he was enjoying himself again. The excitement resurrected something inside him that was both heady and familiar. Something that scared him enough to keep it tightly leashed and under control. Something he’d denied himself for ten long months.

He reined in the thrill that fizzed through his bloodstream. He needed to be careful. The memory of the disgraced former quarterback reminded him he couldn’t afford to get cocky. No way in hell did he intend to share the asshole’s shame and degradation. But he knew the system. Knew the flaws. She was going to regret not taking that goddamned phone call for the rest of her life.

* * *

Cassie Bressinger smoothed out the single sheet of paper and read Drew’s small, cramped handwriting for the seventh time that day.

Cass,

I was trying to figure out something interesting to tell you, but after only a month I’m already running out of material. I mean, there are only so many adjectives I can invent to describe the three shades of gray that make up the decor here—snot, Minnesota, and dead rabbit are my newest favorites. I probably wouldn’t win any prizes in English class, but as I got kicked out I guess it doesn’t matter.

Three shades of gray—hmm, there might be a book in there somewhere…

Fifty Shades this place is not. Not to say there isn’t plenty of banging going on from the grunts and groans I hear at night. Someone somewhere is enjoying the fuck out of somebody else.

I think it’s consensual…

An ironic concern for a convicted rapist but, hey, who wants to be predictable?

Honestly, Babe, I’m at the stage where protecting my own ass has become my #1 priority. Luckily, I’m a big motherfucker and spent years on the gridiron, staring down people desperate to drill me into the ground. I could do with my offensive line in here though…

Crap.

I didn’t mean to talk about this shit and I’m running out of writing paper so I don’t want to start over. Plus, my fingers are getting cramps from holding a pen. Yeah, me, former star athlete whose hands were supposed to be his golden meal ticket. Getting cramps from writing a freaking letter! More irony J

Enough about me. How are you? What’s happening with your courses this semester? You said you were going to try and get into law school. Please don’t do that because of me!!! The last thing I want is for you to be stuck in a stuffy courtroom listening to god-awful testimony and watching people’s lives disintegrate. Run away and join the circus. Take a year off and travel the world.

Seriously.

And make sure you write and tell me all about your adventures, okay? I’m living vicariously. And if you want to have sex with other girls—that’s okay. Feel free to write and tell me all about that, too. Kidding! Well…kind of kidding and now kind of horny, which is a pain in the ass. Obviously the DA was right to classify me as a dangerous sex fiend.

Fucker.

Okay, gotta go. Time for me to go line up for sloppy mashed potatoes and sausages that look like severed fingers… Ugh, okay, just grossed myself out.

Don’t worry about me—I got this.

Love you. Miss you.

Drew. X

Someone knocked on the door and Cassie jumped. Tanya Whitehouse sauntered in before Cassie had a chance to hide the letter.

“That from Drew?” Tanya was wearing skinny jeans, her favorite strappy black top, and sparkly earrings. Her lips glowed in glittering magenta. Going out. Doing normal things like a normal person.

Cassie popped a shoulder and nodded.

“He okay?” asked Tanya.

“He’s incarcerated with rapists and murderers for crimes he didn’t commit,” she bit out. “What do you think?”

Tanya placed her perfectly manicured hand along Cassie’s forearm. “You know what I meant.”

Always patient. Always reasonable.

Cassie swallowed the anger. She wasn’t patient, and she wasn’t reasonable. But Tanya was only trying to help. All her friends had been nothing but supportive throughout this entire nightmare.

“He says he’s okay.” Cassie swallowed the knotted lump of grief that had taken up residence in her throat and tried to find her rationality. “I think he just says that to make me feel better.”

“You going to visit him?” Tanya asked gently.

Cassie nodded. “I’m driving over with his dad at the end of the month. Drew doesn’t want me to come, but I—”

“Maybe he’s right.”

Cassie sat up on the messy bed. She knew where this was going. “Please don’t tell me I’m wasting my life. Drew is my life.”

Tanya grabbed Cassie’s hand and squeezed hard enough to hurt. “I just don’t want you to be sad for the next thirty years.”

Her vision blurred, but they both pretended Cassie wasn’t crying. Even she was sick of the incessant tears. “I won’t be.” She was lying. “Anyway, he can still appeal.”

There was an awkward silence when Tanya didn’t say anything. Cassie’s gaze shifted to the image on the front of a magazine. Easier to look at some movie star complaining about her messed up childhood than dealing with the sort of truth that dug holes in your soul.

“Hey,” Tanya said brightly, “there’s a party over at Riddell Hall. Wanna come with?”

Cassie shook her head.

“Come on. It’ll be fun,” her friend urged.

Going to a party would remind her of all the times she and Drew had hung out. She didn’t want to acknowledge the aching void of his absence—especially not in public.

“I have an assignment due tomorrow. I really need to finish it.” She crawled over to her bedside table in search of a tissue.

Tanya lightly flicked the magazine, mockingly. “Well, you better get on with it then.”

Cassie slumped back to the bed, ashamed of how piteous she’d become. “I can’t face seeing people,” she admitted. “Not yet. Maybe coming back to school was a mistake.”

“You did great. Take it slowly. You’ll get there, and we’ll all be waiting for you on the other side of this.”

Cassie nodded. The problem was there was no ‘other side.’ Drew’s loss was like a rip in her chest that got bigger every day. “The world thinks he’s a monster.”

Tanya wrapped her arms around Cassie in a quick hug. “We love him. We know he’s a good guy and would never touch those lying bitches.”

“I don’t know how this could have happened.”

“You can’t lock yourself away forever, Cass.”

But she wanted to.

She didn’t know why she’d come back this term, but hanging around her parents’ house with nothing to do was worse. Christmas had sucked balls. Now she needed to figure out a way to move on without giving up on the man she loved.

She gripped her friend. “I love you, Tan. I’m sorry I’m such a bitch.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

She forced herself to pull away and wiped her eyes. “I really do have an assignment to finish.”

“Then get to it, slacker.” Tanya gave her arm a noogie.

Cassie forced a smile. She’d blown off cheerleading practice earlier today, and if she did it again, the coach would throw her off the squad. She didn’t care, except it would screw with her scholarship, and her parents weren’t wealthy. She couldn’t afford to get thrown out of the program, and she needed a good GPA to have a hope of getting into law school. But every time the football players ran onto the field in their black and gold jerseys, it was like someone was pouring acid in her eyes. Knowing everyone’s life went on while Drew sat locked up in a cell. Her throat constricted. Some days it felt like the pain would consume her whole.

She stood and pushed her friend toward the door. “Go. Have fun. Kiss some hot guys for me.”

“If I can find someone worthy enough, I intend to do a lot more than kiss him. So don’t worry if I don’t come home tonight. I’ll text you.” Tanya grinned. “Mandy’s studying in her room. Alicia is still at the library but said she’d be back just after ten as per usual. She might come to the party later, so if you change your mind…”

“Maybe,” Cassie lied. “You be careful out there. Guard your drink,” she warned. Because if those women had been raped, there was still a dangerous criminal on the loose, and no one knew it.

“I will, honey. Jillian’s going to be here any minute to give me a ride.”

“Go. Have fun.”

Tanya turned and smiled at her sadly, touching her arm. Cassie felt the punch of it near her heart. “You’ll get through this, Cass. You don’t have to forget Drew, but you need to keep living your life. He’d want you to do that.”

Cassie’s lip wobbled as she remembered what he’d said in his letter. She crossed her arms over her chest as she watched her friend jog down the stairs, grab her coat, and race out the front door. She had to believe a miracle was going to happen and that Drew would be freed, but it seemed futile. The judicial process was so slow it took months to even schedule a court hearing. In the meantime Drew was forced to live amongst killers and thieves. Getting raped in the showers wasn’t something anyone should have to worry about. Who could live like that?

That bitch Donovan had a lot to answer for. The blonde detective probably thought this was over.

It wasn’t. It would never be over.

Anger grounded her. Without it she’d be so damn lost.

Across the hall, Mandy turned her music on full blast. Cassie slipped on her noise-canceling headphones and stared at her computer and thought about the paper she needed to finish. Instead she pulled out a pen and notepad and started to write back to the man she loved, stopping only once to wipe away the tears that insisted on falling.

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About Toni Anderson

New York Times and USA Today international bestselling author, Toni Anderson, writes dark, gritty Romantic Suspense novels that have hit #1 in Barnes & Noble’s Nook store, the Top 10 in Amazon and Kobo stores, and the Top 50 in iBooks. Her novels have won many awards. A former Marine Biologist from Britain, she inexplicably ended up in the geographical center of North America, about as far from the ocean as it is possible to get. She now lives in the Canadian prairies with her Irish husband and two children and spends most of her time complaining about the weather.

Toni has no explanation for her oft-times dark imagination, and only hopes the romance makes up for it. She’s addicted to reading, dogs, tea, and chocolate.

If you want to know when Toni’s next book will be out, visit her website (http://www.toniandersonauthor.com) and sign up for her newsletter. If you want to read other fascinating stories about life in a city that, during winter, is sometimes colder than Mars, friend her on Facebook: (https://www.facebook.com/toniannanderson).

Cover Reveal + Sneak Peek…Chapter One: Anti-Romance by Cassia Leo

Posted on 02/01/2016 by shellbellereads

We’re excited to share the cover and first chapter of Cassia Leo’s upcoming release, Anti-Romance, with you today! Anti-Romance is NOT a romance. This is a hilariously screwed-up stand-alone novel love story. This is a book you’ll definitely want to grab in paperback; the cover will be completely colorable!

About Anti-Romance:

Laney Hill is screwed. On the bed. On the treadmill. On the hood of a BMW. And on her boss’s desk. Then she’s screwed again when she steps into the free clinic and finds out she has gonorrhea. That dirty prick gave her gonorrhea! She’s totally going to break up with him…until he breaks up with her…because he’s married!

A night out drinking with friends leads to a fateful–yet awkwardly-sloppy–kiss between her and her best friend George Bratton.

George has been single and pining for his ex-girlfriend ever since their breakup two years ago. When his ex invites him to her destination wedding in London, self-destructive George and gonorrhea survivor Laney make a deal to go as each other’s dates. It will make great material for Laney’s “Anti-Romance” blog and maybe it will help George finally get over his ex. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

This is a stand-alone novel.

Add it on Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28260248-anti-romance

ANTI-ROMANCE
CHAPTER 1 – EXCERPT

The tip of his erection was pressed firmly against my opening, a rock hard promise of the pleasure to come. This was the way he loved to tease me, right after making me come with his masterful tongue. He knew I needed him inside me. Needed to feel his girth stretching me. Needed to feel the closeness of his sweat-dampened skin pressed against mine.
But he wasn’t going to give in so easily.
First he would draw out the anticipation, until I was begging for him to fuck me. He would kiss and caress my body until I was forced to beg for it, until I reached the point of no return, where even the slightest touch would set off a chain reaction inside my body; a domino effect of nerve endings firing through every inch of my body, cascading uncontrollably toward my center, concluding in a mind-numbing, thigh-quaking, chest-rattling climax. Then, and only then, did he plunge into me with the force of an armada crashing upon the shores, ready to plunder the land for all its riches. I, the willingly-pillaged maiden, could only cry out in unbridled ecstasy as he took everything I had. Every moan. Every scream. Every drop of passion coursing through me.
When he finished inside me, his dying erection still twitching in its final death throes, he draped his body over mine as I lay back across the hood of his BMW. Mouth slightly hung open, his breathing heavy on my damp skin as his lips pressed against my neck. Each breath he exhaled sent a gentle shiver coursing through me; goosebumps sprouted over my skin as he lightly stroked my outer thigh with the backs of his fingers.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured in my ear.
Though Rick had said these words a thousand times since we began dating two months ago, I still reminded myself not to believe them. I wasn’t gorgeous—not by his standards or anyone else’s. Maybe I could be described as “cute…if she lost a few pounds, got lip injections, and used a curling iron on those limp locks every once in a while.” No one—other than Rick—had ever called me, Laney Hill, gorgeous.
But what I lacked in the looks department, I more than made up for with a firm grip and a “fiery spirit,” as my former women’s studies professor used to call it; or, as my best friend liked to call it these days, my “unbridled cynicism.”
My best friend, George Bratton, was a serial monogamist and—God help him—a hopeless romantic. His shortest romantic relationship lasted more than a year. My longest relationship lasted ten months, and that ended a few years ago when I decided to change careers. Since then, I’d plowed through more men than Al Capone’s Tommy gun.
Of course, most of my romantic misadventures had been undertaken in the name of research for my blog, lovingly named Anti-Romance: The seedy parlor where romance goes to get a happy-ending before it dies. At least, this is what I had convinced myself of. I only entered dead-end relationships for my job. It certainly wasn’t because I was screwed up in any way. Nope. Not me. I was just an artist willing to live my art. I entertained the world—well, my 257,000 subscribers—with my cocked-up love life. I was the canvas and my choice of medium was unavailable men.
“I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow after the rally?” I asked the question in a breathy murmur, trying to make my minuscule request sound even less demanding.
He blew out a deep breath as he stood straighter. “I can’t. I’ll be flying to D.C. to play preschool teacher to some women’s rights groups. I have to coordinate the announcement of their endorsements on social media. I’ll call you to set something up when I get back.”
I forced a smile as his green eyes locked on mine. “Of course. If you need any help,” I replied, tracing the tip of my tongue along his sharp jawline, savoring the salt of his efforts, “I’m great at kissing up to disillusioned constituents.”
He chuckled heartily as he pulled away and reached for his waistline to button his slacks. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I think the candidate would rather I tackle this alone.”
The candidate.
Three months into our smoldering farce of a courtship and Rick still felt the need to call Senator John Grossman—the Republican presidential candidate he worked for—“the candidate.” As if I were too stupid to know he was referring to Senator Grossman.
I may not have graduated from Harvard, but I was not stupid.
In fact, I graduated in the top two percent of my class with a degree in psychology and a minor in women’s studies. Our country, on the other hand, was circling the Idiocracy drain. As evidenced by the untethered enthusiasm for reality TV—and, in my case, reality blogs—it was only a matter of time before we Americans would go sliding down a sludge-filled drainpipe and end up sloshing around the intellectual sewer system. The way I saw it, if our ship was going down, I wanted to go down in a yacht, not a life raft.
I adjusted the crotch of my panties, all the while ignoring the burning itch that always followed rough sex with Rick. Though, it did seem to be getting worse lately. Must be a slight feminine “imbalance.” Nothing a little over-the-counter ointment wouldn’t fix.
I smoothed down the skirt of my dress as Rick pulled up the zipper on his trousers. He wore that sly grin that communicated one of the following: a) He could go for another round, or b) He was quite pleased that he had conquered me in yet another public forum. The first time we had sex in public was on my third day working undercover in Grossman’s Austin headquarters.
I thought seducing a Republican would make a great story for my blog followers. Rick thought having sex on his desk would be a great stress reliever. I knew we would make a great team.
Actually, Rick was the first guy I’d considered letting in on my secret. Since I started my Anti-Romance blog four years ago, I’d told zero men that our relationship would be used for entertainment. Online, I went by the pseudonym Amber F. Thus far, none of my male companions had linked me to Amber. But Rick and I had been working together and fucking each other for almost three months. Somehow, this felt different.
And, technically, I hadn’t written about Rick on the blog yet. I usually journaled about my relationships in a private app on my computer until we broke up. Then I’d go back and embellish my journal entries wherever necessary and upload each entry to the blog. My followers didn’t know if my dating life was happening in real time or past tense. Part of me did this because I was fastidious about never publishing a first draft, even if it was a first draft of a real life event. Another part of me hoped that when I found the right guy, my followers would never know anything about him, because our relationship would never end so I’d never have the opportunity to blog about it.
Stranger things had happened.
The look in Rick’s green eyes was breaking me down brick by brick. I felt myself blushing from the top of my head to my nether regions. I had to tell him about the blog.
He reached up and cupped my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. “I can’t wait until the primaries are over and I can take you away with me for a few days.” He brushed his lips over mine and the pulsing ache between my legs returned, which only accentuated the burning itch. “Where do you want me to fuck you next? Under a waterfall in Hawaii? In front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris?”
“Benghazi!” I blurted out and his face hardened as he pulled away. I delivered a playful shove to his solid chest. “I’m kidding. Paris sounds magnifique.”
The sound of a car door opening startled us both. I whipped my head around to find my young and surly-in-a-hot-way neighbor stepping out of his pickup truck, which was parked right next to Rick’s BMW.
He was sitting in his truck this whole time?
My face flushed with heat as my neighbor attempted to keep his head down while passing us, but he couldn’t hide his smirk. Oh. My. God. The poor guy was trapped in his car this whole time because he was too afraid to disturb our public fuck-session.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured as he passed.
His head twitched in my direction, but he didn’t dare make eye contact. “No worries, ma’am,” he muttered as he continued toward our apartment complex.
It was about 60 degrees in January, but I could swear it was summer in Austin as a searing warmth crept up my cheeks.

About Cassia:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she’s not writing, she spends way too much time watching old reruns of Friends and Sex and the City. When she’s not watching reruns, she’s usually walking in the rain or reading.

Come chat with her on
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorcassialeo
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AuthorCassiaLeo
You can also follow her blog at http://cassialeo.com

Blogger HTML:
We’re excited to share the cover and first chapter of Cassia Leo’s upcoming release, Anti-Romance, with you today! Anti-Romance is NOT a romance. This is a hilariously screwed-up stand-alone novel love story. This is a book you’ll definitely want to grab in paperback; the cover will be completely colorable!

About Anti-Romance:

A night out drinking with friends leads to a fateful–yet awkwardly-sloppy–kiss between her and her best friend George Bratton.

This is a stand-alone novel.

Add it on Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28260248-anti-romance

ANTI-ROMANCE
CHAPTER 1 – EXCERPT

About Cassia:

Come chat with her on
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorcassialeo
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AuthorCassiaLeo
You can also follow her blog at http://cassialeo.com.

Chapter Reveal: Fatal Beauty by Nazarea Andrews

Posted on 09/29/2015 by shellbellereads

Today we are revealing chapter 1 from FATAL BEAUTY by author Nazarea Andrews. This book will be released October 13th and it is an Adult Thriller.

Click here to ADD THE BOOK TO GOODREADS

FATAL BEAUTY BOOK BLURB:

Charlotte was a good girl. Sweet and innocent, a debutante with her Daddy’s credit card and a fiancée who doted on her.
She was destined for a perfect picture life in Charleston.
Until everything goes wrong.
EJ grew up with everything she could ever want, and bored as hell. Nothing surprises her and nothing ever changes, and she wants out—whatever it takes.
Getting involved with Anthony Jacobs is probably the worst idea she’s ever had—and that makes it irresistible.
Until Charlie needs her.
New Orleans. Los Angles. Vegas.
Beautiful girls who know just how to get exactly what they want.
It’s all fun and games, sexy nights and wild parties.
But you can only manipulate your way out of so much, and when their past catches up, not even a pretty fucking smile will get them out of trouble this time.

EXCERPT:

Las Vegas Police Department, Interrogation Room B.

Detective Blackmon: State your name for the record.
Charlotte Brooks: (clears throat) Charlie Brooks.
Detective Blackmon: Your legal name, ma’am.
Brooks: Charlotte Suzanne Brooks.
Detective Blackmon: Have you been advised of your rights, ma’am?
Brooks: (soft laugh) you advised me of them. So yes.
Detective Blackmon: Do you want to tell us how you came to know Ms Ella Jane Munro?
Brooks: Where is she?
Detective Blackmon: Ma’am, I need you to calm down and give your statement.
Brooks: Where the fuck is EJ?
Detective Blackmon: At night fifty pm the LVPD were called to a hotel room secured with a credit card in your name. Upon searching it, we found drugs, weapons and almost two hundred in cash. Do you want to say anything about that?
Brooks: I wasn’t in that room, and neither were my belongings. You verified that. My wallet was stolen. And I want EJ.
Brooks: Why the hell are you looking at me like that?
Detective Blackmon: Ma’am…
Brooks: (screaming) where the hell is EJ?

Chapter 1

If she could look at it, with the hindsight of everything that had happened, she would say that it all began six months before Wallace Bryce Talbert went missing. The day Ella Jane Munro sold Llewellyn Koonts a hit of blow in the locker room of her father’s country club.
Of course, if she had the luxury of hindsight, she might have changed everything by simply going to lunch at the Greenhouse instead of tennis at the club.
Then again. Charlotte had never had much use for hindsight and even less for regrets.

Charlie Brooks was an institution at the Buringtree Country Club. She had grown up in the halls, played tennis early and well, swam in the summer and pranced around the greens in tiny shorts, her blonde hair bobbing in her signature braid.
She was a perfect debutant. Sweet as sugar when it suited her, and an utter bitch when it didn’t. The staff at the club lived in fear of her temper. HR had to step in when she was in high school and they couldn’t keep a staff–Charlie either terrorized them into quitting or demanded they were fired over minor infractions.
And because she was Travis Brooks only daughter, she usually got her way.
Ella Jane Munro was different from Charlie. Just as bitchy, just as demanding. Filthy fucking rich. But Charlie revealed in who and what she was born to. She never wanted anything but to be the queen bee at her private school, at the club, and Vanderbilt. Everything she did was carefully calculated for how it would reflect on her and how people viewed her.
It’s why she and Ella Jane had never gotten along, despite being in the same circles.
From the outside, they would have made the perfect frenemies. Self-destructive, the kind of too close back-stabbing that would fuel the wet dreams of high school boys with visions of love hate sexcapdes.
Ella Jane and Charlie didn’t cooperate. Ella was bored to death with country club life and everything expected of a deb. And she might be an it girl, in her blasé way, but she never aspired to steal Charlie’s crown.
They existed for most of their life, in a kind of live and let live détente.
No one could explain why that changed. It was whispered about, of course. Two of Charleston’s favorite daughters, suddenly inseparable? Everyone had a theory. No one knew the truth, though.
No one would have ever believed the truth.

The door to her office opened and closed again, in the kind of way that was an announcement. She swallowed a smirk and layered another coat of pale pink on her nails.
Most girls would pay for a manicure, but she had always found the ritual of her nail care to be soothing.
The cash slapped down on her desk and she blinked at it slowly before letting her gaze slide lazily up to the woman across from her.
Sharp green eyes, long jet black hair with a single streak of magenta in bangs cut across her forehead. A pair of designer skinny jeans and a loose, sheer black tank top scattered with polka dot skull and cross bones, lace edged cami under it showing off her amazing tits.
Only Ella Jane could stalk into her office in designer jeans and a Walmart clearance top and look perfect instead of ridiculous.
“Your half.” She says.
Charlie finishes her last finger, admiring it briefly before screwing the lid on her nail polish and giving the other woman her attention.
“When are you meeting with Jacobs?”
“Tomorrow. Don’t be impatient, greedy girl.”
She bites down on the acidic response that wants to rise, and arches an eyebrow silently. EJ stares at her for a long moment, before she huffs a sigh and drops into the high back leather chair across from her.
“You can’t do anything until Monday anyway. Isn’t your engagement thing tonight.”
It’s posed as a question, but she knows damn well when it is. Charlie goes still and her gaze clouds for a heartbeat.
“Do you want me to come?” EJ asks, quietly.
The offer startles a laugh from Charlie and she grins, a dry, mocking thing. “And how the hell would I explain that? No. Stay on your side of the club, and I’ll stay on mine. I’ll be fine.”
There’ a tense moment, as they stare at each other, and Charlie wonders just how much EJ suspects.
They weren’t supposed to become friends—it was a business arrangement. One that benefited them both and made EJ’s supplier happy. But it had evolved.
It made her nervous, and nothing made her nervous. She didn’t like it.
“Don’t be a bitch, Charlie,” EJ says coldly.
“Then don’t fucking hover.” Charlie snaps.
Anger flares in EJ’s eyes, for a moment, and then it vanished, and she stands. “Fine. Have fun with your boy.”
Her tone is mocking and knowing and it stings a little as she watches EJ leave.
For a moment, it occurs to her that she should apologize. She dismisses it just as quickly and grabs the stack of cash, standing and moving to the wall where her safe is.
It’s crammed with cash and a small black revolver. As she adds the new stack to the others, she touches the gun.
It’s soothing, and her unease and nerves settle at the touch of the cool metal.
It’ a standard black Glock. Most of her girlfriends carry a tiny pink pistols they can tuck into their Coach bags with equally ridiculous sized dogs. But Travis Brooks always said that if she wanted to be man enough to carry a gun, she’d damn well carry a man’s gun.
“Charlotte? We have a meeting with the partners.”
She snaps the safe shut, keying the lock and spins to smile at her fiancée.
Wallace Bryce Talbert the Third. Tre to his friends and enemies alike. A golden boy in her father’s law firm, and the man she had promised to spend her entire life with.
He’s grinning at her, holding a hand out and she swallows her nerves and fear as she places her hand in his and follows him out of the office.

EJ pads out of her bedroom, her naked body wrapped in moonlight. A bottle of spumante sits discarded in a silver wine chiller, and she grabs it as she moves to her purse and pull out a pack of cigarettes. She smokes almost pensively, staring out the window. Behind her, she can hear him moving and she keeps her gaze trained on the window as smoke curls around her, dissipating slowly.
“You should come back to bed,” he says, and she can hear the tease in his tone. She barely manages to keep from rolling her eyes as she wraps her lips around the cigarette again, pulling one last time before dropping it into a forgotten champagne flute.
“You should go. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
Surprise and anger chase across his face, and she waits to see if he’ll follow through.
Clayton Poole was the heir of an ancient oil tycoon, and would be much more interesting if he would lose his temper every once in a while.
He was a fun fuck, always took care to get her off, and he opened doors even she couldn’t walk though. But he was boring as fuck when they weren’t naked.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says, lamely, and she flick a look at him as she pours a glass of spumante.
“Don’t. I’ll call you soon.” She gives him a smile and kisses his cheek before returning to her bedroom.
She lets out a sigh when the door shuts behind him, and settles on her bed. It smells of sex still, but she’s too drunk and lazy just now to strip the sheets.
Besides, she likes the smell of sex, even if Clayton isn’t her favorite fuck buddy.
There is a joint in her bedside table and she fishes it out and lights it, pulling on it deeply as she thumbs through her social media.
The entire newsfeed is abuzz with the engagement party of the year, and she grits her teeth. She should have been there. Clayton had been invited—Charlie will be pissed he didn’t show, a thought that strings a smirk across her lips—and she could have crashed it. Nothing to be done once she was there.
Once upon a time, it would have been amusing just to get a rise from Charlie.
When the fuck had that changed? When she realized that Charlie was just as unhappy in their fucking perfect life as she was?
Or was it when Charlie blackmailed EJ into sharing her distribution, earning her respect as more than another empty headed social climber.
She huffs, and takes another pull on the joint. The smell of weed fill the bedroom, covering the scent of sex. Her muscles are loose and relaxed against the bed and she let’s her phone drop beside her, drifting on her high, drunk and post-orgasmic relaxation combining to pull her down into sleep.
The room is pitch black, her body hot and sweating against the rough duvet when she wakes. Her mouth is dry and for a disorienting moment, she wonders where the hell she is, and what happened.
Her phone buzzes against her thigh again, and she fumbles for it.
“Charlie?” she croaks, and swallows. Reaches for the spumante on the bedside table.
“I need you.”
The whisper from the other end of the line chills her, and she shudders, rubbing away the goosebumps that trace along her arms.
That’s it—those three words and nothing more.
Sleep is forgotten completely as she sits up and nods. “I’ll be right there.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Nazarea Andrews (N to almost everyone) is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. Which means she writes everything from zombies and dystopia to contemporary love stories. When not writing, she can most often be found driving her kids to practice and burning dinner while she reads, or binging watching TV shows on Netflix. N loves chocolate, wine, and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, spoiled cat and overgrown dog. She is the author of World Without End series, Neverland Found, Edge of the Falls, and The University of Branton Series. Stop by her twitter (@NazareaAndrews) and tell her what fantastic book she should read next.

AUTHOR LINKS:

Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Street Team

Chapter Reveal: Getting Hot by Mia Storm

Posted on 07/31/2015 by shellbellereads

Rules of engagement:

1) You have the right to use force to defend yourself.

2) Fire may be returned to stop a hostile attack.

3) You may not seize the property of others to accomplish your mission.

4) Detention of civilians is authorized in self-defense.

Delilah Morgan and her older sister Destiny have been on their own for two years, since their parents burned down the family home and went to jail for cooking meth. She’s street smart and tough. Nothing about her says sixteen, and she’s not about to tell anyone, especially Bran, the hot ex-marine bartender Destiny has her eye on. He’s stable and successful and everything her sister needs to keep them off the street. The only problem, something about Bran inspires her and suddenly she’s writing the best music she ever has. About him.

Branson Silo knows what it means to be in the line of fire. Home for a year from his second tour of duty in Afghanistan, he thinks he’s safe…until he meets Delilah. Despite her sharp tongue that makes him want to take cover, he can’t deny the attraction. But when he hires her to play weekends at his family’s saloon, he finds out she’s more than he can handle…which is saying something considering he used to blow things up for a living.

When the grenade finally explodes and the shrapnel flies, will Bran be left standing? Or has he survived years at war only to be taken down by Jail Bait?

ADD TO GOODREADS

Chapter 1
Bran

I shouldn’t have fucked her last week. That was my mistake, and I feel like a douche—something I’m not used to.
I watch Destiny tuck a long strand of platinum hair behind her ear with her pen as she finishes taking drink orders at the table near the door. She shoots me a secret smile when she turns and makes her way over, and I mentally shoot myself for getting caught looking. This train’s already careening down the track, barely holding onto the rails, and when I pull shit like this, it only picks up momentum.
“We got Hendricks?” she asks, slapping her order on the ancient mahogany bar between us.
I look over the order. “Closest thing I got is Tanqueray.”
The smile falls off her face and she blows out a sigh. “I’ll ask him.”
I follow the curve where her tiny waist blooms into a killer ass as she turns and heads back to the table.
She’s hot. That’s what it boils down to. When I took her home last week, it was after her first training shift with Carol. We’d sat at the bar and knocked back a few after closing and I got caught up in everything she had going on. I totally missed the signs. I didn’t see that she was looking for more than a hookup until after it was too late—until she didn’t leave after we’d done the deed.
The only guy at the table with three women—some total wannabe with a dark suit jacket over a turtleneck and pressed jeans—scowls and gives Destiny some lip. I can’t hear what he says over the piped in Kat Country, but she shrugs and says something back, then offers me an apologetic squint when the guy pushes up from his seat. He starts my direction on polished loafers, but his eyes widen slightly and he pulls up short when he sees me.
The reaction’s not unusual. When I left for boot camp six years ago, I was already in decent shape. I was Oak Crest High’s first ever (and only, as far as I know) four sport athlete all for years—football in the fall, wrestling in the winter, and baseball and track in the spring. Which is probably a big part of the reason my grades weren’t good enough to do anything but enlist. But the Marines made all that training look like fucking Romper Room, and it was only a matter of weeks before my bulk didn’t fit into any of my old clothes anymore. Since Pop owns the local gym and my sister Brenda runs it, when I’m not working behind Mom’s bar at the Sam Hill Saloon, I spend most of my time lifting weights. I’ve managed to stay in pretty decent shape…which means guys like this pansy ass are generally intimidated. Course, the tattooed six-foot-three thing doesn’t hurt the intimidation factor. Since I let my dark flattop grow out, I look more like a biker than an ex-Marine.
After a beat, his shiny shoes start moving again but he stops three feet short of the bar, out of my wingspan. “Tanqueray or Tanqueray number ten?” he demands, putting on a “big man” show for the women he’s here with.
I step aside to show him the rack behind me and he flinches a little at my movement. “For top shelf gin, Tanqueray’s what I got.”
He closes his eyes for a moment and exhales his disappointment, then scans my top shelf again. “Tanqueray isn’t even in the same league as Hendricks.”
I shrug. “You want the citrus, I’d go with the Seagrams. Something drier, I’ve got Beefeaters.”
He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling as if my suggestions are all so far below him he’s afraid of getting a nosebleed if he has to look all the way down at them. “Just give me the Tanqueray. Make it a Tom Collins so I don’t have to taste it.”
He stalks back to his table and drops into his seat as I start on their order.
Destiny comes over and watches me mix. “That guy’s a jerk,” she say with a flick of her eyes back toward the wannabe professor. “Thank God he’s Carol’s to deal with in fifteen.”
“You’re giving Carol the tip?” I say with raised eyebrows.
Her lip curls. “Guys like that don’t tip.”
I lift my eyes to him as I shake his Tom Collins. “He give you a hard time?”
“He thought I should’ve known what kind of Tanqueray we have.” Her face scrunches. “I didn’t even know there were different kinds.”
I glance at the table again. City folk for sure. Probably up here in the foothills for something at the college. “Guess he didn’t realize he’d wandered out of his natural habitat.”
She busts out a laugh as I pour his drink into the highball. “So, I was thinking…” she says when her laugh dies. “I could swing by your place when you get off. If you want.”
“Listen…” I start, setting the drink on her tray. But just as I open my mouth to tell her I don’t do relationships, Mom shoves through the swinging door from the kitchen. Five years in the Marines and two tours in Afghanistan, and I’ve yet to come across another single person who intimidates me…except my mom. She makes some of my Marine COs look like kindergarten teachers.
“Hey Vicky,” Destiny says. “Has Carol punched in yet?” She tosses her eyes at Mr. Hendrick’s. “I’m giving her that table as soon as she does.”
“She just clocked in,” Mom answers, glancing suspiciously at the table. “What’s the issue?”
Destiny shrugs a shoulder and picks up the tray of drinks I slide across the bar to her. “That guy needs to get over himself. Carol’s better at dealing with people like that.”
It’s the “take no crap” chromosome in the Silo family gene pool. My cousin is almost as intimidating as Mom. She has a way of putting pricks like that in their place without them even realizing how it happened.
Just as I’m thinking it, I see her pass by the porthole in the wooden door to the kitchen, pulling her dark curls back into a ponytail. A second later, she pushes through the door.
She looks at the three of us and her eyes narrow as she slings her short, black apron under her bulging belly and ties it. “You guys do know that when everyone clams up and stares at you when you walk into a room, that’s a dead giveaway they were talking about you, right?”
“All good, cuz,” I say, lifting one hand in surrender while picking up my bar rag with the other.
She gives us a glare that could fry bacon. “I’m not fat.”
“No, you’re not,” Destiny says, handing her the tray of drinks. “But I’m punching out and I need you to take that table.”
Carol’s gaze shifts to the table in question. “What’s wrong with them?”
“The guy’s a sanctimonious prick,” I say wiping down the bar. “He needs to be reminded his shit still stinks in the way only you can.”
A slow smile pulls at her mouth and she takes the drink tray.
“He’s the Tom Collins,” Destiny says. “The chardonnay is for the girl on his right and the Cosmos are for the other two.”
She bats her eyelashes and starts toward the table. “Coming right up,” she says, all breathy and sweet.
Mom turns to me once she’s gone, her frown deepening. “I came out here to remind you to put a note in the drawer if you pull petty cash, Bran.”
I give her a dubious smirk. “Really, Ma? I’ve been doing this for almost a year. Think I’ve got the drill down by now.”
“Well, the drawer came up exactly sixty short last night. So how else do you explain that?”
I feel my brows lift. My drawer’s never off by anything more than a few pennies. “You sure you didn’t pull it for the wine order?”
She scowls at me and crow’s feet crease the corners of her eyes. “I might be old, but I’m not senile yet.”
For her age, I have to say Mom looks pretty damn amazing. She met Dad sometime in the stone ages, when she used to dance at a strip club in San Francisco, and even still, I can see why he picked her out of the crowd. She’s got a deep worry line at the inside corner of her right eyebrow, but otherwise her face is deceptively youthful. The only thing that gives her age away is the skunk stripe that starts on the left side of her forehead and winds through the sea of dark hair pinned onto the back of her head like a the first swirl of cream into black coffee.
“I didn’t take any cash, Ma. Seriously.”
She sighs wearily and rubs her eyes. “It’s been a long day. I’ll check the numbers again tomorrow morning when I can think.”
I lean down and give her a peck on the cheek. “’Night, Ma.”
She hooks her elbow around my neck and yanks me in for a hug. “See you tomorrow, baby boy.”
She’s the only one I’d ever let call me baby or honey or any shit like that because, like I said, I’m a little scared of her. I watch her disappear through the kitchen door.
And then it’s just Destiny, waiting for an answer.
I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly as I turn to her. “Listen, Destiny. There’s no question you are fucking amazing, and I had an awesome time the other night…but I feel like you might have gotten the wrong idea about what this is.” I drop the bar rag and splay my hands on the bar between us, holding her gaze. I may be a dick, but I’ve got a moral compass that points in the right general direction most of the time. She deserves to be told straight up. “I’m not the kind of guy that does relationships, and even if I were, you wouldn’t want one with me.”
It’s not like I expect her to whine or beg. I’ve only known her for a week, since Mom hired her for day shifts, but she seems generally more together than that.
What I also don’t expect is a shameless smile to spread over her face as she leans closer. “So, are you saying that pounding me until I scream your name is too much of a commitment?”
I blow out a laugh and give my head a slow shake. “This isn’t how I pictured this conversation going.”
She pushes away from the bar and unties her apron. “I’ll be back before closing. Maybe have a drink or two. And when you leave, if you take me with you, you won’t be sorry. If not…” She shrugs. “…no harm no foul.”
I watch as she disappears through the kitchen door behind Mom to punch out. Carol drops another drink order on the bar on her way to the kitchen and I go back to work.
The Friday evening crowd picks up and it’s not long before all the tables are full and patrons start lining the bar. I dim the lights—the closest we come to ambiance.
The Sam Hill Saloon has been here since the gold rush, when the town of Oak Crest was established as a mining camp. After they got married, Dad brought Mom out here and bought her this bar to keep her “busy,” since he didn’t want her taking off her clothes for horny men anymore. She got it in the divorce and has run it for the last thirty years, but the truth is, almost nothing here has changed for nearly three quarters of a century. There are pictures on the walls of grimy gold miners lined up at this very bar. Even most of the chunky wooden barstools and tables have survived. At some point, some owner lined the front wall under the windows with three booths, and Mom added a big-screen TV, but other than that, it looks exactly like the pictures. And there’s the faint stench of stale beer emanating from the floor planking that no amount of bleach will ever get out.
But it’s a landmark, and the only bar in town, so we’re usually busy.
I’m blending a pair of frozen daiquiris with one hand and shaking a martini with the other when out of the corner of my eye, I see a solo blonde slide onto the barstool at the end, near the beer taps. I finish what I’m doing and prepare the tray for Carol to pick up before glancing over and seeing its Destiny.
A guy in the middle of the bar makes eye contact and nods at his empty beer mug. I grab it and start filling without really looking up at her. “Didn’t think I’d see you again till closer to closing.”
“Sorry?” she says. “Are you talking to me?”
The voice is off—slightly raspy and a pitch lower than her usual. I look up again and squint at her, wondering if she’s already started drinking. She’s taken her straight hair down from the ponytail she always wears it in and it’s not as long as I remember it from the other night—the only other time I’ve seen it down. There’s also a fading blue stripe cutting through the platinum over her right ear that I’ve never noticed before.
“What can I get you?” I ask her instead of pushing it.
I’m already reaching for the vodka and cranberry to start on a Madras, her drink of choice last week, when she answers, “Rum and Coke.”
“That’s different,” I mutter, shooting her another glance.
She gives me a puzzled look. “Look, I really just wanted to find out if you hire entertainment.”
My face mirrors her puzzlement, I’m sure, as I try to process her statement. “Why?”
She hunches to the side and pulls something up from her feet. I see it’s a battered black guitar case when the narrow end peeks over the top of the bar. “Because I need a gig.”
“Didn’t know you played,” I say, pushing her drink across the bar to her.
That baffled look is back as she pulls it toward her and takes a swallow. I can’t help following the curve of her long neck downward toward a pair of large round tits perfectly outlined by her snug, low-cut T-shirt. She is definitely hot, and if we’re on the same page, then I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. She wants me to fuck her till she screams? I’m perfectly capable of that. She sets her drink down and catches me staring. She cuts me that wicked smile again, causing my cock to stir. I return the smile, sending the innuendo right back at her.
She props her elbows onto the bar and leans forward, giving me a clear look down her shirt. “Considering that we’ve never met before, I don’t find that surprising.”
I’m so absorbed in images of my face buried in those magnificent tits that it takes me a second to process what she said.
My eyes snap to hers. “Wait…what?”
She reaches across the bar, offering me a hand. “Lilah.”
There’s a full second all I can do is stare, wondering if this is one of those split personality things you hear about sometimes. And in that second, through the dim lighting, I take in all the tiny details—a dark mole at the outer corner of her right eye; her eyes, silver instead of blue; the missing white crescent-shaped scar above Destiny’s right eyebrow; and lips, a little fuller than I remember—which are smirking at me now.
“You’re not Destiny,” I say as it all clicks.
It’s not a question, but she shakes her head. “No. I am most definitely not Destiny.”
“Twins?” I ask.
She cocks her head playfully. “What do you think?”
“You’ve got to be. You’re fucking identical except for the eyes.” I tap my forehead. “And you’re missing a scar.”
Her perfect blond eyebrow raises in amusement. “She’s the pretty one and I’m the smart one.”
I bark out a laugh as I reach across and shake her hand. “Bran Silo. Good to meet you.”
She doesn’t let go of my hand for a second after we’re done shaking—just long enough to send a clear message that she’s interested.
A knot forms in my gut, and I realize it’s guilt. Destiny and I have an understanding, but regardless, I’m pretty sure fucking her sister would be way outside the bounds of gentlemanly behavior. Not that anyone would ever mistake me for a gentleman. “Destiny never mentioned she had a sister.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” She takes another drink, nearly polishing it off in a few big gulps.
I tip my head at it her glass. “Another?”
“My limit is one,” she says, pushing her glass toward me. “Just Coke this time, thanks.”
Carol sweeps by on her way to the kitchen, dropping an order on my bar. “Thought you left,” she says to Lilah without slowing down. “Careful or your favorite customer might ask for you,” she adds, jerking her head at Mr. Hendricks as she disappears through the swinging door.
I bark out a laugh as I scoop ice into Lilah’s glass and fill it with Coke. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”
Lilah shrugs. “Happens all the time.” She slides out of her chair, lifting the guitar case. “So do you want to hear me play or what?”
I look around the crowded room, loud with chatter, drowning out the background music. “We don’t generally have live entertainment,” I say, which is really an understatement. We’ve never had live entertainment. But for some reason, I’m not willing to shut Lilah down so fast.
When my eyes find her again, annoyed impatience shines loud and clear out of her gaze. “So that’s a no?”
I feel my mouth pull into a cocky half-smile. “I didn’t say that.”
She opens her case and pulls out her guitar, unabashedly climbing through the window I left ajar for her. I watch as she sets herself up on the stool and rests the guitar in her lap, gripping it softly but confidently. She starts strumming, and I expect her to be discrete, since this is basically an audition, but there’s not a shred of self-consciousness or embarrassment anywhere in her disposition as she begins to belt out lyrics—an old No Doubt song that I can’t remember the name of.
The way she plays, as if on instinct; the passion in her voice, and the fact that she’s really fucking good, starts to turn heads at the tables closest to us. As they quiet and listen, more tables still, and soon the only thing she’s competing to be heard over is the Kat Country on the speakers. But she doesn’t decrease her volume. If anything, as eyes find her, she becomes louder, feeding off the attention.
I reach under the bar and click off the stereo, then lean onto the back counter and cross my arms, listening as she finishes one song and launches into the next.
A guy at the bar pulls a five from his pocket and flags me down with it. I grab his beer mug, but he shakes his head. “Is there a tip jar?” he asks with a nod toward Lilah.
I pull a fresh mug from under the bar and he slips the five inside, then I set it at the end of the bar near Lilah. She cuts me a smile and her eyes slide down my body as she sings.
And fuck me. I lean my hands on the bar and press against the lower counter when my dick won’t yield to my will. Without a doubt, everything Destiny has going on, Lilah’s got that and more.EACH BOOK CAN BE READ AS A STAND-ALONE

About the Mia Storm:

Mia Storm is a hopeless romantic who is always searching for her happy ending. Sometimes she’s forced to make one up. When that happens, she’s thrilled to be able to share those stories with her readers. She lives in California and spends much of her time in the sun with a book in one hand and a mug of black coffee in the other, or hiking the trails in Yosemite. Connect with her online at MiaStormAuthor.blogspot.com , on Twitter at @MiaStormAuthor, and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/MiaStormAuthor

Chapter Reveal: Screwed by Kendall Ryan

Posted on 07/31/2015 by shellbellereads

We are very excited for this brand new standalone from Kendall Ryan. Releasing on September 15 we get a peek at a sexy romantic comedy from the NYT Bestselling author.

I have one rule: Don’t shit where you eat.
Several of the women in the condo complex I own would love some one-on-one playtime, and why wouldn’t they? I’m young, fit, attractive, and loaded. Not to mention I’m packing a sizable bulge below the belt. It’s a combination that drops panties on a regular basis.

Yay, me, right?

But my cock, troublemaker that he is, has been confined to my trousers by my business partner. A concession I agreed to, and one that’s never been hard to enforce until Emery moves in across the hall. She’s smart, young, determined, and sexy as hell. I want a taste. I won’t stop until I’m buried deep inside the succulent new-in-town brunette.

After being warned about my past, she does her best to steer clear, but I’m about to show her that underneath it all, I’m a guy with a heart of gold and a cock of steel.

My name is Hayden Oliver, and this is my story.

SCREWED is standalone romantic comedy by New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Kendall Ryan. ADD TO GOODREADS

EXCLUSIVE iBooks Pre-Order

Chapter One

Hayden

Goddamn. This is going to be harder than I thought.

My eyes swing over to admire the most perfect pear-shaped ass I’ve
ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on while my business partner Hudson
continues lecturing me. I think it’s something important, but there’s nothing
more urgent than my body’s reaction to this shapely brunette. Jesus.
Those tits are definitely real.

“I mean it. Your cock is cut off this time,” Hudson says roughly,
his tone biting.

Tearing my gaze away from the succulent new brunette moving into
unit 4B, I face him. “Not literally cut off. I’m sort of attached to him. You
realize that, right?”

“Well it’s on lock down then. No more of this bullshit. I had
three calls this week alone from hysterical women – our tenants – who you, how
do I put this delicately? You fucked and then left before their pussies were
even dry.”

I smirk at him, but I can’t deny the accusation. We’re like the
real life Melrose Place. Sexy young twenty-somethings all living in close
proximity. There’s bound to be a little drama now and again. Together, Hudson
and I own thirty buildings in the greater Los Angeles area. And some of our
buildings have very fuckable tenants. Up until this point, I’d considered that
a nice bonus, and a perk of the job. Hudson has apparently viewed it
differently.

“Who’s that?” I ask, tipping my head toward the bombshell who’s
responsible for all the blood rushing to my groin. Fuck. I should have a
word with her about that, that’s not cool.

Hudson’s eyes swing to the left to see what, or rather, who has
captured my attention. And who’s given me this semi-chub, which I hope he
hasn’t noticed. We’re close, but we’re not that close.

“No, no, no. Don’t get any ideas. You’re not tagging that.”

She’s not close enough to overhear us, but I shoot him a scowl
anyway. “Show some class, man. Tagging is such a juvenile word. I’d take my
time, get her hot and ready first, until she was begging for me to fill her
tight, little cunt.”

“I’m fucking serious. You’re not to even think about her tight
cunt.”

“So you acknowledge she’s got a tight cunt?” I smile, proud of
myself.

He wipes sweat from his brow, looking worried. “Hayden, I’m
serious this time.” His voice has taken on a somber tone, and for once, I try
to be serious and focus.

Watching the way the vein throbs in his neck, my smile fades.
We’re standing outside of one of our nicest buildings just outside of downtown,
and the mid-afternoon sun is beating down on us. Suddenly I want to get away from
him, and away from this entire conversation and into the cool air conditioning
inside. Shit has gotten a little too real for me.

“You know me,” I grin at him, trying to lighten the mood. “I just
wanted to have some casual fun.” And if that meant sleeping my way through the
LA singles scene, so be it. I’m not looking for something deeper. I have a
luxury condo in the heart of the Hollywood Hills, drive a new model BMW and
possess a nine-inch cock. Translation: Life is good. Or it was, until Hudson
decided to get a bug up his ass and lay down the law today.

“Did you hear a word I just said? One of your latest conquests
threatened to report our company to the Better Business Bureau for unethical
business practices. This isn’t just about you. This affects me too. And I’ll be
damned if I watch everything we’ve built go down in flames because you can’t
keep your dick in your pants.”

“Point taken.” Hudson is pretty much the best friend, and best
business partner you could ask for. He’s smart as hell, dedicated, works like a
dog day and night. And not to mention when we began our real estate investment
company five years ago, he single-handedly fronted all the start-up capital
from his own savings and trust fund. It took me years to pay him back as the
profits rolled in, and he never once made me feel lesser, or like I was in debt
to him. Not to mention, he’s funny, well-off, and good looking. He’s an
excellent wing-man. Plus he knows the best taco joints.

Unable to help myself, my eyes drift over to her again. 4B fills
out a pair of yoga pants in ways that I doubt are even legal in most countries.
I needed to know what was underneath those curve-hugging black athletic pants.
Simple cotton panties, or a naughty g-string? Either way, I wanted to bury my
fingers inside the waistband of those pants, peel them down her hips and find
out. Perhaps it was because Hudson just made her forbidden fruit, but I wanted
a taste. My damn mouth was practically watering.

She looked smart, and put together, despite her casual attire, including
a tank top and tennis shoes. With a clipboard in one hand, and her trusty
number two pencil in the other, she ticked items off of her list, and
instructed the movers who were unloading and carrying boxes up to her new place
– which just so happened to be directly underneath mine.

“You’re not going to last three minutes let alone three days.” Hudson
grimaces, glancing over again at our newest resident.

“What do you know about her?”

He rolls his eyes, but humors me. “Emery Elaine Winters. She’s an attorney.
Excellent references. Even better credit score, and she signed a one year
lease. And she’s to remain in pristine condition, or so help me God …”

When I glance up at her again, I see Roxy, another of our residents
has joined Emery on the sidewalk, and they appear to be making small talk.
Shaking hands, exchanging words, and smiling at each other. There’s something I
strongly dislike about these two women talking. Roxy is an exotic dancer, and
she I have a bit of a rocky past. Which is a huge fucking understatement, but
not something I care to dwell on now. Hudson mentions something about fourth
quarter taxes, and I tune him out, sure I just heard my name on Roxy’s
over-glossed lips.

“Excuse me, I’ve got business to attend to.” I step around him,
heading straight toward my new prize. Roxy spots me, and takes off for the
parking area.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hudson calls after me.

“Just being neighborly. Someone’s got to properly welcome Miss
Winters.”

“Dammit, Hayden,” I hear him shout.

“I’ve got this, buddy,” I shout back over my shoulder.

I can control myself around her. I have to, according to Hudson. I
don’t like being told what to do, especially where my cock was concerned, and
hell, it’ll probably only make me want her more, but as I close the distance
between Emery and me, I make a plan.

Friends.

I would become friends with the
so-hot-I-wanted-to-bend-her-over-and-fuck-her-in-broad-daylight new girl.

This was either the best plan I’d ever had, or would end with me
sporting a black eye, courtesy of my best friend.

It’s go time.

Kendall Ryan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance novels, including Hard to Love, Unravel Me, Resisting Her and When I Break.

She’s a sassy, yet polite Midwestern girl with a deep love of books, and a slight addiction to lipgloss. She lives in Minneapolis with her adorable husband and two baby sons, and enjoys hiking, being active, and reading.

Visit her at: www.kendallryanbooks.com for the latest book news, and fun extras

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Sneak Peek …. Prologue and Chapter One… Giveaway….Trusting Liam by Molly McAdams

Posted on 05/25/2015 by shellbellereads

Trusting Liam

A Taking Chance and Forgiving Lies Novel

Release Date: June 9, 2014

By Molly McAdams

Synopsis

From the New York Times bestselling author of Taking Chances, From Ashes, and Stealing Harper, comes the new unforgettable adult romance Molly McAdams’ fans have been waiting for—the sizzling story of a young woman who must place her trust in the one man who can break through her defenses.

A night they will always remember…a connection neither can deny…a secret that could destroy it all…

When Kennedy Ryan moves to California, she never expects to come face-to-face with Liam Taylor—the intriguing man who has haunted her thoughts for a year. A man who led her to breaking every one of her rules for a single night of passion that ended up meaning more than it was ever supposed to. Accustomed to disastrous experiences with men, Kennedy shields herself before he can break down more of the carefully built control she’s clung to for the last four years. But every time she sees Liam, she feels her resolve weakening.

Liam Taylor has been asked to help socialize his boss’s nieces. But what he thinks sounds more like a babysitting job ends up leading him to the only girl who ever slipped away before morning—a girl he thought he’d never find again. And now that she’s within reach, Liam’s determined to never let her go.

But when a secret from her past tests their relationship, will they be able to cling to the trust Liam has worked so hard to build?

Pre Order: Amazon / B & N / ITunes / Kobo

Prologue and Chapter One

Prologue

May 15

Kennedy

Cracking an eye open, I immediately shut it against the harsh light coming into the room and bit back a groan from the pounding in my head. Making another attempt—this time with both eyes—I squinted at the unfamiliar hotel room and blinked a few times before letting my eyes open all the way as I took in my surroundings. Well, as much of them as I could without moving.

There was a heavy arm draped uncomfortably over my waist, a forehead pressed to the back of my head, a nose to the back of my neck, and an erection to my butt. What. The. Hell. I was naked; he was naked. Why are we naked, and who is behind me? If I wasn’t seconds from screaming for someone to help me, I might have snorted. The why was obvious, there was a familiar ache between my legs, and my lips felt puffy from kissing and where he’d bitten down on them.

I inhaled softly. He. Him. Oh God.

Flashes from last night took turns assaulting me with the pounding in my head. Impromptu trip to Vegas with the girls after finals ended. Dancing. Club. Drinks. Arctic blue eyes captivating me. More drinks and dancing. Him holding me close, and not close enough. Lips against mine. Stumbling into a room. Hands searching. His tall, hard body pressing mine against the bed—still not close enough.

My eyes immediately went to my left hand, and I exhaled slowly in relief when I didn’t find a ring there. Thank God, the last thing I need is a marriage as result of a drunken night in Vegas. I rolled my eyes. The last thing I needed was a man in my life, period. And if my family didn’t kill me for it, I would have died from embarrassment if I had ended up with a ring on my finger after last night. Because unlike what everyone loves to believe so they can feel better about their dirty deeds while in Sin City, what happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas.

Trying not to wake him, I slowly slid out from under his arm and off the bed to search for my clothes. Once I was dressed, I told myself to just leave, but I couldn’t help it—I turned to look at him in the light. I needed to be sure I hadn’t made him up.

The images from last night tore through my mind again when I saw the large, tattooed arm resting where my body had just been. The muscles were well defined even relaxed, and the face had a boyish charm now that he was asleep. Such a difference from the predatory stare and knowing smirk I kept seeing in my mind. Before I could stop myself, I gently ran my fingers through his dirty-blond hair that, now in the sunlight, I could see had a red tint to it. And I knew if he opened them, those arctic blue eyes would once again captivate me.

But I couldn’t risk that.

I’d already stayed too long; I’d already made a mistake with him. Drunken one-night stands weren’t my thing. Drunken one-night stands with strangers in Vegas were even worse.

Straightening, I turned and walked quietly from the room.

Chapter 1

May 21 … One year later

Kennedy

“Why are you trying to doing this to me?” Kira yelled as she stood from where she’d been sitting on the couch.

I looked over at my identical twin to see a look of horror on her face, and waited for the freak-out that I knew was only seconds away. Shifting my attention back to our parents, I mumbled, “Told you it wouldn’t go over well.”

“But—you can’t—Kennedy, why—Zane’s in Florida,” Kira sputtered out, and I rolled my eyes at the same time as my dad.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Dad asked as he crossed his large tattooed arms over his chest.

Not willing to give Kira time to respond to that kind of question, I started talking over Dad before he could finish. “Did you ever think that maybe a little distance might be a good thing for the two of you? And did you not hear Dad? These guys are out of prison, Kira!” I shouted, punctuating the last few words in case she’d missed the memo the first time around.

“Maybe Zane will go with you,” Mom offered with a sympathetic look on her face that I knew was as well practiced as it was a lie. The worry was still there in her eyes, as was the eagerness to get us away from Florida … and it wasn’t exactly a secret that we all wanted Kira to get space from Zane.

They’d been together since we were fifteen, and the more time went on, the more Kira’s world revolved around only him. It was annoying.

“And leave his job?” Kira countered.

“Well, then maybe this will be good for you, like Kennedy said. Get a break from Zane so you can see other options. You girls are only twenty-two, you just graduated from college, and you’re too young to be getting serious anyway, Kira, just ask Kennedy. You’ll regret not enjoying life first.”

“Wow, thanks for that, Mom. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before she could respond to me, my dad’s head jerked back and he sent Mom a look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You were twenty-one when we got engaged.”

“Do I look like I’m not enjoying life suddenly? What did I miss?” I asked Kira as Dad spoke, but she didn’t make any indication that she’d even heard me.

“Seriously, Kash?” Mom shot Dad a look that even I was impressed by. “That was different. We were different. She’s only dated Zane.”

“Can we get back to the more important discussion?” I cut in before Dad could respond, and looked back to Kira. “I’m going to California. You’re going with me. Zane can deal with it.”

“You can’t do this! I’m not going!” Kira shrieked as the tears started.

“You act like I’m giving either of you a choice. Both of you need to start accepting this.”

My eyes widened at my dad’s dark tone, and I shot right back, “You act like you still have a say in our lives. You haven’t for four years. And if you remember, I’m going along with what you want without complaint. So don’t throw me into the same category as Kira when she’s the only one fighting you on this.”

One dark eyebrow rose, and I saw Kira sink back onto the couch from the look he was giving. Too bad I was just like him: hardheaded and stubborn. I might be my sister’s mirror image, but I was nothing like her. I raised one eyebrow back at him, and Mom sighed.

“I don’t know how I put up with you two sometimes,” she groaned, rubbing her hand over her forehead. Looking at Kira, she said, “You’re going to California, no more discussion. This is for your safety, why can’t you see that?”

“I’m not going!” Kira sobbed. “Who cares if some guys Dad put away years ago are out of prison?”

I snorted, but before I could respond, Uncle Mason’s deep voice sounded directly behind us. “These men do.”

I turned quickly to look at him, and tried not to laugh when he gave Dad a questioning look and mouthed, “Zane?” as he gestured to Kira.

“Is there any other reason she would be freaking out like this?” I asked as I stood to go give him a hug.

“Are you both packed?” he asked.

“Packed?” Kira yelled again. “They just told us! I haven’t even called Zane!”

“Oh my God, no one cares.”

“Kennedy,” Mom chastised, but I knew she was thinking the same thing.

As soon as Kira was out of the room, I sighed and headed to my room to pack as much as I could. Kira was already packing and sobbing into her phone when I passed her room, and I somehow managed to hold back an eye roll. Never mind that our parents had just told us that our family was being threatened by members of a gang our dad and uncle Mason had put away over twenty years ago. A gang whose members had kidnapped our mom before we were born and held her for over a month in an attempt to free their main members from prison. Or that a chunk of them were getting out of prison within the next handful of months. Or that Kira and I were the main targets in their threats. Nope … none of that mattered to Kira right now. What mattered was that we were going to be living in California for the time being—close to our mom’s side of the family—and Zane wouldn’t be going with us. No Zane meant devastation in Kira’s world. She couldn’t even get dressed without telling everyone about a memory with Zane in that outfit, or that it was one of his many favorites.

Snatching a hairband off my desk, I pulled my thick, black hair into a messy bun on the top of my head and started packing. I didn’t turn to face Kira when she came into my room ten minutes later, but I knew she was there.

“How could you do this to me?” she asked quietly, her words breaking with emotion. “You’re supposed to be on my side, you’re always supposed to be on my side. And you went behind my back and planned this with Mom and Dad without even warning me?”

I glanced over my shoulder, my eyebrows rising at her assumption. “I didn’t plan shit, Kira. They told me while you were talking to Zane right before they asked you to get off the phone. They just wanted me to know because they thought you would freak out and they needed me to be able to try to talk you into it calmly—rather than hitting us both with the news at the same time. The only difference between you and me is I have no problem with this move because I’m not stupid enough to think that the gang won’t actually make good on their threats if we stay here. Or try to.”

I went back to packing, and there was a couple minutes of silence before she said, “I know why you’re all really doing this. Don’t think for a second that I’m stupid enough not to realize this is about Zane.”

I released a heavy breath and shook my head. “Despite what you think, this has nothing to do with you and your boyfriend. But I do think that this is something we need to do, and I think it will be good for us.”

“I won’t forgive you for this. You of all people should realize how much this is going to kill me.”

My breath caught, but I didn’t reply. I knew I couldn’t without lashing out at her. Without another word, she left my room. The only sounds were her soft cries and her feet on the hardwood as she walked away.

“So now that you have us on a private jet—which just makes this all the more weird, by the way—do you mind telling us details about where we’ll be spending the next however long?” I asked Uncle Mason a few hours later.

“Didn’t your mom and dad tell you everything?”

I gave him a look that he immediately laughed at.

“Okay, tell me what you know, and I’ll fill in the blanks.”

“Basically, all I know is that Juarez and a handful of others from his crew are up for probation within a few months of each other starting next week. They’re somehow threatening us—but more specifically, Kira and me—and Mom and Dad think it would be best if we weren’t near Tampa. Since we just graduated and don’t have a reason to stay up in Tallahassee anymore, the only other place to go is California near Mom’s family, and we’ll be there for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I wasn’t told most of that,” Kira muttered from where she was sulking across the aisle.

“You were told that,” I shot back. “All of that. You just couldn’t get past the California-equals-no-Zane part, and flipped while they told you the rest!”

Before we could start on another war, Uncle Mason spoke up. “You’ll be just North of San Diego, near your Uncle Eli. He’s already been looking into places for you to live, and your parents are working something out with them for a car.”

“Lovely. Sounds like everyone is already completely filled in,” Kira sneered.

Uncle Mason didn’t respond for a long time, he just sat there staring at Kira with a somber expression. It was so unlike him. “I don’t want you two to have to do this any more than you do, trust me. Your dad and I know better than anyone what it’s like to pick up and move at a moment’s notice and not be able to have a say in it, so we know what you’re going through.”

Kira mumbled something too low for me to hear, but it was obvious in her expression that she didn’t agree with him.

After a subtle shake of my head, I looked back at Uncle Mason and tapped his leg with my foot to get his attention again. “Okay, so we’ve heard about Juarez’s gang and what happened with Mom being taken. But here’s what I don’t understand and am having a little bit of trouble with. Why after so much time has passed do you think it’s them threatening us? Wouldn’t they be over it by now? I mean, couldn’t it just as easily be someone you’ve arrested recently, and you’re just jumping ahead and thinking its Juarez?”

Uncle Mason was already shaking his head before I even finished asking my questions. “No. It may have been twenty-three years ago, but we haven’t forgotten what happened, and we know for a fact they haven’t and are still holding a grudge because there have been letters delivered to your dad.”

“What did they say?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What did they say?” I asked louder, and Kira leaned toward us in her seat to hear his response.

“I said it doesn’t—”

“We deserve to know!” I snapped.

After a beat of silence, he admitted, “They’ve said, ‘Can’t wait to meet the rest of your family’, or ‘How are those daughters of yours?’” Uncle Mason sighed heavily and looked out the window for a few seconds.

“That’s it?” I asked when he didn’t continue. “I mean, that’s really creepy but it doesn’t prove much of anything.”

“It does, because at the bottom it had the gang’s symbol. A symbol your dad and I used to have tattooed on us when we were undercover. A symbol they left spray-painted on your parents’ wall after kidnapping your mom.”

“Oh,” I breathed, and Uncle Mason sent me a look.

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’”

May 27

Liam

Squeezing Cecily’s waist once, I deepened the kiss for a few seconds before pulling away. A smirk crossed my face when she tried to follow me. “I gotta go.”

“Just a little longer?” she asked huskily as she pulled on my tie, bringing us closer together.

“I can’t. You know I have to get to that meeting.” Grabbing her slender wrist in my hand, I took my tie from her firm grip and sent her a look.

“Of course, the so-called ‘meeting’ that no one else in the office seems to know about.” Her full lips pouted, and I exhaled slowly at the annoying look.

“You know about it.”

Cecily smacked my arm and huffed. “Only because you told me.”

“That’s not my problem. Besides, it might be a bad thing that I’m the only one. Who knows? You may get your wish, I might be getting fired.”

She smiled wryly and wrapped her arms around my neck before pressing her mouth to mine. “Now that definitely sounds like a meeting I want to happen,” she murmured against my lips.

“Power-hungry bitch,” I growled, and kissed her hard once more before backing away.

“Manwhore.”

“Hasn’t stopped you.”

Her gaze raked over me as I backed up toward the door before snapping up to my face. “No, it hasn’t.”

I grinned and nodded in her direction. “Are you going to leave my office?”

She slid off the desk and walked around to sit in my chair. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll sit in here a while to get used to what my new office feels like.”

“I haven’t gotten fired yet.” Not bothering to wait, I walked out of my office and left Cecily in there. I looked behind me to watch the door shut as I fixed my tie, a soft smile tugged at my lips as I thought about the girl in there.

There was no bullshit when it came to Cecily and me. I didn’t like relationships, labels, or being tied down to any one girl; and she liked guys who demanded control. It was the complete opposite of who she was, but I wasn’t going to question it. She wasn’t shy about her need to be at the top of everything—including a company—nor was she shy about her willingness to step on any and everyone to get there.

She wanted my job, I’d known that before we started sleeping together, but she couldn’t have it. And despite our current status and her greed-filled eyes, she wasn’t one to sleep her way to the top—we just happened to be a nice distraction for each other at work.

I looked up just in time to stop myself from running into the man standing in the hallway. He hadn’t been moving; he was just standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised as he studied me.

“Excuse me,” I said, and moved to walk around him—he moved with me. My eyebrows slanted down, and I looked up at him. Yeah. Up. I was six-two. To have to look up at someone was saying something. “Can I help you?” I asked when I noticed his mirrored-movement hadn’t been a mistake; he was still staring down at me with a calculating expression.

The man didn’t move, and he didn’t say anything. With a huff, I gave him a once over and smirked. My dad owned a boxing gym, meaning I’d grown up around some of the leanest, deadliest fighters, as well as some of the biggest meatheads. But this fucker was massive. “If you don’t mind, I have somewhere to be. And lay off the steroids, old man.”

When I went to move around him this time, he let me pass; but when I looked over my shoulder, he was turned around and glaring at me with that same expression before he glanced behind him toward my office.

My footsteps faltered and I racked my brain trying to think of any mention of another guy Cecily might be seeing—one who would come looking for her at work—but I came up with nothing. And somehow I knew in the way he was glaring at me again, that he wasn’t looking at me like he was ready to fight. He looked like he was frustrated with what he was seeing in me.

Shaking my head as if to clear it, I looked ahead of me and continued down the halls to my boss’ office. Before I got there, I stopped at his secretary’s desk. “Hey, call security. There’s a guy in here I’ve never seen before, and I don’t think he’s supposed to be here. Height is probably six-five. Weight is around two seventy or two eighty. The guy is solid muscle, tan, Caucasian, black hair.” I watched as she jotted everything down. “Got it?”

“Yeah,” she said as she grabbed the phone, but I didn’t wait to hear the conversation.

Walking toward the office beside her, I knocked on the door as I opened it, and flashed a smile at my boss, Eli Jenkins.

“Hey, Liam, come in and have a seat.”

I sat in one of the two chairs on the other side of his desk, and waited for whatever he had to say as he sat directly next to me. Despite what I’d told Cecily, I wasn’t worried about losing my job. I knew Eli liked me and my work, and I was on the same path he’d taken in this industry. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know about Cecily and me, and our interoffice relationship wasn’t exactly allowed.

Before he could say anything else, his eyes snapped up when the door to his office quickly opened.

“Two hundred and seventy, to two hundred and eighty pounds? Hardly.”

I turned quickly at the deep voice, and my eyes widened at the roided-out guy from the hall.

“Two hundred eighty five, actually. I’m proud of those extra five pounds.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked, standing up from the chair. Turning to look at Eli, I pointed at the guy. “I had security called on him.”

“He called me, ‘old man’, can you believe that?” The guy snorted. “At least you were right about the height. Good one, kid.” He walked around to sit in Eli’s desk chair, and I looked back and forth between him and where Eli was sitting next to me.

Eli rolled his eyes. “Liam Taylor, it’s not exactly a pleasure to introduce you, but this is Mason Gates. He’s a close friend of my sister and her husband.”

“You still don’t like me?” Mason asked Eli. “It was twenty-three years ago.”

Eli shot him a hard look. “She’s my sister. No, I still don’t like you.” Glancing over to me, Eli explained, “He also dated my other sister.”

Mason snorted a laugh at the word “dated”, but didn’t say anything else to piss off Eli. Nodding in my direction, he said, “He’s good. Probably dumb as shit, but he’s funny, and he was pretty spot-on about me. Minus the steroids.”

“I’m lost,” I whispered to the room, and then looked at Mason. “What was your deal in the hall?”

“I already knew I wasn’t going to like you. Any other questions?”

“Mason,” Eli barked, then looked at me. “Act like he’s not here. For whatever reason, he felt the need to be here when I talked with you.”

“Okay…” I said, drawing out the word. “Talk to me about what?”

“Mason just brought my nieces to California from Florida so they could get away from a situation going on back home, and they’re not exactly happy about being here. They know they need to be here, and that’s all that’s keeping them from going back to Florida, but they need something to do to keep them busy. A job, friends … anything. And I was hoping that you would be able to help with that.”

I waited to see if he would add anything, and when he didn’t, I shrugged. “I—sure. I mean, I don’t know how much I can do for them to find friends, but if they’re old enough for the gym, I know my dad is looking for a few people.”

Mason cleared his throat, and Eli gave him an annoyed look before saying, “We also need to make sure that one of them, Kira, doesn’t try to run back home. She has a boyfriend and is taking the separation harder than her sister. My sister and brother-in-law trust my judgment to find someone who can do that. I trust you as much as I trust my own son, and I think you and your connections will be exactly what they need to settle in here.”

I laughed hesitantly and looked at both of them for a few seconds. “Are you serious? I’m not a babysitter, Eli; we work in advertising. Besides that, I’m twenty-four, what do you expect me to do with these girls that will make it seem okay for me to even act like their friend?”

“I knew I didn’t like him,” Mason blurted out and stood. “Meeting over.”

“Sit down,” Eli ordered, but didn’t look to make sure he did. “Liam, my nieces just turned twenty-two, they’re close to your age. And no one is asking you to babysit them.”

“You want me to make sure one of them doesn’t run back to her boyfriend! That sounds like babysitting,” I argued.

“Still don’t like him,” Mason chimed in, but Eli and I didn’t bother responding to him.

“I don’t need you to watch her every move, I was just hoping that you could maybe include them in whatever you and your friends are doing one or two times over the weekends. See if the girls get along with you or your friends, try to get them to have a good time so they won’t focus on how much they don’t want to be here. You don’t have to give up your life for them, Liam. And if you aren’t willing to do that, and if your dad does have space at the gym for them, that would be more than enough. I won’t ask you for anything else.” When I just sat there staring at him, Eli leaned closer. “Please. I’d have my son do this, but you know he’s backpacking through Europe this summer with his friends.”

If it had been something as simple as inviting his nieces to a party, I would do it in a heartbeat. But with Mason there—whatever his real reasons—and with the part that still sounded like I’d be babysitting them, I knew there was something else behind this than the girls just needing to be introduced to a few people. The fact that there was a “situation” back in Florida, and that they didn’t want to be here, only confirmed that thought. But Eli was my mentor. I’d interned for him in college, and he’d hired me on after the internship had ended. He’d continued helping me throughout the last couple years of college, always pushing me to work harder and be better, and then did the same so I would work my way up in his company after I’d graduated. He’d done more than I could’ve ever asked for, and this was the first thing he’d asked of me. No matter how odd it seemed, I knew I couldn’t tell him no.

“Okay,” I finally agreed. “I’ll call my dad. I know for a fact that he needs new people for the drink station in the gym. I’ll see if he can interview them and let you know when.”

“Perfect,” Eli said on a relieved sigh. “They’ve already been here a week, I know they need to get out of their condo.”

I nodded and reluctantly said, “And I’ll make sure whichever one you mentioned won’t go running back to her boyfriend. I’m sure a bunch of us will end up at the beach this weekend, at least. I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Still don’t like him,” Mason said again. “I vote we find someone else.”

I rolled my eyes and looked over at him. “Why did you even need to be here?”

“A question I’ve already asked a few times,” Eli mumbled.

Mason’s teasing tone and expression quickly left, leaving him looking at me the exact way he had been in the hallway. “I’m here because someone needs to tell you that you aren’t to touch either of them. Rachel and Kash may trust Eli’s choice in you being the one to help them out, that doesn’t mean I do. No one chose you so you would have another girl to fuck.”

“Mason,” Eli snapped, but Mason’s gaze never left me.

One eyebrow rose, and a short laugh burst from my chest. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t try to hide the girl who was in your office earlier, and that already makes me not like you as much as I could. You see an opportunity in a girl, and you take it. Trust me, I get it. I was the same way when I was your age, which is why Eli still hates me. But those girls mean the world to Eli, to me, and to their parents. This is me warning you now, if you touch one of those girls, you will have all three of us on you. And their dad is the last person you want to piss off. Your job is to be their friend. Nothing more.”

“Noted,” I huffed as I stood to leave the office. “Anything else, Eli?”

He shook his head at Mason, and sighed when he looked back at me. “Just remind Cecily that I don’t want her in your office.”

The corner of my mouth tilted up and I nodded as I turned to leave. “I’ll call my dad and let you know what he says.”

“I appreciate it, Liam. Really,” he called out as I reached the door.

Mason snorted. “Still don’t like him.”

The feeling was mutual.

Author’s Bio

Molly McAdams grew up in California but now lives in the oh-so-amazing state of Texas with her husband and furry daughter. Her hobbies include hiking, snowboarding, traveling and long walks on the beach, which roughly translates to being a homebody with her hubby and dishing out movie quotes. When she’s not at work, she can be found hiding out in her bedroom surrounded by her laptop, cell, Kindle and fighting over the TV remote. She has a weakness for crude-humored movies, fried pickles and loves curling up in a fluffy comforter during a thunderstorm…or under one in a bathtub if there are tornados. That way she can pretend they aren’t really happening.

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Tag Archives: Chapter Reveal

Chapter Reveal + Giveaway : Cold Hearted by Toni Anderson -Cold Justice Series – Book 6

COLD HEARTED by Toni Anderson releases May 31st – but we didn’t want you to wait to get a peek at what’s in store for you! Take a look at the first chapter below and enter to win a $25 giftcard!

About COLD HEARTED

Read the first chapter of COLD HEARTED now:

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About Toni Anderson

Cover Reveal + Sneak Peek…Chapter One: Anti-Romance by Cassia Leo

Chapter Reveal: Fatal Beauty by Nazarea Andrews

Today we are revealing chapter 1 from FATAL BEAUTY by author Nazarea Andrews. This book will be released October 13th and it is an Adult Thriller.

Click here to ADD THE BOOK TO GOODREADS

FATAL BEAUTY BOOK BLURB:

EXCERPT:

Chapter Reveal: Getting Hot by Mia Storm

Chapter 1
Bran

Chapter Reveal: Screwed by Kendall Ryan

We are very excited for this brand new standalone from Kendall Ryan. Releasing on September 15 we get a peek at a sexy romantic comedy from the NYT Bestselling author.

Chapter One

Sneak Peek …. Prologue and Chapter One… Giveaway….Trusting Liam by Molly McAdams

COLD HEARTED by Toni Anderson releases May 31st – but we didn’t want you to wait to get a peek at what’s in store for you! Take a look at the first chapter below and enter to win a $25 giftcard!

About COLD HEARTED

Read the first chapter of COLD HEARTED now:

Want to win?

About Toni Anderson

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Today we are revealing chapter 1 from FATAL BEAUTY by author Nazarea Andrews. This book will be released October 13th and it is an Adult Thriller.

Click here to ADD THE BOOK TO GOODREADS

FATAL BEAUTY BOOK BLURB:

EXCERPT:

Share this:

Chapter 1 Bran

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We are very excited for this brand new standalone from Kendall Ryan. Releasing on September 15 we get a peek at a sexy romantic comedy from the NYT Bestselling author.

Chapter One

Share this:

Share this:

Chapter 1
Bran