Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Release Blitz: CRAZY FOR YOU by Rachel Lacey






















ABOUT THE BOOK

Title: CRAZY FOR YOU
Author: Rachel Lacey
Series: Risking It All, #2
On Sale: March 28, 2017
Publisher: Forever
Mass Market: $7.99 USD
eBook: $6.99 USD

The second book in Rachel Lacey's irresistible contemporary romance series about three foster brothers who return to their hometown to open an extreme sports business, perfect for fans of Kristan Higgins, Rachel Gibson, and Jill Shalvis!

SHE'S TAKING A WALK ON HIS WILD SIDE

Emma Rush can't remember a time when she didn't have a thing for Ryan Blake. Haven's resident bad boy is just so freakin' hot-with tattoos, a motorcycle, and enough rough-around-the-edges sexiness to melt all her self-control. Now that Emma's over being a "good girl," she needs a little help being naughty . . . and she knows just where to start.


Before Emma's brother enlisted in the military, he made Ryan promise that he would protect her from everything--including himself. When her brother doesn't come home, Ryan needs to turn his screwed-up life around to honor his pledge. But he knows he's still not the right kind of guy for someone as sweet as Emma. Only he can't stop wanting to be with her. Wanting her. Falling in love with a good girl may be the craziest risk this bad boy can take . . 







Excerpt: Ryan Blake held a bottle of Maker’s 46 in his right hand, a tumbler in his left. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the bottle. It flipped once before landing back in his grip, top down, ready to pour. He filled the tumbler, set a napkin on
the bar, and placed it in front of the brunette on the other side. “Bourbon, neat.”
“You’re good.” She picked up the glass and tipped it in his direction. “Not what I was expecting in this little bar in the middle of nowhere.”
“I try,” he said with the friendly, semi-flirtatious smile he always used on single ladies seated at his bar. She wasn’t wrong. The usual clientele at The Drunken Bear had little use for fancy liquor or bartending tricks, but the trio in front of him were tourists looking for a good time, and he’d see that they had one.
“You were just about to tell me about this tattoo.” She placed her hand on his biceps, fingering the eagle he’d had inked there after he flew this coop ten years ago.
“That’s right.” He shifted backward so that her hand slipped to the countertop. He encouraged flirting—it led to better tips and made the night more interesting—but this chick was getting a bit too friendly, considering the diamond band on her left ring finger. “This one was for spreading my wings. Thought I’d fly far away, and yet, here I am back in Haven.”
“You’re from here then?” one of the other women asked, shamelessly ogling the tattoos on his arms while giving him an eyeful of cleavage.
“Born and raised. Moved around a lot, but I can’t seem to shake this place. It’s in my blood.” Once upon a time, he’d been hell bent on getting as far away from this sleepy North Carolina mountain town as possible. Spent the better part of a decade drifting from place to place, taking with him only what he could carry on his bike. Funny how things came full circle. He picked up an empty pilsner glass another patron had left behind.
“Ryan?”
He turned at the familiar voice to find Emma Rush stand- ing there, one hip propped against the bar, and he damn near dropped the glass. Emma’s trademark ponytail and jog- ging pants were nowhere in sight. Tonight, her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders in shiny waves, her blue eyes sparkled at him from behind a tasteful—yet sexy—amount of makeup, and her red top was tucked into a pair of jeans that fit her like a glove. He swallowed past the sudden dry- ness in his throat. “Hey, Em. What brings you out tonight?” “Girls’ night,” she said with a smile, gesturing to her friend Mandy, who stood by the door talking on her cell phone. Emma slid onto an empty barstool. “I wasn’t expect-
ing to see you.”
“I’m still here a few nights a week.” His new business
venture—Off-the-Grid Adventures, an extreme outdoor sporting facility he’d opened with his good buddies Ethan Hunter and Mark Dalton six months ago—was finally bring- ing in enough income that he soon wouldn’t need to bartend to pay his rent. “What can I get you?”
“Untapped amber ale, please.” She watched while he filled a frosted mug. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
She lifted the mug to her lips and took a long drink. “Damn, that’s good,” she said with a happy sigh, setting it on the bar.
“Always been more of a pilsner guy myself.” He tried not to stare as she licked froth from her upper lip.
“Hi, Ryan.” Mandy stepped up to the bar beside Emma. He leaned back, tearing his gaze from Emma’s lips. “Hi.”
Emma turned to her friend with a smile. “Ready to get a table?”
“Yep,” Mandy said. “Have fun, ladies.”
“We will.” With a wave, Emma walked off after her friend, and damn, those jeans cupped her ass like perfection. No doubt about it, Emma looked hot tonight. And his thoughts were way out of line. He’d promised Derek he’d look out for his little sister, not drool all over her.
“Your girlfriend?” the brunette at the bar asked, eyebrows raised as she sipped her bourbon.
Ryan cleared his throat and dragged his eyes away from Emma. “Just a friend.”
“Mm-hmm.” The brunette gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him.
He turned to check on his patrons at the other end of the bar, but his attention was once again diverted by Emma— or rather, the preppy-looking businessman she was talking to now. Ryan couldn’t make out their conversation, but the guy wore an irritatingly smug smile, and Emma didn’t look at all happy to have bumped into him.
Ryan moved down the bar, chatting and pouring drinks as he went, all the while keeping an eye on Emma. She was deep in conversation with the businessman, although the guy seemed to be doing most of the talking. Emma smiled and nodded. She glanced up and met Ryan’s gaze, rolling her eyes at him with a smile while her companion kept on talk- ing.
Next thing Ryan knew, the guy had slung an arm around her shoulders, gesturing wildly with his free hand while Emma subtly edged away from him.
Ryan was around the bar and across the room before he’d even realized what he was doing. “Everything okay over here?”
Emma shrugged out from under the guy’s arm, but her smile wasn’t nearly as warm or genuine as the one she’d given Ryan a few moments ago. “Yep.”
“We’re fine,” Obnoxious Dude answered. “Who are you?”
“Ryan Blake. And you are?” “Tristan Farrell.”
“Tristan and I are . . . old friends,” Emma said.
By old friends, Ryan assumed she meant former flames. And since she clearly wasn’t enjoying his company, it was time for Tristan to leave. Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and stared him down, waiting for the loser to get the message. It didn’t take long.
Tristan backed up, his eyes darting toward the front door. “Well, it was great seeing you, Emma. Take care.”
“You, too.” She watched as Tristan left the bar then turned to Ryan. “Forgot how much I dislike that guy.”
“He hassling you?”
Her eyes rounded. “No! Just talking my ear off, really.
Sorry to distract you from your duties at the bar.”
“No problem.” Keeping an eye on his patrons was part of the job, although he was probably feeling more protective of Emma right now than the situation called for.
“Right, well . . . looks like my table is ready.” She waved over her shoulder as she walked away.
Ryan headed back behind the bar, turning his attention to the trio of tourists and their mostly empty cocktails. “Any of you ladies ready for a fresh drink?”
As it turned out, they all were. While he mixed their cock- tails, he allowed his gaze to roam over to Emma’s table. She was deep in conversation with her friends Gabby, Carly, and Mandy, all of whom he knew, none of whom made his gut tighten the way it did every time he looked at Emma tonight.
He had no idea where this had come from, but he had to get over it, pronto. Emma wasn’t interested in a player like him, and even if she were, she was off limits. He’d made a promise to her brother when Derek went off to war, and Ryan had no intention of breaking it.
BUY THE BOOK HERE


THE RISKING IT ALL SERIES

ROCK WITH YOU, #.5
RUN TO YOU, #1
CRAZY FOR YOU, #2
CAN’T FORGET YOU, #3


ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel Lacey is a contemporary romance author and semi-reformed travel junkie. She's been climbed by a monkey on a mountain in Japan, gone scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef, and camped out overnight in New York City for a chance to be an extra in a movie. These days, the majority of her adventures take place on the pages of the books she writes. She lives in warm and sunny North Carolina with her husband, son, and a variety of rescue pets.



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Release Blitz: HOLDING FIRE by April Hunt





ABOUT THE BOOK

Title: HOLDING FIRE
Author: April Hunt
Series: Alpha Security, #2
On Sale: March 28, 2017
Publisher: Forever 
Mass Market: $7.99 USD
eBook: $5.99 USD

The second book in April Hunt's romantic suspense series, perfect for fans of Julie Ann Walker, Lora Leigh, and Rebecca Zanetti.

Alpha Security operative Trey Hanson is ready to settle down. When he meets a gorgeous blonde in a bar, and the connection between them is off the charts, he thinks he's finally found the one. But after their night together ends in a hail of gunfire and she disappears in the chaos, Trey's reasons for tracking her down are personal . . . until he learns she's his next assignment.

Elle Monroe never expected to see Trey again. The night they shared was incredible, but the last thing she's looking for is a relationship. Now that it's clear she's being targeted, though, she has no choice but to trust this man she barely knows with her life. And Trey's not just determined to keep her safe . . . he's determined to win her heart.











Excerpt:

Elle stared, transfixed by the clock behind the airport’s claims counter. Each snap of the second-hand took about five years off her life. Being a few weeks shy of her thirtieth birthday, she estimated she had roughly ten-and-a-half seconds until the coroner needed to be called. Twelve, max, with a little bit of luck, but her luck seemed to be in short supply. 
Her normal patience was at an all-time low, sucked into a black hole right along with her personal hygiene and her luggage. Twenty total hours in a plane, plus an unscheduled six-hour stop for mechanical repairs, was to blame for the first. The latter two were entirely the fault of the airline.
With a deep sigh, Elle looked around the large, open space. People milled through the airport, bulky suitcases bouncing behind them as they scrambled to their destinations, while others procured blankets and pillows and looked to be settling in for the duration of the night.
On her left, two children tackled the legs of a tall, slender soldier dressed in desert fatigues. Laughing, the woman bent, spreading kisses over every surface of their little cheeks.
Elle ignored the faint ache in her chest and watched the happy family walk away. As they disappeared around the corner, a new sensation whittled its way in—a tingle; the one she’d felt the instant she and Shay unloaded from the gate—the one that came with the ardent focus of someone’s attention. It took root in the pit of her stomach and didn’t let go.
When she’d sensed it earlier, she blamed the paranoia on lack of sleep and inhumane travel hours. But the prickle of awareness came back tenfold, turning her head until she noticed the man leaning against the far wall, reading a newspaper.
Elle did a double take. It wasn’t Trey. It couldn’t be. She’d left him back in Thailand without so much as her last name, much less her travel itinerary, yet the longer she stared at stranger across the room, the faster her heart galloped. 
Worn blue jeans encased his thighs perfectly. Not tight. Not baggy. No doubt if he turned around, the rear would look as impressive as the front. Both his face and his hair were disappointedly half-hidden by a baseball cap and sunglasses, but he had the same strongly chiseled jaw and sexy blond scruff that made her want to throw every razor known to man straight into the garbage.
Though he never looked away from his paper, the wall lounger’s lips twitched, almost as if sensing her visual appraisal. That smirk. Those lips. The stretch of a long-sleeved T over a chest wide enough to land an airplane on. Elle nearly collapsed into an X-rated memory of how lips nearly identical to those of this stranger had pleasurably ripped away all her sensibilities only a scant few days ago.
Standing in the middle of a busy airport definitely wasn’t the time to relive her night with Trey. When her turn came up at the counter, she gave herself a mental slap and focused on giving the attendant the information the airline needed to reconnect her with her suitcase. And then with a Have a nice day and her single carry-on, Elle shuffled away to wait for Shay to finish in the bathroom.
She searched her purse for her cell phone and bounced off the chest of another traveler.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.” She reflexively reached out to steady to victim.
Shut it,” a low voice snarled.
Oh, hell no. Exhaustion mixed with an insane need to shower off the last day and a half made her head swivel to Mr. Attitude. She looked up. And up. Whoa. He was ridiculously tall.
If she’d had a little bit more sleep she’d probably be able to talk herself out of confronting someone so freaking huge, but she’d had a middle seat, and both Shay and the man to her left had been armrest hogs. Elle was eight hours past polite.
She narrowed her eyes, wishing her glare would make him squirm. “It was an accident. I said I was sorry. There’s no need to be a jerk about it.”
“Actually, there is.” Mr. Attitude clamped a hand around her upper arm and squeezed.
Ow. Hey, watch it!” She tugged, and he tightened his hold.
He leaned his large body way past her personal boundaries. That was when she saw the scar, half-hidden behind his sunglasses. It looked angrier up close, the skin around his eye socket puckered straight up to his hairline. Cold dread licked up Elle’s spine.
It was Alley Man.
“I told you to shut. The fuck. Up.” He emphasized each word and punctuated it with a sharp jab to her ribs. When she attempted to twist away, the poke came again—this time with the cool sensation of metal.
A gun.
Alley Man stepped closer, careful to keep it hidden from view. “If you so much as twitch, sputter, or look at anyone cross-eyed, I won’t hesitate to make this very bad for you. Do you fucking understand me?”
Elle re-swallowed the bile that had risen to her throat. “I should probably warn you that I don’t have any money. Well, I have about ten dollars’ worth of Thai baht, but that’s about it. And maybe a fuzzy breath mint.”
Tightening his grip, he steered them away from anyone who would remotely care what was happening. And let’s face it: This was one of the busiest airports in the country. No one was going to notice one travel-ravaged blonde, even if she stripped down to her cotton undies and streaked half naked through the terminal.
Alley Man kept the gun pressed firmly between her ribs as he directed them to the exit. “I don’t want your money, Miss Monroe.”
Elle’s heart went from a steady thunder to an apocalyptic roar. He knew her name. He knew she’d be at this airport. On this day. On this flight.
The only thing Elle knew was that she was really—and completely—screwed.


BUY THE BOOK HERE


THE ALPHA SECURITY SERIES

HEATED PURSUIT, #1
HOLDING FIRE, #2
HARD JUSTICE, #3





ABOUT THE AUTHOR

April blames her incurable chocolate addiction on growing up in rural Pennsylvania, way too close to America's chocolate capital, Hershey. She now lives in Virginia with her college sweetheart husband, two young children, and a cat who thinks she's a human-dog hybrid. On those rare occasions she's not donning the cape of her children's personal chauffer, April's either planning, plotting, or writing about her next alpha hero and the woman he never knew he needed, but now can't live without.



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Sunday, March 5, 2017

Review: What I Need by J.Daniels



WHAT I NEED
BY J.Daniels
Alabama Summer Book 5
Release Day: March 5, 2017



From New York Times bestselling author, J. Daniels, comes a sexy new STANDALONE novel.

Riley Tennyson has made a huge mistake.

At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself.

Showing up to her brother’s wedding pissed off and newly single, Riley seeks comfort in solitude and an open bar, until the gorgeous and irresistibly charming CJ Tully makes her a better offera wild night with the master of smooth-talking where nothing is off limits.

Riley does what any single woman would do, and a connection is made. One neither one of them can ignore. But when she comes home to the boyfriend she no longer thought she had, Riley buries her secret and begs CJ to do the same.

Forget about each other. It was a mistake. That’s all it was… right?

Desires are hidden. Distance is kept. Until one night CJ makes the ultimate sacrifice, and Riley can no longer avoid the man she can’t stop thinking about.

Not with him sleeping down the hall…

US http://amzn.to/2lknOgI 
UK http://amzn.to/2mGWMkB 
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Review: 5 Darlin Stars!!!!!!

The wait for the 5th instalment in The Alabama Summer series is finally over! We have our beloved CJ Tully. *Dreamy Sigh* If you have read this series then I'm sure you are a die hard fan like the rest of us. The Bama Boys have a way of slaying you! J. Daniels in one of my favorite authors. She has a way of creating memorable characters that stay with you long after you've finished the book. It was hard to decide between which Bama Boy I loved the most. Every time you finished one, you believed they were the ultimate book boyfriend until she introduced us to a new one. I've lost count on the number of times I have reread this series. In the end I kept going back to Reed as being my forever Bama Boy. My opinion never changed or wavered until CJ tully came into the picture. I was warned that he would make me forget Reed in a heartbeat and I laughed and laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. There was absolutely no way that anyone could replace Reed in my heart. Like I said before, he was my forever. I was sooooo wrong!!!!!! CJ Tully charmed his way into my heart and forced Reed out of the picture with a simple "Darlin'" I swear every time he used "Darlin'" I just wanted to jump his bones. It's official ladies, I'm under the Tully Charm and I never want to wash it off. J. Daniels never fails to deliver a phenomenal book! A must read for all of my lovely followers. Just remember, Tully is mine!!




About the Author:

J. Daniels is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Sweet Addiction series, the Alabama Summer series, and the Dirty Deeds series. 

She would rather bake than cook, she listens to music entirely too loud, and loves writing stories her children will never read. Her husband and children are her greatest loves, with cupcakes coming in at a close second.

J grew up in Baltimore and resides in Maryland with her family.

Follow her on facebook: www.facebook.com/jdanielsauthor 

Twitter: @JDanielsbooks

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Reader’s Group https://www.facebook.com/groups/JsSweeties/ 

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Excerpt Reveal : What I Need by J. Daniels

win banner 3     WINFrom New York Times bestselling author, J. Daniels, comes a sexy new STANDALONE novel. Riley Tennyson has made a huge mistake. At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself. Showing up to her brother’s wedding pissed off and newly single, Riley seeks comfort in solitude and an open bar, until the gorgeous and irresistibly charming CJ Tully makes her a better offer―a wild night with the master of smooth-talking where nothing is off limits. Riley does what any single woman would do, and a connection is made. One neither one of them can ignore. But when she comes home to the boyfriend she no longer thought she had, Riley buries her secret and begs CJ to do the same. Forget about each other. It was a mistake. That’s all it was… right? Desires are hidden. Distance is kept. Until one night CJ makes the ultimate sacrifice, and Riley can no longer avoid the man she can’t stop thinking about. Not with him sleeping down the hall…    

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  image1 (1)  
“You Tully?” I jerk my chin at the guy standing at the security booth after he speaks, then throw a look of appreciation at the bouncer who led me over here before he steps away. “Name’s Mark. I’m running things tonight. It’s good to have you,” the guy says. We shake hands. “Yeah. Don’t mention it,” I reply. He looks around the venue and gestures. “Packed joint tonight. Shouldn’t get too crazy with this band and the crowd it’s bringing out, but we never wanna risk it. It’s good having backup.” “How many of us you got?” I ask him over the music when the band starts playing, leaning closer to hear his response. “You and another guy who’s already here. He’s hanging out up by the stage. Plus a bunch of our guys.” He hooks his thumb at the floor to ceiling windows along the front of the building, adding, “I got some uniforms on the street keeping that shit under control in case people get tossed out.” I nod, liking what I’m hearing. The Red Door isn’t the biggest venue I’ve worked security on, but it’s big enough. Managing this shit alone can present a challenge. And by the looks of it, it’s a sold out show. More eyes we got on the crowd, the better. “You run into any problems yet?” I ask. The guy shakes his head. “Nah. Just normal shit. People trying to sneak in their own booze,” he replies, glancing at the door where everyone is filing in. “Confiscated it. No issues. Everything else seems to be running smooth.” “Good,” I say when I meet his eyes. “I’ll keep near the back since the other guy’s covering the front. I’ll come to you if I run into any problems.” “Sounds good, man.” We exchange another hand shake, then I step away and move through the crowd. I stop near the center of the room and stay to the back like I said so I can have full view of the floor that’s packed with bodies, some keeping position and others moving away from me, pushing to get closer to the stage. Bringing my arms across my chest, I stand tall and do a sweep of the place. I’ve been here before so I know the layout. There’s a bar to the right of where I’m standing, stretching the length of the wall. Restrooms are behind me. Other than the hallway leading to the rooms behind the stage where bands hang out, there’s isn’t much that isn’t visible. Plus, it’s one level, standing room only, so I don’t gotta worry about another floor I need to cover. Should be an easy gig. I do shit like this on the side for the extra cash. Venues hosting concerts are always looking for cops who are willing to come out and beef up security. We stay in civilian clothes so we blend in, and unless I’m having to act on something, I typically get out without anyone knowing I’m a cop. Easy money. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. I look back to the dance floor. The lights are dimmed. Red and blue strobe lights positioned on the ceiling illuminate the crowd, along with the bright, white lights shining from the stage. Visibility is good. Another plus. I worked a few of these where it wasn’t and that only presented problems. But here, I can see faces. Can see other shit going on too if someone’s dumb enough to try something too. I anticipate it. Events like this always bring out some of the stupidest motherfuckers. Which is exactly why they like having us work these things. Security can only do so much. I’m three songs into the set when the beat picks up. The bass vibrates along the floor. I feel it pulsing in my feet. The faster rhythm stirs the crowd and shifts them around. More bodies gather and move closer to the stage, jumping up with their fists in the air and belting out lyrics, drawing people away from the bar. Others stay toward the back where there’s room to dance. That’s where I’m looking, and that’s where I see her. Blonde. I blink. My eyes refocus. Then I stare at waves the color of sand flowing down the back of a tiny thing swaying to the music. Shirt tied off at the waist. Lower back showing. Hips shaking in some tight as shit black jeans. Ass looking fucking incredible. Damn. She reaches above her, bends her elbows and rakes her fingers through her hair, lifting it off her neck as her body keeps moving in ways I feel straight in my cock, then after letting her arms drop, she looks toward the bar with eyes searching, giving me full view of her profile. My chest grows motherfucking tight. I blink again, thinking I’m seeing things. Riley Tennyson wets her lips. Fuck. I’m not seeing things. Jesus Christ. This is just what I need. Working this shit, needing to stay focused and eyes alert to all bodies in this room and now I know for damn sure that’s not gonna be happening, meaning this gig just went from easy to really fucking complicated. There’s only one body I’m interested in keeping eyes on and it’s the one making my dick hard. Motherfucker. Riley Tennyson is gonna fucking kill me. I pull in a deep breath, watching that sweet face get ripped out of view when Riley looks toward the stage again. She keeps dancing. Keeps shaking that perfect ass and swaying those perfect hips, fingers curling in and lifting those long waves again, also perfect. Every part of her. Every fucking inch. Perfection. And I’m not even considering what she’s got going on in the front. Shouldn’t even be considering it—we’re friends, she’s taken, and I’m not a fucking asshole—but that didn’t stop me all day when I couldn’t keep those spectacular tits off my mind, even going a step further into crazy when I shared that with her through a text. I need to quit now. Stop this shit. I can avoid it. I got options. Switch with the guy hanging up by the stage, hoping Riley keeps her location. Or fuck it. Just pull out of this gig all together. Make up some excuse. I don’t need the cash. I don’t need to be staring. I sure as fuck don’t need to be getting hard right now. I got options. Just need to pick one. Simple. Yeah… Real fucking simple. I breathe in deep again, letting it out slowly. And I do this staring at her. Only at her. And the more staring I do the more I start to notice, like how she seems to be out there dancing alone, not with another person or a group of friends she came with. People around her are keeping to themselves or appearing to be together, throwing their arms around each other or sharing looks. Acting friendly. Just not with her. Riley isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes. She’s not trying to talk to anyone. She’s in her own little world. She’s here alone. He made her come to this shit alone. Anger fills me. My jaw flexes while the muscles in my arms and shoulders start locking up. My choice of options just grew by one. Instead of charging through the crowd which, no lie, is exactly what I want to be doing right now, I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out my phone. I shoot out a quick text. Me: Tell me he’s here. Lifting my eyes, I watch as Riley pauses mid ass-shake, slaps her back pocket, tugs out her phone and brings it in front of her. Her head tilts down, then a second later it’s lifting and she’s searching all around where she’s standing, peering around people and standing taller. She finds me when she finally twists around, head first and then body following. Her lips part. Her blue eyes go round, flames burning me up like they always do. Riley starts moving my way and my eyes lower, first to her mouth, watching the slow smile twist across it and take shape. She looks happy to see me. I shouldn’t put stock into that but I do. It’s what I want. Then my eyes keep dropping and I get full view of her tits. Her full, heavy, perfect fucking tits. Sitting high behind her tight white shirt and bouncing with her steps. Jesus Christ. My new friend has tits like that. And by the looks of it, she didn’t bother putting on a bra either. What the fuck did I do in a previous life to deserve this kind of torture? “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming to this,” Riley says all sweet sounding when she reaches me, stopping close and offering me a smile. Sweat gathers on her brow and in the hollow dip in her throat. She shoves her phone away and questions, “Why are you standing all the way back here? Don’t you wanna get closer so you can see the band?” “Working,” I tell her, lifting my eyes before I punch a hole through my jeans. I tuck my phone into my back pocket, adding, “Trust me. I can see plenty from where I’m standing.” Ain’t that the fucking truth. Riley blinks, then looks to my chest. “You’re not wearing your uniform,” she observes. I squint at her mouth. I got what she said, but I can barely hear her over the music. I don’t like that. I want to hear her. “Come on.” Grabbing her elbow, I pull Riley with me to the back corner of the room, stopping beside the hallway that leads to the restrooms and crowding the wall. It’s as far from the speakers as I can get her unless I take her outside, and I’m not sure I want to do that. Only `cause I know I’ll want to leave with her. Meaning I absolutely want to do that. Shoulder pressing to the wall, I release her elbow after tugging Riley close. I pull my arms across my chest. “Not typically something I wanna advertise when I’m staying undercover,” I say in response to her observation. “Oh.” She looks up at me, smiling and lifting her shoulders with a jerk. “Cool,” she says. I can see Riley better where we’re standing now. The hallway light is shining on her, making her skin glow. I look her over. She wearing more makeup than I’ve ever seen her in. Black lines her eyes and her lashes are darker. Thicker too. I like that. Her cheeks are flushed from the dancing she was doing. That combined with the whatever she’s got on her face is hiding her freckles from me. I don’t like that. But I don’t tell Riley. I keep looking. Red lips, full and shiny. Cock sucking lips. I know that from experience. Shit. Don’t go there. I focus on her eyes again. Blue and black, fading out to grey. Like a storm coming… “You totally still look like a cop,” Riley shares, jarring my focus. The corner of her mouth twitches. “You’re not fooling anyone, CJ Tully.” My brows raise. “Yeah?” She nods, laughing. “You look scary and pissed off. Smile a little.” I don’t smile. Not even when she amps hers up and gives it to me, pairing it with another soft giggle. I get straight to the point with her because getting off point with Riley is gonna lead to this shit getting even more complicated, and fuck, I’ve looked enough tonight to run the risk of major fucking complications. Plus, she’s laughing. Smiling. Looking like she’s thinking the same things I’m thinking. Get to the fucking point, Tully. “You gonna answer my question?” I ask. Her brow furrows. “What question?” “I asked you if he was here,” I remind her. “Oh.” Nodding, Riley looks behind her in the direction of the bar, then meets my eyes again. “Yeah, he went to get a drink. He doesn’t really want to be here. I kinda dragged him out.” “Why?” “Why what?” “Why’d you need to drag him out?” Riley tilts her head. “Because… he doesn’t really want to be here?” she repeats slowly, looking puzzled. “I just told you. He doesn’t like The Killers.” “So?” “So?” “Yeah, babe. So.” She straightens her head, but her eyes narrow as if she’s thinking hard. “You’ve lost me,” she shares. “Forget it,” I mumble, looking away, knowing I got no business getting up in her shit the way I’m doing. I need to back off. “No. What? Tell me.” Riley reaches out and places her hand on my forearm. I look down and watch her black painted fingers wrap around and curl under. I feel them squeeze. Our eyes lock. “Tell me,” she pleads, looking close to begging for this. My blood starts running hot. Scorching. Hot. Fuck it. I’m getting up in her shit. “I’m here because I’m working for extra cash, not because I’m digging the music,” I share, staring into her eyes and seeing hers staring back, like what I’m revealing is something she needs to hear, not just something she’s curious about. “Don’t hate it. I listen to stuff like this on occasion but it ain’t something I’d pay money to see. That being said, my woman wants to come to a show like this, crowd this size, booze flowing, other shit possibly going on, she ain’t coming alone. No discussion needed. I could hate this music to the point it makes my fucking ears bleed and I’m still going with her.” “Why?” Riley asks. “To protect her?” “That.” I jerk my chin. “And `cause she’s mine and a real man can deal with shitty music for a few hours if it means putting in time with his woman.” Riley drags her teeth along her bottom lip. Her chest starts working harder, moving stricter with her breaths. I should stop now. The way she’s looking at me… I should stop. I don’t. “Saw you dancing and thought you were here alone,” I add, smirking. “Already hate that motherfucker for what he gets to touch every night. I thought I was gonna have to kill him.” Riley stares up at me. She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. “Babe,” I probe. “You shouldn’t say that,” she says, face serious. Her hand squeezes tighter. She’s anxious now, maybe. Or pissed. I don’t know. I decide to ease her mind if it’s nerves getting to her. “I wouldn’t really kill him.” My smirk grows into a smile. “Mess him up though.” “No. Not that.” She shakes her head. “The other thing. What he gets to touch. You shouldn’t say that.” “It’s true.” “Even so. We’re friends. You shouldn’t say it.” I bend to get closer. “You might wanna take your hand off me if we’re friends, darlin’.”
 
I-don't-give-a-damn_torn     logo-rectangle-1-2400-x-1025J.Daniels is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Sweet Addiction series, the Alabama Summer series, and the Dirty Deeds series. She would rather bake than cook, she listens to music entirely too loud, and loves writing stories her children will never read. Her husband and children are her greatest loves, with cupcakes coming in at a close second. J grew up in Baltimore and resides in Maryland with her family. Sign up to receive her newsletter and get special offers and exclusive release info: http://authorjdaniels.com/newsletter/ Twitter | Instagram | Website | Facebook | Amazon Author Page |Goodreads | Reader’s Group