Saturday, March 31, 2018

A Little Spark Release Blitz with ARC Review!

Title: A Little Spark
Author: Amy K. McClung
Publisher: Hot Tree Publishing
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 31, 2018


Sparks fly when sassy firefighter Jilli meets her match in Amy K. McClung’s enemies-to-lovers romance. 

When Sam and Jillian meet, the snark and sparks start to fly. Despite their intense attraction, words and actions are misunderstood, and miscommunication is rife. Will their stubbornness be their downfall or the start of something extraordinary?


A strong heroine and a sexy charming hero...put them together and you get a romance that is full of sass, sparks, fun, and delicious, compelling lust! A Little Spark is entertainment at its FINEST. The banter is witty and full of funny snark and the sexual chemistry crackles with undeniable temptation. The characters are strong and the plot is a lot of fun. 

I like a romance that feels fresh and wholesome while giving me good feelings and fun times. It was an honest to god hoot and I LOVED it. Amy K. Mcclung knows her stuff when it comes to sassy writing and she now has me hooked on her words! 


Purchase Links

$1.99 (half price!) for a limited time


Author Bio

Amy McClung was born in Nashville, TN. She is the second oldest of four girls and occasionally suffers from middle child syndrome. She met the love of her life online in August of 2004, on his birthday of all days, and married him in September 2005. Currently they have no human children only the room full of colorful robots that transform into vehicles and the large headed Pop Funko’s who represent their favorite characters. Collecting movies, shotglasses, Pop Funkos, and dust bunnies are some of her favorite pastimes. She began writing in September of 2011 and independently published her first YA novel called Cascades of Moonlight, Book one of the Parker Harris Series the following May. Her first book was a means of therapy for her as it enabled her to escape reality for a while during a difficult transition in her life.  

Author Links

Friday, March 30, 2018

Live Teaser Reveal!


Liv's about to learn that life isn't always meant to be lived according to plan. Liv by Kelsie Rae releases April 17th!


Liv had her life all figured out until it was shattered by the loss of her husband. He left her a piece of him she hadn’t planned on. How can she pick up the pieces when she doesn’t know how? Liv: I never imagined my life would end up this way. I thought I had everything figured out until I got the call my husband was killed in a car accident and that my period was late. Dead Husband?: Check Positive Pregnancy Test?: Check Screwed Beyond Belief?: Double Check Luke: I was never supposed to see her again. That was the deal. Leave her and my ex-best friend behind to finally mend my broken heart and move on with life. And it was going smoothly, too. That is, until said ex-best friend dies and and his wife, Liv, lets a secret slip at his funeral that I can’t possibly ignore. Out of my freaking mind?: Check Extremely Angry Girlfriend who will kill me when she finds out I have a new roommate?: Check About to get my heart ripped in two?: Double Check


About Kelsie
Kelsie prides herself on writing straight from her own heart, which is how she fell into sweet contemporary romance. She's a sucker for a love story with all the feels. When she's not chasing words for her next book, you will probably find her reading or, more likely, playing with her "monsters". She adores chocolate, photography, baking, chick flicks, and running. And now that she's actively pursuing her writing dreams, she's set her sights on someday finding the self-discipline to not eat an entire batch of cookies in one sitting.

Follow Kelsie Online! 
Facebook →
Goodreads →

Thursday, March 29, 2018

Like A Boss Release Blitz with ARC Review!

Title: Like a Boss
Authors: Sylvia Pierce & Lili Valente
Genre: Sexy, Flirty, Dirty Office Romance
Release Date: March 29, 2018


I’m one puff piece away from tearing up my journalism degree and hurling my laptop into the Hudson River. So when I smell a juicy story brewing at my brother’s Wall Street investment firm, I’ll do whatever it takes to get my scoop.

One clever disguise later, I’m deep undercover as the firm’s newest broker, simultaneously gathering intel and spouting off stock tips like a boss.

Go me, right?

Sure, it sounds good on paper, but there’s a catch: The actual boss.

Chief Executive Panty-melter Jack Holt is cocky. Infuriating. And one smoldering look has me ready to violate every rule in the employee handbook.

Thank God my assignment has an expiration date. Because falling for my brother’s best friend and business partner is a lose-lose proposition. Right?


In the market for a hot tip? Here’s one.

Don’t bang your best friend’s little sister. Especially when she’s an investigative journalist and your company is the target of her latest exposé.

Unfortunately I’ve got a hard-on for high-risk bets, and I’m more than eager to invest my considerable stock holdings in Ellie Seyfried’s… ahem… glorious assets.

Friends with fringe benefits is a sweet deal, but it’s not long before I’m falling harder than the post-bubble Nasdaq, hooked on Ellie’s sweet smile and determination to make the world a better place.

There’s only one problem…

When it comes to risking my money, I’ve mastered every trick in the book. But how the hell do I risk my heart?



What a seriously HOT, had me fanning myself hero! He is arrogant, sexy, full of "I am the boss and you will know it" attitude and I swear, I felt like he could seduce a nun out of her panties! Ellie she is such a spunky, stubborn, determined woman with a kick butt attitude and who is definitely pretty and smart. The chemistry is OFF THE CHARTS HOT between Ellie and Jack. Their interactions were full of heat, innuendo and their banter was fantastic. I LOVED Like A Boss!


Purchase Links


Also available in audio, narrated by 
Sebastian York & Andi Arndt


Sylvia Pierce

Romance author Sylvia Pierce loves writing about kick-ass, headstrong women and the gorgeous alpha guys who never see them coming. She believes that life should be a lot like her favorite books—smoking hot, with happy endings and lots of temptations, twists, and trouble along the way. She lives in New York City with a strong, sexy husband who appreciates her devious mind, loves making her laugh, and always keeps her guessing. Like the heroes in her stories, Sylvia’s man didn’t see her coming… but after nearly twenty years together, he’s finally figured out who’s boss!

Visit her online at, or follow along at:

Lili Valente has slept under the stars in Greece, eaten dinner at midnight with French men who couldn’t be trusted to keep their mouths on their food, and walked alone through Munich’s red light district after dark and lived to tell the tale. 

These days you can find her writing in a tent beside the sea, drinking coconut water and thinking delightfully dirty thoughts.

Bashful Release Blitz with ARC Review!

Title: Bashful
Author: Lo Brynolf
Genre: New Adult Romantic Comedy
Release Date: March 29, 2018


Callie Miller loves drama. As a theatre major, that’s a given.

It’s hard to date in the theatre department when all the guys are either taken or gay—like her best friend and longtime crush.

When Callie becomes the lead in the biggest production of the year, she realizes she has no time for love.

Until Sebastian “Bash” Moore reenters her life, stage left.

He left everything behind three years ago to chase his dreams. But his heart remained at home, tied to memories of a tiny blonde with a flair for the dramatics—on and off the stage.

Bash is determined to become her leading man, and he will do anything to get out of the friend-zone and win her love. Only, it might not be so easy.

Callie Miller might love drama, but she’s out to protect her heart…


Bashful is a very cute, irresistibly funny romantic comedy that had me giggling on and off through the story! This is my first Lo Brynolf story and I just am so pleased with it! Brynolf has a all natural humor that you can plainly see with her writing. Bashful had wit, charm, entertainment, wonderfully satisfying characters and a too adorable for words storyline that will sure to please even the pickiest of romantic comedy lovers! 

Bashful had me enthralled from the very first chapter. The characters are funny and the banter is wonderfully smart and witty while the sexual tension crackles like a made me feel all warm and tingly. I smiled, I laughed a lot and I felt entertained. 


Purchase Links

99c for a limited time


Free in Kindle Unlimited

Author Bio

Lo Brynolf was born and raised in southeast Michigan. A lover of all things artistic, Lo grew up performing on stage and in choir and attended Eastern Michigan University to major in Theater Arts. She now resides in the same small town that she grew up in with her wonderful husband and three tiny humans.

Author Links

Royal Rebel Release Blitz with ARC Review!

Title: Royal Rebel
Series: Flings with Kings #2
Author: Jessica Peterson
Genre: Royal Romance/Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 29, 2018


Royal. Recklessly Rebellious. Totally Delicious.

SUBJECT: I'm sorry (Marked Confidential)
Sat 21 May 02:48 A.M.

From the Desk of His Royal Highness Prince Robert

Aly—can’t stop thinking about tonight. Never thought enemies like us would end up naked together. Again. Know you think I’m cocky, but come on, sweetheart…don’t tell me it’s not the best sex you’ve ever had.

I’m not a good man. But for the first time, I wish I were. Maybe then I’d deserve you. I don’t. Not when I come from a family like mine. All these secrets…

You’re gorgeous. Clever. You call me out on my bullshit, and I bloody adore it.

I adore you, sweetheart.

You have your new bloke. And I’m…me. The playboy prince. We’re not meant to be together. But staying away from you is killing me, Aly. Thinking about him touching you is killing me.

I’ve no right to talk to you like this. Im sorry. It’s the whiskey talking. This is what you do to me.


P.S.—I can’t send this. But I am thinking of you.


The single-handedly most entertaining enemies to lovers romance I have read so far this year! The sparks between Rob and Aly just snapped, crackled and had a heck of a great pop. The story was a up and down roller coaster of tension and emotions. It was sexy, feisty, fun, witty, and alluring as all get out. 

I fell in love with the wild and crazy banter between Rob and Aly. These two had such amazing chemistry and the way they seemed to butt heads while trying to not lose control on their raging desires was so enjoyable to witness. I love this series and things just get better and more entertaining with each new story. I am thoroughly charmed!  


Purchase Links

99c for release week only!


Free in Kindle Unlimited

Also Available


Free in Kindle Unlimited

Author Bio

Jessica Peterson began reading romance to escape the decidedly unromantic awkwardness of her teenage years. Having found solace in the likes of Mr. Darcy, Jamie Fraser (OMG love the gingers!), and Edward Cullen, it wasn’t long before she began creating tall, dark and handsome heroes of her own.

She lives in Charlotte, North Carolina with her husband, Mr. Peterson, and her smelly Goldendoodle Martha Bean. She is the author of the super sexy STUDY ABROAD and FLINGS WITH KINGS series. Check her out at

Author Links

Savage Prince Excerpt Reveal!

  SavagePrince availnowbanner    


Who knew things could get even darker and dirtier in New Orleans? New York Times bestselling author Meghan March introduces the Savage Prince of the city, the man you never want to meet. I do what I want and who I want. I don’t follow anyone’s rules—even my own. I knew I shouldn’t touch her, but it didn’t stop me. Didn’t stop me the second time either. Only made me want a third. My lifestyle suits the savage I am, and she doesn’t. But Temperance Ransom is my newest addiction, and I’m nowhere near ready to quit her yet. I’ll have her my way, even if it means dragging her into the darkness. Hopefully it doesn’t kill us both. Savage Prince is book one of the Savage Trilogy, set in the same world as Ruthless King, however you do not need to read the Mount Trilogy to devour this scandalously hot new story.  


Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | iBooks | B&N | Kobo



   Chapter 1 
  Temperance Why is he wearing a mask? Instinctively, I take a step back as the heavy door swings open, revealing the rest of the doorman’s tall body and the other half of the ornate red-and-black leather mask obscuring his face. It’s not Mardi Gras season anymore, and this antebellum mansion is dozens of miles away from Bourbon Street, where spirits are high and revelry is in full swing, no matter the time of year. Louisiana, you’re beautiful, but you’re also creepy as hell at night sometimes. The doorman gestures for me to enter, and I hesitate on the threshold for one final beat, clutching my bag to my side before stepping through the archway. He closes the massive wooden door behind me with a decisive thud and throws a long bolt. I’m locked in. What did I get myself into? Chills skate over my skin, and my blazer does little to stop the shiver working through me. This is not a haunted house. Or a dungeon. It’s a potential customer. I tell my overactive imagination to calm down but blood pounds in my ears, competing with the slow, rhythmic, and visceral beat of the bass coming from somewhere inside. The sprawling plantation house reminds me of something out of a movie, especially with its massive trees dangling their moss over the banks of the bayou. Mansions and their expensive everything make me more nervous than the gators lurking in that murky water. My senses shift into high gear as I scan the polished wooden planks of the floor, covered by thick rugs that probably cost more than I make in a year. The muted glow of gaslight sconces adds to the otherworldly feel—at complete odds with the throbbing beat of the club music. For the dozenth time, I wish I did more research before I showed up for this meeting, but I’ve been so busy, I can barely manage to shovel three bites of food into my mouth for lunch. It’s worth it, I remind myself. I have a respectable job now. There’s no mud on the bottom of my shoes to track inside these days. Even though I know I’m in the right place, my polished designer knock-off pumps itch to beat a path to the door and out to my car . . . except it’s not there, because the overly efficient valet drove it away before the front door even opened. I swallow back a lump of unease but straighten my shoulders and turn my attention to the doorman, who seems to be waiting for me to compose myself. When I meet his hooded stare, he doesn’t speak. I hold out the note that showed up on my desk at Seven Sinners. He takes it from me and glances at the printed text, but still says nothing. “I’m supposed to meet someone?” I hate that my voice sounds like I’m asking a question rather than making a statement. I shake off the unease and find my assertive tone. “I’m here to meet someone for a business discussion. Can you please direct me to the office?” The doorman gestures to the opulent staircase before me with the card before offering it back. My sweaty palms leave smudges on the edges as I snatch it from his grip. I should have known from that fancy cream linen paper that this wouldn’t be like the normal bars and clubs I’ve visited to hawk Seven Sinners Whiskey. “Thank you.” I give him a nod, and once again get zero verbal response. This place is bizarre. Time to get in and get out. Attempting to look unaffected, I stride toward the red-and-gold runner climbing up the stairs. I’m just here to sell whiskey. All the whiskey. The treads beneath the soles of my shoes vibrate more with each step I take. As I round the curve of the staircase, I find another masked man waiting for me at the top. I offer him my invitation and stare over his shoulder at the light spilling out from beneath a set of closed double doors. There. That has to be the club. See, nothing different about this place after all. Except there is, and I don’t know if it’s my overactive imagination, but I swear I can smell sex in the air. Images of all the things that can possibly be happening behind those doors assail my brain. I force my attention back to the man for direction. He jerks his head to the side and starts down a wide gold-and-white-striped corridor, away from the doors. He pauses at the corner as though waiting for me to follow him, and I uproot my feet from the floor and stumble forward to catch up with my bag smacking my hip. Instead of leading me farther down the corridor, he steps out of the way to reveal another set of curving stairs and points upward. Seriously? I thought this was a business meeting, not punishment for missing my date with the gym for the last six months. My arches cramp in protest as I smooth down my skirt, reset my bag, and climb to the top, but at least this discomfort takes my mind off the peculiar feel of this place. I’m going to have to sell a ton of whiskey to make this trip worth it. When I hit the next landing, there’s a third man, this one the size of a linebacker, wearing a matching mask. Where the hell is everyone else? What kind of club has silent doormen and no tipsy patrons stumbling back and forth to the restroom? I don’t have time to ask either of those questions before masked man number three reads the words on the card I hold out and leads me down a hallway to what I assume must be the manager’s office. At least, I hope like hell it is. An ornate door with an antique brass knob awaits at the end, and he pushes it open and gestures for me to enter with a meaty hand. I pin my most professional smile on my face and take a deep breath, ready to charm whoever awaits me inside into buying more whiskey than they plan. With a confident stride, I make my way inside. “Hi! I’m Temperance—” I trail off when I realize the chair behind the desk, dimly lit by a simple banker’s lamp, is empty. A quick scan of the rest of the dark room reveals no signs of life. What the hell? “Okay, then.” I clear my throat, poised to turn around and get the hell out of this place, when a light flickering to life distracts me. But it’s not a light in the office where I’ve been shown, but a light in the room next door. A room that I can apparently view through what appears to be a two-way mirror. Am I really seeing this? And by this, I mean a monstrous iron-and-wood four-poster bed draped with black silk sheets . . . and restraints. A bedroom. A kinky bedroom. Holy hell. I stumble back a step, reaching for the doorknob, but my gaze fixes on the black mask of the woman entering the bedroom and the heavily muscled shirtless man with his palm on the small of her back. This isn’t just any trendy secret club interested in adding top-notch whiskey to their shelves. It’s a sex club. I should be horrified. Running screaming in the opposite direction and out to my car. But instead, I’m rooted to the floor. I have a front-row seat to one of my dirtiest fantasies. A fantasy I finally got up the nerve to try to fulfill a few months ago, because Lord knows I don’t have time to have a relationship, but my search for a non-sketchy sex club in New Orleans fell flat. Google sure as hell didn’t have this one on the map, and neither did any of the forums or blog posts I read. A real underground sex club. A tingle of excitement, like I’ve just discovered a secret key to another world, shoots through me as the man shuts the door to their room and slowly circles the woman before pushing her to her knees with one dominant hand on each shoulder. He has the look of a conqueror inspecting his war prize, complete with tribal ink marking his chest and upper arms, and dark leather pants. It’s hot as hell. The rational part of my brain says I should look away, not invade their private scene, but I glance quickly at the door I entered through. No one is bursting in to tell me it’s some kind of mistake that I was led here. The woman, dressed in red lingerie, keeps her gaze downcast, but I’m not nearly as disciplined. I can’t take my eyes off her companion as his ass flexes against the leathers. When he stops in front of her, he releases her shoulder and buries one hand in her honey-blond hair, gripping her at the base of her neck, forcing her attention to his face. They are completely and utterly absorbed with each other, and neither of them spares even a glance at the wall that serves as my voyeuristic porthole. Do they know? They must. His voice somehow comes loud and clear into this room. “You wanted my attention down there, little girl. You’ve got it all now.” My heart thumps harder as he reaches for the flap of his leathers with his other hand and yanks it open, freeing his heavy cock. I bite down on my lower lip to stifle the hushed oh my God dying to break free. The sting from my teeth serves as a reminder that this isn’t one of my dreams. This is real. My conscience wars with me, telling me to turn away. Go back down the stairs. Run out the front door. Find my car and get the hell out of here. But that and any other thought of business dies away as he wraps one palm around his thick cock and gives it a rough tug before thumbing the tip. The ruddy reddish-purple shaft seems to pulse against his grip, and my lip trembles as my thighs clench. Why is it so frigging hot to see a man handle himself like that? Using his grip on her hair, he guides her lips toward the head. Sweet Lord. I shouldn’t be turned on by this. But my sweaty palms and the thumping pulse that has taken up residence between my legs expose my lie. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in person. “You want this? Is that why you’ve been acting like a little brat?” His words are muted, like the sound is being piped into the office through speakers, or maybe it’s because the blood roaring through my head is drowning out normal sound. Either way, his gruff, deep voice drags over my senses, making goose bumps rise across my skin. “Yes, sir.” The woman’s chin bounces as she licks her lips. He drags her face an inch closer to his cock. “Show me how much.” My nipples pebble against my bra at his rough order. Heat, completely inappropriate fiery heat, streaks through me as one of the woman’s hands dives between her legs. “You don’t get to touch yourself until I tell you to. I’ll turn that ass of yours red before you finger that wet little cunt.” I squeeze my thighs together like he’s somehow threatening me. Ordering me. Dominating me. And I wish he were. “I want your hands on my legs. I’m going to fuck your face. Remind you who owns these lips.” A quiet moan echoes through the room, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure it came from her and not me. Okay, ninety percent sure. I squirm, my chest rising and falling faster as she rests her palms on his muscled thighs and he feeds his cock into her mouth inch by inch. Oh my God. I can’t watch. I shouldn’t watch. I’m not a dirty little thing who likes to watch. I’m not. Really. I’m not. But I’m a filthy liar, because none of the words I use to berate myself make me tear my gaze away from the most erotic scene I’ve ever seen play out. He shifts his grip, using one hand to cup her chin and tilt her head to the angle of his liking as he powers deeper inside, more of his rock-hard shaft disappearing with each thrust. His growl echoes through the room, and I can feel it in the wet heat between my legs like a heartbeat. “You feel that? You want more?” Her plaintive, muffled cry for more unleashes another round of shivers as my breathing shallows. My inner muscles clench as I imagine a cock sliding past my lips and down my throat. My gag reflex flutters at the all-too-real and intense feeling. That could be me. Her fingertips curl around his legs and mine do the same, but instead of smooth skin, mine scrape across the fabric of my skirt. Two thin layers. That’s all that separates me from making myself come in approximately 2.5 seconds. My fingers tense, stretching as though itching to move. Don’t you even think about it, Temperance. Don’t you dare think about it. But then he slows his movements, pulling his cock from between her lips. It glistens in the dim light as he wraps a hand around it and strokes. The woman’s need is visible in every tense muscle of her body as she fixates on his lazy movements. “I’m not coming in that pretty mouth. Not tonight. Tonight, I’m taking that ass you’ve been teasing me with. Bending you over so I can see your cunt and your tight little hole. I get so fucking hard when I think about turning it red before I finally bury myself inside.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. This isn’t even fair. I swallow the saliva filling my mouth and back up until I bump into the edge of a desk. My heels wobble, and I reach out a hand to steady myself. I cross my legs and shift back and forth to try to stave off the urge to do more. I’m here for business. Not for pleasure. But the reminder is a fleeting one, disappearing from my brain as soon as he speaks again. “Tell me you want me to take your ass. Own it. Make it mine so you never forget who you belong to.” The woman’s mouth drops open and her tongue darts out to wet the corner. “Yes, sir.” He reaches down and extends a hand. “Stand.” She complies by sliding her fingers into his and rising gracefully to her feet. Then his movement turns rougher as he spins her around and bends her over the end of the bed. My heart thunders as I squeeze my thighs together, and the man yanks the crotch of her thong aside, baring her pussy and ass. It’s obscene, but I can’t look away. My fingernails dig into my leg through my skirt as he barks another order. “Spread your legs.” The uncompromising tone of his voice ricochets through my body, and part of me wants to comply like the woman as she slides her legs a few inches farther apart, creating an even more indecent visual. The heat between my legs jumps what feels like a million degrees, and I suddenly wish I’d done laundry this week, because then I’d be wearing underwear. Instead, wetness gathers and threatens to drip down my inner thighs. A dirty, shameful feeling curls inside me and I squirm, squeezing my legs even tighter together, but it doesn’t change the way my body responds. Especially not when he claps his palm between her legs with a smack. Her hips jerk and a moan spills out from between her lips. Oh good Lord. He spanked her pussy. I cover my mouth with one hand to silence my own sharp breath, and my teeth dig into my skin. He plunges a finger inside, moving it out and then back in. “This is mine. You flash it at anyone else, and I’ll tie you up and drag you to the edge so many times, you’ll be delirious before I ever let you come. That’s a fucking promise.” He pulls free of her body and lands a hard smack on her ass. She screeches as his handprint blooms red on her skin before he covers it with a firm grip, and the sound coming from her mouth turns into a moan. “Please.” “You know I love to hear you beg.” He releases her and lands another blow. “But you’ll remember your manners or get nothing.” “Please, sir!” Her wail wraps around me as he caresses the cheek he just stung. The desk bites into my ass, but I know it’s not the same. I want to know what that feels like. The truth blows through my mind like a hurricane. Unstoppable. Unashamed. Un-fucking-believable. Is it possible to spontaneously orgasm? I have to get out of here. But my fingers curl around the sharp edge of the wood as though it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. “Beg me.” With my nipples harder than diamonds, I wait for her to beg. Please. I want to see— She does. Oh good Lord, I’m going to hell. He grips his cock with one hand, her ass with the other, and lines up the head with her entrance. “Pussy first. You’re not ready for me yet.” The pace of my breathing nears hyperventilation. I need to do something. I have to— Any capacity for rational thought is ripped from my brain as he buries his cock inside her and her scream fills my ears. He pounds into her over and over, and I hate her. I hate that she’s receiving his perfectly rough thrusts that rip moans of ecstasy from her throat, and all I have is the clenching emptiness between my legs. I want that. I need that. It’s been way too long since I felt . . . anything like this. Actually, I’ve never felt anything remotely like this. This dark edge of pleasure is something I’ve only read about. Wished for. Dreamed about. Her moans and cries intensify, and he praises her. I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me, and pretend he’s whispering them to me. My fingers edge toward the hem of my skirt and I draw it up inch by inch. I need more. Just a little— “My naughty secretary should know better than to touch herself during work hours.” The deep, rasping words come out of the shadows and brush over my skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Shock freezes my movements, my fingertips locked on the material of my skirt, as a chair creaks and the disembodied voice takes the shape of a tall, broad-shouldered man stepping into the dim pool of light. A black leather mask obscures the top half of his face, but his piercing blue eyes burn hotter than a five-alarm fire. They sear my skin everywhere they touch. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Ms. Smith?” His sculpted lips are perfect—except for the fact they called me by the wrong name. “Umm, uhh . . .” I stammer as I attempt to find words that can possibly apply to this insane situation. “I-I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong—” His eyes narrow, but the heat remains intact. “Nobody argues with me in my office. Strike two, Ms. Smith.” “But I’m here for—” I make another attempt to explain his mistake, but he cuts me off with a tilt of his head. “Whatever I want.” He emphasizes each word as he takes another step toward me. “And tonight, what I want is you.” My teeth dig into my bottom lip as he slides his suit jacket off his shoulder and down one arm before repeating the motion with the other. His movements reveal a crisp white shirt perfectly tailored to broad shoulders, thick biceps, and a narrow waist. Holy wow. He’s sex in a suit. “If you’re still in this office in ten seconds, I’ll take that to mean yes, sir, I’m ready.” I glance at the door and back at him as he begins the countdown. “Ten . . .”

   SavageTrilogy banner 


A New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels, Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had. Sign up for Meghan's newsletter and receive exclusive content that she saves for her subscribers: To get the inside scoop on a daily basis, search Meghan March's Runaway Readers on Facebook and join the fun.

Licks Excerpt Reveal!


Licks, an all new standalone Second Chance Romantic Comedy by Kelly Siskind is releasing April 4th!


36 hours is a short spell when racing the clock. 2,160 minutes is an eternity for old friends to fall in love… August Cruz is the only man I’ve ever loved. He’s the one who got away. He’s the one I totally screwed over. Now he’s standing on my doorstep, nine years later, but he’s not the only thing that turns up. My mother’s lost diary is in my hands, and it might lead me to my father. A possibility I wished for one year ago, at my last birthday. I have 36 hours to fulfill that wish. I have 36 hours to drag August on a wild scavenger hunt. I have 36 hours to protect my heart before I lose him again...because there's something he's not telling me. LICKS is a full-length, standalone Sexy Second Chance Romance with a swoony Happily Ever After.

Pre-Order Your Copy Today!

Amazon CA -


August was a slight step ahead of me. I followed close on his heels until we were outside. We paused, fingers intertwined. He faced me and ran his thumb over the back of my hand. It was a simple brush, but there was nothing simple about touching August.

We both glanced at our clasped hands. My breath faltered. The past few days had been warm for April, the heatwave steaming the evenings, too. Being with August made it steamier.

He wound both our arms around my back, pulling me against him. “You look beautiful, Possum.”

His nickname for me pinched my heart. As kids, I’d pretend to sleep sometimes while we’d watch TV, like a deceiving possum playing dead. I’d then bolt upright to scare the living shit out of him. A screeching August was supremely entertaining.

I tilted my head back to look into his eyes, every memory we’d shared reflected in those hazel pools. “I’ve missed that nickname.”

His free hand came to my cheek, knuckles brushing it gently. “I’ve missed you. It was always there, under my skin, in every song, but I didn’t realize how much until today. My heart is fucking racing.”

God, this man. I squeezed our laced palms and unfurled my other over his sternum. Over his heart. Need bellowed in that thundering beat. “You don’t smell like grass.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I used to smell like weed?”

“Like grass, dummy. Your lawn mowing business.”

He smiled and shook his head lightly. “We can roll around in a park, if you want.” He sucked on his bottom lip while eyeing mine.

Lord have mercy. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening.” He gripped my hand tighter, pulled me closer, brushed his nose against mine.

My best friend, the friend I loved irrevocably and thought I'd lost for good, might actually kiss me.


Grab your Copy Today!


About Kelly Siskind

A small-town girl at heart, Kelly moved from the city to open a cheese shop with her husband in northern Ontario. When she’s not neck deep in cheese or out hiking, you can find her, notepad in hand, scribbling down one of the many plot bunnies bouncing around in her head. She laughs at her own jokes and has been known to eat her feelings—gummy bears heal all. She’s also an incurable romantic, devouring romance novels into the wee hours of the morning.  

Follow Kelly Siskind