The Secret by Kristen Proby ~ Release Blitz

The Secret by Kristen Proby is now live!

From NYT and USA Today Bestselling author Kristen Proby comes a forbidden romance. The Secret is the first in the Single in Seattle series!

Vaughn is everything I’m supposed to stay away from. Sexy. Cocky. And famous.

I grew up in a family full of wealthy celebrities. My father, Luke Williams, is the celebrity of them all. A superstar actor and producer, my father knows the downside of living in the spotlight. And because of that, he sheltered my siblings and me from everything Hollywood entailed. We didn’t attend premieres. We weren’t photographed. There were no friendships with other celebrities’ children.

The limelight couldn’t touch us.

But now, at twenty-five, I’m ready to start my life, working for my father’s production company in downtown Seattle–until Vaughn Barrymore walks through the door.

He can’t keep his hands off me. He’s completely forbidden, but I can’t help falling for the sweet, complicated man.

When–and it’s when not if–my family finds out that I’ve been keeping this secret, will I have to choose between the man I love and those who mean the most to me? Or, by some miracle, can I have both?

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Narrated by: Erin Mallon & Tim Paige


Meet Kristen

Kristen Proby has published more than forty titles, many of which have hit the USA Today, New York Times and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers lists. She continues to self publish, best known for her With Me In Seattle and Boudreaux series, and is also proud to work with William Morrow, a division of HarperCollins, with the Fusion and Romancing Manhattan Series.

Kristen and her husband, John, make their home in her hometown of Whitefish, Montana with their two cats.

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Dating Dilemma by Mariah Ankenman ~ Release Blitz

Mariah Ankenman
Release Date: January 24

Lexi Martin is on the eve of her birthday and all she has to show for it is debt, a crappy apartment, a nonexistent social life, and a somewhat evil cat. So maybe she might be excused for thinking the extraordinarily hot fireman in her office might be an early birthday present from her roommate. Except that Dyson O’Neil isn’t a stripper. He’s a real firefighter. Aaaand excuse me while I burn in the fires of humiliation.

Dyson hasn’t believed in love for a long time. But between his reputation as “One Night O’Neil” and his matchmaking sisters, he needs make a bold move. And so he makes Lexi an offer. He’ll help her youth center pass a fire safety inspection—if she’ll pretend to be his girlfriend. But one kiss in and he’s in over his head.

Now their sizzling kisses are far from fake, and it’s a disaster. Because that means the heat between Lexi and Dyson is real. And where there’s smoke, someone’s heart will definitely be going down in flames…

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Meet Mariah Ankenman

Bestselling author Mariah Ankenman lives in the beautiful Rocky Mountains with her two rambunctious daughters and loving spouse who provides ample inspiration for her heart-stopping heroes.

Mariah loves to lose herself in a world of words. Her favorite thing about writing is when she can make someone’s day a little brighter with one of her books. To learn more about Mariah and her books, follow her on social media or sign up for her newsletter.

Mariah is represented by Eva Scalzo of the Speilburg Literary Agency

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Take Me by CD Reiss ~ Blog Tour w/ Excerpt!

Kidnapped on my wedding day.
Held by a monster who wants vengeance on my father.
Married to him against my will.

Take Me, the delicious and dangerously dark mafia romance from New York Times bestselling author C.D. Reiss is available now!

Mafia King, Dario Lucari spent years planning his revenge. Today, he executes it.

Kidnapped on my wedding day.

Held by a monster who wants vengeance on my father.

Married to him against my will.

Suddenly thrust into a world of betrayal, lies and deviance, all I have to do to escape is destroy everything I’ve ever loved, and love the man I must destroy.

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How can I still be here? I clutch the sharp piece of pottery under my glove. It’s a safety blanket. A choice I can make in a situation where my decisions are meaningless.

Hovering in half consciousness, my eyes are closed when the door bangs open again and Dario enters, carrying a tall glass of water. He sets it on a dirty counter in front of me, then leans against the table, crossing one long leg over the other.

I get to my feet and approach the glass, wary but unable to stay away from it. I’ve never been this thirsty in my life; my eyeballs burn, and my tongue is cracked into layers of plaster.

Dario watches me silently, but as I reach out to take the glass, he slaps my hand away. I’m already weak and dizzy, and the force of the blow makes me stumble and spin.

“Please!” I cry. I realize I’m on my knees. I had intended to be strong, to refuse to let him see me suffer any more, but I am so, so thirsty.

“Take that stupid dress off.”

I shake my head. I’m past caring about modesty. I care about the dress. It’s ruined, but it’s mine. I worked on it for months, my fingers numb from stitching, my eyes and back aching as I labored into the night. It may be the only piece of home left to me besides my own body, and I will not take it off.

He shrugs and picks up the glass of water.

I remain defiant.

He turns to go.

And when I feel the triangle of clay inside the wrist of my glove, I think, with blinding clarity, I cannot die here.

“Okay,” I say.

He stops, turns around, but does not put down the glass.

I slip the dress off slowly, regretfully, because as awful as it looks, the fabric is still fine, soft and sweet, a reminder of who I was and what I expected so few sunrises ago. The gloves stay and so do the undergarments I wore to please Sergio because Dario just said to take off the dress and I’m weak but not dead. I’m not giving him anything he doesn’t ask for.

He places the glass back on the table. Then he sweeps a hand through the dust and dirt on its surface and sprinkles them into the water. I watch helplessly as it clouds over in the sunlight.

“Down to the skin,” he says. “Show me every inch.”

The suggestion in his command floods my dry veins with resistance.

“You said the dress.” I hold out my left hand—the one without the distorting piece of pottery under the glove. “Give it to me.”

This time, he takes a discarded nursery container and pinches out white-flecked potting soil. He drops it in the water like a chef seasoning too heavily.

“It’s going to be mud soon,” he says. “If you aren’t naked.”

“Where’s my father?” I squeak without spit. “Did he give you what you want?”

“Haven’t spoken to him since the car.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“We tried. He won’t negotiate with outsiders . . . so . . . take off all your fucking clothes.”

I do everything I can not to keep from crying as I lower my white lace underpants and slip out of my matching bra, hands shaking the entire time. I leave the gloves and garter, hoping they’re beside the point.

“I know what you’re hiding in your glove. You’re not going to kill me with a broken flower pot.”

“It wasn’t for you.”

He nods with understanding but not compassion, as if knowing suicide is on the table adds to a data point and no more, then flicks his finger at me. I peel off the gloves. The shard clatters to the floor. I am now naked except for one thing.

“The garter.”

“Not that.” I ball my hands into fists and look at the floor. “Please.”

He says nothing. I can’t see him, so I let myself hope that he’s considering letting me keep this one strip of fabric and elastic that’s tying me to this earth, to my identity, to the one person who loved me like no other. Maybe he’ll find it arousing.

I’ll risk it, even embrace it, for that glass of cloudy water.

The sound of a plop and a splash catches my attention, and I look up to see him slowly pouring a thin line of water onto the tile.

With a gasp, thoughts of my mother are gone, and I rip off the garter before I lose another precious drop, throwing it at his feet.

“There,” I say, finally bare before him, exposed as I have never been before a man.

My breath skips, and I finally cry, but I don’t have enough water in my body to make tears or snot over this destroyed moment—the first time a man’s eyes see my skin, my nipples, my utter vulnerability.

The moment I took that dress off was supposed to be one of the most beautiful of my life. Instead, it is a violation.

He isn’t satisfied yet though.

“Stay still,” he commands.

He walks behind me, hovering for a moment before grabbing my hair and yanking it back so that I’m gazing up into the camera’s merciless eye.

“Can you imagine how good it will feel,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my neck, “when I let you drink?” He lays his other hand under my chin and slides it down as he speaks. “That cold, sweet water sliding down your throat?”

I nod helplessly, gulping what feels like a lump of garden pebbles.

“Even with a little dirt, a little dust, you’ll take it all down, won’t you? You’re just about ready to beg for it.”

“I’ll beg,” I agree with a voice I don’t recognize. “I’ll do it.”

“You need it,” he says, and I can feel the cruelty of the smile in his voice.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please… please…”

“Say it for the camera.”

Who’s on the other side? His boss? My family? The entire world?

“Please give it to me.”

“Let me swallow it,” he whispers thickly. “Beg.”

“Let . . . let me swallow it all. Please.”

“I know what your body needs. And what you’ll do to get it.”

And then, just as abruptly as he’d grabbed me, he spins me around so that I’m facing him and he pushes me to my knees.

“This will go much easier for you if you play along,” he murmurs.

I’m so weak and dizzy I almost tip over before he pulls me up by the hair on top of my head.

“Steady, principessa.” With his free hand, he opens the fly of his pants, exposing the thick bulge beneath cotton underwear.

He’s going to take it out and force me to taste his cock. Take it down my throat. Swallow his come.

I’ve spent my life waiting for this, and I don’t want it this way . . . but I want it. My body aches to just give up, taste whatever he puts on my tongue. I look up at him, offering whatever he’s willing to take as long as he gives me something to drink.

But he does not release his erection.

Instead, he pulls my head into his crotch. The fabric is damp on my lips, heavy and musty on my nose as he grinds into my face. And he’s hard. So hard. He forces the shape of his shaft along the opening between my lips, and I taste no more than an essence of him . . . but it’s enough. My clit fills and drops, weighted by a constant, brutal pulse of arousal that’s timed to the way he pushes into my face, holding my head still.

My hands steady me against his thighs, then pull him closer.

I want it.

I surrender.

I’ll suck him for water or a glass of sand.

Why is he keeping it behind his clothes?

“Yes,” he growls, putting both hands behind my head and pushing me into his crotch so hard his erection feels like stone on my chin.

I put out my tongue, licking the damp fabric. He stops for a moment. His growl turns into a gasp, and the clothed organ against me pulses. A warm wetness gathers at my cheek.

Then he lets me go, and I fall back on my hands, gasping as I notice the thick wet stain where he came as I licked him.

“Okay,” he says, zipping up. He’s bored again, casual as he hands the glass to me by the top. “You can drink now.”

I do. I am shameless and desperate. I hold it with both hands and savor every drop, dirt and all.

He leaves before I finish, apparently not interested in watching me debase myself further.

I lie naked where he left me, legs in the letter K, bare skin on cold tile, the empty glass a few inches from my hand, watching the clouds form in the grid above me.

The door clicks and whooshes open. The room spins when I bolt to a sitting position. A tray of food, accompanied by a whole pitcher of water, is pushed across the threshold.

The door claps shut again, and the deadbolt smacked home.

I glance at the camera. He’s watching. He has to be.

I should stand up and walk like a human, but by the time I finish making that decision, I’m already crawling on my hands and knees like an animal.

The tray contains a plastic clamshell with a sandwich inside—pink meat spills from a circle of bread split into a pocket. Hushing the raging hunger for a moment, I peek into the pocket and find cheese and the familiarity of mayonnaise. A pink container of yogurt proudly proclaims—next to a bulbous strawberry—that it has REAL FRUIT inside.

I rip it open, ready to suck it down, but I stop.

I stand carefully, my head still swimming not just from my hunger and thirst and poor night’s sleep, but from what just happened. I walk over to my discarded pile of garments and put them on again: the underwear and bra, the ruined dress, my shoes—one close by and one under the camera. I slide the garter up my leg.

I leave the gloves and shard.

Then I put the tray on the counter, right a white plastic chair that matches the one on the roof, and—dressed in silk garments that were once a hopeful symbol of my purity but are now nothing more than a painful, ridiculous reminder of everything I have lost—I hydrate and nourish myself, dreaming of the day I escape the man named Dario with shadow eyes and an empty heart.

About CD Reiss

CD Reiss is a New York Times bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up she’s at the well hauling buckets.

Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere but it did give her a big enough ego to write novels.

She’s frequently referred to as the Shakespeare of Smut which is flattering but hasn’t ever gotten her out of chopping that cord of wood.

If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.

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The Brain by January James ~ Release Blitz

If things aren’t done the way I want them to be, someone pays.

The Brain, a standalone romance full of twists and turns from January James is available now!

My job? Protect the business

My calling? Protect the girl

I’m not just head of the security team, I’m the brain behind Starling Key, Florida’s luxury beach resort. Only nobody knows. Not even the man who owns it.

I’m anal, I’m meticulous, I’m a perfectionist.

I do not tolerate unprofessionalism.

If things aren’t done the way I want them to be, someone pays.

And with a past like mine, the cost is high.

When Tawny Graham crashes—literally—into the Key, she threatens my grand plans.

She’s a stumbling, infuriating nightmare,

With a body that taunts me and eyes that haunt me.

And I can’t be distracted. Not when I’m so close.

Then I find out the real reason she’s here,

And that changes everything.

Download your copy today!


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Meet January

January James lives in the smallest cottage in East Sussex with her husband, daughter and imaginary cockapoo (she will get one, one day!)

​Until recently, she inhabited the fast-paced, adrenalin-fueled workplaces she writes about as a communications professional. Now she spends her days dreaming up new characters and stories and trying her best to avoid indoor soft play.

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Little Mate by Elena M. Reyes ~ Release Blitz

Little Mate by Elena M. Reyes is now live!

There’s no one above a KING…
And yet, I’m restless.
I’m an uncontrollable beast that throbs in time with the heartbeat lulling me closer while a sweet, feminine scent overtakes my senses. I’ve never felt this before—a hunger so frenzied that I’m lost to its call. This siren’s song is solely meant for me, and I give in without pause or question.
Because I know and accept.
A single drop of blood running through her veins is worth more than every soul walking this earth. She is now what tethers me to this world.
And the second I see her face, I’m done for. Nothing fucking matters.

I’ll live and breathe for my Queen. My pretty girl.

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Little Mate is  the prequel to Little Lies!

Read Little Lies today!

Meet Elena M. Reyes

Elena M. Reyes is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.

As a small child, she was always intrigued by all forms of art: whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure, but it wasn’t until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world.

She’s a short and sassy Latina with an adorable pup, a kiddo that keeps her on her toes, and a husband who claims she’ll cause him to go bald prematurely. Lol

Want to keep up to date with Elena’s crazy book life?

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