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We Like Bad Boys! Book Blitz

This is where Millie is in a sex club, trying to track down a suitably tattooed bad boy to rile her father…..

The visual of the man leaving the room hits me instantly, like a visceral call from every single tiny piece of me. I can only watch, my heart in my throat as the man exits, running a hand through his dark hair. He looks thoroughly worn out, like he’s had a good time in that private room, and it fills me with livid, hot jealousy.
Wearing dark grey jeans and black biker boots, a black T-shirt is balled up in his fist that showcases his heavily-inked torso. And it’s magnificent, leanly strong with dense, intriguing tattoos covering just about every inch of it. I’m too far away to distinguish many, but one dominates his back: an angel. The broad black wings are spread wide, the feathers edging over the curve of his biceps. He has full-length sleeves too, but because his head is slightly bowed, all I can see is a neat beard on a cut jawline. Chestnut-brown hair flops onto his forehead even when he stabs a hand through it again, his arm muscles rippling with the movement.
He is absolutely breathtaking.
My feet move before I have a chance to think it through, desperate to follow the gorgeous man who’s already disappearing towards the front door. He’s dragging the T-shirt back on his body, and even in the relative dark of the main room I can see his back muscles work, gleaming in some light from the TV screen. He has the physique of someone who works with their body on a daily basis. Who uses their strength to hone muscle and tighten abs. Who could show a woman a fucking good time.
I want to know what lucky bitch got to be with him, working up a delicious sweat. I want to torture myself with that image, wishing it were me. Because I don’t just want to proposition this man to help me out. To enrage my father and make him rethink his plans.
I want him. I want him so badly that my heart hurts.

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Powder or Liquid? Book Blitz

Her eyes found the offending window, and the Streaker who launched through it. What had once been a squat man in a flannel shirt and jeans had turned into a distended corpse in blood-crusted rags, its bloated stomach exposed for all. The Streaker wore a wrinkled face with the consistency of a peach left too long in the sun. One arm hung limp, fingers gnawed away.
Did something do that to the Streaker, or did it eat away at its own flesh?
The monster staggered to the curb and stopped, pointing its chin to the sky, and taking in a breath through black, decayed nostrils. Its next meal had arrived, served up and ready to be consumed. Patches of skin had been torn away, exposing the rot that lived underneath. With a mewl, it lumbered at Jenna. The Streaker’s stare met her with singular intent. Eyes dead and unblinking, it closed the distance between them. She equaled food, and the risen dead was hungry.
In a practiced motion, Jenna released her bowie knife from the sheath on her belt. The monster stumbled over a garbage can in its path. Moving close, it reached out.
“What’s that smell?” Jenna ducked and swung low and hard. “Step back, foul one. God, you reek. Haven’t bathed in forever I’d guess. Personal hygiene not a priority these days?”
The Streaker growled in response and stretched a mottled, pus-clotted arm to grab her camo jacket.
“They’re slower than they used to be, Jenna, but don’t get too smug. The bite might not kill you, but the infection can.” Lilly tilted her head. “Need help?”
Eric moved closer, a similar knife in his hand. “Don’t worry. I got you covered.”
Jenna kicked at the creature. “Eric and I can handle this.”
The Streaker staggered back, but then surged forward again. “I’ll keep watch.” Lilly surveyed their surroundings. “Where there’s one, more to come.”
“Did you just make that up?” Eric asked.
“I like to rhyme,” Lilly said. “Appears clear.”
“One of your many talents.” Eric sent a smile her way and turned back to face the enemy.
“Come here, big boy.” Jenna took a step back into the center of the road where less debris meant less to trip over.
“Me or the monster?” Eric joked.
The Streaker trailed Jenna, the remains of its ragged flannel shirt fluttering open. Guts leaked out of its sliced chest cavity and slipped out of the tattered remains of clothing.
Jenna gagged. “There’s something no girl ever wants to see. Put it away and be a gentleman.”
“The gentlemanly thing to do would be to find dinner somewhere else.” Eric moved behind the creature. The undead mewled.
“That’s all you got for me?” She stepped back, hoisted the bowie blade, and slashed. The knife embedded itself between the creature’s eyes. She sliced higher. The blade released with a pucker. She stepped back. The zombie closed in. “Guess I missed my mark.” Jenna dodged the lumbering monster.
Eric’s knife slashed the Streaker’s back with a repeated, steady swing. Strips of skin and black goo melted to the ground.
Jenna sliced across the creature’s neck, stabbed, and drew her knife away, hearing the suck of release. She skidded back. “Why won’t it die?” Jenna eyed the creature for a weakness.
“Maybe you have bad aim.” Eric carved out new wounds, but the monster stretched its arm making it impossible to get close.
“Could be that it’s already dead.” Jenna frowned. “I have great aim and practice a lot more than you to make sure I never lose it.”
“I’m younger and more fit.”
“We’ll see about that.” Jenna moved behind the writhing creature. She hoped to catch it unaware, but the monster spun, its lifeless eyes meeting hers. Jenna jumped back and huffed out a breath. “So much for the element of surprise.” She’d better practice those battle skills a few more hours a day.
“What’s the plan?” Eric sidestepped to refocus the Streaker’s attention on him. “More firepower? Bring out the big guns?”
“Don’t want to attract more.”
Eric scooted close and then backed away. “I’ll draw its attention. You finish it from the rear.”
“Sounds like a firm plan.”
“Not in this case.”
Jenna eyed the undead. “True. Very saggy from this view.”
“Get on with it, you two.” Lilly waved a hand at them. “I don’t want to hang around here any longer than I have to.”

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Ice flows: Book Blitz

Ice Floe Excerpt: Chapter 6
We’ve been sitting on the ledge a while now, mostly staring at the view. I steal occasional glances at Tucker. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a force between us. Energy. A pulse. A magnet. Something. Every time I focus my thoughts elsewhere, he pulls me back in. It’s distracting. “You ready to head down?” he asks. “You might as well get started. I can’t climb down with all your equipment in the way.” “I have an extra harness. You should come down with me.” He reaches for his pack and stands up. I jump up to join him. “No way. I’m not hooking myself into that death trap.” “Glacia, come on. This cliff is super challenging, and it’s way more difficult to climb down than up,” he says, his voice growing louder. Here we go again. “I’ll be fine once you get your stuff out of the way.” I raise my volume to match his. “It’s not safe. I would feel horrible if I let you climb down and you got hurt.” “Let me?” “Not let you. It’s your choice.” “I choose NO.” He clenches his jaw tightly and grinds his teeth. I take a few steps back in preparation. There’s enough room up here to land a solid kick to the face. That should knock him out, then I’ll have to figure out a way to climb down his cat’s cradle setup. Tucker crosses one arm over his chest and raises a hand to cover his mouth. We glare at each other – at an impasse. “Let’s make a deal,” he offers. “You climb down with me using a harness and rope, and I’ll take you on a boat ride.” This catches my attention. “That’s right, I saw you light up when I mentioned my dad’s boat shop,” he continues with a cocky air. He’s more perceptive than I gave him credit for. Volatile and perceptive. A hefty combination. “Have you ever been on a boat?” he asks.
I shake my head. I would love to go on a boat. Tucker knows how to fix them and can teach me everything a trainer could, plus more. What am I thinking? This is crazy. I can’t go on a boat with a human. What excuse would I give if I got caught? I can’t pretend I’m seducing. Everyone knows that’s not high on my priority list, and you’re not supposed to seduce alone. Maybe I could say that I’m collecting information to share with the girls I teach… Hmm. That’s almost believable, given my dedication to the studio. Tucker can tell I’m on the fence about it and ups the ante. “I’ll teach you to drive the boat.” Unfair. Of course, I want to learn how to drive a boat. That’s a beyond useful skill in my back pocket. I peek down the cliff face to assess the reliability of Tucker’s wedge-rope system. Stupid. Like I know what I’m looking for. “Fine,” I agree. “We need to be hooked together, so if I die, you die.” “Seems reasonable.” “AND I get to drive the boat.” “Deal. Let’s see, today is Monday, and I already have plans tomorrow. Wednesday?” “What time?” “Eleven a.m. on the Ula pier.” “I’ll meet you there.” Tucker flips his pack around, unclips a belt, and offers it to me. “Do you know how to wear a harness?” I snatch it from him, compare it to his gear, and step into the leg holes. When I have it all clipped in, I throw my hands on my hips. “Now what?” I ask. Tucker leans in toward me, rope in hand, then pulls back and reconsiders. “That’s not quite right,” he says haltingly. “Can I fix your harness?” “I already agreed to this mess, didn’t I?” He rolls his eyes. “I think that’s a yes. Pull the harness up – it has to sit higher on your hips.” I follow his instructions, and he flops the rope over one arm. He moves in closer and bends down to reposition the harness. His fingers wrap around the loop against my leg as he pulls it up below my hip. My heart beats faster and my insides twists.
I evaluate the top of Tucker’s head in an effort to distinguish these sensations from other emotions. He secures the loop and raises his gaze to meet mine. “Is that too tight?” he asks. His hazel eyes penetrate mine. The edges are a deep brown that blend into a murky green with an amber starburst around the pupil. I shake my head and look away. I hope he can’t tell how disoriented this is making me. “Pull the tabs on your waist tighter,” he instructs. I cinch the waist while he rearranges the other loop on my leg. Why is this making me so agitated? He’s only fixing my gear so I don’t fall to my death. Tucker gathers the rope into his hand and reaches out to tie it to the front belt loop. As he does, his fingers brush my skin just below my belly button. A jolt of electricity shoots through my body. I take in a small gasp of air and hold my breath. He freezes, his fingers lingering on my stomach. Did he feel that too?

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What to ‘Eat’? Book Blitz

Fucking hell, this isn’t the time to be reminiscing. The atmosphere becomes stifling. My breathing labors. I can feel Simone getting closer.
I look across the room and gasp, taking a couple of breaths to get my treacherous heart under control. The bastard betrays me, thumping erratically at the sight of her.
Is it even possible that Simone has gone from beautiful to otherworldly? She ages like fine wine. Yeah, that shit is cliché, but it’s not when it’s true. Her dress hugs every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination. My eyes follow the deep v down her chest, showing the swell of her breasts.
I want to run over and shield her from the eyes watching her. Old habits die hard.
Every motherfucker in here can see her.
She’s not yours.
My mouth curves up with an image of her on her knees, my hands fisting her hair as she gags on my cock.
I’m fucking sick.
I shake my head to rid myself of the image.
Our eyes collide. Turmoil brews in their depth. Simone braces herself for my reaction. She drags her eyes across my body, giving it a once-over. My stomach muscles knot like rope at the perusal. There’s no warm embrace. Simone doesn’t run to me, begging for forgiveness.

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Let’s Drink to that! Book Blitz

The hallway to the office is a short distance away, and I make my way toward it. The loudness of the bar fades away the closer I get to the office. Now where is that box? Scanning the shelf, I don’t see it anywhere. I squeeze behind the door, bumping it slightly as I reach up to look at the boxes higher on the shelf. There. Of course, it’s on the top one. I really need to get some kind of a ladder in here. Especially since there are more people working here that may need to get something.
My hand goes up to grab the box, and I feel a sudden presence behind me. The door creaking before a soft thud as it shuts. “Here, let me help you with that.”
Before I have a chance to turn around or offer any sort or rebuttal, Dylan’s hands are covering mine on the box. They are warm and softer than I expected, and I can’t deny the sparks that course through my body at the contact. My hands slide off the box as he brings it down in front of us. Me, caught between him and the shelf. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m perfectly capable of pulling a box down.”
I turn around to face him. That was a mistake. With my back to him, I could pretend his mere presence didn’t have an effect on me, but now…I don’t know if I can hide my reactions as easily. “You sure about that? The last time you tried aprons fell all over the floor.”
Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Keep your eyes focused in front of you. His chest is perfectly reasonable to talk to, right? “And that’s because you intervened.” Jesus, this is ridiculous. My eyes move up his body. Above his chest, to his chiseled jaw, and up until I can see his eyes. Yep, big mistake. They hide nothing. Want simmers in their deep brown depths. The ball is in my court, and the way he’s looking at me makes it hard to keep my wits about it.
A part of me wants to knock the box out of his hands and climb him like a tree. The other part knows damn well I don’t need to venture down this path. This way lies heartache and broken promises. “Angie, are you still with me?” The box holding the mini straws and napkins falls to the floor. “Hello?”
That shakes me out of my thoughts. “Yeah, sorry what were you saying?”
“I was talking smack on your awesome box getting skills.” He bends down until he’s eye level with me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just can’t think.” I turn, but I’m trapped between Dylan and the shelf. His arms are on either side of me. My hand goes to his arm to push him away and stop at the sound of his voice.
“Is there a reason you can’t think? Am I that reason?” I don’t have to see his face to know he’s smirking. I can tell by his voice, low and seductive. When the fuck did he master that?
“Does it matter?” I try for annoyed, but it’s clearly not working. “I need to get this box to Carlos.”
“Okay,” he leans in closer. His breath a soft whisper against my ear. “But, answer one question.” He waits for me to speak up, and I don’t. I want to know what he’s going to ask. “Do you feel anything toward me? I think I’ve made my interest pretty damn clear.”
I could lie. Lying would be a hell of a lot easier, but I can’t. Not now. Not with him so close to me. “I’m attracted to you. In ways I shouldn’t be.” A glance toward him is all it takes to know that he doesn’t give a damn that I shouldn’t have any feelings toward him. A wide grin is all I can see. And fuck if I don’t want to kiss him. To see if he’s as confident as he lets on.
My toes lift of their own volition, and I do just that. I need to know. Maybe then whatever the hell I’m experiencing around him will stop. I mean for it to be a quick peck, but soon my lips are parting and I’m deepening the kiss. I fully expect him to pull away, or grab me. Something to give me an idea of what he’s thinking. All I can hear is the metal shelf behind me shaking. He has some restraint at least.
Before I can pull away the door opens and we jump apart from each other. “Angie, did you find the straws and napkins?” Carlos asks as he rounds the door. Dylan picks up the box and hands it to him before hurrying out of the office. Carlos pins me with a glare. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Ang.”

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