Dirty Thirty: A Memoir by Asa Akira

Dirty Thirty: A Memoir by Asa Akira

Date of Publication: August 9, 2016

Blurb

Get Inside Asa Akira!

The world knows her as a porn star. . . but it's her way with words that will touch you again and again. As she contemplates turning thirty years old while still being in the adult film trade, Asa Akira delves into her past, present, and future, exploring the events that brought her to where she is now and the surprising and insightful plans she has for her future. Asa's perceptive, funny, and straightforward writings on love, sex, death, marriage and celebrity come together in this surprising book of essays that will have you laughing hysterically one minute and deep in reverent thought the next. Personally revealing as well as universal, Dirty Thirty marks the coming of age of a new literary star.

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About Asa Akira

Asa Akira is a Japanese-American actress who has appeared in over 300 adult films. Her many awards include AVN's "Performer of the Year" award in 2013. In addition to acting and writing, she hosts a regular podcast on sex and relationships and is the author of Insatiable: Porn - a Love Story.

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Designing Your Own Book Cover: How to Select The Right Image

Designing Your Own Book Cover: How to Select The Right Image

In Elements of a Book Cover that Sells, I talk about creating a cover that speaks directly to your audience by using the idea of a Single Story. In the following post, I expand on this idea by giving helpful tips on finding the base layer for your cover: the image.

Your image should convey the mood of your story. If you’ve written a fun-loving, silly, woman’s novel, your cover might be an illustration of a lady in heels with a pink background. If your book explores the story of a missing woman, it might have a dark background with a woman running away. If it’s a love story, readers will expect a couple holding hands or kissing on the cover. All these components convey the mood of the book and attract your audience.

If the mood is not evident, you will miss potential readers. When readers go searching for a new book, they usually know what type of book they want to read. If nothing else, they know what types of book they have enjoyed in the past. They will be attracted to images that remind them of another book they’ve read. This relationship connects the reader to an emotion they felt while reading that book. For instance, I had recently finished Where’d You Go Bernadette and was looking for a new read. I saw the novel How to Write a Novel, with its blue cover and illustrations and bought it. Why? It reminded me of Bernadette. That’s it. I wasn’t even looking for a book like Bernadette; I just subconscious equated the cover of Bernadette with a book I like.

Often authors spend energy on trying to get their cover image to be unique, and to stand out from the crowd. While really, they should have been doing the opposite.

You may have noticed that in all of the examples at the beginning of this article, I suggest having images of people on the cover (the woman in pink heels, the couple kissing, etc.). As an author, you may be tempted to steer away from covers that give away too much detail that you’d rather let the reader imagine. One of the reasons I believe readers like books over their film adaptations, is because they get to bring the scene to life using their own imagination. The same applies to the characters in a book. Giving too much detail away can take away this experience from the readers. So why do I suggest books with images of people? Simply, they sell better.

You many see that some covers don’t have the full person or even just avoid their face on the cover. You might see only a woman’s legs or feet, or you might see her face below the nose. This allows your readers to still create the characters using their own imagination while still creating a book cover that sells.

The other advantage of showing only a part of a character is that it allows you to simplify your cover. If you are trying to convey too much information to your readers, it will be busy and overwhelming and will distract them from absorbing the story’s mood. Remember, you want to sell them a single story. Don’t try to input double meanings, or symbols that the reader will only understand once they’ve read the book. Symbolism is for your writing. You aren’t trying to sell them on your cleverness with a book cover.

To convey the mood, keep it simple, and focus on a single story, you want to be obvious with your images, but not necessarily literal. You don’t want readers to have to guess or search for your cover is about. But at the same time, it doesn’t need to be a specific scene from your story to convey the mood, and being too literal can destroy the intrigue you want to create. Let me show you what I mean:

Bad Cover: The problem with this cover is that it is too literal. You can actually tell that this is a scene from the book. You might read the book with the anticipation in your head of getting to that scene. But readers are, in their own opinion, better imaginators than any author. Therefore, you are certain to disappoint. There are too many details in this cover that need to synchronize with the readers’ imagination. How many times have you seen a book made into a movie and found something in the movie that played out way better in your head?

Good Cover: The following cover could very well be the same book. It’s obvious this story is also about a woman who is gone, missing or taken (as the title suggests). You don’t have to decipher a code in the image to get a sense for what the book is about. But at the same time, this cover isn’t so literal. You get to conjure up an image as to what might be happening because you aren’t force fed a scene.

Here’s a test: Once you have selected an image, forget your story. Can you create a powerful title on the picture alone? Does that title do your book justice? If not, keep looking.

The most common place authors and designers find images for book covers is stock image sites. There are hundreds of thousands of images to choose from, and they are usually between $10 and $25 per image. With a stock image from Shutterstock.com or iStock.com, you can sell between 250,000 and 500,000 books before you have to worry about purchasing additional licensing. There are also sites you can find free stock images, but make sure you read and fully understand the terms of copyright before using an image from one of these sites. DO NOT use an unlicensed image from a Google images search, even if you don’t think you are going to sell very many books, as this will most certainly earn you a letter from an attorney asking you to remove it at the least, and a lawsuit at the worst.

The advantages of using stock images are selection, price, and availability. To find an image for a previous post, I used the search terms “girl in front of a ship” and found 42 pages of results. That’s a pretty specific request. Also, stock image sites are also regularly updated their inventory, and they tag images by a number of categories, including model. So if you find a model that you like, but the image isn’t quite right, you can find other photos with the same model. This is very useful for a book series.

A drawback to using stock imaging is uniqueness. Stock sites will sell an image infinite number of times, meaning that even though your typography and location of the photo might be unique, another author might end up with the same image on their cover. Professional publishing houses will spend thousands hiring a photographer and models to get unique images for their covers. However, this isn’t a possibility for most self-published authors. On freeeebookcovers.com, I am building a collection of non-stock images from local photographers I’ve worked with over the years. Check back soon for the launch of Original Images, and happy writing!

BIO:

Kari Anders is a book cover designer who works mostly with self-published authors and small publishing houses. She worked in freelance design for six years before attending graduate school, and now teaches design and runs freeebookcovers.com. All of Kari's covers are designed as CreateSpace Wraps for only $75, with the eBook version included for free. Her site specializes in Pre-Made Book Covers, but she also does interior design and custom covers.

Forever Wild: A Camden Ranch Novel by Jillian Neal

Forever Wild: A Camden Ranch Novel by Jillian Neal

Date of Publication: July 12, 2016

Blurb

If rough and rugged cowboy Luke Camden has his way, Indie Harper will be his forever.
No one has ever stirred Indie's soul the way Luke does, but even his sinfully good looks and supreme bedroom skill can't keep her tied down. Nothing lasts forever. Her mother proved that point when she tore their family apart.
It doesn't matter how good she and Luke have always been together; returning to the town where everything shattered around her is out of the question. Except for the fact that Luke has challenged her to a two-week, no-limits homage to the finer points of sex, and Indie knows even her stubborn resolve may not survive.
Her headstrong ways and his cool, steady hand may set the entire Midwest ablaze. Luke is about to learn that there are some storms you run from and some storms you chase, and that Indie Harper is the one girl he just can't let get away.
This time, he's not stopping until she's his forever, no matter what gets in his way.

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About Jillian Neal

Bestselling author, Jillian Neal, was not only born 30 but also came accessorized with loads of books and adorable handbags in which to carry them, at least that's what she tells people. After earning a degree in education, she discovered that her passion could never be housed inside a classroom. A vehement lover of love and having maintained a lifelong affair with the awe-inspiring power of words, she set to turn the romance industry on its head. Her overly-caffeinated, troupe-spinning muse is never happy with the standard formula story. She believes every book should be brimming with passion, loaded with hot sexy scenes, packed with a gut-punch of emotion, and have characters that leap off the page and right into your heart.
Her first series, The Gifted Realm, defines contemporary romance with a fantasy twist. Her Gypsy Beach series will leave you longing to visit the sultry shores of the tiny bohemian beach town, and her erotic romance series, Camden Ranch, will make you certain there is nothing better than a cowboy with some chaps and a plan. The sheer amount of coffee required to keep all of those characters dancing in her head would border on lethal, so she unleashes their engaging stories on page after page of spellbinding reads.
Jillian lives outside of Atlanta with her own sexy sweetheart, their teenage sons, and enough stiletto heels, cowgirl boots, and flip-flops to exist in any of the fictional worlds she brings to life.

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Brotherhood of Misfits: Paul, Book Two By Khai L. Bayne

Brotherhood of Misfits: Paul, Book Two

By Khai L. Bayne

Romantic Suspense, Mystery

Available: April 16, 2016

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Blurb

Not all things that glitter are made of gold.

My name is Paul Kian McKinnon. I grew up with upper class, wealthy parents who had successful jobs, the best education money could buy, friends in all the most popular circles, and of course ideal grades. My good fortune spilled over into my adult life. To most people my life is what you would call privileged. At first glance you would think I have everything together, healthy bank account, beautiful house, good job, and great friends. Everything is perfect, until… The door to the outside world closes.

At home everything falls apart. In this place, I am my most vulnerable. Every night I try silence my inner demons in a sea of sleeping pills and alcohol, but sometimes that isn’t enough. Sometimes it gets to be too much and I need to do more than simply just dull the anxiety, pain, and the all-encompassing numbness. Yes, I know it’s not healthy, but it’s all I have… Well that and my brothers, the Misfits as we are called.

We were all brought together thanks to the kindness of Jethro-Elijah Shepard. Through his compassionate heart and stern beliefs, we’ve grown up together into strong, loyal, friends. We’ve celebrated each other’s wins, as well as comforting each other in our loses. Those men have been more of a family to me than my own flesh and blood, and yet I still can’t bring myself to share the darkest parts of me. They won’t understand because they see me just as the rest of the world does… Perfect.

What would happen if I dropped the mask and let it splinter like the pieces of my broken soul?

Would they save me?

The better question is… Do I want to save myself, or do I just want to fade away into the abyss of pain and suffering?

Am I ready to peel away the beautiful covering and let them look at the ugliness underneath?

In order to find out you’ll have to read my story, and trust me when I say… it won’t be for the faint of heart.

(This is the Second book in the Brotherhood of Misfits series. It can be a stand alone BUT to full get to know the characters it is best to read Book One.)

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Other Books In The Series

Brotherhood of Misifts: ROC, Book One

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About The Author

Growing up in a small town Khai L. Bayne always had an over active imagination. The only girl in a family with two boys, many of her nights (and some days.) were spent finding creative ways to pass the time. The daughter of a long time "Trekkie" and "Sci-Fi Junkie", you could say it was imbedded into her DNA to be a fan of the paranormal world. Now over three decades later, her depraved imagination and love for the world of "Grown-up make believe". She has decided to share her depravity with the rest of the world.

Connect with Khai L. Bayne

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The Redemption of Julian Price by Victoria Vane

Title: The Redemption of Julian Price

Author: Victoria Vane

Genre: Historical Romance

Release Date: April 11, 2016

Blurb

She gave him a chance to bury his past… but the price would be his heart.. 
Burdened by the past… Orphaned at a young age and left to run wild, at eighteen Julian Price joins the fight against Napoleon in the hope of attaining honor. Devastated when his best friend, Thomas, is killed in battle, Julian returns home burdened with guilt, only to find his wastrel uncle has squandered his inheritance. 

Desperate to live her own life… Facing a future of drudgery caring for her aging mother and raising her brother's children, Henrietta Houghton believes her chance at a real life died with Thomas, the only man who ever wanted her. But Henrietta is still full of dreams. When her wealthy aunt, offers her a gift of ten thousand pounds, Henrietta finally has the chance to choose her own destiny. 

Everything has a price...With a fortune at her command, Henrietta offers Julian a marriage of convenience, unaware that she really offers Julian a means of salvation—not just his fortune, but his very soul.

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Excerpt

“What is it like?” she suddenly asked.

“What is what like?” he replied carefully, wondering how the devil to extricate himself from this damnable line of conversation.

“Coupling with another,” she said.

“It’s impossible to describe,” he replied. “There is no other comparable experience.”

“Then I don’t understand why so many women regard it as an unpleasant duty.”

 “Perhaps some are soured by a clumsy first experience or by a selfish or insensitive lover.” 

 “I know the first time can be painful, but what do you mean by selfish and insensitive?”

“Must we continue this conversation, Hen?” he pleaded. “It’s damnably awkward.”

“Why?” she asked. “I have questions, and you have answers. There is no one else I can ask about these things. Do you honestly think Harry or my mother would tell me anything?”

“What about your married sisters?” he suggested.

She bent to pick another flower. His gaze lingered on the outline of her arse. To his chagrin, he was once more feeling stirrings below. Why was he having such lustful fancies about Henrietta when he had a willing mistress to warm his bed? Maybe that was the trouble? He’d been too long away from Muriel. But Muriel wasn’t the one currently inspiring his sexual fantasies.

“They would only blush and titter and speak in euphemisms,” she continued. “All I want is to understand what I would be giving up if I do not wed.” She lowered herself to the grassy bank and cast her gaze out over the shimmering water with a sigh. “They say one does not miss what ones does not know, but I don’t think that’s really true, do you?”

“From a man’s perspective, you would be right,” he agreed. “The sexual drive is very strong in men. We instinctively know what we are missing.”

“But women don’t?” she asked.

He tied the horses and sat down beside her. “Perhaps some do,” he agreed. “But those are generally women who make themselves available to satisfy men’s lust.”

“You speak of prostitutes? But I thought you said any woman could enjoy . . . coupling.”

“It depends on both the man and the woman,” he said. “If a man only seeks to satisfy himself, she is unlikely to experience any pleasure.”

“So a man must desire to please a woman?”

“Yes, Hen.”

“Oh. That’s interesting. I didn’t know that. Does it also hurt a man the first time?” she asked.

“No,” he answered tersely.

“So it’s always pleasurable?”

He hesitated and then shook his head, recalling the utter humiliation of his first sexual experience. “No. Not always.”

“You mean it wasn’t for you?” she softly prompted.

“It was at first, and then it wasn’t,” he replied.

“I don’t understand you,” she said. “Would you please explain?”

Julian hesitated to speak of what he had never shared with a soul, not even Thomas.

“Please, Julian,” she persisted.

Suddenly restless, he stood and scanned the bank for a skimming stone. “Do you recall the week before my sixteenth birthday when Winston arrived with four carriages full of guests?”

“Yes,” she laughed. “Who could forget? He supplied the village with a year’s worth of salacious scandal. Is it true what the servants said?”

“That he hosted a week-long orgy? Yes, Hen. And once he realized it was my birthday, he took it upon himself to initiate me to manhood.” It was only then that Winston even remembered his existence. In retrospect, Julian wished he hadn’t. In that single week, Winston introduced Julian to all manner of vice—gaming, drinking, and whores. Eager for acceptance, Julian had embraced it all. He might have pitched completely into the moral abyss were it not for Thomas, who’d brought him back from the brink.

“My first experience was at the hands of one of Winston’s whores.” He sent a stone bouncing over the water.

“But you didn’t enjoy it?” she asked.

“I did until she recounted the experience in minute detail to the entire party. I was utterly humiliated while they all had an enormous laugh at my expense.”

“How cruel! I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Me too,” he said.

“Sometimes I try to imagine what it must be like to be with someone that way.”

That remarked snagged his attention. “You fantasize, Hen?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I have kissing dreams.”

“Kissing dreams?” he repeated. “And who exactly do you kiss in these dreams?” Was it Thomas or someone else? Did he really wish to know?

“I don’t know,” she replied. “You know how vague dreams can be.”

Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips.  Was it a subtle invitation? Did Henrietta desire to be kissed? Julian tamped down the powerful urge to do just that. For once begun, he could never end it with just a kiss. He’d grown uncomfortably aware of her physically and feared he would soon be fully aroused. Kissing her could only end in ruin, shame, and disgrace.

We should return now,” he said abruptly.

“But it’s still early,” Henrietta protested. “Can’t we stay here for a while? Harry won’t return for hours yet.”

 “That is not what I needed to hear, Hen.” He’d resisted the urge to kiss her, but any more time alone with Henrietta would only be tempting the devil. “Let’s go. Now.” Before I do something I shall surely regret.

About The Author

Victoria Vane is a bestselling author of smart and sexy contemporary romance and an award-winning author of historical romance. Her books have received many accolades to include the 2016 Red Carpet Award for Jewel of the East, 2014 RONE Award for Treacherous Temptations as well as Library Journal Best E-Book romance of 2012 for The Devil DeVere series.
 

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Eight Ways to Ecstasy by Jeanette Grey

Date of Publication: April 5, 2016

Blurb

Kate Reid's whirlwind romance with billionaire playboy Rylan Bellamy complicated her life in ways she'd worked to avoid. She'd fallen hard for his flirtatious charm and given him the one thing no other man had: her trust. Just as Kate began to imagine a future with Rylan, everything fell apart.
Now she's starting over in New York...but even the glittering streets of Manhattan can't erase the memory of Rylan knocking her off her feet and sweeping her into the most erotic, unforgettable week of her life.
It's been months, and Rylan still can't forget Kate. Months since he bared his soul at her feet. Months since he drove away the only woman to ever make him feel. Kate changed his world and now Rylan is determined to win her back-no matter what it takes. After crossing an ocean to reach her, he makes a deal with Kate: One more week, for one more chance. Now it's up to Rylan to show Kate all the ways they fit together . . . and prove that this player has met his perfect match.

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About Jeanette Grey

Jeanette Grey started out with degrees in physics and painting, which she dutifully applied to stunted careers in teaching, technical support, and advertising. When she isn't writing, Jeanette enjoys making pottery, playing board games, and spending time with her husband and her pet frog. She lives, loves, and writes in upstate New York.

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Teaser

The gate he'd left ajar swung wider, and a second later, Kate poked her head in through the gap.
A little more of the stiffness in Rylan's spine faded away. He didn't even have to force a smile.
"Hey," he said, sitting up straighter.
"Hey yourself." Kate slipped inside and eased the gate back into place.
His grin grew as he took her in. She looked ready to work, for all that he'd assured her he had people coming to do the heavy lifting. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a simple braid, and he envisioned untying it later, combing his fingers through the loose locks. He licked his lips, looking forward to taking off her jeans.
Sliding those little purple Converse from her feet.
But first, he had to get them to that point. Not for the first time, he second-guessed his decision to ask her to meet him here. If anything would scare her off, it would be his father's mansion. It typified all the things he'd originally imagined she'd abhor. Huge and hollow and useless. A waste.
Like he had been, when she'd met him. She'd accepted him then all the same.
And he had to give her creditóshe did a pretty good job of pretending not to notice her surroundings as she made her way over to him. Her stride remained casual, her shoulders loose. But her gaze kept wandering, her brows gradually creeping up toward her hairline. He could almost see the questions bubbling up to her lips.
He patted the space beside him as she neared, beckoning her to sit.
She did, pointing at the coffees to the other side of him. "Is one of those for me?"
"It might be." He picked hers up and held it out to her, but as she went to take it from him, he grabbed it back. "It isn't free, though."
"Oh, no?"
"Nope." He presented his cheek for a kiss in payment.
Rolling her eyes, she sighed, but she leaned in easily enough. Her lips lingered against his skin, and he reached up to cup the side of her neck, holding her in place as he turned.
Her mouth opened beneath his, and he hummed into the kiss, darting out his tongue to taste the soft pout of her lower lip. She smelled shower-fresh, sweet and warm, and her hair had the tiniest bit of dampness to it as he slid his palm higher, cradling the back of her head.
She pulled away a long second later, blinking slowly at him, her eyes a little glazed. She came back to herself quickly enough. "That was an expensive cup of coffee."
Chuckling, he handed it over, and watched as she brought it to her lips. The gentle, pink curve of them eased upward.
Her gaze darted over to him. "You remember."
Of course he did. Two more sugars than he thought was a good idea and enough cream to turn it a pale, milky tan.
He remembered everything that gave her pleasure. Everything he could do to make her smile.

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Remembering Everly by JL Berg

Date of Publication: April 5, 2016

Blurb

He's forgotten his past, but it hasn't forgotten him. After losing two years of his life trapped in a coma, August Kincaid will do anything to win back the love of his life. But his past threatens to destroy his second chance at happiness, it's Everly who is in danger of paying for his crimes.

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About JL Berg

Author J.L. Berg is a California native living in the South. She is the author of the self-pubbed Ready series. When she's not writing, you can find her with her nose stuck in a romance book, in a yoga studio, or devouring anything chocolate.

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Forgetting August by JL Berg

Date of Publication: April 5, 2016

Blurb

She can forgive, but can she forget?
Some days, Everly still thinks she sees him. In the food court at the mall, or in a car speeding past as the light changes. It only lasts a second, but when it happens, she slips back to a time when she was ruled-and nearly ruined-by August Kincaid. And it doesn't matter that she's moved on, that she's about to marry another man. In those moments the only thing she can do to regain control is take a deep breath and remind herself that August can't hurt her-because he's in a coma. Except that he's not anymore.
August is awake. With no memories, he sets out to solve the mystery of his lost life. He unearths a photograph of a beautiful redhead named Everly and knows instinctively that she's the key. But when he finds her, the August she describes is more monster than man.
Tortured by the thought of having hurt her, August wants only to become the man Everly deserves. As the new August emerges, Everly glimpses the person she first fell in love with. But can she trust that this August is real? When the final secret of their shared past is revealed, one of them will make a choice that changes their future forever . . .

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About JL Berg

Author J.L. Berg is a California native living in the South. She is the author of the self-pubbed Ready series. When she's not writing, you can find her with her nose stuck in a romance book, in a yoga studio, or devouring anything chocolate.

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Teaser

Chapter One
Everly
I saw him again today.
It was at the mall this time.
He was wearing a grey suit and it was just seconds this time before he disappeared around a corner and my life returned to normal once more.
It had been two years and yet I still saw him. Everywhere.
The day after that fateful night, I saw him in our neighborhood walking a dog. Months later, he was next to me at a stoplight when I went out for groceries. Two weeks ago when Ryan got down on one knee and placed a dazzling diamond ring on my left hand, I swear I saw his face the minute I said yes.
He was like a ghostómy own personal poltergeist.
I knew it wasn't really him. My therapist had reminded me of that simple fact over a thousand times, but that didn't stop my heart from skipping a beat or my lungs deflating of air every time I saw someone that looked like him pass in my direction.
It could be the color of a person's hair or the way someone laughed that set my body on edge.
Today, it was simply a suit.
Tailored, dark grey with a small pinstripe. The style had been his favorite, and even though the man who wore it looked nothing like him, I still found myself frozen in the middle of the food court.
Still as ice, unable to move.
Because life really didn't move on from a person such as August Kincaid.
No, you simply learned to adapt and above all, you survived.
And that was what I had been doing for the last two years.
Surviving.
"Hey, you went blank again. Are you okay?" Sarah asked.
I looked around, and the world suddenly shifted back into focus. Children cried and
begged for ice cream, teenagers laughed and flirted as they walked by us. The smell of cinnamon rolls and cheap Chinese food mixed and mingled, as people pushed and shoved their way around to get in ridiculously long lines. Life went on around me as I returned to the land of the living.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I assured her. Concern was written all over her beautiful, trim face. Her hand lifted briefly as if she were going to offer a hug, but quickly decided against it.
"Okay," she answered, defeat clearly written all over her face. She knew I wouldn't talk about it.
I never did.
There were certain things that just didn't need to be shared.
Specific memories of my past were one of them.
She already knew I was a nutcase yet for some reason became my friend despite this. I guess we had that specific trait in common. We'd met in the waiting room at my therapist's office. She was a recovering purger, or at least that's what she called it. Since the time Sarah was barely old enough to vote, she'd been suffering from a variety of eating disorders. She attributed her illnesses to a dance mentor who'd never thought she was thin enough to be a ballerina.
"When all you want to do is be the Swan Princess in Swan Lake, you make sacrifices," she'd told me that day in the office very matter-of-factly. Sarah was at peace with her issues. She'd gone through years of counseling and this year would finally be the swan princess she always dreamed of beingófully in control of what she considered her "livable flaws."
Me?
Well, I guess we all had issues that lingered. Some had visible flaws they could see in the mirror, touch with their handsÖmeasure on a scale. Others, like me, had memories that woke us from sleep and haunted our waking hours, making normal, wellódifferent.
I doubted there would ever be any glorious end of the rainbow moment that would somehow magically cure me of all my flaws.
But, I was working on it and Ryan had made a world of difference in my once bleak outlook on life. Now I saw possibilities where there once was only darkness. He brought hope to my sadness and light to my life. There wasn't a day that went by that I wasn't thankful for his persistence in seeking me out.
I'd been a hard one to nail down, or so he told me.
"So, are you ready?" she asked, grabbing my hand and moving away from the frozen yogurt and fried food.
"As I'll ever be," I sighed, taking one last longing look at the exit.
"Oh come on. Most girls are excited to do this. Hell, I've been excited for this day for weeks!"
"Then say you're me," I begged, as we turned the corner and my eyes spotted the brightly lit sign at the end of the walkway. I could feel the groan already forming, the deep rumbling sound vibrating through my lungs as it made its way up to express my displeasure.
"Everly Adams. You will not ruin this for me! This is your day and you will enjoy it!" "I thought my day was several months from now," I joked.
"As the blushing bride-to-be, you will have lots of days between now and then. Get used
to the attention."
I groaned again, looking at the floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed more tulle and
sequins than I'd seen in my entire life. "We should have eloped."
"This is horrid, Sarah," I whined, shuffling out of the dressing room in a gown that could only be described as a cross between the Little Mermaid and that scary Alfred Hitchcock movie with all the birds.
"It's beautiful! And so fashion forward," she practically squealed, clapping her hands together like a happy toddler who had just been given a lollipop for supper. "Look at the way the fabric gathers together, making it look like tiny feathers at the bottom of the skirt. So dramatic."
"That," I said, pointing to my calves," is also where my legs are supposed to be able to move back and forth. It's called walking. I look ridiculous!"
"Walking is so overrated. Besides, how much walking are you planning to do in this thing?" She rolled her eyes, kneeling down to play with the skirt some more. It resulted in the tulle or whatever the puffy stuff was called doubling in size.
"There, perfect."
"I'm not wearing this," I said firmly, trying to look anywhere but at the three different mirrors all reflecting my ridiculous reflection. "Pick another one. And for the love of God, pick something lessÖwell, less you!"
I once again attempted to walk back into the dressing room, doing more of a waddle than a walk. Once there, I was joined by an attendant to assist me. There was no way I could get out of this monstrosity by myself.
"Your tattoo is lovely. Quite unique," the bridal attendant said, as she stood behind me and removed the clamps that held the dress in place. My thin, boy-like frame never did fit into sample sizes well. The lack of hips and boobs kept me in sizes most women would die to wear, but the lack of aforementioned body parts sometimes sucked. A lot.
Especially when trying on wedding dresses. Or anything remotely feminine. I felt more like a pre-pubescent boy trying on drag than a beautiful, curvy woman.
"Thank you," I answered awkwardly, as my hand instinctively reached behind my shoulder to touch the piece of me that I rarely shared with others. The walls of mirrors put my body completely on display, highlighting every rough curve and jutted angle, exposing the harsh black lines of the branch as it wove up my back and around my shoulder.
"Why doesn't the bird fly away? She's free," she said absently, her head cocked to the side as she stared at the birdcage etched on my right shoulder. It was intricate and beautiful as it hung on the barren branch, the door swung wide open for the world to peer in on the tiny bird inside.
"Maybe she's not ready yet," I answered quietly, looking away.
"Okay, I've got another one, Everly! And I promise, you're going to love it!" Sarah's singsong voice seemed to break the spell hovering above us, giving us both a startle. The attendant straightened, turning quickly as I retreated into the corner to grab the satin robe. I'd just fastened it around my waist when she opened the door to let Sarah in.
"Tell me you love me," Sarah said as she waltzed into the room, holding up a simple ivory colored empire waist gown with a small amount of beading around the neckline and not a single bit of organza or tulle in sight.
"I think I love you," I said, as my eyes widened at the understated elegance of the dress. Simple and understated. Everything I wanted to be.
"Let's try it on," she suggested, handing it to the attendant who motioned for me to come forward.
Nodding, I agreed, knowing it was unnecessary.
It was perfect and as I glanced around the room, I caught a glimpse of that tiny bird on my shoulder. The one too afraid to jump out of her cage and discover the world outside.
Soon, I would be perfect, too.
Or as close as I could be to the word.
***
"You are mine, Everly," he whispered. "Mine and mine alone. I own every part of you, every inch of your bodyÖevery breath in your lungs. You. Belong. To. Me."
"Everly," another voice murmured. "Everly, wake up. You fell asleep right at the good part again," Ryan laughed.
My eyes cracked open as the glow of the TV made me turn my head toward the comfort of his warm chest.
"Hey, sleepyhead," he said, pulling me tight against his body. "You'll never know who the winter soldier is now," he joked, his head leaning forward just close enough that I felt the heat of his breath against my neck.
"I saw that plot twist ages ago," I answered, covering a quiet yawn with my palm as I stretched in his arms.
"You always do."
"I can't help it. The story lines are always so obvious."
"And if you had written the story," he said, pulling back slightly with a boyish grin
lighting up his face, "What would you have done differently?"
"I don't knowóI'm not a scriptwriter," I answered with a shrug.
"Maybe you should be." His brow arched, challenging me to answer.
"Who's being the obvious one now, Ryan?" I asked with a huff, rising from my
comfortable spot on the couch in order to create some much needed distance. "And seriously? Scriptwriting? Pick something a little less insane next time. When have you ever seen me pick up a pen? Or sit in front of a computer?"
Whenever the subject of where I was going with my life came up, I needed space.
Unfortunately our apartment was only so big, and right now a football field or two didn't seem large enough.
"I don't want to start an argument, Ev, but I just want you to think about it."
"I have been thinking about it," I answered, stepping into the kitchen as the lights flickered on. I pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. Roughly twisting the cap off, I upturned the bottle and chugged half the contents in one gulp. Water was definitely not my first beverage of choice, but right now I didn't have the patience for anything else.
"And what have you decided?" he asked cautiously, rising from the couch to take a seat at the kitchen island across from me.
"That I'm still deciding." I held my head high, avoiding his eye contact.
I was not in the wrong here.
He sighed long and slow, and I let the silence settle between us, setting the half-empty
bottle down on the counter in front of me. A quick glint of light caught my attention as I turned my head and I swiveled back around toward my left hand, noticing the way the overhead lights reflected on the small diamond centered in the middle of the thin gold band.
Three weeks ago he'd asked me to marry him and I'd said yes.
Despite everything I'd put him throughóthe cold indifference and the numerous rebuttals to his advances, he'd loved me. When I'd told him there would always be a part of me unavailableÖthat I just couldn't share, he'd accepted me. For who I was.
And what I was willing to give him.
"I'll look at the brochures again," I said, offering up an olive branch as I stepped forward and held out the rest of my water bottle. His warm smile returned as his fingers encased mine around the plastic.
"I just want to see you succeed. In whatever you chose, Ev. Hell, you can major in basket weaving for all I care. I just want you to feel like you have a purpose in life beyond working at that coffee shop you refuse to quit."
"I know, and I love you for it," I replied, feeling the deep gaze of his eyes settle on mine. Needing to be closer to him, I walked out of the kitchen and walked into his arms at the counter where he sat.
He pulled me into his large frame, where the world felt safe and measurable again.
"I do make a mean cup of coffee," I said, my lips curving into a smile.
His fingers cupped my chin, tilting it toward his dark brown eyes.
"I know. Why do you think I kept coming back every damn day? It wasn't your charming personality."
"I thought it was my ass," I laughed, shaking it as his hands closed around each cheek and squeezed.
"Ah yes. The ass of a porn star and the mouth of a mime. No matter how hard I tried, I could never get you to talk to me."
"Such a sweet talker, and besidesóI was told to never speak to strange men," I said, quickly hating myself for saying it. My face slipped slightly as my stomach turned, rolling and churning as my mind replayed unwanted memories from my past.
I never, ever want to see you speaking to another man again. Do you understand me, Everly?
The words rolled around in my head as I tried to shake them out. In the last two years of my life, I'd had a thousand moments like this. A glance, a turn of phraseóanything could bring them on. I'd learned to recognize the symptoms and process the reaction quickly.
So quickly that Ryan didn't even seem to notice anymore.
"Well," he said, grinning, his hands slipping underneath my shirt, "I finally did wear you down. And now you're mine."
A weak smile spread across my lips, seconds before his mouth touched mine. No matter how much he loved me.
No matter how much I loved him in return.
I would never, ever belong to another person.
For as long as I lived.
***
The movie had been long forgotten, as had our clothes.
They were strung out all over the apartment, leaving a trail toward the bedroom. Little breadcrumbs of debauchery.
"Hey, it's still early; do you want to order a pizza?" Ryan yelled from the shower as I took a long breath and snuggled deeper into the covers on our bed.
"Does it require me to get out of this bed?" I whined, moving my legs back and forth against the smooth sheets. Ryan always said it looked like I was swimming in bed when I did this.
Growing up, I never had nice sheets. Hell, sometimes there were foster homes that didn't even give me sheetsójust a blanket and a dirty bare mattress.
Luxuries like Egyptian cotton sheets were things I would never grow accustomed to, no matter how many times my legs touched them. Every night, I'd sink into bed and run my legs back and forth against the smoothness, loving the way it felt against my skin.
Like Ryan, it brought me peace and made me feel safeótwo things I'd struggled with the majority of my life.
"Please, babe. I'm hungry. So very, very hungry," he said, sticking his head out the door of the bathroom. His lips turned downward, making him look years younger. I laughed, unable to resist his boyish charm.
"Okay, okay," I said, stretching one last time, before I rose to grab my robe.
"On second thought, I might need to work off a few more calories first," he said, stepping out of the bathroom in just a towel. His tanned skin was slick and wet from the shower, and I couldn't help but lick my lips as I watched a tiny drop of water skate down his chiseled chest.
Who knew nerds could be so hot?
His gaze turned heated as he stalked forward and I watched the towel drop to the floor. I stepped backward, feeling the edge of the bed hit the backs of my knees.
Our bodies met once more as his hand cupped the back of my head, tilting it upward. "I love you, Everly. I love you so much," he whispered, touching his lips to mine. I moaned into the kiss, feeling every hard inch of him press into me.
Always aware of my needs, he was gentle as he lowered me to the bed. As my head touched the pillow, I heard the sounds of a cell phone ringing throughout the apartment.
Ryan's head dipped forward, shaking back and forth.
"Just ignore it," he said.
I was already pushing at his shoulders, begging him to let me answer it.
"It can't be that important, Ev," he said, his eyes dancing with amusement. "I'm right here."
I rolled my eyes, grabbing my robe as I raced to the living room.
"It could be Sarah," I said. "She had her first rehearsal tonight."
I picked up the phone, not recognizing the number, and paused.
"Babe," Ryan said, standing in the doorway of our room. "Come back to bed. Whatever it is can wait."
I didn't listen. Instead, I answered and heard the words I had begged God to never allow to come true.
"Miss Adams?" a woman said on the other end.
"Yes," I answered.
"This is Doctor Lawrence from St. Marcus Hospital."
My heart began to beat frantically as my hand sought out something solid to hold me up.
I knew it was coming. Like a freight train in the middle of the night, I could see the light off in the distanceÖI knew what was coming.
Who was coming.
"He's awake."
The phone hit the floor seconds before I did, and then the world went black.
*******

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Dirty Sexy Inked (Dirty Sexy Series Book 2) by Carly Phillips and Erika Wilde

Date of Publication: April 5, 2016

Blurb

Breaking hearts is what wild and rebellious Mason Kincaid does best. Hit it and quit it is his motto, and with his bad boy reputation and tattoos, he doesn't lack for female companionship. Until one hot night with the one woman he swore he'd never touch becomes an all consuming addiction he can't kick. Katrina Sands has been his best friend for years, but now that he knows what she feels like, and tastes like, there is no going back to being just friends. Hot, dirty sex has never felt so good...or so right.

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---

About Carly Phillips and Erika Wilde

***About Carly Phillips***
Carly Phillips is the N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of over 50 sexy contemporary romance novels featuring hot men, strong women and the emotionally compelling stories her readers have come to expect and love. Carly is happily married to her college sweetheart, the mother of two nearly adult daughters and three crazy dogs (two wheaten terriers and one mutant Havanese) who star on her Facebook Fan Page and website. Carly loves social media and is always around to interact with her readers. You can find out more about Carly at www.carlyphillips.com.
***About Erika Wilde***
Erika Wilde is the author of the sexy Marriage Diaries series and The Players Club series. She lives in Oregon with her husband and two daughters, and when she's not writing you can find her exploring the beautiful Pacific Northwest. For more information on her upcoming releases, please visit website at www.erikawilde.com.

Find Carly Phillips and Erika Wilde Online

Teaser

"WE'RE OFF TO Las Vegas, Kitty-Kat," Mason Kincaid said as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Sin City is the perfect place to get down and dirty and have some fun. What kind of trouble do you think we can get into while we're there?"
Katrina Sands buckled her seat belt and settled more comfortably in the first-class leather seat next to Mason—her best friend since they were fourteen and freshmen in high school. She wasn't at all surprised that he was already making a mental list of all the wild and reckless adventures that awaited him in a no-holds-barred place like Las Vegas. Mason Kincaid was a rule breaker, a thrill seeker, and a self-indulgent bad boy who was all about pleasure and instant gratification. From everything she'd heard about the city that never slept, he'd be right in his element.
Oh, joy, she thought with a resigned sigh. It wasn't as though she was a prude. Far from it. She just wasn't thrilled about watching her best friend's man-whoring ways in action in Vegas. She spent enough time seeing it up close and personal on a day-to-day basis.
She turned her head and met Mason's bright blue gaze. "You do realize that this trip isn't all about you and your dick, right? That we're heading to Vegas because your brother Clay is marrying Samantha?" she asked, reminding him of that one important detail.
The corners of his mouth curved with an indulgent grin. "Of course I realize my brother is strapping on the old ball and chain tomorrow afternoon. But that doesn't mean the entire weekend is going to be all wedding, all the time. In fact, tonight Levi and I plan to take Clay out to make sure he spends his last evening as a bachelor in style."
Which gave Mason the perfect opportunity to carouse for a willing female to take back to his hotel room for the night. It's what Mason did. For as long as she'd known him, he'd had a hit-it-and-quit-it motto when it came to women, and he always made sure they knew the score up front. He didn't make promises or do commitment or anything longer than a one-time fling.
And each time Katrina watched it happen, a little bit of hope died inside of her. The hope that one day Mason would see her as more than just a best friend and the woman who managed to keep his personal and professional shit together. But the man was oblivious to her deeper feelings for him, and she wasn't willing to tell him and risk certain painful rejection. It was much easier, and safer, keeping them both squarely in the friend zone.
She'd known him for twelve years, and had truly come to believe that Mason Kincaid didn't have the ability to commit to any single woman. And it really wasn't hard for her to figure out why considering the kind of childhood he'd had—no father figure to speak of and a mother who cared more about her next fix than her own kids. Mason might be a master at giving off a carefree, I-don't-give-a-crap attitude, but Katrina was one of the few people who knew just how much pain and resentment that laid-back demeanor really masked.
The commercial plane they were taking to Las Vegas finished the boarding process, and one of the cabin crew started closing the overhead luggage bins, while another made an announcement to set all electronic devices to airplane mode. A pretty brunette flight attendant stopped next to Mason's aisle seat and set her hand on his shoulder.
He glanced up at her, and the woman smiled, her complexion flushing a bit as he turned all that potent male sex appeal her way. Yeah, Mason had that kind of breathtaking effect on women. Between his gorgeous features, that sexy, panty-dropping smile, and his sleeves of bad boy tattoos that wrapped around both muscled arms, he was an irresistible force to the female gender.
And the jerk knew it, too, and didn't hesitate to use that charm to his advantage.

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Polar Reaction

Title: Polar Reaction
Author: Claire Thompson
Release Date: April 8, 2016
Genre: M/M/M Romance

Blurb

A passion hot enough to melt a glacier. A love that shakes them to the core.

The savage Antarctic winter is closing in, and three research scientists are scheduled for the last flight out until an unexpected blizzard traps all three of them in the compound. There’s Tuck, who only joined the project to be close to sexy-but-straight Brendan, the man of his dreams. And Jamie, who has always admired the other two from afar.

Thrown into a dangerous situation, the three of them turn to each other for survival, solace and more. As Brendan overcomes his confusion over his impulses, the trio begin a sexual exploration that explodes into passion and unbridled lust.

Yet once the rescue helicopter airlifts them to safety, Brendan comes to his senses, returning home to his carefully constructed, closeted life. But there’s a Brendan-shaped hole left behind in Tuck s and Jamie s hearts. There’s only one way to fill it by breaking through Brendan s reserve to reclaim the man they both love."

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Giveaway

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Polar Reaction

by Claire Thompson

Giveaway ends April 17, 2016.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

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Excerpt

Brendan stepped out of the bathroom just as they turned to enter. He was fully dressed, not that this surprised Jamie. Brendan smiled and ran his fingers through his hair, which was dark gold when wet.

Jamie hooked his thumbs into his back pockets, aware this dragged his jeans down enough to reveal most of the snake tattoo. He stared at Brendan, daring him to notice. Brendan’s gaze swept over both men’s bare chests and he caught his lower lip in his teeth.

“We wondered if you were ever coming out.” Tuck’s voice was teasing. “Looks like you’re all dressed up and no place to go.” Tuck sidled closer to Brendan and tugged at the top button of his outer shirt. “We turned on both heaters. You won’t need all these layers.”

Brendan stood stiffly, allowing Tuck to unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders. If Tuck was aware of Brendan’s discomfiture, he gave no sign. “Let’s watch a movie. We can use your laptop.”

They walked into the sleeping quarters. Having something to do seemed to ease Brendan’s anxiety. He went to the laptop and flipped open the lid. “I should check the weather too.” He sat down and began to type. His brow furrowed and he frowned. “Fuck.” His voice was quiet, but Jamie heard the anguish in it and glanced up sharply.

Brendan looked from him to Tuck with a pained expression. “We lost it again. The satellite connection.” They were all silent. What was there to say? Jamie took a deep breath and exhaled. He was done panicking over the situation.

When he’d cried, something he hadn’t done in years, it had somehow cleansed him, not only of his sorrows, but of his fears. Whatever was going to happen, he wouldn’t change it one iota by flipping out. What Tuck said was true, this was all they had. Today, this moment, this life, this was it. No dress rehearsal, no do overs.

He looked from blond, sexy Brendan to dark, handsome Tuck and smiled, surprised that his calm wasn’t forced. He shrugged. “We know they’re monitoring the situation. They aren’t going to forget about us. It’s not like they could get through now anyway. We might as well relax and enjoy the time we have together, right?”

Tuck’s expression eased, the worried pucker between his eyebrows smoothing. “You’re right, Jamie. Where’s that Southern Comfort, anyway? It’s kind of growing on me.” He turned to Brendan. “What DVDs do we have that we haven’t already watched six hundred times?”

“Steve had the big collection.” Brendan paused, pursing his lips. “I actually have a few old movies you might like.” He moved toward his cot and opened his footlocker, rummaging through piles of rumpled clothing. He held up a DVD case. “How about this? A classic.”

“What is it?” Tuck asked.

“Lawrence of Arabia.”

Tuck raised his eyebrows. “With Peter O’Toole?”

“Yep.”

“That’s a great movie.”

Jamie, not familiar with the movie and barely aware of who Peter O’Toole was, perked up. “Who, Lawrence of Arabia or Peter O’Toole?”

Tuck laughed. “Lawrence, though O’Toole was awfully convincing…” Jamie found himself more interested in the movie.

Brendan popped the DVD into the laptop and turned it toward the sofa, their usual spot for watching movies. Tuck touched his bandage and made a face. “I think I should probably lie down, don’t you? Why don’t we set up the laptop so we can see it from my cot? We can keep this double bed setup.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Brendan shifted the card table so it was facing the cots, while Tuck winked at Jamie, who grinned. The situation was funny in a way, the two of them plotting to seduce the straight guy, everyone tiptoeing around what they knew was going to happen.

Jamie still held himself back. He wasn’t going to push himself between those two, but he wouldn’t be a jerk either, playing hard to get. He’d just go with the flow and see where it took him. He busied himself with pouring portions of the sweet, strong liquor into the juice glasses. Tuck, meanwhile, rearranged the pillows so they were resting against the wall.

The three of them settled in, leaning back against the pillows, their drinks in hand. By unspoken agreement, Jamie and Tuck lay on either side of Brendan. They watched the movie awhile, sipping their drinks. After their second round, they set their glasses aside and focused on the film, which so far, to Jamie’s surprise, was pretty good for something made forty-five years before.

“Hey, ” Jamie observed. “That O’Toole guy actually looks like you, Brendan.”

“You think so?” Brendan shrugged.

“He does look like you.” Tuck turned from the screen to examine Brendan’s features. “It’s your wavy hair. And also the sensual mouth and the strong jaw line.” He ran a finger along Brendan’s jaw. Jamie watched, fascinated, as Brendan actually shivered to Tuck’s touch.

Jamie scooted closer so his leg was touching Brendan’s. He dared to drop his hand to Brendan’s thigh. Brendan turned toward him, his gaze moving from Jamie’s hand to his face. Tuck’s hand appeared on Brendan’s other thigh. Brendan’s head whipped in his direction.

Tuck’s voice was soothing. “Relax, Bren. We aren’t going to eat you. We just want to touch you. To explore a little. That’s okay, isn’t it? We all agree we want this, right?”

“Yeah.” Brendan’s voice was soft. He allowed Tuck to push at his shoulder until he was lying flat between them. On the screen, Lawrence appeared over the top of a huge simmering sand dune, his white robe whipping in the wind, but Jamie stopped even pretending to pay attention.

He slid down beside Brendan, moving his hand along Brendan’s thigh to his crotch. Boldly, he cupped the inviting bulge, delighted to feel it harden beneath his fingers. He met Tuck’s eye and they smiled complicity. However nervous Brendan was, he wanted this.

About The Author

Claire Thompson is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has been writing for nearly two decades, and has published over 60 novels. She writes BDSM romance and non-con abduction tales, spanning both m/f and m/m genres.

Her love affair is with all things D/s (Dominance/submission). Her work began as a romantic exploration of the BDSM life style, and then veered somewhat to the darker side of fantasy. She loves delving into the dark psyche of a twisted mind, and gaining insight into what might motivate such a person to do what they do. She does not create all black and white villains and heroes, but rather strives to develop real, complex and flawed human beings.

Claire doesn't want to simply provide an erotic thrill or evocative description. She seeks not only to tell a story, but to come to grips with, and ultimately exalt in the true beauty and spirituality of a loving exchange of power. Her darker works press the envelope of what is erotic and what can be a sometimes dangerous slide into the world of sadomasochism. Ultimately her work deals with the human condition, and our constant search for love and intensity of experience.

  

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