EXCERPT REVEAL: Manwhore +1 by Katy Evans

MANWHORE + 1  by Katy Evans

EXCERPT

FOUR WEEKS

I’ve never been so hopeful as when I board the pristine glass elevator at the M4 corporate building. A handful of employees ride along with me, murmuring perfunctory greetings to each other and to me. I think my mouth must be on vacation because I can’t seem to force it to speak. But I smile in reply—my smile nervous, nervous but hopeful, definitely hopeful. My riding companions step out on their floors one by one until I’m alone, riding up to the executive floor on my own.

Toward him.

          Toward the man I love.

          My body is raging. My blood is pumping—my blood is storming—my thighs are shaking. My stomach feels filled with little earthquakes that just won’t quit, then they turn into a full-fledged roil when I hear the elevator ting at his floor.

         Stepping out, I’m in corporate nirvana, surrounded by sleek chrome and pristine glass, marble and limestone floors. But I hardly have eyes for anything except the tall and imposing frosted glass doors at the far end of the room.

          Framing those doors to each side is a pair of sleek designer desks, for a total of four.

          Behind these desks are four women in identical black-and-suits, sitting behind their gleaming dark-oak desks, working quietly behind their flat-screen computers.

          One of them, the forty-year-old Catherine H. Ulysses—right hand of the man who owns every inch of this building—stops what she’s doing when she sees me. She arches her brow, then seems both tense and relieved as she lifts the receiver on her desk and murmurs my name into it.

          I. Am. Not. Breathing.

          But Catherine doesn’t miss a beat as she motions me toward the huge frosted doors—those intimidating doors—that lead into the lair of the most powerful man in Chicago.

          The human being with the most powerful effect on me.

          This is what I’ve been waiting for, for four weeks. This is what I wanted when I left a thousand messages on his phones and what I wanted when I wrote a thousand others that I left unsent. To see him.

          For him to want to see me.

          But as I force myself to step forward, I don’t even know if I’ll have the strength to stand before him and look him in the eye after what I did.

          I’m wracked so hard with nervousness and anticipation and hope—yes hope, small but bright, even as I shake like a leaf.

          Catherine holds the door open, and I struggle to hold my head high and walk into his office.

           Two steps inside I hear the swoosh of the glass door shutting behind me and my systems halt at the familiar sight of the most beautiful office I’ve ever been in.

          His office is all vast marble and chrome, twelve-foot ceilings, and endless floor-to-ceiling windows.

          And there he is. The center of its axis. The center of my world.

          He’s pacing by the window, speaking into a headset in a low, low voice—the kind he uses when he’s pissed. All I can make out are the words have to be dead to let her fall into his clutches …

          He hangs up, and as if he feels me in the room, he turns his head. His eyes flare when he sees me. His green eyes.

          His achingly familiar, beautiful green eyes.

          He inhales, very slowly, his chest expanding, his hands curling a little at his sides as he looks at me.

          I look back at him.

          Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint.

          I just walked into the eye of the most powerful storm of my life. No. Not a storm. A hurricane.

          Four weeks, I haven’t seen him. And he still looks exactly as I remember. Larger than life, and more irresistible than ever.

          His striking face is perfectly shaven today, and his sensual lips look so achingly full I can almost feel them against mine. Six-feet-plus of perfectly controlled male power stand before me, in a perfect black suit and a killer tie. He’s the very devil in Armani; strong-boned, square-jawed, gleaming dark hair and those penetrating eyes.

          He’s got the best eyes.

          They twinkle mercilessly when he teases me, and when he doesn’t tease me, they’re mysterious and unreadable, assessing and intelligent, keeping me guessing about his thoughts.

          But I had forgotten how cold those eyes used to be. Green arctic ice looks back at me now. Every fleck of ice in those eyes gleaming like diamond shards.

          He clenches his jaw and tosses the headset aside.

          He looks as approachable as a wall, his shoulders stretching his shirt, which clings to his skin like a groupie. But I know he’s not a wall; I’ve never wanted to throw myself at a wall like this.

          He’s walking towards me. Every step he takes makes my heart pound as he moves with that quiet and confident own-the-world stride of his.

          He stops a few feet away and shoves his hands into his pants pockets; and he seems so big all of a sudden, and he smells so utterly good. I drop my eyes to his tie as the little candle of hope I walked in with starts to flicker with doubt.

For every sin there is a sinner!

Manwhore + 1 is now available for pre-order

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Submit your proof of pre-order and get an early peek at Ms. Manwhore, the last of Saint and Rachel's passionate love story. Click here to enter: http://www.katyevans.net/pre-order-bonus/

Blurb

The unexpected love story that began in MANWHORE continues heating up the pages in MANWHORE +1 by New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans...

Billionaire playboy? Check.

Ruthless businessman? Check.

Absolutely sinful? Check.

Malcolm Saint was an assignment. A story. A beautiful, difficult man I was supposed to uncover for a racy exposé.

I intended to reveal him, his secrets, his lifestyle--not let him reveal me. But my head was overtaken by my heart and suddenly nothing could stop me from falling. I fell for him, and I fell hard.

Malcolm Saint is absolute Sin, and I've become a hopeless Sinner.

Now that the assignment is over, Saint wants something from me--something unexpected--and I want this wicked playboy's heart. But how can I prove to the man who trusts no one that I'm worthy of becoming his plus one?

Manwhore (Book One)

Now Available

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About the Author:

Hey! I’m Katy Evans and I love family, books, life, and love. I’m married with two children and three dogs and spend my time baking, walking, writing, reading, and taking care of my family. Thank you for spending your time with me and picking up my story. I hope you had an amazing time with it, like I did. If you’d like to know more about books in progress, look me up on the Internet, I’d love to hear from you!

Website: www.katyevans.net

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Email: authorkatyevans@gmail.com

EXCERPT REVEAL: Up in Smoke by Tessa Bailey

Excerpt #1

She stood behind him now with her lips parted and cheeks flushed, watching him stroke himself off like a hormonal teenager. It shouldn’t have made him hotter, not when he didn’t fully understand the problems she obviously had knocking around inside her beautiful head. He should stop now and make her explain, tell her she couldn’t touch him anymore until he knew what she was going through. But there wasn’t any turning back. Not right now, not with his cock heavy in his hand, ready to erupt.

In the mirror, he could see her fingers smoothing against each other, as if she were imagining what it would feel like to replace his hand with her own.

Jesus. He liked having her watch. If her expression had been any different, it might have been another story. The look of wonder, the renewal of arousal that transformed her as she came slowly closer, had him clenching his teeth to prolong the moment. Fuck, though, it hurt. The front of her panties were wet from riding him until she came. Her flat stomach peeked out under the edge of her shirt, reminding him once again how crazy he was to yank it up and see what she hid underneath. At the same time, she looked like an innocent who’d stumbled upon something very, very bad happening and God, it made him want to corrupt her even more. Sick. I’m sick. His balls drew up tight…the tingling began at the base of his spine…

“You should leave,” Connor grated, squeezing his eyes closed. Christ, any minute now…he couldn’t wait any longer. Looking at her, knowing he couldn’t touch her, was killing him. At the same time, his mind was projecting images in a desperate attempt to send him over the edge and find relief. Erin straddling his face, hands cuffed behind her back. Erin’s eyes going blind, ankles around her ears, as drove into her like a madman. “Go, Erin.”

He didn’t hear her move. One second she was standing at the door, the next she was standing on the rim of his bathtub, just beside his left shoulder. Closer. Her tits were eye level and it took every ounce of self-control inside him not to suck them into his mouth, right through her T-shirt. A tiny moan dropped from her lips as she leaned close, watching his hand work his stiff cock. She placed her open lips on his neck and dragged them higher, where she licked at his ear.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. Do it again.

“What feels right,” she whispered, stroking his fingers over his chest. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. Is it me?”

“Of course,” he shouted. “You don’t want to know any more than that.”

“Yes, I do.” She lightly scraped her fingernails down his back, and he growled. “I want to know what I’m missing out on. Tell me.”

Meet Ex- Navy Seal Connor in this unconventional romance!

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Blurb

Never start a fire you can't control...

Connor Bannon is supposed to be dead. Dishonorably discharged from the Navy SEALs, he's spent the last two years working as a street enforcer in Brooklyn for his cousin's crime ring. Through a twist of fate, he's now in Chicago, working undercover to bust criminals. But when a cute little arsonist joins the team-all combat boots, tiny jean shorts, and hot-pink hair-Connor's notorious iron control slips.

Erin "she's getting away" O'Dea knows two things. She hates authority. And... Nope, that's it. When she's forced to operate on the "right" side of the law, her fear of being confined and controlled blazes to the surface. The last thing she expects is a control freak like Connor to soothe her when she needs it most. Worse, something behind the sexy ex-soldier's eyes ignites a dangerous inferno of desire. One that invites Erin to play with fire. And one that could get them both killed...

About the Author:

Thank you for your interest in my books! I'm Tessa and I live in the crazy, loud, overcrowded borough of Brooklyn, New York. I love it here. This city is a constant source of inspiration, which is why I've decided to set my most recent books in the Line of Duty Series here.

I moved to New York when I was eighteen, the day after I graduated high school. Threw my suitcase in the back of a Chevrolet Cavalier and drove across the country to find my adventure. I'm still finding it, little by little.​Thank you for being a part of it.

Stalk Tessa: Website |  Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Rock Star Author Page

RELEASE WEEK BLITZ: Scorched by Jennifer L. Armentrout

 

We are absolutely thrilled to bring you the Release Week Blitz for Jennifer L. Armentrout's SCORCHED!! SCORCHED is a standalone New Adult Contemporary Romance and is a part of Jennifer L. Armentrout’s Frigid Series. And be sure to grab FRIGID, the first standalone in this amazing series!!

   

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    SCORCHED Synopsis: Sometimes life leaves a mark… Most days, Andrea doesn’t know whether she wants to kiss Tanner or punch him in the gut. He is seriously hot, with legit bedroom eyes and that firefighter body of his, but he’s a major player, and they can’t get along for more than a handful of minutes. Until now. Tanner knows he and Andrea have had an epic love/hate relationship for as long as he can remember, but he wants more love than hate from her. He wants her. Now. Tomorrow. But the more he gets to know her, the more it becomes obvious that Andrea has a problem. She’s teetering on the edge and every time he tries to catch her, she slips through his fingers. Andrea’s life is spiraling out of control, and it doesn’t matter that Tanner wants to save her, because when everything falls apart and she’s speeding toward rock bottom, only she can save herself. Sometimes life makes you work for that happily ever after…   Praise for SCORCHED: “Armentrout’s latest new adult offering tackles substance abuse and mental illness — and, thankfully, the love of a good man is not going to be what heals this heroine.” – RT Book Reviews

 SCORCHED Excerpt:

Andrea

              “You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

              “Have not.”

              He cocked his head to the side and raised both brows. “You practically hid in your room or attached yourself to Syd all day.”

              “I was…I was spending girl-time with her,” I said. “And napping.”

              “Andrea…”

              He’d been right. I had avoided him. Apparently, I wasn’t doing that great of a job of it.

              “The same with last night. You barely talked to me.”

              “What?” Dumbfounded, I felt like screaming that word. “I barely talked to you? You ignored me.”

              He stared at me. “Andy, I—“

              “This is stupid. This whole thing is stupid.” I lifted the bottle.

              A moment passed and he asked, “Do you really think you need another beer?”

              Annoyed, I slowly brought the bottle to my mouth and took a long drink. “Does that answer your question?”

              The hue of his blue eyes deepened. “Look, I’m not trying to be a dick—“

              “You might want to try harder. Just sayin’ Might just be my opinion, but thought I’d share.”

              He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. Several seconds passed. “You know, I didn’t’ say that shit to you to piss you off.”

              I wanted to point out everything he’d done to piss me off, but…but shit on a brick. Anything that I told him would betray how I felt about him, and well, I was already embarrassing myself enough without going there. “You breathed,” I decided, nodding, and totally proud of myself. “How about that?”

              Shaking his head, he rested his elbows on the island. “You can usually do better than that.”

              “It’s not worth my time to do better.” I flounced past him. Well, I might have staggered past him, but in my head, I flounced like a Grade A Uppity Chick, and it was awesome.

              “I wish you wouldn’t drink so much.”

              My feet stopped. Dammit. My feet had a mind of their own, and they had stopped because he’d said that so quietly, not with an ounce of derision or scorn. Actually, it sounded like a plea. The alcohol churned in my stomach. All I could see was his look of pity.

              “Why do you drink like this?” he asked.

              To relax. To not act like a freak. To forget. To remember. To be funny. To have people like me. To not care if they do or don’t. To have fun. To just not care. A burning sensation rolled down my back as my head continued to shout out the answers. I just didn’t want to care.

              I didn’t say any of that. “You drink.”

              “I do. And sometimes I drink and I get drunk, but not every time.”

              Slowly, I faced him. He wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were on the island. “I don’t get drunk every time.”

              He shook his head again. “Andrea, you either get plastered or damn near close. Every time.”

              “That’s not…” I trailed off, and yeah, even I could see where he was right. I could probably count on one hand how many times I’d only had two beers or two shots and then stopped. Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure if I ever had.

              “My dad got shitfaced all the time,” he continued. “Never thought that I’d be interested in a girl who was the same way.”

              My brain registered two things at once. He was interested in me, which wasn’t a big duh. I mean, he’d had his hands in my pants more than once, so yeah, I should’ve known that. But he compared me to his dad, a man I’d recently discovered he pretty much loathed, which pretty much canceled out the first part. Hurt invaded every cell and festered under the skin. The back of my throat burned and I wanted to rush away.

              But I didn’t. “That kind of makes you twisted.”

              Another weak laugh came out of him. “I guess it kind of does.”

And don’t miss the first standalone book in the series…

FRIGID

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    About Jennifer L. Armentrout: # 1 NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY Bestselling author Jennifer lives in Martinsburg, West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t true. When she’s not hard at work writing. she spends her time reading, working out, watching really bad zombie movies, pretending to write, and hanging out with her husband and her Jack Russell Loki. Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class, where she spent most of her time writing short stories….which explains her dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance. She is published with Spencer Hill Press, Entangled Teen and Brazen, Disney/Hyperion and Harlequin Teen. Her book Obsidian has been optioned for a major motion picture and her Covenant Series has been optioned for TV. She also writes adult and New Adult romance under the name J. Lynn. She is published by Entangled Brazen and HarperCollins.  

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