Publication date: April 25th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance
Publication date: April 25th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance
My brother is an idiot. He won the lottery and invested all of his money in a run-down bowling alley. Since he’s barely making it, he moved in with me.
Having him around the house isn’t the worst thing in the world, but he does make a mess like nobody’s business. My friends Zeke, Jessie, and Kayden keep me sane but there’s only so much they can do.
And it’s definitely not the worst thing in the world when his old friend, Ryker, moves to town.
The second I lay eyes on him, I’m hot under the collar. He makes my body burn in longing and freeze in desperation at the exact same time. When he talks, I don’t listen to anything he says because I’m staring at that hard jaw and those kissable lips like I already own them.
But he’s a bed hopper. A playboy. A heartbreaker.
I’m all down for some hot, sweaty, yummy sex even if it doesn’t have a fairy tale ending. I’ve been down that road before. I know the drill. But with Ryker, it’s different.
Because I know I’ll fall in love with him.
For now, I’ll steer clear of him and keep my hands to myself. It can’t be that hard, right?
Or can it?
About Audrey Rose:
Nothing worked for me.
I went to college because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. All my friends were doing it, and since they jumped off the bridge, I did too. Talk about peer pressure.
I studied psychology and sociology because I’ve always been fascinated by people, their behaviors, and their beliefs. It was something that captured my attention, but only for so long.
My true passion was writing. There was nothing I’d rather be doing than making up a story even if I didn’t show anyone. It was my obsession, my escape. Growing up in a broken home gave me some issues. Reading was the only relief I had to that.
After college, I worked different gigs to keep the lights on in my apartment, but the second I clocked out, I was slaving away on a manuscript that I had no intention of showing anyone else.
When I finally told people I wanted to give this writing thing a shot, they practically laughed at me. “A million to one,” they would tell me. “Sorry, girl. It’s not gonna happen.”
Well, this is me proving them wrong.
My first novel, Ray of Light, is coming out April 4th. And I intend to finish the series this year.
It’s nearly impossible to be surrounded by love but not understand it. My parents, my sister, and just about everyone around us has no trouble accepting that love. To give your trust to someone else and believe they would die before hurting you. I’ve witnessed it—I’ve seen the power of it—but I’ve also seen the pain. Because for me, I’ve only loved someone I could never have, and my biggest fear is that by giving her my love, all I would do is ruin her. I should have tried harder, but I’m not sure I can because I only feel complete when I’m with her.
The only time I feel like I belong is when he’s near. His infectious smile warms me straight to my bones. Any insecurities I have vanish with just a wink from him. A sliver of his attention makes me feel invincible. But all it took was one drunken night of truths for me to lose everything I had begun to crave. Now, I’m not sure how to move on because I only feel complete when I’m with him.
He said I was too young. I said he was perfect. He said our families wouldn’t understand. I said we could weather any storm. He said he would ruin me. And he was right.
Harper is a NEW YORK TIMES, WALL STREET JOURNAL and USA TODAY bestselling author residing in Georgia with her husband and three daughters. She has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books, hibachi, tattoos and Game of Thrones. When she isn’t writing you can almost always find her with a book in hand.
It’s what keeps you from being reckless. It’s what keeps you breathing.
Money, power and respect… they were my god given right, not the reason I joined the Satan’s Knights. I tied myself to my club and nothing else. Give me my bike, the open road and a different woman every night and I was happy.
My life was great.
Until the chaos exploded.
One reckless temptation and I finally found my reason for breathing.
I never saw her coming. The girl that would turn my world upside down and give me my heart.
Only it was too late.
One mistake can take it all away.
I’m about to lose my heart.
The thing that keeps me breathing.
The thing that keeps me from being reckless.
Drop out of nursing school? Check.
Have no idea what you’re going to do with your life? Check.
Disappoint your family? Double check.
Meet a biker and have crazy sex against a wall? Check. Check. Check.
Get knocked up by said biker? Check.
I was always the good girl, the prodigal child, the girl who said and did all the right things.
Things like this didn’t happen to me.
Until he smiled.
Until he tempted me to find out what made me happy.
Too bad it’s him.
We’ll never work, but, I can pretend can’t I?
Just for a little while.
Just until it’s over.
The Pink Pussycat
More Bianci bullshit was headed my way.
“Maria thinks Lauren is an intern at a hospital, a requirement for her nursing degree. The is, she kind of quit the program,” Mia continued.
I lifted an eyebrow. “Mama Leone” was going to blow a gasket.
“So if she’s not playing Florence Nightingale, where is she?” I questioned.
Fuck my life. I stalked toward Mia, watching as she raised an eyebrow and walked backwards until her back slammed against the door.
“Ouch,” she muttered.
I narrowed my eyes, bracing one hand flat against the door over her head and leaned close to her.
“Where is she?” I repeated.
“She’s working at a bar in town, near campus,” she said, stepping around me to walk toward her desk. She ripped a piece of paper off a pad and scribbling something on it. “Here’s the address. She’s not answering the phone so you need to go get her before Maria starts asking questions.”
“You’re kidding right?” Does the leather and tattoos not scare anyone anymore these days? These people are walking all over me like I’m some kind of jerk off.
“I don’t even know what she looks like,” I grunted, staring down at the scribbled address, wondering what kind of bar the Pink Pussycat was and what the fuck I did in life to deserve this shit.
Mia looked at me for a moment before turning around and grabbing a picture frame off her dresser. She held up the framed photo of her and what I assumed was Lauren. I dropped my eyes to the picture of the two girls, my eyes zeroing in on Lauren.
Big crystal blue eyes, framed by thick black-rimmed glasses, stared back at me. She had a killer smile, perfectly straight, white teeth, framed by full pink lips and a cute tongue since she was sticking it out the side of her mouth. Her black hair framed her face in waves, a stark contrast to her bright blue eyes. She was pretty, hot even, if you’re into the girl next door type. Or nurses. I wouldn’t mind being her patient.
I lifted my eyes back to Mia’s and handed her back her photograph before turning around and pulling open the door.
“Are you going to go get her?” Mia called over my shoulder. I ignored her and brushed past Maria who was scowling at me from the bathroom door.
“Got lost on your way to the john?” She asked, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.
“No, when you wouldn’t hold my dick for me I thought I’d test my luck with your daughter’s roommate,” I smiled, glancing over my shoulder at Mia. “Thanks, babe,” I winked.
“What? No! I didn’t…” Mia stammered.
These Bianci people were a pain in my ass but they sure were fun to fuck with.
I turned around and shoved my finger in front of Maria’s nose.
“I’ll be back. Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
“Where are you going?”
“To pick up your damn daughter, because someone upstairs…” I pointed my index finger to the ceiling, “…wants to keep fucking testing my patience with you people.”
It was her turn to shove her accusing finger in my face.
“You’re going to the hospital to pick her up? Just…don’t talk to anyone. I’m warning you, you better behave yourself and not embarrass her. Lauren has worked very hard to get where she is and the last thing she needs is some scoundrel like you, messing things up for her with your crude mouth and poor manners,” she said.
Was this bitch serious?
“I’ll try not to piss on the floors of the hospital and promise not to pick my nose in front of any hotshot doctors,” I sneered, shaking my head in disgust.
She should only know how deep my manners go.
I stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind me and glanced at the address Mia had given me. Fucking bullshit.
I typed the address into the GPS of the cage I was driving because I was in the middle of Bumblefuck New York, full of winding roads and fucking deer. I was waiting for that to happen next because why not add killing Bambi to this wretched night.
I whimpered as I drove, feeling sorry for myself and slammed my hand against the steering wheel.
I just wanted my bike and the open road.
And maybe a blowjob.
That would be nice.
Lauren’s pretty, pink lips, wrapped nice and tight around my dick and those blue eyes peeking up at me over the frames of her glasses. Shit. Where the fuck did that come from?
Get your shit together, Riggs.
“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the GPS alerted, and I’m not going to lie, she sounded hot too.
I needed to get laid.
Or I needed to go to bed.
The Pink Pussycat was packed, people stood in line waiting to get inside even at three a.m., apparently making it a happening joint for the people of Bumblefuck. I moved to the front of the line and a big brut of a guy stood there, staring down at me.
“Line’s back there,” the beast said.
“That’s nice, move aside,” I replied, stepping around him but he took mimicked my move and blocked me again.
I glanced at the heavens.
“Why?” I shouted into the dark sky.
No one answered.
Shit, I was probably going to hell for that one.
I looked back at the beast of a bouncer who raised an eyebrow at me, and was tempted to tell him he looked like Michael Clarke Duncan, but I needed to focus. I took a deep breath and opened my cut for him to see the gun I had tucked into my waistband.
“Listen, bud, I’ve had the night from hell and I’m ten seconds away from losing it, so move the fuck out of my way and let me do what the fuck I came here to do,” I growled, reaching for the gun.
He crossed his arms, glanced at my gun, and shook his head completely unfazed.
“Pretty please, with sugar on top?” I tried. Nothing. “Fuck! The name “Tony Soprano” mean anything to you? Shit, I mean, fuck, what’s his name…Pastore.” the burley bouncer remained unmoved. That’s it. I can’t take anymore. “Bro, get the fuck out of my way, seriously, I have to get one of the girls that works here, I’m her ride.”
“Lauren Bianci,” I huffed. That fucking last name was nothing but trouble.
“Shit, man, why didn’t you say so?” He pounded me on the back and smiled. “Lauren’s my girl, love that chick, always makes me smile,” he said, with an actual smile. “Go on in. She’s working the bar tonight.”
I think I muttered a thank you, I’m not sure, but I brushed past him and stepped foot into the loud bar that was packed beyond capacity. It took me five minutes, pushing my way through the crowd toward the bar that was surrounded mostly by men that were hooting and hollering.
What was the big fuss?
I squeezed my way between two jocks screaming for their turn to be next and caught a glimpse of what had every guy in this joint begging to be next.
The girl next door was on her knees, crawling the length of the bar, from one lucky bastard to another. She poured the liquor straight from the bottle into some lucky bastard’s mouth.
“Marry me!” He shouted, and she threw her head back and laughed.
“Oh baby, I’m not the marrying kind,” she said, blowing him a kiss before she rose to her feet and gave me a full view of her outfit. I started with the shoes that stomped across the bar, fucking sexy as hell. I’d make her keep them on when she wrapped her legs around me and wouldn’t even mind those five-inch heels digging into my back. She was a tiny thing, maybe five foot two, if that, but those heels made her killer legs seem so long. Or maybe it was the short plaid skirt that gave every man at the bar a peep show. Her waist was tiny and her stomach flat, but her rack? Man, what I wouldn’t do to shove my face in her tits. Her shirt knotted under her breasts and was open for all to see the black lace bra she was wearing. I squinted, hoping to catch a little peak of her nips but she was moving all over the place, dancing up a storm as she flirted and poured liquor into all the open mouths, waiting for a taste.
Lauren Bianci, the girl next door, rocked the naughty, school girl bit like no one’s business.
“What’s the matter handsome? Why so serious?” She asked. Her big blue eyes, framed by those damn glasses, staring straight into mine. Every fucking thing went south, whatever common sense I had left, all my blood, it all went straight to my dick. She smiled wide, bending down and pulled my hat from my head before she ran her fingers through my messy hair and yanked my head back. “Open up,” she demanded against my ear.
I looked into those eyes and was fucking lost. She could’ve demanded I run around the bar naked, barking like a dog and I would’ve done it. So I opened my mouth and let her poor the cinnamon flavored whiskey down my throat.
My dick was rock-fucking-hard.
She pulled the bottle away and swiped her thumb across my lips.
“Good boy,” she cheered, as she was about to turn her attention to the man beside me but I grabbed her wrist. Something changed in her eyes and she glanced around the bar, my guess in search of a bouncer. She probably thought I was just another schmuck that wanted to take her into a bathroom stall. I kind of did.
I leaned closer, hypnotized by her perfume and sniffed her.
“Show’s over Lauren. Grab your things it’s time to go,” I said against her ear.
She tried to pull her wrist from my hand but my grip tightened and I turned my head a fraction to stare into those blue orbs again. Shit, they were pretty.
“How do you know my name?”
Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.
Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.
She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.
Tasty Book Tours is Thrilled to Share the Cover for
Make this Smoking Hot “Sexy Snax” a 2016 Must Read!
Releasing May 10th, 2016
Natalea Jones has had a rough life.
An absentee father. A gambling addicted mother, who seems to show up only when
she needs something—preferably money. Natalea survives her childhood and
teenage years because of her best friend, Drake Harte, and his family. Even
though she’s been in love with Drake for years, she refuses to let her lust
come in the way of their friendship. Life without Drake is not possible and sex
would certainly complicate things.
Drake Harte is not only known as the
most eligible bachelor and firefighter in Gamble Park, Florida, but he’s also
known for sexing the ladies and leaving them. Only he knows the reason he can’t
make a commitment to the women throwing themselves at him—he’s in love with his
best friend. It’s time he either goes for it or moves on.
After Natalea and Drake share a
night of passion, an unexpected event occurs that proves to both of them that
life—and love—are too precious.
Or what? Was his firecracker of a best friend challenging him? He may have gotten off his twenty-four-hour shift at the firehouse mere minutes ago, but he was always ready to rumble with Natalea. Her honey-colored eyes gleamed with the familiar twinkle she had every single time they provoked each other. She loved it as much as he did.
He loved everything about her. She was a whole lot wrapped up in a five-foot-three package. She was beautiful—beautiful in a way that wasn’t cover model, but real. Sweet. Caring. Honest. Strong. Stronger than anyone he knew. Her life hadn’t been easy.
He exhaled a laugh before dropping the towel and placing his hands on the bar top. Having spent as much time as he had in The Misbehaved, he knew exactly how much space he had to clear before he’d be on the ground on the other side. He pushed off with his feet on the stool rungs and slammed it to the ground with a bang as he propelled himself over. He landed with a thud on the black rubber floor mat. Heads swiveled in their direction.
Natalea yelped and dropped the towel. She spun on her heels and dashed to get away from him. He swung his arm around her waist and jerked her flush against him. The feel of her softness against the rigid planes of his body made a groan bubble up in his chest. He bit it off.
He hoisted her over his shoulder and wandered out onto the floor. Her lush breasts pressed against him and made his cock twitch to life in his jeans. Her legs flailed in the air, her black work boots thudding against his abdomen. She may have been small, but she was mighty. He’d give her that. As the thought entered his mind, her teeth sank into his lower back muscles through his T-shirt.
“Ow,” he cried, surprised by her bite. “Watch it, baby girl. You know better than to walk this tough-girl path with me. It never ends well for you.”
She grunted and groaned at his words. Several of the male patrons hooted and hollered.
“Nice legs,” one of the guys standing by the pool table shouted. A few whistles followed and Drake realized what the fuss was about. Her already scant jean shorts had ridden up her legs, exposing all of her thighs, maybe more. Despite the crowd being predominantly female, the few males made themselves quite vocal.
A wave of possessiveness flowed over him. He didn’t like that the guys were gawking at her ass poised in the air, and at her tan, muscular legs draped over his shoulder. Legs he’d fantasized about encircling his hips as he buried himself inside her. That fantasy had recurred on numerous occasions over the last decade.
Yes, he pined after his best friend. Had for years. Whenever she was around, he popped a perpetual boner. He also needed to protect her, which pretty much ruined any chance she had for a relationship with anyone else. No one—and he meant no one—was good enough for her.
© Jessica Jayne
Jessica Jayne is a born and raised small-town Ohio girl who moved to the
Sunshine State after graduating from college. She graduated with a bachelor’s
degree in English. What college major could possibly be better than one that
makes you read novels and write about them! Now she is thrilled to be able to
share all the hot stories floating around in her head.
Jessica loves to travel and travel often! She shares her love of
travel with her husband and children. She’s a huge sports fan, especially
football. She loves the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Ohio State Buckeyes! She’s
a wine-making (and wine-tasting) aficionado. She loves all music. And nothing
is better than sunset at the beach!
In the journey of life, she also married a wonderful man and had
three beautiful (and sometimes crazy) children. Life is always an adventure!
Synopsis: No war is won without a few bloodstains.
Tommas Rossi wants what belongs to him—he wants it bad. At thirty-years-old, he’s on course to become the youngest boss in the Chicago Outfit’s history. He just has to make it to the end alive. But being the boss of the Outfit means nothing to Tommas if a certain blue-eyed girl isn’t standing with him when the city finally crumbles. The crown is so close he can taste it. Blood paves his way. Every king needs a queen, but he doesn’t know how to get his anymore.
Abriella Trentini has always been the rebel. She’s quicker than most men, dangerous when she wants something, and more careful than anyone knows. Her relationship with Tommas Rossi has been a dangerous game she loved to play, but someone always has to lose. With choices to make, the kind that determines who will live and who will die, Abriella doesn’t know what to do. This should have been easy, but nothing ever is, and her time to choose is running out.
So much blood has spilled for this. The Outfit is in shambles, grieving and angry. The families just want peace. No one knows who will take the Chicago throne because too many men have a stake in this game. In wars like these, no one will let it go easily.
They’ll be bloodstained until the very bitter end.
And left breathless in the devastation of it all.
Has it been worth it?
Please Note: Breathless is the fourth book in a series and should only be read after the first three books have also been read. It is NOT a standalone.
There were very few things in life that made a man worthy. Those things became lessened when a man was in the mafia. Instead of his value being counted in his actions and words, it was tallied by his deeds and possessions. It was determined by the number of men on his streets and the most red he could cover on a map to say he owned.
Tommas Rossi had always found it amusing how made men were called Men of Honor. There was nothing honorable about this life. The Outfit had forgotten honor a long time ago. Long before the war.
They breathed. They bled.
Life and death.
That’s all this life had ever been.
The one thing in his life that had kept Tommas honorable throughout the years was just a few steps ahead of him, but still out of reach.
Tommas tugged his jacket tighter around his neck, determined to keep the cold February air out. Even with it being the last days of the coldest month of the season, he knew the weather wouldn’t let up for another two. Probably. The bite of the wind was the only thing he seemed to feel lately. Maybe that was why he preferred to be outside rather than inside.
“No way,” a familiar voice said down the way.
Leaning around the lamp post, Tommas watched the two women walk arm in arm down the street. His eye caught the taller of the two and the dark waves of her hair that flew wildly in the wind. For a moment, he felt something else.
His heart splintered.
It was an agonizing crack.
He hated it.
But he loved her.
“Not at all?” Abriella asked.
“No, I want to make sure it’s all pale yellows and greens,” Alessa replied. “No pink. I hate pink. No dark blues, either. I don’t want to know the gender or make people think we do know what it is.”
Abriella’s laughter floated down to Tommas’ spot, traveling in the wind. It was a sweet sound, and one so familiar to him that it soothed the deep ache inside his chest. But not for long. It never lasted very long.
He hadn’t expected to see Abriella strolling out of the hospital with her sister in tow when he arrived to visit Theo. His plans to see the Capo had been forgotten while he followed the sisters down the street.
“I’m excited for you,” Abriella said.
Alessa tugged her sister closer. “Me, too.”
Tommas wondered if Abriella was smiling. The fact that he was the cause of her unhappiness lately, or the majority of it, sucked away what little soul he had left. People shouldn’t hurt those they loved.
God knew he had grown up in a home where that’s all he ever saw. His mother hating his father, and his father despising his mother. Violence. Drinking. Abuse.
Tommas wanted to be better than that, but then he’d went ahead and got himself mixed up with a girl eight years younger than his thirty years. Someone that the Outfit determined he couldn’t have because of her status and last name. And because he wasn’t good enough for her with his status or last name.
He knew better.
All those years ago?
Tommas wasn’t stupid, but it had been fun. Just simple, honest fun with a girl who tasted like trouble all over and gave him a whole new thrill that had nothing to do with the streets, being a Capo, or the mafia. Somewhere along the lines, fun with Abriella turned into a private apartment with her clothes in his closest, scarfs hanging off the bedpost, and her lotions in the bathroom.
It changed to comfort.
She seeped into his blood.
She infected him.
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.