Token (Daring The Kane Brothers) by Kelly Gendron @kelgendron @bookenthupromo #BookBlast

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#Token #KaneBrothers #ContempRomance #KelllyGendron

Book Title: Token (Daring The Kane Brothers)
Author: Kelly Gendron
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 21, 2017
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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book blurb

DARE YOU TO SAVE ME…

Retired boxer, TOKEN KANE is comfortable on a motorcycle but little does this Irish rogue know the next Harley he picks up will give him the ride of his life.

One week out of the year, HARLEY REDBOURNE puts away her good-girl and completely let’s go. It’s around the same time that her dark past resurfaces. But this year is different, when it’s time to put her past away, the darkness wants to stay.

For the past ten years, Harley Redbourne hasn’t had anyone waiting for her in the corner of the ring. She’s had to go at this fight all on her own. She needs a cornerman, a trainer, a friend and as much as I don’t want to toss in the towel, I know that I could be that for her ~ TOKEN KANE

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meet the author

Kelly Gendron is the author of the TroubleMaker series, Breaking the Declan Brothers and a few other romantic suspense novels. When she’s not writing steamy, blush producing romances, she’s out meeting new people while representing a group of reputable nursing facilities. You can find Kelly in a quiet suburb, somewhere between Buffalo and Niagara Falls. If you Google her, she’ll pop up there too. And, please do find her, Kelly loves to hear from her readers, and meeting new people.

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 I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

Kept From You (Tear Asunder #4) by Nashoda Rose #ReleaseBlitz @nashodarose @bookenthupromo

Kept From You (Tear Asunder #4) by Nashoda Rose

Book Title: Kept from You (Book 4: Tear Asunder)
Author: Nashoda Rose
Genre: Erotic Romance
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Cover photo: Copyright © 2016 Wander Aguiar Photography (http://www.wanderbookclub.com)
Model: Nick Bennett (https://www.facebook.com/nickbennett6/)
Cover design by: Kari Ayasha, Cover to Cover Designs

A first kiss that changed everything.

Killian Kane.
He was the most feared guy in high-school.
Guarded. Angry. A fighter.
But when I caught him watching me with his captivating green eyes I saw something more. Something protective and kind. 


He warned me to stay away from him.

I did.
Until I didn’t and he kissed me. A knee weakening, body tingling kiss that left me breathless. 
And scared the hell out of me.


And then…
He warned me never to come near him again or next time he wouldn’t let me go.



That was eleven years ago.
We aren’t teenagers anymore. He has probably forgotten me. 
He’s a famous rock star now. I’m a dance instructor with a broken dream and desperate for a job.
So, when we cross paths again I don’t expect him to remember me.
He does.
And his warning eleven years ago? I’m about to find out exactly what that meant.

The thin sweet crunch mixing with the light, airy cream tickled my tongue.

Indulging was rare. Indulging in something like crème brûlée was heaven on a spoon.

But what made it even more like heaven was that Killian watched me with desire blazing in his eyes.

I swallowed, then with the tip of my tongue, I slid it over my lower lip, licking the remnants of cream.

“Fuck,” he growled.

I secretly smiled, heart pumping wildly.

I’d never been sexy or tried to be sexy, but I wanted to be with Killian. He made it easy for me to be brave.

Lights dim, candles flickering, the soft jazz music in the background, skin tingling from the sexy-as-hell man next to me, yeah, I was brave.

I dipped the spoon in again, but Killian’s fingers spanned my wrist, stopping me.

I met his eyes and without a word, but knowing exactly what he wanted by the silent exchange of his steady expression, I released the spoon to him.

His attention went to the dessert where he tapped the light thin sugar shell before breaking through and sinking into the airy lightness.

He lifted the overfilled spoon at the same time as his eyes.

I thought he was going to take a bite himself, but he held the spoon out to me. “Open.”

I nervously laughed, thinking he was kidding; it was a huge mouthful. “It’s too much.”

“I know. Open, Savvy,” he said.

Oh, God, my belly dropped and my sex clenched. I swallowed, licking my lips again.

“No,” he said with a firm voice. “I didn’t ask you to lick your lips. Although that is fuckin’ delectable as hell.” His tone lowered further. “I asked you to open your mouth.”

My eyes widened. Holy. Fuck. That was hot. Demanding and a little scary because him using that voice I’d pretty much do anything he asked.

I opened, and he slid the dessert into my mouth, and since there was so much, it hit the roof, sides, and back of my throat. He didn’t remove the spoon right away and watched as I struggled not to pull away.

When I was just about to say screw it, he said, “My cock will fill your mouth a hell of a lot more than this.”

I nearly choked. And I would’ve if he didn’t slowly remove the spoon, my lips dragging over the cool, smooth surface of the spoon to make certain I took the entire dessert.

His elbow rested on the table, spoon in his hand, eyes on mine as I swallowed little by little until it was gone. The entire time I thought about his cock.

meet the author

Nashoda Rose is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Toronto with her assortment of pets. She writes contemporary romance with a splash of darkness, or maybe it’s a tidal wave.

When she isn’t writing, she can be found sitting in a field reading with her dogs at her side while her horses graze nearby. She loves interacting with her readers and chatting about her addiction—books.

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 I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

BONES by MariaLisa deMora #ReleaseBlitz @MJsBookBlognR @MariaLisadeMora

Title:
Bones

Series:
Rebel Wayfarers MC, #10

Author:  MariaLisa
deMora

Genre: MC
Romance

Release
Date: March 6, 2016

Synopsis


Raised in a hellhole echoing with the sounds of conflict,
Bones most profound childhood memory is of the day he died. Decades later, he
has built an empire where he is king. His brothers have his back, and life is
good. So good, he doesn’t realize what’s missing until he meets her. Ester
seems to be the one woman capable of looking beyond his mask and seeing … him.


 Full description:

Salvador Ramos’ world was upended the day before he turned
twelve. The stick-thin son of a small-time drug king, his demand for justice
fell on deaf ears, and the identity of his sister’s killer remained a mystery.
From that day forwards, Sal vowed he would never forget how it felt to be
powerless.
Now he’s ready to make good on that promise. Positioned as one
of the dominant outlaws in Chicago, he deals from a place of strength and
power, leveraging fear as a weapon. He is a leader among men, having honed
loyalty through harsh lessons, and earned trusted friendships until none can
stand against him. He is Bones.
Bones. A man who looks like a monster. Covered in tattoos,
black and grey, with hardly any inch of skin left bare. A hundred different
sigils and symbols on each arm, ink crawled up his neck like the collar of a
closely fitted shirt. Black and colored ropes of pictures disappeared
underneath his shirt. Strong hands, with muscles that danced beneath the images
as he moved. Bones wore his skin like a shield, a barrier to hold at bay those
who wouldn’t put in the time to know who he is. Who didn’t care enough to learn
about the man behind the bars written on his skin. The ink as isolating as any
jail cell unless you held the key.
Ester has been on her own since she was ten. She spent much of
that time on the run from her own fears, failing to escape from the demons in
her mind. Her life on the fringe of society has given her a unique perspective
on humanity, and a cautious but abiding curiosity about the nature of people.
She sees pain and terror everywhere, except when she looks at him. Bones alone
helps relieve the piercing agony of her thoughts.
He should be frightening to a woman like her. But he wasn’t.
He isn’t.

 

http://bit.ly/GR-Bones
 

 

Purchase Links
http://getBook.at/RWMC-Bones     http://bit.ly/Bones-BnN     http://bit.ly/Bones-iTunes

 

 

 

Excerpt
 Chapter

4 – My beauty

Bones
rolled the bike to a slow stop, scanning the benches in the park. It was the
third one he’d been to in the past hour, and with each approach, he had felt
his pulse speed in anticipation. There, he thought, satisfaction and relief
sweeping through him. She sat on a bench, head cocked to one side, listening to
a boy tell her a story. Arms pumping, the boy seemed to be miming every aspect
of the tale, from running while looking frantically over his shoulder, to
leaping across an obstacle, finally collapsing back onto the bench with arms
lifted in victory. Ester’s own arms raised in shared jubilation, and Bones
heard her laughter ringing through the air.
He had
first met her months ago. A chance meeting which intrigued him so much, he felt
compelled to seek her out again and again. That first time had been in a
section of town belonging to neither Skeptics, nor Rebels, and his very
presence there carried a certain danger if discovered. Alert to any oddness,
the bolting exit of a woman from an alley with a man’s wallet in her fist had
caught Bones’ attention.
One
moment later she continued on her way sans wallet, and he’d walked into the
alley to see what was transpiring—just in time to see a man lifting his hand to
strike the whore in front of him. Bones thought surely the skinny woman must be
a whore like the one who’d just escaped, finding out moments later he had been
wrong. Reading wrong meaning into circumstances, he had judged as surely as
every person on the street judged him. The knowledge had stung.
Defending
her regardless, that defense had granted him far more than anticipated. Such
had been his introduction to his nameless friend. Standing with a bag of
spoiled fruit clutched to her chest, she had squeezed so tightly in her fright
the peaches had left pink stains on her shirt. Bright eyes looking out from
underneath a wild mass of hair, she had gifted him with a wide smile when she
stretched out her hand, quoting a ridiculous movie. With her actions and words,
she’d shown him she had mastered not only her environment, but also was a
master at observation. She’d taken his measure in a glance, and not found him
wanting. Something for which he was eternally grateful, because she somehow
made his life richer.
Destitute,
homeless, she was filled with a giving nature the likes of which he had never
seen. He had watched one day as she took a loaf of bread given to her by a
shopkeeper and divided it down so her portion was the least. Half given to a
woman with a child, half of what remained to a legless veteran on the street corner,
half of what remained to a dog that whined and twined around her legs, making
her laugh, and half of the last piece went to the clutch of pigeons that landed
at her feet the moment she took a seat on a bench, happy to stuff a single bite
into her mouth, laughing again as the birds strutted and preened at the
attention.
The boy
stood, and she tilted her head up to look at him, then they simultaneously
twisted their necks to look at a red-faced woman shouting, standing on the
path. Bones watched as the boy shrugged, then ducked his chin to his neck at
another shout. Embarrassed, it seemed. Seated, she shooed him away, releasing
him from the niceties of society and the boy ran backwards a few feet, waving
madly until both of her hands rose above her head, pivoting in a wild wave at
the ends of her arms.
My beauty,
Bones thought, checking traffic before he pulled back out, slowly increasing
his speed, riding away from her and no longer caring when she had become his.
She simply was.
 
Series Reading Order & Series Buy Links
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Author BioRaised in the south, MariaLisa learned about the magic of books at an
early age. Every summer, she would spend hours in the local library,
devouring books of every genre. Self-described as a book-a-holic, she
says “I’ve always loved to read, but then I discovered writing, and
found I adored that, too. For reading … if nothing else is available,
I’ve been known to read the back of the cereal box.”

A hockey fan, hiker, gamer, and single mom of a special needs son, she
embraces her inner geek and has been working in the tech field for a
publishing company for a couple decades.

Music is a driving passion, and she says, “I love music of nearly any
genre — jazz, country, rock, alt rock, metal, classical, bluegrass, rap,
hip hop … you name it, I listen to it. I can often be seen dancing
through the house in the early mornings. But I really, REALLY love live
music. My favorite thing with music is seeing bands in small, dive bars
[read: small, intimate venues]. If said bar [venue] has a good selection
of premium tequila, then that’s a plus!”

Connect with MariaLisa

 

I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

INFLICT by Bethany-Kris #Excerpt @IndieSagePR @BethanyKris

INFLICT

by Bethany-Kris
Publication Date: April 3, 2017
Genres: Adult, Erotic, Romantic Suspense, Organized Crime

BLURB:

As the son of an Irish mobster, Connor O’Neil spent his boyhood hiding from the horrors of his own home. His one reprieve was a girl he knew only as Evelyn, but even she was taken away. As a man, Connor is determined to stay away from his father’s business. With Sean, participation is not a request, but a demand. The truth is, Connor might be more like the evil he’s trying to hide away from than he would like to admit.

And he’s already spent years trying to cover the scars left over from the pain.

A chance encounter puts the lost girl from his past back on his path, and he no longer has a choice but to face the darkness he’s been ignoring for years.

Evelyn. Sasha. Slave.

She doesn’t really know who she is anymore.

Or maybe she does, and she doesn’t want to tell.

She isn’t the same as she once was—now a thing to be kept and maintained, shuffled from owner to owner until it was her time to go. She only became Connor’s because he took her when he knew she wasn’t his to take.

Except she isn’t Connor’s at all …

And he can’t keep her hidden forever.

~Inflict is a Standalone Romance with graphic depictions of violence, sexual scenes, dark elements and a HEA. It is not recommended for those under the age of 18.

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EXCERPT

“It’s art, the same thing you have all over the house, except on canvas.”

“Where it belongs,” Connor said exasperated. “Children draw on the walls, Evelyn.”

What bit of anger was in her expression melted away, leaving a deep hurt in its place. A part of Connor regretted what he’d said almost instantly, but the other part of him knew it was true.

He understood that it was the same way for Evelyn, too. A large part of her was all woman—adult, grown, and a wee bit insane. But there was still a part of her that was a wee child, stuck in a time before all the terrible things had happened to her.

“That was uncalled for,” she said.

Connor scowled. “Drawing on the walls is uncalled for.”

“You’re just parroting things back to me.”

“Because I’m the one making sense, lass!”

Evelyn’s green eyes rolled upwards. “Whatever, I’m finishing the feather, and it’s staying. It’s not like it’s fucking ugly or something.”

Connor eyed the feather, silently agreeing. It was a beautiful image, even if the majority of it was only the barebones of the drawing. Mostly blacklines forming what would be before all the color was added in. She had added some color toward the top, gentle strokes of metallic color that melted with other colors, and shimmered under the kitchen pot lights. He was sure once the light came in from the morning through the windows, the color would sparkle even more.

It was amazing.

He wouldn’t deny that.

But on his kitchen wall?

Surely they had better things to be doing and talking about other than drawing on walls?

“You can keep the feather,” Connor said heavily.

It pained him to do so.

“You didn’t have a choice.”

Feck.

“But,” he added, “no more on the walls.”

Her head turned, showing off her beautiful profile as her lips pursed. “The ceilings are okay, then. I get it.”

Connor had the strangest urge to smack himself in the face. “No.”

“We’ll see.”

“Evelyn—”

“You’re no fun,” she said rather grumpily, tossing her package of markers to the nearby table. Shooting him with another one of her glares, she headed towards the sink, grabbing a glass from the cabinet as she passed. “I thought you would like it.”

Connor didn’t know how to respond to that. “I do.”

“Then why be an ass about it?”

He chose to stay silent and think about his words as she poured a glass of water, and drank it down in her own silence. He walked forward, stopping at the kitchen island just as she set her now empty glass into the sink.

“I will buy you whatever size canvas you want,” Connor said.

“And then you’ll hang them on the walls that I could have just drawn on anyway,” she deadpanned. “Don’t you see how that’s a little ridiculous?”

“No, what’s ridiculous is you drawing on the walls.”

“Connor.”

“Evelyn.”

“It’s pretty,” she whined, waving at it.

“It is—it’s great. You should let me copy it over and tattoo it up your hip and side. It’d look grand, love. It’ll even match the wings on your back. But not on the walls.”

Evelyn frowned. “I thought you would like it.”

“I said I do.”

“Not enough.”

All right.

Now this was getting rather dumb.

Connor was all for indulging Evelyn at times, even some of her more … eccentric moods, when they came on. Which he was learning could be at any point, as she’d spent so much time being forced to do the bidding of a man. This was too far.

“Don’t go acting like a right wagon about all of this,” Connor said, turning to walk out of the kitchen and go find something else to do. “I’m not asking for something feckin’ crazy here just that you don’t draw on my goddamn walls, Evelyn.”

“What does that even mean?”

Connor, more exasperated than he was willing to admit, didn’t bother to turn around as he asked, “What?”

“Wagon. What does that even mean?”

If there was a God above, He was laughing at Connor. Laughing at his foolish arse.

The Irish had a terrible way of taking the English language and mutilating it for their own benefit, however they saw fit. Sometimes shite didn’t make sense, not that it had to outside of the person using it or the person being insulted, but none of that mattered in the grand scheme of things. It was not as simple as saying the phrase meant one thing, when in fact, it could mean a lot of things.

This happened to be one of those times, but he figured it was self-explanatory.

Evelyn had enough Irish in her to look the part, with her green eyes, pale skin, reddish-blonde curls, and freckles every which way he looked. The sad thing was, life had practically stripped her of the nuances and culture, which was a feckin’ shame.

“Means you’re being trite, grumpy, or bitchy—take your pick. Whichever one fits, Evelyn.”

Connor only heard the clang of metal in just enough time to turn around and watch something fly at his feckin’ head. Sweet Jesus, she had one hell of an aim on her. He ducked, and the frying pan practically skimmed the top of his hair before it crashed into the floor just outside of the kitchen.

It took him all of three seconds to stare at Evelyn, check behind him where the frying pan was now laying, and then back at the crazy woman standing behind the island to realize what had even just happened. As shocked as he was, he was also pissed, and amused.

All five feet, four inches of Evelyn stared him down from across the kitchen like she was daring him to say something or move an inch. He swore he saw her hand twitch, too, like she was considering reaching for another one of the hanging pans to whip at him.

No, the wee thing didn’t sound Irish at all. She didn’t understand him sometimes, and he got a chuckle out of it more often than not. She was a wee bit insane—he sort of liked that, too. But standing there like she was, pink-cheeked, huffing, and ready to whip his arse even if she had to use a frying pan to do it, she was every inch an Irish lass.

Every feckin’ inch.

It turned him on like nothing ever had.

He wasn’t even sure how to deal with that.

A smart man—a frightened man—would have turned tail, and run from the angry woman in his kitchen, knowing he’d pushed her too far and he wasn’t going to get anything good from her tonight. Connor was apparently neither of those things, and he was going to blame that on his damn heritage, too.

A stubborn bastard, of course.

“Did you just throw a pan at me?” Connor asked.

Evelyn spluttered in her anger before spitting out, “You called me a child and bitchy.”

“I said ‘pick one.’”

“And I picked one. A pan, I mean.”

“You could have killed me.”

“Probably not. I think your skull is too thick for that.”

“Now you’re just trying to piss me off,” Connor said, his jaw clenching.

“Is it working?”

“Throw another pan at me, lass, and I’ll paddle your arse until its good and red, and you’re begging to be allowed to apologize.”

That was his one warning.

He’d given it.

She could make of it what she wanted.

Evelyn’s gaze narrowed. “Is that a promise?”

“Don’t do it again, Evelyn.”

And now his feckin’ cock was hard, so feck this whole goddamn day right to hell. Figuring his warning was enough, Connor headed out of the kitchen without a look back. A cold shower was in his very near future to get his lust under control.

He hadn’t even gotten out of the entryway before she threw the second pan.

God save me, he thought.

Connor turned back around.

Evelyn’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open with an audible pop as Connor stalked toward her. “Wait—wait, what are you doing?”

“Oh, you know damn well what I am going to do, lass.”

ABOUT BETHANY-KRIS

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.

To keep up-to-date with new releases from Bethany-Kris, sign up to her New Release Newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD

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“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

Vampires of London: Books #1-3 Lorelei Moone #BookBlitz @AuthorLMoone @IndieSagePR

Vampires of London: Books #1-3,

A Steamy & Suspenseful Vampire Romance Collection

by Lorelei Moone
Vampires of London #1-3
Publication Date: March 10, 2017
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance, Vampires

BUY:

SYNOPSIS:

HURRY: ONLY AVAILABLE FOR A LIMITED TIME!
Sink your fangs into Books 1-3 of the Vampires of London series in one handy bundle. This Vampire Romance collection includes: Alexander’s Blood Bride, Michael’s Soul Mate and Lucille’s Valentine.Alexander’s Blood Bride
When Cat ends up at a Halloween party hosted by the mysteriously handsome and super rich Alexander Broderick, the last thing she expects is to become the object of his desire. Although she gets spooked and runs, she doesn’t yet understand the extent of his dangerous secret: Alexander, and a number of his guests, are vampires. And Cat’s blood is unlike anything they’ve smelled before…Michael’s Soul Mate
Playboy Michael has never wanted to settle down. When he finds a severely injured woman lying in the street, his instincts insist he save her. He turns her into a vampire and takes her home, not realizing that this little random encounter is going to change his immortal life forever.

Lucille’s Valentine
Marek the Soul Eater has escaped and it’s Lucille’s job as Enforcer to return him to the Council. She’s not a team player usually, but when she finds Vampire Hunter Valentino Conti also on Marek’s trail, she decides to join forces. The longer they work together, the more their connection grows. What if the truth comes out? What if Valentino realizes Lucille is the very thing he’s been hunting all his life?

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ABOUT LORELEI MOONE

Lorelei Moone is an up-and-coming author of paranormal romance based in London. A lover of all things sweet, and caffeinated, when she’s not writing about sexy bear shifters and their strong-willed curvaceous love interests, Lorelei can be found baking cookies or cakes for her family.

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I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

The Art of Sage (Cruz Brothers, #2) Melanie Munton @melanie_munton #SAGETour @bookenthupromo

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Book Title: The Art of Sage (Cruz Brothers, #2)
Author: Melanie Munton
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: December 28, 2016
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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book blurb

With death came new life.

She was my new life.

And I would never be able to let her go.

Social work was never an easy job but somebody had to do it. Fortunately for kind-hearted and tattooed Sage Tucker, she wanted to do it. Day in and day out she saw kids who reminded her of her past and she needed to do everything in her power to give them the help that she never received when she was young. The more kids she helped, the more layers she thought she could shed of her dark childhood. But nothing ever worked. She was haunted by her memories, consumed by her anger. She slowly felt herself slipping further down into a hole, one she didn’t know if she would ever escape from.

Art made sense to Mason Cruz. Keeping his hands busy was his therapy. Being able to do both at his auto body shop was his sanctuary. Despite everything he had to overcome in his life, he had finally made something of himself and was where he wanted to be professionally. With every car he painted and every motorcycle he restored, he could keep the demons inside his head at bay. He just wished he was as good at repairing his soul as he was at repairing vintage fenders.

Sage had never felt so exposed than when she was around the smooth and charming Mason. Talking to him made her feel like she was under a microscope, but maybe that was exactly what she needed. Nobody had ever wanted to understand her like he did. Nobody had ever cared enough to ask and she had never cared to share.

And now she knew why.

Because she knew that whenever Mason learned everything about her, heard all of her darkest secrets, he would never want to look at her again.

*This is the second installment in the three-part Cruz Brothers contemporary romance series. Each book can be read as a standalone.

excerpt

Piercing, light green eyes. Aquiline nose and a steel-like jawline. Light olive skin that spoke to me of mixed ethnicity. And a certain ruggedness to his appearance that said he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. My kind of man. The fact that he was wearing mechanic’s coveralls that were unzipped and pulled down to his waist with a tight white tank top covering his thick upper body didn’t hurt either. His chest was toned and lean, the spots of grease and paint scattered over his arms only adding to his masculine appeal.

Fuck. And he had tattoos.

If I had one weakness when it came to a man’s appearance, it wasn’t muscles or a mouth-watering smile. It was some well-done, artistic, fucking sexy tattoos. I had quite a few myself, so I appreciated good-quality ink. My brother was also a tattoo artist, so the whole practice was engrained in me.

Plus, I liked a man who could stand a little pain. Like me.

“Jackpot.”

I said it without even thinking, though I thought it was whispered low enough that no one else heard it.

No such luck.

“Excuse me?” the tattooed beauty asked, amusement creeping across his ruggedly handsome face. “Did you just say ‘jackpot’?”

Panicked, embarrassed, and admittedly turned on, I adamantly shook my head back and forth. “No, I don’t think so. That doesn’t sound like something I would say.”

How is this happening to me right now?

He took a rag from his back pocket and began wiping off his hands, drawing my attention down to his chest, watching his muscles ripple. “You sure about that?” he asked. Before I looked away, both of his pecs flexed at the same time, as if they were winking at me, taunting me.

For some reason, Joey Tribbiani’s “How you doin’?” catch phrase started playing on a loop in my head.

I eventually pulled my gaze back up to his face, eyes narrowing when I saw his cheeky grin. “You did that on purpose.”

“Did what on purpose?” he innocently asked before flexing his pecs again. Dammit, it’s like they were doing a little dance for me.

I knew better than to look down. But I did it again, anyway. “Stop that.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sexy Smartass replied, nonchalantly. “So, how can I help you, Ms…?”

I stuck my hand out, forcing myself to remain cool despite how flustered and disheveled I was. “Tucker. Sage Tucker.”

He shook my hand, squeezing it politely. His touch was casual enough, but his eye contact was unnerving because it never strayed from me. Very intense. “Mason Cruz. Are you needing some work done, Ms. Tucker?”

I stared at him, unblinking, wondering if I had heard him right. He laughed, apparently reading my thoughts. It was a nice laugh I decided. “I meant automobile work.”

My face flushed. Wow, that was stupid. Two for two, Sage. “I’m so sorry,” I replied, chuckling nervously as I averted my eyes. “It’s been a long day.” I glanced up at him to his smile remained in place, though I didn’t get the feeling that he was laughing at me. “Yes, I’m needing some assistance. My car broke down just down the road from here and I’m not exactly sure what’s wrong with it. I was hoping you might be able to take a look for me?”

He looked at me for another second, then down at his watch, then around his shop, as if he were mulling over a decision. Worried that I was going to screw up his entire day, since I knew how that went, I rushed to say, “I don’t want to put you out. I can call a tow truck—”

“No, it’s fine,” he answered, his voice low and grating. “I can do that.” The corner of his mouth quirked in a half-grin. “What kind of asshole would I be if I didn’t help a woman in distress?”

My eyebrow shot up. I had a feeling he was just joking, trying to get a rise out of me. But I didn’t care. If looks could castrate, the man would have been walking around dick-less. Which would have been unfortunate because his was probably pretty nice-looking.

Of course, he just chuckled. “Sorry, was that sexist of me?”

Fighting to bite back the string of curses I wanted to release on him, I kept my expression neutral. “Little bit. Do I look like a helpless, distressed woman to you?”

Wrong thing to ask. I knew it as soon as the words left my mouth. Because Mason’s eyes immediately traveled the length of my body, taking his sweet ass—and oh, his ass was sweet—time with his perusal.

“No, you sure as hell don’t,” he rasped, those green eyes darkening. “But I’m still willing to help you out with anything you need.”.

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meet the author

Traveler. Reader. Beach-goer. St. Louis Cardinals fan. Pasta-obsessed. North Carolina resident. Sarcastic. Bit of a nerd.

Author of the Cruz Brothers, Possession and Politics, and Timid Souls series, Melanie loves all things romance, comedies and suspense in particular because it’s boring to only stick to one sub-genre. From light-hearted comedies to sexy thrillers, she likes to mix it up, but loves her some strong alpha males and sassy heroines.

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 I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl