$0.99 SALE Blitz: Unboxed: The Woodlands Box Set by Jen Frederick

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Unboxed: The Woodlands Box Set by Jen Frederick

UNBOXED contains the following full length novels: UNDECLARED, UNSPOKEN, UNRAVELED, and UNREQUITED.

This USA Today Bestselling Series is a four-book box set with bonus content.

**Limited Time Only**

Are you ready to find your next book boyfriend?

Buy Links

NOW ON SALE for ONLY $0.99!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1K1Df9e
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/1Swcv3O
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1VSlv0L

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imageUNBOXED contains the following full length novels: UNDECLARED, UNSPOKEN, UNRAVELED, and UNREQUITED.

UNDECLARED
For four years, Grace Sullivan wrote to a Marine she never met, and fell in love. But when his deployment ended, so did the letters…Noah has always known exactly what he wants out of life. Success. Stability. Control. That’s why he joined the Marines and that’s why he’s fighting his way — literally — through college. Now that he’s got the rest of his life on track, he has one last conquest: Grace Sullivan. But since he was the one who stopped writing, he knows that winning her back will be his biggest battle yet.

UNSPOKEN
AnnMarie Sullivan made one mistake in her freshman year and her entire college existence became tainted by it. Guys labeled her as easy and girls shied away. To cope, AnnMarie stayed away from Central social life and away from Central men until Bo Randolph storms into her life. Bo allows instinct to rule his behavior. If it feels good, do it, has been his motto. AnnMarie is everything he didn’t realize he wanted. He knows he should walk away, but he just can’t.

UNRAVELED
Twenty-five-year-old Sgt. Gray Phillips is at a crossroads in his life: stay in the Marine Corps or get out and learn to be a civilian? He’s got forty-five days of leave to make up his mind but the people in his life aren’t making the decision any easier. His dad wants him to get out; his grandfather wants him to stay in. And his growing feelings for Sam Anderson are wreaking havoc with his heart…and his mind. He believes relationships get ruined when a Marine goes on deployment. So now he’s got an even harder decision to make: take a chance on Sam or leave love behind and give his all to the Marines.

UNREQUITED
Winter Donovan loves two things: her sister and her sister’s ex boyfriend. She’s spent her whole life doing the right thing except that one time, that night when Finn O’Malley looked hollowed out by his father’s death. Then she did something very wrong that felt terribly right. Finn can’t stop thinking about Winter and the night and he’ll do anything to make her a permanent part of his life, even if it means separating Winter from the only family she has. Their love was supposed to be unrequited but one grief stricken guy and one girl with too big of a heart results in disastrous consequences.

**Also includes the bonus epilogue for UNSPOKEN along with a preview of THE CHARLOTTE CHRONICLES—a spin off of the Woodlands series.

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Excerpts

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Excerpt #Undeclared

Dear Grace,

My biggest fear, huh? I don’t think I ever told you about my recruitment experience, did I? So the AF reps show up at high school on career day. Bo had skipped and gone somewhere to drink the day away. Lucky bastard. I would’ve cut class that day, too, but I had too many skips and was warned that if I had any more, they would withhold my diploma and make me go to summer school. That wasn’t going to happen.

Anyway, I end up talking with the Army and Marine recruiters. Their spiels are pretty similar. They ask me about my interests, and I tell them getting the hell out of Nowheresville is my priority. The Marine recruiter nods and says he felt the same way. He tells me I can earn money, get my college paid for, and make a lot of friends. The first one sounds interesting, the second intriguing, the third I could care less about. Turns out the last one is actually the biggest benefit of joining.

Later, the recruiter follows up with me. Gives me a huge laundry list of awesome things about joining. I tell him he doesn’t have to sell me anymore, that I’m ready to sign. Only I’m debating between the Marines and the Army. Then I make my biggest mistake ever. I admit that I’m not a fan of water. The Marine recruiter laughs and says, “You’ll be infantry, son,” and I sign.

When I get to boot camp they tell me the Marines are a branch of the Navy. The Navy, Grace. The Marine recruiter must have noted that I had an aversion to water, because every punishment I ever received was water-related.

The moral of this story is that I can’t go around telling people my greatest fear, because someone will use it against me. It ain’t water anymore.

~Noah

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Dear Grace,

I think what you feel on my letters is dust. I’m bummed that it is on my letters to you. They say it’s sand, but it’s finer than that. It’s like the particles that make up the sand, and it is everywhere. When you get home on leave and wash for the first time, you have to stand under the water for at least twenty minutes, all the while watching the black dust collect and pool at your feet, creating coffee-colored water that swirls down the drain.

I don’t think you can ever fully erase the dust from your belongings. It sticks with you no matter how long you let the water wash over you or how many times you wipe it away. Like the tension I have in being weaponless and exposed back home, the dust is one of the many things I’ll carry with me when I’m out.

I’m sorry that it is invading your space now through my letters. It’s like I’m spreading a contaminant. Am I Patient Zero, or are you?

I probably shouldn’t have volunteered for a third tour, but combat pay is hard to turn down. After three years here, though, I feel like I am a loosely contained conglomerate of those particles of dust.

Yours,
Noah

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Excerpt: #Unspoken

“I heard you drove over to the TKE house and played ‘If You Love Me’ on a loop from your convertible until the sorority girl came out, with her white dress billowing behind her. Maybe there was a glass slipper left on the stairs. I can’t remember.”

Bo was laughing at this. “First, I don’t have a convertible and wow, I sound like a total douche bag. How is this rumor helping my reputation?”

“It’s not a douche bag move.” I took a sip of my coffee. “It’s totally a Lloyd Dobbler, Say Anything move.

John Hughes could have scripted that.”

“John Hughes?”

“You know, the moviemaker from the eighties.”

“You weren’t born in the eighties.”

“They’re still teen movies!”

“If I say you’re hot when you’re angry, will you hit me?” I motioned that I would throw the cup of coffee in his face, which only made Bo laugh more.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. Tell me why this is appealing, because it sounds kind of pathetic to me.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen Say Anything.” I shook my head in disbelief.

“I’m pretty sure I was too busy killing people in Call of Duty to watch that movie.”

“In Say Anything, Lloyd Dobbler stands outside his love’s window and holds up a boombox that’s playing their song. In the rain. It’s very romantic.” I held up my arms to mimic the gesture.

He looked at me skeptically.

“It’s a sign of his true love,” I argued.

“I think true love is signified by more than some dippy guy standing outside in the rain playing music for a girl.”

“What’s an act of true love, then?”

“Throwing your body on a grenade so your buddies don’t become pieces of shrapnelized flesh.”

“My God, did you do that in the war?” I was shocked. I’d seen Bo without his shirt on and didn’t recall seeing any marks. Maybe I’d been blind? I shuddered at the thought of him being hurt.

“No,” he sighed, “but I know a guy in a different unit that did.”

“Okay, but that’s not something you could do for a girl here.” I frowned.

“True love means that you’d be willing to sacrifice all for another person.” That was pretty profound. Bo believed that?

“So maybe Lloyd was sacrificing his ego for Dianne in the movie,” I countered.

“Possibly. Still seems like a passive, weak-ass move.” Bo rubbed a finger across his chin and relaxed back in his chair.

“What should he have done?”

“To express his love?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, leaning toward him. My hands were planted on my legs and I felt poised to jump him, either in frustration or desire.

“Actions speak louder than words. Or singing, as the case may be.”

“He was out there, in the rain.”

“But he wasn’t doing anything. You show a woman you love her by what you do for her, from opening her door to making sure that bumps in the road of life are smoothed out. That she wants and worries for nothing. That when you think about sex, it’s her face in your fantasies, her body you’re touching, her lips you’re kissing. That every day you remind her that she’s the first thought in your mind when you wake up and the last thought before you drop off to sleep.”

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About the Author

imageJen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog. She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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Also be sure to check out Jen Frederick and Jessica Clare’s Hitman Series! It’s awesome!

The Hitman Series doesn’t coniece with The Woodlands Series, but I’m including the info here anyway just in case you haven’t heard about it 🙂 -Cori 

Hitman Series Reading Order

Last Hit (bk 1) – Review 4.5 Stars

Last Breath (bk 2)

Last Hit: Reloaded (bk 2.5) – Review 4 Stars

Last Kiss (bk 3) – Review 5 Stars 

Last Hope (bk 4) – Review 4.5 Stars 

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Blog Tour, Review & Giveaway: LAST HOPE by Jen Frederick & Jessica Clare

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LAST HOPE by Jen Frederick & Jessica Clare

Publication Date: September 29, 2015

IMG_3306 imageMendoza: I grew up in the slums and lost everything I loved to poverty, illness, and death. I had only one skill to leverage myself out of my circumstances—violence. Being hired out as a mercenary hitman brought me money and built an empire. But all that I’ve fought for is in jeopardy. My next job: Steal secret information that could bring down world governments. Find my target. Destroy it. But then, I meet her.

Ava: Karma hates me. When my best friend Rose is kidnapped, I have no choice but to take a job as a mule for a pair of criminals intent on selling top-secret information to the highest bidder. I should have known that bad luck tends to cling, because the plane I’m on goes down. That I survived a crash-landing was a miracle. And so was being rescued by Rafe Mendoza—hot, sexy, dangerous. The thing is, he wants the information that I need to free Rose. I can’t let him have it, but I need his help. And I need to fight this crazy attraction for this mercenary with hungry eyes. Rose is depending on me, and I won’t let her down, no matter how appealing Rafe is.

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I love this series! Last Hope is an addicting mix of danger, humor and scorching hot romance. Last Hope is the fourth book in Jessia Clare and Jen Frederick’s Hitman Series and each book can be read as a standalone but I recommend reading them in order to experience the full series storyline. I couldn’t wait to read Rafe Mendoza’s book. He appeared in previous books and intrigued me, but I fell in love with while reading his story. This series is all about dangerous alpha male heroes and Rafe definitely fits into that category. Without talking about spoilers I will say there was something in the storyline I didn’t care for on this one that I found a little distracting. It was a humorous addition but I thought the focus should have moved away from it faster. Jessica Clare and Jen Frederick make an awesome writing team. I was captivated and couldn’t put it down. I highly recommend this series for romance lovers that are looking for unique and exciting romances with hot bad boy heroes. I love them all!

*Review copy provided by Penguin in exchange for an honest review.

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The ricochet of the bullet has swollen my eye shut. I might be slightly concussed from the free fall from six thousand feet into the jungle. I’ve no clue where we are and we have no supplies, but I’ve never been happier than when Ava stuck her tits into my face. Those babies felt like the softest pillows ever created and I would’ve been happy to suffocate in damp valley of cleavage. Maybe I’d even get the chance to lick her sweat away.
I might have groaned and pretended my injury was worse to lengthen the moment. Her delicate hands smoothed over my forehead and, it may have been my imagination, but it seemed liked she might’ve lingered over my hair. Dig in, I want to grunt.
“What the heck is that sound?” Ava clutches me to her.
If I don’t answer, does that mean I can stay in this position forever? Because I want to. Actually, no, I’d like to move over and suck one fat tit into my mouth until it’s hard as a diamond. Then I’d like to slide down until my mouth is level with her pussy and see how salty sweet she tastes between her legs. The beast between my legs roars to life and it’s a good thing that the monkeys above us scream again, causing her to jump and strike my good eye with her elbow. The pain serves as a reminder of where we are, who I am, and what the fuck I should be paying attention to.
“It’s the howler monkey. They sound like humans screaming or sometimes like the jaguar. They’re kind of dumb and if we found Afonso’s gun, we’d be able to kill one and have meat every night for a week.”
She shudders. “I don’t want to eat monkey.”
The jungle is hot and wet during the day and cold at night. If the mosquitos don’t eat you alive, the jaguars and anacondas might. Not very many people can crash-land into the middle of the Amazon and make it out alive, but I’m upping our odds from around 20 percent to 50 percent based on Ava’s positive attitude. Unless my eye heals up, I’m not giving us more than that. If we could find the Boy Scout bag, though, we could bring our odds up significantly.
“There’s plenty of food in the Amazon from plantains to fish, so if you don’t like monkey, we won’t eat it.”
She shudders again. “Thank you.”
“You a vegetarian?”
No, that couldn’t be right. Didn’t she eat some prosciutto at the café? But I want to hear it from her. I want to know everything about her.
“No, but for some reason eating something that screams like a human freaks me out.”
“Monkey is off the menu,” I say, making no attempt to move away from her rack. “I have a knife in my belt.”
“Do you have anything else besides the knife?” she asks. Her tone is accusatory like I’m holding out on her.
“No,” I say slowly. “Just the knife.”
She narrows her eyes and then reaches out with her good hand and pokes my waistline. “What about that?”
“My pants? I don’t think that they’d fit you or they’d be a good weapon. Besides, I’d rather my legs didn’t get eaten by mosquitos.”
“Look, if you just plan on leaving me behind, then do it now. Don’t string me along.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Just my luck to perv on a crazy woman.
“That!” she spits out, and this time her finger jabs lower, right into the meat of my dick. I flinch back. “I can tell you’re packing something. What’s that thing in your pocket?”
“None of your fucking business,” I growl out, my happy feeling sucked away. I can feel the heat rising in my face that has nothing to do with the humidity. I will my erection to subside but as she stares at it, it does nothing but grow.
“Oh my god. Is that a . . . that’s not a gun, is it?” Her lips part in shock.
“No.” The erection isn’t going to go down anytime soon. Not with her eyes wide with wonder. She raises her gaze to me and then drops back down again, and hell if she doesn’t lick her fucking lips. I turn away, unzip, and then pull the shaft straight up behind the waistband of my cargo pants. I fasten the zipper, carefully, and then pull my T-shirt down over the top. It hides most of the problem. “Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.
I surge to my feet, catching her off guard. She stumbles back and thankfully stops staring at my junk. “Enough,” I growl more roughly than I intend. “We have important things to concentrate on, like where are we going to sleep for the night.”
She looks stricken and nods in agreement. “Sorry, I just was taken by surprise. You don’t have to tell me what’s in your pocket if you don’t want to. But I need to remind you that we’re in this together.”
I feel like an ass. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry that she thinks my dick is fake. That’s a new one.

*****

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Amazon: http://amzn.to/1YdG9eP
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1Jpkd7x
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1PniPE8
iBooks: http://apple.co/1PniYHF

Hitman Series Reading Order

Last Hit (bk 1) – Review 4.5 Stars
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1CYOtTA
B&N: http://bit.ly/1IUePI1
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1yvJmKZ
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1wiiVD1

Last Breath (bk 2)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1uCmA4l
B&N: http://bit.ly/15ab84J
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1IUfZDl
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1xfjC13

Last Hit: Reloaded (bk 2.5) – Review 4 Stars
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1yuzAdV
B&N: http://bit.ly/1ITCyKh
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1CoPkMx
iBooks: http://bit.ly/14OcGjG

Last Kiss (bk 3) – Review 5 Stars 
Kindle: http://amzn.to/1FIPFyD
Amazon PBK: http://amzn.to/1GTcZLn
B&N: http://bit.ly/1bShusa
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1DMWKrO
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1CkafR9

Last Hope (bk 4) AVAILABLE NOW
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1YdG9eP
B&N: http://bit.ly/1Jpkd7x
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1PniPE8
iBooks: http://apple.co/1PniYHF

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IMG_3312-0$100 Visa Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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imageJen Frederick

Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog. She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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imageJessica Clare
This is a pen name for Jill Myles.

Jill Myles has been an incurable romantic since childhood. She reads all the ‘naughty parts’ of books first, looks for a dirty joke in just about everything, and thinks to this day that the Little House on the Prairie books should have been steamier.

After devouring hundreds of paperback romances, mythology books, and archaeological tomes, she decided to write a few books of her own – stories with a wild adventure, sharp banter, and lots of super-sexy situations. She prefers her heroes alpha and half-dressed, her heroines witty, and she loves nothing more than watching them overcome adversity to fall into bed together.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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Excerpt Reveal: LAST HOPE by Jen Frederick & Jessica Clare

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LAST HOPE by Jen Frederick & Jessica Clare

Publication Date: September 29, 2015

In the explosive new Hitman novel from the bestselling authors of Last Kiss and Last Hit a jungle mercenary and a female target find love on the run…

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Amazon: http://amzn.to/1YdG9eP
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1Jpkd7x
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1PniPE8
iBooks: http://apple.co/1PniYHF

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IMG_3307-0 Ava

I wake up with my face pressed against a warm, broad chest and my legs tangled in the leaves of a tree. Somewhere close by, I hear birds chirping. There’s sunlight dappling my face and everything feels damp.

Everything also hurts.

I’m dazed and my head is ringing with pain, and the sun is beaming right into my eyes, which is freaking annoying as hell. I rub a hand across my face and it takes me a few moments to realize that I shouldn’t see the sun at all if I’m inside an airplane.

Then I remember the storm. The thunderous boom as the plane was hit by lightning. Screams. The wing catching fire. The chaos of Afonso with his gun. Free-falling through the cabin, my grip on the seats the only thing keeping me from flying through six thousand feet of empty air.

Mendoza’s hand ripping out of mine when the cabin depressurized. The screams of people going silent.

Mendoza.

I remember him, too.

A noise from somewhere nearby catches my attention. It sounds like heavy breathing. I open my eyes and look around.

I’m still strapped to my seat. There’s a portion of the plane underneath me, and the two seats Mendoza and I buckled into are still together.

He’s next to me, the broad chest I’m currently draped across. His eyes are closed, dried, crusted blood around the injured one. He’s got an enormous bruise on his forehead and his arms are around me, as if he was trying to protect me even as we fell.

“Mendoza?” I ask, sitting upright and pulling out of his arms. Sitting up makes everything in my body scream with pain. My ankles hurt, but I don’t know if it’s because they’re seriously injured or because they were tucked under the seat in front of me, which is also still attached. I test my legs, untangling them from his longer ones, and wince at the pain shooting through my body. It feels like I’ve been trampled in my sleep. My ribs hurt, and my right arm radiates agony.

But . . . I’m alive. I sit up a bit straighter and look at my right arm. The purse I’ve carried for days is gone. The skin is puffy and turning purple. When I flex my fingers, the pain brings tears to my eyes. I look away from it, faint and sick to my stomach at the sight. It’s not just the pain but what it represents. I’m a hand model. I can’t do a thing if my hands are jacked up.

Not that it matters right now.

“Mendoza,” I say again, because I’m about to panic, and panic hard. “Wake up. Please.”

He doesn’t stir.

Fear clutches me, and I grab his shirt with my good hand and give him a shake.

“Mendoza?”

That doesn’t wake him, either. I press my cheek to his chest and listen for a heartbeat.
It’s slow and steady. Whew. I sit up and examine him again. The knot on his forehead is huge. Maybe he just got knocked out. I’ll have to figure out how to wake him up once I figure out where we are. It looks like our section of the plane somehow separated from the rest of the wreckage, which is why we’re alive and not a skidmark on the ground.
I shift in my seat and the world tilts. My eyes go wide and I freeze in place, then look around.

I can see trees overhead, and sunshine, but it’s just now occurred to me that we’re not on the ground. The chairs are tilted and everything shakes when I move.
I’m pretty sure we’re in a tree. Clutching at the arm of the chair, I sit up carefully and look around.

I see nothing but air and leaves, green vines and dappled shadows. In the distance, I hear the sound like heavy breathing again. I look at Mendoza, but it’s not him. Oh God. Is it Afonso? Is he still here? Biting my lip, I crane my neck and try to peer down below. We’re at least twenty feet off the ground.

It’s like the wreckage has been swallowed up by a wall of green. Green and wet. On the jungle floor, there’s more greenery and what looks like smoking wreckage. Pieces of the plane are scattered all over the forest floor, along with a few scattered suitcases. In the distance I see another row of chairs, this one facedown in the dirt. The heavy breathing starts again, and this time I see the source: a jaguar, stalking through the wreckage.

My eyes widen and I go very still.

A heavy rain begins to fall, spattering me from above. I don’t move. My gaze is on that jungle cat as it sniffs through things. If it notices us, I don’t know what we’ll do.

Mendoza is unconscious and if I try to move him, we might both fall out of the tree . . . and land right in front of the cat.

The situation hits me and I start to cry. I’m alone. I’m really fucking alone. I’ve never camped a day in my life, much less been in a jungle. I look down at my hands. They’re my livelihood. My way to earn a living. My income depends on them being soft and perfect, my nails elegant ovals.

I have a long gouge down the back of one hand, and my pinky is bruised and swollen. My wrist looks like an elephant’s leg, if elephants were black and blue. Not gonna be hand modeling for a long while after I get out of here.

If I get out of here.

I’m sorry, Rose. I’m trying. I’m trying so hard. I shudder back a sob as the cat slinks into the underbrush, something dangling and arm-sized in its mouth. I’m in the jungle with a busted hand and a stranger that just wants the information I’m carrying . . .

And I don’t even have the information anymore. The purse is gone. I sniff hard, trying to fight back another sob that’s threatening to break free.

“Don’t cry,” a voice says softly.

I turn and look at Mendoza. His shirt is sticking to his big body, wet raindrops splatting down his face. He looks at me and smiles crookedly, and lifts a hand to try to touch my face. “Don’t cry.”

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IMG_3306 imageMendoza: I grew up in the slums and lost everything I loved to poverty, illness, and death. I had only one skill to leverage myself out of my circumstances—violence. Being hired out as a mercenary hitman brought me money and built an empire. But all that I’ve fought for is in jeopardy. My next job: Steal secret information that could bring down world governments. Find my target. Destroy it. But then, I meet her.

Ava: Karma hates me. When my best friend Rose is kidnapped, I have no choice but to take a job as a mule for a pair of criminals intent on selling top-secret information to the highest bidder. I should have known that bad luck tends to cling, because the plane I’m on goes down. That I survived a crash-landing was a miracle. And so was being rescued by Rafe Mendoza—hot, sexy, dangerous. The thing is, he wants the information that I need to free Rose. I can’t let him have it, but I need his help. And I need to fight this crazy attraction for this mercenary with hungry eyes. Rose is depending on me, and I won’t let her down, no matter how appealing Rafe is.

Hitman Series Reading Order

Last Hit (bk 1) – Review 4.5 Stars
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1CYOtTA
B&N: http://bit.ly/1IUePI1
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1yvJmKZ
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1wiiVD1

Last Breath (bk 2)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1uCmA4l
B&N: http://bit.ly/15ab84J
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1IUfZDl
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1xfjC13

Last Hit: Reloaded (bk 2.5) – Review 4 Stars
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1yuzAdV
B&N: http://bit.ly/1ITCyKh
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1CoPkMx
iBooks: http://bit.ly/14OcGjG

Last Kiss (bk 3) – Review 5 Stars 
Kindle: http://amzn.to/1FIPFyD
Amazon PBK: http://amzn.to/1GTcZLn
B&N: http://bit.ly/1bShusa
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1DMWKrO
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1CkafR9

Last Hope (bk 4) Pre-order AVAILABLE
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1YdG9eP
B&N: http://bit.ly/1Jpkd7x
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1PniPE8
iBooks: http://apple.co/1PniYHF

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imageJen Frederick

Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog. She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

*******

imageJessica Clare
This is a pen name for Jill Myles.

Jill Myles has been an incurable romantic since childhood. She reads all the ‘naughty parts’ of books first, looks for a dirty joke in just about everything, and thinks to this day that the Little House on the Prairie books should have been steamier.

After devouring hundreds of paperback romances, mythology books, and archaeological tomes, she decided to write a few books of her own – stories with a wild adventure, sharp banter, and lots of super-sexy situations. She prefers her heroes alpha and half-dressed, her heroines witty, and she loves nothing more than watching them overcome adversity to fall into bed together.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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Release Blitz: Sacked (A Gridiron Novel Book 1) by Jen Frederick

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Sacked (A Gridiron Novel Book 1) by Jen Frederick

Publication Date: September 6, 2015

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$4.99 Kindle | B&N | Kobo | iBooks

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What he wants he gets…but he’s never met her before.

Knox Masters is a quarterback’s worst nightmare. Warrior. Champion. And…virgin. Knox knows what he wants–and he gets it. All American Football player? Check. NFL pros scouting him? Check. Now, he’s set his sight on two things. The national title. And Ellie Campbell. Sure, she’s the sister of his fellow teammate, but that’s not going to stop him. Especially not when he’s convinced Ellie is the one.

But Ellie isn’t as sure. She’s trying to start a new life and she’s not interested in a relationship…with anyone. Beside it’s not just her cardinal rule of never dating her brother’s teammates that keeps her away, but Ellie has a dark secret that would jeopardize everything Knox is pursuing.

Knox has no intention of losing. Ellie has no intention of giving in.

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Knox

Preseason

I don’t see her until I’m three quarters of the way up the stands. In my defense, the stadium seats over one hundred thousand people, so it’s not until I’m nearing the hundred and fifteenth row that I realize what I thought was a sunspot is actually a person.

Irritation prickles inside my chest. This is my time. Before trainers, field crew, coaches, and other players come in, I run these bleachers in blissful solitude. It’s selfish, but I’ve earned the right to be selfish. As the starting defensive end and captain of the Western State Warriors, I’ve bled on that field, played through immeasurable pain, eaten my share of fake turf. Suffered fucking awful losses. I have a week until the media storm really gears up and It doesn’t seem too much to ask for some privacy.

Now, I have to deal with some stalking gridiron groupie, at six in the morning no less. I thought the jersey chasers didn’t get up before noon. The only woman I want to see is the team nutritionist and her breakfast smoothies.

As I come even with the top row, I can see her more clearly and I’m not so annoyed—or blind—that I can’t admit the intruder is a hot piece. Nice rack under a fitted sport T-shirt and long legs propped up against the seat in front of her. Dark brown hair caught up in a ponytail. She has an athletic look to her, which I’ve always liked.

If I did groupies, she’d be on the top of my list, but I haven’t dipped my wick in those pots ever. I won’t start with her.

 *Excerpt from Sacked by Jen Frederick

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imageJen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog. She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.
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SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest

Release Blitz, Review & Giveaway: LAST KISS: A Hitman Novel, Book 3 by Jessica Clare and Jen Frederick

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LAST KISS

A Hitman Novel, Book 3

by Jessica Clare and Jen Frederick

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Meet Naomi & Vasily in the newest addition to the Hitman Series! Check out my review and the excerpts below. Also be sure to enter the giveaway at the bottom of the post. -Cori

 

NOW AVAILABLE!

Published by Berkley, a division of Penguin

 

Kindle: http://amzn.to/1FIPFyD

Amazon PBK: http://amzn.to/1GTcZLn

B&N: http://bit.ly/1bShusa

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1DMWKrO

iBooks: http://apple.co/1E6vbLG

GooglePlay: http://bit.ly/1bweJfr

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**The first book in the series, Last Hit, has been optioned for a movie by Flame Ventures.**

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Naomi: When I was kidnapped I thought only of survival. I don’t thrive well in chaos. That’s why I gave my captors exactly what they wanted: my skill with computers. Making millions for a crime lord who kept me imprisoned in his basement compound kept my family safe. When he was taken out, I thought my ticket to freedom had arrived. Wrong. I traded one keeper for another. This time I’m in the hands of a scarred, dark, demanding Russian who happens to be the head of the Bratva, a Russian crime organization. He wants my brain and my body. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued, but I can’t be a prisoner forever…no matter how good he makes me feel.

Vasily: At a young age, I was taught that a man without power is a puppet for all. I’ve clawed—and killed—my way to the top so that it is my heel on their necks. But to unify the fractured organization into an undefeatable machine, I need a technological genius to help me steal one particular artifact. That she is breathtaking, determined, and vulnerable is making her more dangerous than all of my enemies combined. But only I can keep her safe from the world that she now inhabits. Soon, I must choose between Naomi and Bratva law. But with every day that passes, this becomes a more impossible choice.

 

I love this series! The Hitman Series is unique and exciting. Last Kiss is the third book in this series and can be read as a standalone, but I recommend reading them in order because the characters are introduced in the previous books. The Hitman Series delivers a different take on love stories where the heroes are also the villains, but they’re the kind of villains you want on your side. The ultimate alpha bad boys, who when they fall in love, they fall hard. Men who would kill to protect the women they love. I loved the characters in Last Kiss. Naomi and Vasily are complete opposites yet they somehow fit and the romance is hot. I’m obsessed with these books! The plots are exciting and I really enjoy the writing styles of these authors. The darker storyline isn’t for everyone. I recommend them for readers who have a thing for bad boys/ villains. They’re addicting!


*Review copy provided by Penguin in exchange for an honest review.

 

 

Excerpt #1

“I told you I don’t like to be touched. Do you have a hearing deficit?” She frowns. “Because at first I was concerned that perhaps it is your English, but you seem to speak it quite well. Maybe it is your hearing then? You are young to have hearing problems. Is it hereditary? The most common birth defect is diminished hearing. Genetics are responsible for at least sixty percent of hearing deficits in infants so it’s most likely your hearing loss is due to your parents. Were one or more of your parents hearing challenged?”
I look at her blankly.
“Deaf. That’s what I mean by hearing challenged. Challenged is the word you’re supposed to use instead of other things. Like instead of mute, voice challenged. Or instead of handicapped, it’s physically challenged. I learned that in college. I’m socially challenged, but maybe it doesn’t translate into Russian. You’re Russian, right?”
“Yes. What does it matter?”
“It doesn’t. There was a Russian student in my art history course. Your accent was similar. I remember him telling me he was from a certain region—southern maybe? I didn’t much like the course. My advisor forced me to take it, saying that I needed some liberal arts to make my education well rounded, but learning about painting and politics did not assist me in creating better code. I like to write code. Code makes sense. Art does not.”

 

Excerpt #2

I had sex once, and it was highly unpleasant. Most think I am a virgin, but I’m not. Like everything, I used the scientific theory. I formed a hypothesis—can I enjoy sex? I had caught Daniel with one of his girlfriends in the barn at my parents’ ranch, and they both looked as if they were enjoying themselves immensely. Therefore, I’d wanted to try it. I’d selected a college classmate I thought was pleasing to the eye and asked him after a study break if he wished to copulate. He had, and we’d found a hotel room. I’d been so distressed by the blankets and the germs that were sure to be crawling on them that I had a hard time concentrating. My memories of sex were him grasping my breasts a few times, then shoving his dick inside me. It had hurt, and there were copious secretions on his end, which had alarmed me more than anything else. I’d screamed at him for leaking on me and ran for the shower.
And that was the end of that.
After that horrifying experience, I’d done more research on sexual activity and now knew that the penis ejaculating semen was normal. However, I did not find any of it pleasant. No touching, because the human skin secreted oils. No kissing, because mouths were filthy things full of germs. And no penises. No penises at all.
But I did like it when Vasily told me what he wanted to do to me. I will allow him to look at me, but not touch. I’m not fond of touching.

 

Excerpt #3

“Do you wish for me to touch you?”

I nod, sucking in a breath when his thumb skates across my lower lip. I should be thinking GERMS BACTERIA CONJUNCTIVITIS HERPES SKIN CONTACT PATHOGENS but all I can focus on is how skittery and excited his touch makes me. My pulse jumps, and I realize that I’m as aroused now with him talking to me and touching me with his fingers as I was in the bathroom when I masturbated.

He pulls his hand away again, and I realize his other is gripping my shoulder, his arm wrapped around my back. I’m pulled against his chest, and I feel oddly secure here against him. Then, Vasily moves his fingers in the air again, as if to get my attention. I watch as his free hand now moves to my knee and firmly presses it back, nudging my legs apart.

And I’m helpless to protest. I want this. I want to know what’s going to happen when he touches me. I’m throbbing and aching with need, and my breath is coming as small, gasping little pants that are registering even in my distracted mind.

“Are you still unsettled?” he asks in a low voice.

“No,” I whisper, my tone matching his. “I’m aching.”

He groans softly, and then his hand glides up the inside of my thigh, the backs of his fingers skimming along my leg. Then, Vasily’s hand moves and he is cupping my pussy. He feels scorching hot against me, and just the sensation of his skin touching mine is making me anxious.

“You are very wet,” he rasps, and I notice curiously that his breathing is as rapid as my own. One of his fingers presses forward, parting the lips of my pussy and pushing in. “Very wet.”

“I can’t help it. It’s a natural reaction to stimuli, but I understand if it disturbs you—”

“I like it.” His voice is a guttural growl against my ear, and I shiver. I didn’t realize how close he’s pressed to me but I can feel his breath on my neck, and his head is canted toward mine, as if he is telling me secrets. “I like that your wetness is for me.”

“I don’t know if—” I begin to protest, but his finger taps against my clit, and I gasp, completely and utterly distracted by that quick touch. It feels . . . different to have a man do it for me. Very different. Intense. Raw. I grab his hand at the wrist and press my flesh against his fingers, asking for more.

“Tell me what you want, Naomi.”

“More.” I press his hand again, breathless, and my hips twitch. “Start with an even rhythm and circle the hood of my clit. Over time, speed up and increase the frequency of touches. You can change the pattern as you go but don’t let up until I come.”

He laughs again, and I stiffen, but then his finger begins to move against my clit, stroking it in tiny circles like I told him. “I like that you tell me exactly what you want, Naomi. There are no games with you.”

I’m confused at that. Isn’t that what he wants me to do? But then a second finger follows the first, and he’s rubbing wide circles around my clit, and adding an extra little stroke every now and then, and it feels like he’s taking my flesh between his fingers and just rubbing rubbing rubbing . . . And I love it.

“Just like that,” I tell him, closing my eyes and falling against his shoulder. I hold my knees open wider so he won’t stop touching me, and my hips begin to move, involuntarily following his fingers as he touches me.

“Do you like this?” His voice is rough, biting, and so close to my face.

I nod without opening my eyes, letting the sensations take over. “It feels much better when you do it,” I tell him, and cry out when one of his fingers dips lower and touches me . . . deeper. “What are you doing?”

“I am seeing if you like more touches.” His nose nuzzles against my face, and I press against him, seeming to need his caresses as much as I need his touch on my clitoris. “Are you frightened?”

“No, but I like the other touch better,” I tell him as his finger circles lower. “That one just makes me ache.”

“It makes your cunt ache to be filled,” he tells me. “Someday, you will let me fill it for you.”

I don’t reply; I don’t need to, because he circles a finger at the entrance to my core a moment longer, and then shifts his hand. My fingers graze over his, exploring—I feel too good to open my eyes and leave the sea of sensations—and I realize he’s now working my clit with his thumb. His finger presses deeper again, and I gasp when he sinks it into me.

I’m riding his hand.

He murmurs something in Russian and I feel his mouth press against my brow.

Then, as if he’s a car that’s changed gears, he begins to press his thumb against my clit rapidly. His speed is so fast that he practically feels as if he’s vibrating . . . and these motions carry down to the thick finger that’s buried deep inside me.

I’ve never experienced this double sensation before, and it’s overwhelming.

I bite my lip, and when that won’t hold my feelings inside, I burst into noisy gasps and my hands start clawing at him, at his shirt. I don’t know what I need, but this feels like too much. It’s overwhelming and twice as powerful as anything I’ve ever done to myself. “Stop, stop,” I breathe, even as I press my legs further apart and lift my hips against his hand.

“Vasily, stop. Vasily!”

“Keep saying my name like that, Naomi.”

“Vasily, please.” I pull at his shirt, practically butting my head against him as I writhe against his hand. “I need . . . something . . . more . . . not as fast. Too much!”

But he keeps twitching that intense thumb against my clit, stroking his finger inside me. He’s not stopping. If anything, he’s going faster.

And all of a sudden, my body can’t handle it anymore. I burst and a hard, choked noise rushes out of my throat, and my body clenches and I’m coming, coming, coming, endlessly coming.

I feel as if I’m being torn apart by pleasure so intense it’s making my toes curl even as the breath leaves my lungs. And all the while, I gasp like a dying fish and cling to his shirt.

Hypothesis? Destroyed.

 

 

Hitman Series Reading Order

Last Hit (bk 1)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1CYOtTA
B&N: http://bit.ly/1IUePI1
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1yvJmKZ
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1wiiVD1

Last Breath (bk 2)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1uCmA4l
B&N: http://bit.ly/15ab84J
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1IUfZDl
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1xfjC13

Last Hit: Reloaded (bk 2.5)
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1yuzAdV
B&N: http://bit.ly/1ITCyKh
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1CoPkMx
iBooks: http://bit.ly/14OcGjG

Last Kiss (bk 3)
Kindle: http://amzn.to/1FIPFyD
Amazon PBK: http://amzn.to/1GTcZLn
B&N: http://bit.ly/1bShusa
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1DMWKrO
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1CkafR9

Last Hope (bk 4) Pre-order AVAILABLE
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1PoueDz
B&N: http://bit.ly/1Jpkd7x
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1PniPE8
iBooks: http://apple.co/1PniYHF

 

AUTHOR JEN FREDERICK

Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog.  She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.

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Website: http://jenfrederick.com/blog/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenFrederick

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jensfred

Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/p3ptasx

**********

AUTHOR JESSICA CLARE

This is a pen name for Jill Myles.

Jill Myles has been an incurable romantic since childhood. She reads all the ‘naughty parts’ of books first, looks for a dirty joke in just about everything, and thinks to this day that the Little House on the Prairie books should have been steamier.


After devouring hundreds of paperback romances, mythology books, and archaeological tomes, she decided to write a few books of her own – stories with a wild adventure, sharp banter, and lots of super-sexy situations. She prefers her heroes alpha and half-dressed, her heroines witty, and she loves nothing more than watching them overcome adversity to fall into bed together.

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Website: http://jillmyles.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJessicaClare?directed_target_id=0

Twitter: https://twitter.com/_JessicaClare

Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/q4272wf

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GIVEAWAY

Signed set of Hitman Books

Apple Watch Sport


a Rafflecopter giveaway


********

BLOG TOUR, Excerpt & Giveaway: Unrequited by Jen Frederick

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Unrequited by Jen Frederick

 

Finn & Winter’s story is here!  I’m excited to read this one! Check out the excerpt and be sure to enter the giveaway. – Cori


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BUY LINKS

Special Price of Only $2.99

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1IvLzvw

iBooks: http://apple.co/1yfWQg1

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1IWe4zb
Kobo:  http://bit.ly/1JCbXRU

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1NPEVyc

  

SYNOPSIS

Winter Donovan loves two things: her sister and her sister’s ex boyfriend. She’s spent her whole life doing the right thing except that one time, that night when Finn O’Malley looked hollowed out by his father’s death. Then she did something very wrong that felt terribly right.

Finn can’t stop thinking about Winter and the night and he’ll do anything to make her a permanent part of his life, even if it means separating Winter from the only family she has.

Their love was supposed to be unrequited but one grief stricken guy and one girl with too big of a heart results in disastrous consequences

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EXCERPT

“Are you humming?” Bo asked.
I looked up from pulling on the dingiest carpet I’d seen in months. This house I’d picked up was vile, worse than usual. Bo had suggested it was a meth factory, given the needles, rotten egg smell, and burnt patches on the walls and flooring. It could have been, or it might just have been an ordinary addict’s house, but there was shit everywhere.
If I was humming, I didn’t realize it, but I was in a decent mood. I figured once I got Winter to just sit and talk with me, we’d work it out. That was something worth humming about.
I just shrugged and went back to work. “Just trying to block out the god-awful music you choose to play. You’ve been up north here for almost a year. Can’t you play anything but country songs?”
“I could.” Bo paused to toss a handful of staples in the trash. “But I know it annoys the hell out of you. And that makes the music sound that much sweeter.”
“Too bad you don’t know shit all about constructing a house and you still have to hang on my dick until you can get it right.”
“Which is why I play music you hate. It fits our dysfunctional relationship.”
“I thought you were going to therapy to fix your problems.”
“If by ‘therapy’ you mean having a ton of awesome sex with my girlfriend, then yes, I’m in therapy all night and random times during the day.” I snorted but wisely said nothing. “But speaking of therapy,” Bo continued. My response was a loud groan that I hoped would be hint enough that I didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that followed. Bo ignored me. “How’s your mom?”
“Well, she texted that she got up and had coffee today, so I count that as a win.” I reached down to tug harder on the carpet. Did they glue it down instead of just stapling the edges?
“Mal says ‘Paradise lies under the feet of your mother.'”
That made me stop. I gaped at Bo. He threw up his hands, one still holding a crowbar he was using to pull up the tacking strips, the long thin lumber pieces that held the carpet on the edges of the room.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Apparently it means if you don’t make your momma happy, you ain’t gonna be happy.”
“If I knew what would make her happy, I’d do it,” I replied.
“I suck at this comforting thing.” He pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “But maybe you outta talk to someone else?”
“Like Lana?” I grunted. “No thanks. Between her and Mal, it sounds like I should be taking my mother on a date.”

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Woodland Series Reading Order

Undeclared (Book One)

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1aNiKwQ

Barnes & Noble:http://tinyurl.com/mtpmpk5

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1IvLoA5

iBooks: http://apple.co/1DnNFdD

Unspoken (Book Two)

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1DMsxzI

Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/mwenc94

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1yYk0Cr

iBooks: http://apple.co/1PnLdZz

Unraveled (Book Three)

Amazon  http://amzn.to/1OdC04L

BN:  http://bit.ly/1dKox3H
Kobo:  http://bit.ly/LhUSUB
iBooks: http://apple.co/1FEUyqr

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About the Author

Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog.  She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.


 

Website: http://jenfrederick.com/blog/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenFrederick

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jensfred

Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/p3ptasx

********

  

RAFFLECOPTER

Signed Set of The Woodlands Series
$50 Amex Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

*****

 

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EXCERPT REVEAL: Unrequited by Jen Frederick

 

EXCERPT REVEAL

Unrequited by Jen Frederick

Finn & Winter’s story will be here on April 13th!  I’m excited to read this one! Check out the excerpt and teasers and add to your TBR. – Cori

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Pre-order on Amazon & iBooks HERE!

Special Price of Only $2.99

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1IvLzvw

iBooks: http://apple.co/1yfWQg1

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1NPEVyc

  

SYNOPSIS

Winter Donovan loves two things: her sister and her sister’s ex boyfriend. She’s spent her whole life doing the right thing except that one time, that night when Finn O’Malley looked hollowed out by his father’s death. Then she did something very wrong that felt terribly right.

Finn can’t stop thinking about Winter and the night and he’ll do anything to make her a permanent part of his life, even if it means separating Winter from the only family she has.

Their love was supposed to be unrequited but one grief stricken guy and one girl with too big of a heart results in disastrous consequences

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EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

March

WINTER

I didn’t know which one of us looked more surprised when Finn O’Malley walked into the Riverside Café at about ten minutes before midnight.  The café was experiencing a lull in the post-late night, pre-bar closings time period, and there were only two customers: myself and a man in his fifties over by the counter.

And now Finn.

“Winter,” he said, his tone a cross between disappointment and disbelief which I understood immediately. He’d come to this run down café—far from where he lived and worked—to…well, I wasn’t sure what he’d want other than get away from anyone who might know him.

And there I sat. The girl who’d had an enormous, unrequited crush on her older sister’s high school boyfriend. And said older sister might have been the worst girlfriend he’d ever had. If my speeding heart was any indication, my crush was far from dead.

“Finn. Good to see you.” He looked terrible—or as terrible as Finn could ever look. Tall with dark hair set against ivory skin and the lean, muscular build of someone who did manual labor for a living. Finn would never look bad.

But grief had hollowed out his cheeks, and his shocking blue eyes were bloodshot. His inky black hair stood in clumps around his head as if he’d run his fingers through it multiple times. He wore a gray T-shirt that hugged his strong frame but had dirt smudges all over it. His worn jeans displayed dust and grime.

He worked in construction—or more accurately, he flipped houses, the last I’d heard. Not that I kept up on the doings of Finn O’Malley that much.

His eyes shifted around the restaurant, as he probably wondered how he could take a seat away from me and not appear too rude. I solved his dilemma by grabbing my purse and library book and sliding out of the booth.

“I was just going,” I said.

He licked his upper lip and I about died on the spot. But I was an adult now. All of twenty-two years. Crushes might have made my heart squeeze and my knees shake, but they didn’t paralyze me. Giving him a tight smile, I walked toward the door. He didn’t move, and unless I was going to walk around a table or two, I’d have to brush by him.

So I did.

And smelled him.

And suddenly I couldn’t leave.

The sour, sweet stench of alcohol was so strong I wondered if he’d poured a bottle of vodka over his head. It was a familiar fragrance because my sister had been wearing it regularly for the past ten years. Her alcohol addiction, among other things, was a reason Finn and she were exes when many people had thought they’d get married out of high school.

I backed up. “Did you drive here?”

The side of his mouth quirked up—not quite a smile, more of a wry acknowledgment of my thought process. “I’m not drunk,” he said. “I…it’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” I started back toward the booth. “Come sit with me. My book was boring anyway.”

Good manners drove him to follow even if he didn’t want to. He dropped into the opposite bench, and I pushed my water glass toward him.

“Thanks.” He drained it in three gulps. I was way too fascinated with the motion of his throat and the way that his Adam’s apple signaled every gulp. He set the glass down carefully as if almost surprised by his own sudden thirstiness.

Due to his long arms, his folded hands reached halfway across the table. I kept my arms locked by my side so I wouldn’t accidentally on purpose touch him.

My role was friend, not girlfriend, no matter how many inappropriate fantasies I’d dreamed up when I was a girl.

The waitress came out and delivered another glass of water and refilled my now empty one.

“I’ll have a burger. Plain. Order of fries,” Finn rattled off without looking at the menu. He pointed at me. “You want anything?”

I shook my head. “I’m good.”

The waitress left, and Finn stretched his long legs out and leaned back into the booth, looking completely wiped. If I moved my legs, even a little, I’d brush against him. I stayed still because I wasn’t sure what I would do if I touched him. Something embarrassing, no doubt.

“What are you doing here?”

Clearing my throat, I managed to form a coherent answer. “I just got off work. Closed tonight.”

Surprised, his eyebrows shot into his forehead. “What are you doing that has you working until midnight?”

“I work at Atra, the ink shop two doors down.”

“Oh,” he started and then stopped. “I thought you were working at a marketing firm.”

A tendril of pleasure sprang to life at the idea of Finn keeping track of me. We may have been friends once, but my sister was the connecting thread. And when she’d snapped their tie, Finn and I had drifted apart like florets from a blown dandelion.

He’d floated one way and I’d floated another. We’d lived in the same city going on three years now—since he got back from attending an out of town university—but the first time I’d seen him since he and Ivy had broken up had been at his father’s funeral a month ago.

“No, I was downsized but I still do freelance design work for them and a couple other companies, but my primary job is commissioned artwork at Atra. I also help around the shop, doing bookings and stuff. Tonight I had a late consultation with a friend of Tucker’s. He owns the shop,” I explained and then shut up, not wanting to ramble.

Finn nodded as if he found this interesting. “Sounds like you are putting your talent to good use. I always thought your work was tremendous.”

“Thanks. So what brings you here?”

He looked around. The man hunched over his coffee at the counter hadn’t moved. “I just got off work too.”

“I thought you were flipping houses?”

“Like you, I had a change in jobs.” His voice was grim. It didn’t take a genius to guess the change wasn’t a good one like mine was. Or maybe he was just angry about life right now, which he had every right to be.

“I know this sounds like a stupid Hallmark card, but it does get better.” I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. I placed my hand over his folded ones. “I promise.”

He tilted his head back, and his eyes fluttered closed, his ridiculously long lashes feathering across the top of his cheeks. Was he shutting out the pain or me? Or everything?

After long moments of silence, so long and so quiet that I could hear the hum of the refrigeration unit that held bottles of soda and beer behind the cash register, he spoke. “When I was thirteen, my dog Hunter died. Dad and I had bought him when I was four. He’d developed some kind of doggy liver disease, and we had to put him down. That was the worst kind of pain, I thought. But that was like a pin prick, while Dad’s death is like a dull knife dragging itself across my body one painful inch at a time.”

I bit down on my lip so I didn’t cry in front of him. I remembered that pain, and hated that someone I cared about had to suffer it too. “I’m not going to say it’s easy to get over a loss like that; only that it does happen—eventually.”

He snorted, a rough and unhappy sound. “I have been drinking. Not going to lie about that.” His eyes opened halfway, which was probably for the best. The piercing blue came off as too beautiful to be real and too mesmerizing to look away. “But not tonight. Tonight I decided to throw my bottles against the wall instead of drinking them, and because I’m a stupid fuck, I failed to realize I was standing in the splash zone.”

The food arrived before I could respond. He pulled a napkin from the tabletop dispenser and shoved half his fries onto it. “Eat or I won’t be able to.”

Obediently I put a fry into my mouth and watched him dig in. Grief or no grief, he was still eating, which was a good sign. And he didn’t seem drunk. No slurred words, no inappropriate comments.

“Sorry I jumped to conclusions,” I said after polishing off another fry.

“Don’t be. With your past, I can see why you’d be concerned,” he said between bites. My past. He was referring to dealing with my sister’s addictions, which had spiraled out of control after our parents died when she was nineteen.

“She’s better now,” I said. “If you were wondering.”

“Really?” Disbelief was clear in every long drawn-out letter.

“Really. She hit a bad place shortly after her release, but she’s been clean for…” I counted in my head, “almost thirty days.”

“That’s good. Good for her and for you.” He popped the rest of the burger into his mouth and washed it down with the entire glass of water.

“Did you chew that or inhale it?” I laughed, remembering the days he’d linger in our kitchen eating anything and everything Mom would cook.

“I haven’t eaten since noon so if I could have just pressed it into my face and absorbed it via osmosis, I would have.” We shared a laugh, just a small one, but I was breathless by the end. His smile was too much for me, and it was the first one I’d seen from him for so long. It lit up his eyes and revealed the deep creases on the corners of his mouth and his even, perfect white teeth.

“No burgers on the west side of the city?” I joked to disguise my growing and uncomfortable desire for him. Now was not the time nor the place. He was not ever to be mine.

His grin grew wider. “Why do you think I’m here? Trying to avoid being seen by my roommates. I don’t know if you met them at the funeral?” I shook my head. I’d only had eyes for Finn. “I live with four of them. Adam Rees is one.” Adam was a friend of Finn’s from high school. He had a famous father. That was about all I remembered, but I nodded anyway, and he continued. “Their idea of helping me cope is to get me involved in increasingly dangerous activities.”

“What have your roommates made you do?”

“What haven’t they made me do is the question. I’ve been to strip clubs, paintballing, ATVing, a firing range, rock climbing, fishing.” Finn tapped a finger on the table to punctuate each activity. “I’ve got two former Marines living with me, and I think they’re planning to push me out of an airplane. So I can’t go home.”

“You can stay with me,” I said with a nonchalant shrug.

His eyes drifted around my face, lingering on my lips and then dropping lower. I could feel my unbound breasts tighten under the cotton of my T-shirt. I hated bras and was small and perky enough I could get away without wearing them. The only problem was I had fat, eraser-sized nipples, and right now they were pointing directly at Finn. He stared at them for what seemed like an eternity.

“Is that right?” His voice was husky.

The air in the room disappeared, and I barely had enough breath to croak out, “No, Ivy’s there. She and I live together now. Have for—” I paused, not wanting to bring up her recent incarceration, “—for a couple of months,” I finished awkwardly.  

He made a noise in the back of his throat, one I couldn’t decipher. “So have you been seeing anyone?”

I didn’t know what to make of that.  Why was he at all remotely interested in my love life?

“No, not recently. Not since—”—” I broke off again.

“Not since Ivy got out of prison,” he said dryly.

“You heard?”

“I heard.” He was done with the subject of Ivy and that was okay with me. It made me uncomfortable to talk about her while I was perving on her ex-boyfriend.

Anxious to change the subject, I asked, “What about you?”

“I don’t think what I’ve been doing constitutes as seeing anyone. Not since my dad died. Not feeling it.”  His blue gaze pinned me against the booth. I heard what he wasn’t saying out loud. He had been sleeping around and from the interested way he was eyeing me, the suggestion was I could be next. “I’ve been trying not to feel for a while but tonight? Maybe tonight should be different.”

It wasn’t a question; it was an invitation. And all the teenage feelings of longing and lust rushed over me until I was dry mouthed and full of want.

He looked out the window, considering something, and then back toward me. “You had a crush on me for a long time. Am I taking advantage of you?”

I didn’t pretend I was confused about what he was asking, even though it was a bit mortifying to be confronted by my unreciprocated feelings. I shook my head. “No. I think it’s the other way around.”

“It’s not. Why don’t we get out of this place?” He stood and threw two twenties on the table and waited for me to lead the way out.

I was acutely aware of his large frame behind me as I walked carefully across the tiled floor to the entrance. The heat of his body nearly burned me as he pressed against my back to reach around me with a large, work-roughened hand to push the glass door open.

He placed a hand on my lower back and guided me to his truck. It was a monster of a thing with big black tires and a menacing silver grill.

“You really expect me to climb into this thing?”

He opened the door and in one swift motion lifted me onto the seat. “I forgot what a bitty thing you are.”

“I’m not small. You’re just very tall. With a very large truck.”

His hands didn’t release my waist; instead, he moved closer. I opened my legs to make space for him.

“Don’t worry, Winter. Everything’s going to fit fine.” With a firm hand on my neck, he drew my face down to his. I heard his lips part before I felt them press against mine.

A thousand thoughts tumbled in my head. Would Ivy be okay with this? Should I really be taking advantage of a grief-stricken man? How were his lips soft and firm at the same time? Could I have an orgasm from just kissing? Was this what love felt like?

His mouth took mine in a firm possession—no hesitation. He wanted this if not me. And I took what he gave me because when did a girl ever get to kiss the boy she’d crushed over for years? Hardly ever.

Only in the movies.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and dug my hands into his hair, giving into every desperate desire I’d always tried to stomp down.

He groaned and pulled me tighter to him, the seat somehow perfectly situated at groin level so I felt the strong, heated evidence of his desire through our jeans. He rubbed his tongue along the edges of mine. He outlined my lips and then stroked the flat of his tongue against the roof of my mouth.

Even if I hadn’t had a crush on him, I would have been weak-kneed. Finn O’Malley knew how to kiss. He wasn’t just thrusting his tongue into me, he was exploring me, learning me, tasting me.

A large hand cupped one breast and squeezed it tightly. I cried out, part in pleasure and part in surprise at how the slight pain felt so good.

“Too rough?” he asked, pulling away.

I shook my head. He gave a half smile and yanked down the vee of my T-shirt until my bare breast popped out. The overhead light had gone off in the truck, but there was enough moonlight that anyone coming out of the café could probably see what we were doing.

But any concern I had ended when he placed his mouth over my ripe nipple. With the same lavish care he took kissing me, he explored every inch of my breast. The top received a dozen wet kisses and tiny nips. The areola he licked thoroughly, and the nipple was sucked on so hard and with such long draws that I felt as if a string connected my nipples to my pussy. A string I hadn’t known existed.

While he sucked, he made low growls of delight that fueled my lust. I squeezed my legs around his hips, drawing him closer, drawing him inside where only he could relieve the painful ache between my legs.

“Fuck,” he rasped, breaking our connection and backing away. The cool spring air made my taut nipple tighten even more. “Not here.” He gently straightened my T-shirt and then tucked me inside the truck.

We drove a short distance to a chain link fence that opened upon a press of a remote.

“What is this place?” I tried to catch my breath. Peering out the window into the dimly lit night, there appeared to be nothing but bare land filled with machinery and surrounded by fences. Beyond it was the river.  

“My new job. Left to me courtesy of Mr. Sean O’Malley.” There was a faint twinge of bitterness. “Dad wanted to stamp his signature on the city and chose this downtown revitalization project. But then he died and left it to me, so I don’t know whether to love or hate him.”

“It’s okay to feel both. Love and hate,” I clarified unnecessarily.

“I suppose you’re right.” He stopped the truck in front of a trailer.

“You can cry you know. I did a lot of that.”

“I like to have my emotional release come a different way.”

“Like what?”

He shifted in the truck seat to look at me. His hand reached out to cup my face. “You’ve grown into a very beautiful woman. I’d very much like to take you inside the trailer and fuck you against the wall.”

“That’s kind of a coarse invitation.”

His thumb ran over my lower lip, using some of the moisture of my mouth to wet my lip. I shivered, and a grim but knowing smile spread across his face.

“It’s the only kind I’ve got in me. All the tender emotion has been eaten up by my dad’s death. I want to lose myself in you, Winter.”

He got out of the truck and opened my door, giving me an expectant look. Was I in or out?

I knew what he was saying. It wasn’t that he loved me, wanted to date me, or wanted me to be his girlfriend. He’d probably be disappointed if he saw me next to him tomorrow morning. He’d lie awake wondering if he had to chew off his own arm to escape. He was offering a hard fuck in his trailer, not lovemaking in his bed.

I knew all of this and still wanted him.

Maybe the sex would burn away his mystery, and I wouldn’t internally sigh when I heard his name. Maybe it wouldn’t. But it was a risk worth taking, and I planned to get my money’s worth.

“How many condoms do you have?” I answered boldly.

His eyes glittered in the moonlight. “How many do I need?”

“Depends on your stamina and recovery time.”

“Honey, you’re going to have a hard time walking out of the trailer when we’re done.”

My heart ached at his words, but I took his hand and followed him inside.

 

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Woodland Series Reading Order

Undeclared (Book One) FREE

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1aNiKwQ

Barnes & Noble:http://tinyurl.com/mtpmpk5

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1IvLoA5

iBooks: http://apple.co/1DnNFdD

Unspoken (Book Two) $.99 4/10

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1DMsxzI

Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/mwenc94

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1yYk0Cr

iBooks: http://apple.co/1PnLdZz

Unraveled (Book Three) $1.99 4/10

Amazon  http://amzn.to/1OdC04L

BN:  http://bit.ly/1dKox3H
Kobo:  http://bit.ly/LhUSUB
iBooks: http://apple.co/1FEUyqr

About the Author

Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog.  She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.

 

Website: http://jenfrederick.com/blog/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenFrederick

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jensfred

Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/p3ptasx

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Spotlight, Review & Giveaway: Last Hit: A Hitman Novel by Jessica Clare and Jen Frederick

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Last Hit: A Hitman Novel by Jessica Clare and Jen Frederick
EBOOK Publication Date: October 7, 2014
Paperback Publication Date: February 3, 2015
Reviewed by: Reading in Pajamas/ Cori
Rated: 4.5 Stars

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From two bestselling authors—the first in a deliciously bold new series that takes readers to the most dangerous edge of desire . . .

Nikolai: I have been a contract killer since I was a boy. For years I savored the fear caused by my name, the trembling at the sight of my tattoos. The stars on my knees, the marks on my fingers, the dagger in my neck, all spoke of danger. If you saw my eyes, it was the last vision you’d have. I have ever been the hunter, never the prey. With her, I am the mark and I am ready to lie down and let her capture me. Opening my small, scarred heart to her brings out my enemies. I will carry out one last hit, but if they hurt her, I will bring the world down around their ears.

Daisy: I’ve been sheltered from the outside world all my life. Home-schooled and farm-raised, I’m so naive that my best friend calls me Pollyanna. I like to believe the best about people. Nikolai is part of this new life, and he’s terrifying to me. Not because his eyes are cold or my friend warns me away from him, but because he’s the only man who has ever seen the real me beneath the awkwardness. With him, my heart is at risk . . . and also, my life.

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Excerpt – LAST HIT by Jessica Clare and Jen Frederick
R-rated

She has returned. I place my eye against the scope. Her bed is cleared of her bag and her back is resting against the headboard.
Her lithe body is clothed in a thin t-shirt. I can see the faint, dark outline of nipple beneath the cloth. My eyes dip lower. The shadow of her pubic hair is also visible. I can feel my heart rate pick up as I map her body with my eyes.
I feel restless and think perhaps I should review the information I have compiled for the mark or perhaps look at the routing pattern left by the caller from Neuchâtel. I do neither. As I begin to draw back from the scope, her motions arrest me. Her small hand, with the pink-tipped nails, is moving over her belly. One finger traces the tiny lace adorning the top band of her panties. My breath is suspended. Time is suspended.
I have never seen this before. She has never touched herself. Never brought a man home with her. I’d have shot him, maybe. No, I would’ve caused some disturbance. Something. I thought her maybe an innocent and fantasized about awakening her. But now her small fingers are delving beneath the cotton. I can see the bumps of her knuckles as they press against the pale, pink fabric. She is moving her fingers in circles.
I imagine my own fingers, much larger, dark and rough, pressing down upon hers. My fingers flex involuntarily at the thought of her pussy beneath my touch. I’d stroke her lightly and in circles as that is what she appears to like. I’d move my fingers lower, beyond her clit to her hot cunt. It would be wet, dripping wet. My fingers would be soaked, and I would pause so that I could lick her sweet honey off each digit.
My cock is so hard I fear that it will break against the denim of my jeans. I draw a hand over my chest and pinch my own nipple hard, imagining it is her tiny white teeth tugging on it. I’ve broken out in a light sweat.
Her legs tense, and her hand motions become more frantic. I can see her chest rise and fall rapidly. Her whole body is strained, but when her release comes it is truncated. The look on her face is one of frustration rather than satisfaction. She wets her plump lips and closes her eyes. She begins again, but again she is unfulfilled.
My emotions war against each other. I am unhappy that she cannot find her own fulfillment, but there is also fierce possessiveness that arises from an idea I’ve tried to suppress. In my mind, only I can bring her to orgasm and release. I can teach her to touch herself in a way that will be pleasurable and satisfying.
I would not start with her pussy. No, the skin is the largest sex organ. I would stroke my hands over every inch, starting from her forehead. My lips and fingers would smooth away any furrows. My hands would encircle her neck and sweep down over her shoulders to her fine wrists.
I’d rub my body over hers so that she smelled of me. When she walked this city, other men would stay away, recognizing she was marked as my own. Belonging to Nikolai. Maybe I would tattoo it around her neck like a collar.
I stroke the homemade tattoo over my chest. The words inscribed there still burn, years after they were applied. I scowl at myself. She would run in fear if she saw me—the stars on my knees, the dagger through my neck, the spider web on my shoulder. The epaulets on the other. The inscription. I am tempted to throw my scope at the wall. I would never be allowed to touch her pristine skin, not with my dirty fingers or my tongue. I would defile her.
I do not hurl my weapon. An assassin’s tools are his friends; perhaps the only things he owns. But I do leave my seat. She has gone into the kitchen anyway, to eat. We have one thing in common right now. We are both dissatisfied.

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I love this series! Sexy and dangerous hitmen falling in love is a series that grabs my attention. Last Hit is the first book in The Hitman Series by Jessica Clare & Jen Frederick. It was originally self-published and has now been picked up by Berkley and they’re publishing the series. Last Hit is a dark love story. The hero is a hitman so you’re not sure if he’s the villain or the hero at first. I fell in love with Nikolai, the sexy Russian though. He’s a romantic at heart and would do anything to protect and care for Daisy. I just loved them together. I highly recommend this book for romance lovers who love the villain/ hero mix. I loved it and can’t wait for the next release.

*Review copy provided by Berkley/NAL in exchange for an honest review.

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Kindle $5.12 http://amzn.to/1CpJhv0
Amazon PBK $12.34 http://amzn.to/1wX84i2
B&N (PBK $12.34/ Nook $5.99) http://bit.ly/1DwOT3S
Kobo $5.99 http://bit.ly/1Aj20I4
iBooks $5.99 http://bit.ly/1LDZj7q

Amazon Series Link: http://amzn.to/1tVK6Zy

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ABOUT JEN FREDERICK

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Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog. She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.

ABOUT JESSICA CLARE
This is a pen name for Jill Myles.

Jill Myles has been an incurable romantic since childhood. She reads all the ‘naughty parts’ of books first, looks for a dirty joke in just about everything, and thinks to this day that the Little House on the Prairie books should have been steamier.

After devouring hundreds of paperback romances, mythology books, and archaeological tomes, she decided to write a few books of her own – stories with a wild adventure, sharp banter, and lots of super-sexy situations. She prefers her heroes alpha and half-dressed, her heroines witty, and she loves nothing more than watching them overcome adversity to fall into bed together.

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Website: http://jillmyles.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJessicaClare?directed_target_id=0
Twitter: https://twitter.com/_JessicaClare
Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/q4272wf

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PAPERBACK COPY
a Rafflecopter giveaway

BLOG TOUR, Review & Giveaway: Last Hit: Reloaded by Jessica Clare & Jen Frederick

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Congrats & Happy Release to Jen Frederick & Jessica Clare!
Last Hit: Reloaded is LIVE!

Nickolai & Daisy’s Story continues…

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BUY LINKS

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1yuzAdV
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1ypyLTu
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1ITCyKh
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1CoPkMx
iBooks: http://bit.ly/14OcGjG
All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/1zohHwV
GooglePlay: http://bit.ly/14OcVuX
Goodreads Link: http://bit.ly/1CTZPva

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SYNOPSIS

There was a time when Nick loved the fear he instilled in his enemies. His tattoos alone promised danger, but it was the look in his eyes that delivered on it. A contract killer since he was just a boy, Nick has now forged a new life and a new identity with the woman who followed him, captured him, and changed him.

He terrified Daisy. Once. But she couldn’t resist, and she ignored every warning. It paid off. Now she’s part of a new beginning, a fresh start in America helping him to leave behind a reckless and violent past as a professional killer. But the past is never easy to outrun, especially when so much of it thrives on revenge.

A new threat has emerged from the shadows, and now Nick and Daisy have no choice but to rely on Nick’s killer skills to protect them from everything they’ve tried so hard to escape.

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REVIEW

Reviewed by: Reading In Pajamas/Cori

Rated: 4 Stars

This is a great series! Last Hit: Reloaded is a novella in Jen Frederick and Jessica Clare’s Hitman Series. The series is about dangerous hitmen falling in love. I’d suggest reading the series in order. Last Hit needs to be read before this novella. It’s a continuation of Nick and Daisy’s story from book one. I really loved reading about them as a couple. There’s more hot steamy romance in this new novella and some danger and action that kept me on edge. I love a dark hero that’s romantic and Nick fits the bill with his protectiveness and poetic words. I highly recommend the series for readers looking for hot romance with dark and dangerous heroes. I can’t wait for the next book!

 *Review copy provided by NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. 

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EXCERPT

As he turns away, I call to him softly, “Detective McFadden, I would not endanger a soul on that campus. My beloved attends classes there, and it is my greatest desire that she be safe and happy. There are many reasons why I am not the man you seek.”
He swings back quickly. “I don’t think you are the university shooter, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“I imply nothing. I am responding to your litany of complaints and questions about my existence. Your attention does not frighten me, but do not mistake this. If you endanger Daisy or her father in any way, there will not be enough pieces left of you for even your loved ones to identify.”
At my threat, he gives me a bemused smile. “But you don’t give a rat’s ass about yourself?”
“I can take care of myself, Detective, and anyone that I love.” The chill is seeping into my bones, and I need to go inside and warm myself in the sunshine of Daisy’s love. “Good evening to you.” I nod and open the front door of the building.

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Hitman Series Reading Order

Last Hit (bk 1)
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1CYOtTA
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1CzTiCs
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1IUePI1
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1yvJmKZ
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1wiiVD1

Last Breath (bk 2)
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1uCmA4l
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1zojXnW
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/15ab84J
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1IUfZDl
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1xfjC13

Last Kiss (bk 3)
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Ct3WNr
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1EaI6xg
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1yvLD9e
Kobo:http://bit.ly/1ucztlv
iBooks: http://bit.ly/1CkafR9

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

ABOUT JEN FREDERICK

Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog. She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.

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Website: http://jenfrederick.com/blog/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenFrederick
Twitter: https://twitter.com/jensfred
Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/p3ptasx

ABOUT JESSICA CLARE
This is a pen name for Jill Myles.

Jill Myles has been an incurable romantic since childhood. She reads all the ‘naughty parts’ of books first, looks for a dirty joke in just about everything, and thinks to this day that the Little House on the Prairie books should have been steamier.
After devouring hundreds of paperback romances, mythology books, and archaeological tomes, she decided to write a few books of her own – stories with a wild adventure, sharp banter, and lots of super-sexy situations. She prefers her heroes alpha and half-dressed, her heroines witty, and she loves nothing more than watching them overcome adversity to fall into bed together.

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Website: http://jillmyles.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJessicaClare?directed_target_id=0
Twitter: https://twitter.com/_JessicaClare
Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/q4272wf

GIVEAWAY

$100 American Express Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: The Charlotte Chronicles by Jen Frederick

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 Check out this new release for only $0.99! Excerpt and Giveaway are included below. Grab it while it’s on sale if it captures your attention. /Cori 

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Meet Charlotte and Nathan!
ONLY $0.99

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AVAILABLE NOW!

Kindle: http://geni.us/1eir
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1weZzCZ
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1AbzqEg
iTunes: http://bit.ly/1GaD4lI

SYNOPSIS

Charlotte and Nathan were supposed to be forever. They grew up together. Their families were intertwined. Charlotte was Nathan’s first love. Nathan was Charlotte’s first everything.
Until they weren’t.
How do you hold on to the person you know in your heart you are supposed to be with when everything and everyone in the universe is telling you it’s over?
How many times does a heart break?
When is enough…..enough?
How long is forever?

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EXCERPT

But when I close my eyes, I can see him—and me. I can see me pressed up against the mirror in the bathroom, my hands making starfish prints as I brace myself against his thrusts. I can hear his harsh breathing, his commands to come, come now, Charlotte. There was that passage of time that felt endless when he was between my legs, licking me softly and leisurely as if there wasn’t anything in this world that gave him more pleasure than helping me find my own. I touch myself, but it’s useless. My body wants one thing: Nathan Jackson.
I’m on fire and the ache of want is so acute it’s like a knife in my chest. I’ve had multiple surgeries, chemo treatments, radiation but that’s nothing compared to what I feel now.
Time and distance had dulled my pain and that my desire and love for Nathan had actually started to ease only to be stoked into high, hot flames by his reappearance in my life.
He is the poison and the antidote.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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Jen Frederick lives with her husband, child, and one rambunctious dog. She’s been reading stories all her life but never imagined writing one of her own. Jen loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at jensfrederick@gmail.com.
Website: https://twitter.com/jensfred
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenFrederick
Twitter: https://twitter.com/jensfred
Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/p3ptasx.

GIVEAWAY

Tiffany Knot Pendant Necklace
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a Rafflecopter giveaway