The City's HOTTEST Cold War!


WALK OF SHAME
a Love Unexpectedly novel
Lauren Layne
Releasing April 18th, 2017
Loveswept


Sparks fly between a misunderstood New York socialite and a cynical divorce lawyer in this lively standalone rom-com from the USA Today bestselling author of Blurred Lines and Love Story.

Pampered heiress Georgianna Watkins has a party-girl image to maintain, but all the shopping and clubbing is starting to feel a little bit hollow—and a whole lot lonely. Though Georgie would never admit it, the highlights of her week are the mornings when she comes home at the same time as her uptight, workaholic neighbor is leaving to hit the gym and put in a long day at the office. Teasing him is the most fun Georgie’s had in years—and the fuel for all her naughtiest daydreams.

Celebrity divorce attorney Andrew Mulroney doesn’t have much time for women, especially spoiled tabloid princesses who spend more time on Page Six than at an actual job. Although Georgie’s drop-dead gorgeous, she’s also everything Andrew resents: the type of girl who inherited her penthouse instead of earning it. But after Andrew caps one of their predawn sparring sessions with a surprise kiss—a kiss that’s caught on camera—all of Manhattan is gossiping about whether they’re a real couple. And nobody’s more surprised than Andrew to find that the answer just might be yes.




Georgie

Tuesday morning

Let’s talk about five a.m. for a second.

Also known as the worst hour of the day, am I right?

Here’s why:

If you’re awake to see five in the freaking morning, it means one of a few things, all of them heinous.

Scenario one: You’re on your way to the airport for an early morning flight. Heinous.

Scenario two: You’ve been out all night, and now your vodka buzz is fading, and you’re just sober enough to realize that the rest of your day will likely involve Excedrin, carbs, and indoor voices. Heinous.

Scenario three: You’ve got a crap-ton on your mind, and you’re lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, hating your life. Maybe hating yourself a little bit, I dunno, who am I to judge? Heinous.

Now brace yourself, because scenario four is the most heinous of them all: You’re awake at five a.m. because you’re an uptight prick whose schedule is even more rigid than your posture, and your life is an endless string of working out, the corner office, repeat. You’re also likely the type of person who subsists on protein shakes and kale smoothies, and you have been known to utter the phrase the body is a temple, thus solidifying what we already knew about you.

You have no friends.

But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

See, it’s five a.m., and I, Georgie Watkins, am . . . kind of excited about it.

I know. I know. Four months ago I’d have bet my favorite vintage Chanel bag that there was exactly zero chance I’d actually look forward to the ghoulish hour of five in the morning.

And yet here we are.

I guess you could say there’s a scenario five on reasons to be up this early.

“Good morning, Ramon,” I sing, pushing through the revolving doors of the luxury high-rise on 56th and Park, the place I call home.

The concierge/security guard/all-around good guy glances up and gives me a friendly smile. “Ms. Watkins. Good morning.”

Usually the massive front desk is a bustling, busy affair. Starting at around seven, an army of well-dressed concierges will be smoothly facilitating the needs of impatient residents, as tiny dogs let out sharp, high-pitched barks of greeting from their Louis Vuitton carriers.

But that’s later.

Right now, the luxurious lobby is mostly silent, with just the lone overnight guy working the front desk, holding down the fort until the day guys arrive to handle the morning crush.

My new Tory Burch clutch tucked into my armpit, I hold up the box in my hands and waggle my eyebrows. “Brought you something.”

Ramon’s smile grows wider, brown eyes lighting. “My wife says you’re going to make me fat.”

“Tell Marta that the dad bod is totally in style right now,” I say, setting the box of donuts on the counter and lifting the lid. “Unless, of course, you don’t want a maple bacon donut?”

Ramon is already reaching inside the box, shaking his head in reverence as he lifts the sugary treat. “Still warm.”

“Well, technically the shop doesn’t open until five, but I’m such a loyal customer, they let me in a bit early,” I say, surveying the array of donuts and trying to decide if I’m in a chocolate kind of mood or if I want to risk the powdered sugar one.

Since my Alexander McQueen minidress is black (the archnemesis of powdered sugar), I reach for the chocolate as I set my clutch on the counter and fish out my phone: 4:58 a.m.

Two more minutes.

“How’s Marta dealing with the pregnancy of baby number three?” I ask, taking a bite of the donut and shifting attention back to Ramon, who’s already polished off his donut and is contemplating a second. I nudge the box toward him.

“She’s good,” he says. “Excited that we’re finally having a girl.”

“A girl!” I say, reaching across the counter and squeezing his massive forearm. “Congratulations, I hadn’t heard!”

“Just found out yesterday,” he says with a happy smile, apparently deciding that the occasion calls for another donut.

“Oh my gosh, I have the perfect baby gift,” I say, nibbling at a piece of my donut. “I saw this adorable Burberry onesie in Bergdorf’s the other day, with this precious little red bow—”

“Yes, because that’s what every infant needs,” a low voice interrupts. “A four-hundred-dollar piece of fabric that needs to be dry-cleaned. Don’t be ridiculous, Georgiana.”

I don’t have to look at my clock to know what time it is.

Five o’clock.

On the dot.

Not even bothering to turn around, I roll my eyes as my red nails tear off another piece of donut and pop it into my mouth. “Ramon, do you think you could talk to maintenance about adjusting the temp? It just got a little cold in here.”

Ramon’s been working here long enough to know my request isn’t for real. He’s not even paying attention to me. He’s already set his donut aside and has straightened up, practically saluting the newcomer.

“Mr. Mulroney. Good morning, sir.”

“Mr. Ramirez.” The voice is low and serious, a touch impatient, although not quite rude.

You know that adage that you catch more flies with honey? I’m not so sure it’s true. I bring donuts to the front desk guys just about every morning, and they adore me. I know they do.

But they respect him.

Giving in to the inevitable, I finally let my eyes flick to the side, my gaze colliding with a stern brown scowl.

I put on my widest, sparkliest smile, only because I know it drives him crazy.

As always, I see a muscle in his jaw twitch as I flutter my eyelashes.

“Good morning, Andrew,” I say sweetly.

“Georgiana.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Only my late grandmother has ever called me that, and I’m pretty sure that’s because I was her namesake. Everyone else calls me Georgie. Well, okay, not everyone. Ramon and the other guys still insist on calling me Ms. Watkins, but I’m working on it. See: daily donuts.

I smile wider and push the box in Andrew’s direction. “Donut?”

His lip curls. In case you haven’t already gotten a read on this guy, he’s the type that sneers at donuts.

He lifts a boring black travel mug. “Already have my breakfast.”

“Blended-up quinoa sprinkled with a few bits of spinach and pretension?” I ask.

“Whey powder protein shake.”

“Sounds immensely satisfying.”

He takes a sip of the nastiness and watches me with cold brown eyes. “The body is a temple, Georgiana.”

There it is.

Full circle to my above commentary about what sort of people are up and about at five a.m.




Lauren Layne is the New York Times bestselling author of over a dozen romantic comedies.

A former e-commerce and web marketing manager from Seattle, Lauren relocated to New York City in 2011 to pursue a full-time writing career.

She lives in midtown Manhattan with her high-school sweetheart, where she writes smart romantic comedies with just enough sexy-times to make your mother blush. In LL's ideal world, every stiletto-wearing, Kate Spade wielding woman would carry a Kindle stocked with Lauren Layne books. 



The Bad Boy Next Door

by Jody Holford 
Publication Date: March 20, 2017  
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Bliss, Contemporary, Romance



SYNOPSIS

Shay Matthews moved to Boston for a fresh start...new apartment, new job, new routine. After too many years being coddled by her overbearing older brothers, Shay’s ready for some freedom and maybe a nice, easygoing guy. She wasn’t expecting to literally run into the scowling, brooding, (and unfairly smoking hot) guy next door.

Fresh off a haunting undercover assignment, detective Wyatt Daniels is jaded about life, relationships, and especially happily-ever-after. But there’s something about the independent and beautiful Shay that makes him want to dig deeper. Or stay away, which is definitely the smarter option of the two.

But the more Shay tries to convince herself that her sweet building manager, Brady, is the guy for her, the more Mr. Completely Wrong-for-Her Wyatt invades her mind and her heart.



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EXCERPT


Wyatt frowned at her as she started to remove the long coat she’d worn over the dress. “How can you scowl when you’re looking at a beautiful woman?” Brady nudged Wyatt in the arm, then removed his own jacket.
Shay had a feeling she knew exactly why he was frowning. She shook her head and handed the coat to Brady.
“Stop it. You’re looking at me like my brother Simon did when he picked me up at a party one night. I’d borrowed a dress from a friend, and he lost his mind.”
“Did it look like what you’re wearing now?” Wyatt’s voice was strained. He passed his jacket over to Brady, who looked back and forth between them.
“Why don’t I help you, O? These two need a minute to discuss their wardrobe,” Brady said.
Owen laughed, and he and Brady left them alone. Wyatt closed the distance between them.
He put his hands on her hips. “Did it?”
“Did what?”
“Did the dress your brother didn’t like look like the one you’re wearing now?”
Amusement and frustration crowded each other and Shay sighed. “You don’t like my dress?”
Wyatt’s eyes widened. “What? Are you nuts? That dress is killer. I love it. I’d just love it more if you were only wearing it for me,” he said, pulling her close.
His fingers grazed the bare skin on her back and Shay shivered. She wound her arms around his neck and went up on tiptoes. Her heart was skipping just from the sound of his lips saying the word “love.” Twice.
She kissed his cheek then whispered in his ear, “I am wearing it only for you.”
Wyatt growled with pure male appreciation and tightened his hold on her. “You sure you don’t want to just
go home?”
She smiled and pulled back, taking his hand. “No way. I want to socialize and meet people. I want to look at art, hold your hand, and drink champagne.”
The affection in his gaze as they walked toward the curved staircase made her breath catch in her throat. He squeezed her hand in his own. “Partway there. Let’s get something to drink.”

ABOUT JODY HOLFORD

 
Jody Holford is a multi-published author who has a soft spot for happily ever after. So much so, she tattooed the words on her arm. She’s a mom and a wife, a friend, sister, daughter, teacher, and book-lover. Her stories have a little bit of heat and a lot of heart. And maybe, some swoon-worthy moments that will make you smile.

 Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads | Newsletter | Amazon


 

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Seduced by Sin

An Unlikely Hero #3 
by Kris Rafferty
  Publication Date: March 20, 2017  
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Select, Contemporary, Romantic Suspense




SYNOPSIS

When Caleb Smith saved Francesca Hamilton from a nasty situation with her father, she was beyond grateful. Sure, it landed her in Caleb's bed wearing his engagement ring, but neither of them took that seriously. It was a means to an end, and he was so sexy and exciting, she was enjoying the ride. It wasn’t Caleb's fault her feelings were changing, leaving her wishing things between them were real rather than pretend.

Caleb took the FBI’s assignment because he wanted to end the tyranny of a man who’d hurt the people he loved. Odds of success were slim and the danger high, but he knew the risks. Francesca didn't and was completely in the dark about her family’s "business." And the more time he spends with her, the harder he falls for the gorgeous blonde. But to finally get retribution, he'll have to destroy her world...



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EXCERPT

A guest tittered loud enough to catch her attention.  That’s when she noticed everyone was staring, and conversations seemed centered on her and Caleb.  Self-conscious, she brought her lips to her martini glass.
“Don’t care what they think.”  Caleb indicated the room.  “They have no power you don’t give them.”  He took her hand back, and brought it to his lips, caressing each knuckle with a butterfly kiss.  It was like a branding, and she couldn’t help but wonder what his lips would feel like on her neck, her breasts…between her legs.  Francesca was finding it hard to breathe with any sort of consistency. 
“You don’t…care?” she said.
“Not about them.”
Them.  Who were still staring.  Francesca pulled her hand from his, and allowed her skepticism to show.  A man with his level of intensity felt too damn much not to care.  “So, no one has any power over you?”
He smiled.  “Do you want power over me?”
Francesca took a deep breath, feeling like her dress was too damn tight, and she was at risk of swooning like a twit.  He had her trembling, for heaven’s sake, because he was so damn much.  He scared the be-jeepers out of her, and he was enjoying every minute of it. 
“I’m not afraid of you.”  Damn.  She’d said that aloud, and though he didn’t exactly laugh at her, she saw amusement in the crinkling of his eyes, and his efforts not to smile.  Francesca lifted her chin, wondering if he would make fun of her. 
“I’m glad,” he said.
She placed her glass on a passing waiter’s tray, and used the distraction to buy herself time to shore up her courage.  She had the impression he was humoring her, and instinct made her want to slap that down. 
“I’m tougher than I look.  I’ve been taking care of myself since I was in fifth grade, so I could have handled Nathan without help.”  He glanced at her wrist, prompting her to flushed.  “Nathan didn’t mean to hurt me.”  Just like her father didn’t mean to hurt her when he left her at boarding school, and chose to be a stranger to his daughter. 
Caleb frowned.  “What happened in fifth grade?”
His question took her aback.  “My mother died.”  The topic was far from relevant, and even farther from the kind of conversation she wanted with this extremely sexy man. “How did we start talking about my dead mother?”  She shook her head, feeling awkward.  “I was feeling…”
Caleb stepped closer to her, and he tilted his head, as if her next words were more important than any other thing in his world.  “What were you feeling?”
She’d been feeling good; good about herself.  Wanted.  But couldn’t say any of that and keep her pride, though she had a feeling if he continued to press she’d throw pride out the door if it meant he’d kiss her.  She had a feeling kissing Caleb Smith would be divine, but hadn’t a clue about closing the deal.  What would it take?  Bat her eyelashes?  Maybe.  She feared he was the type to require her to come out and say it.  It being the operative word for…what she wanted to do with him between the sheets.  Unfortunately, a glance over her shoulder revealed they continued to be the center of attention, so she forced herself not to do anything too obvious. 
“Are you sure you’re not afraid of me?” 
He couldn’t hide how important her answer was to him, and it broke her heart.  Suddenly, she didn’t feel the need to defend her self-esteem, and now was in the position to bolster Caleb’s.  Who knew?  Neither were very sure of themselves.
She smiled.  “Should I be?”  He stepped even closer, his gaze dropping to her lips, flooding her mind with thoughts on what it would be like to kiss Caleb Smith. 
“Very afraid.” He smiled back. 


 

 

ABOUT KRIS RAFFERTY

Kris Rafferty was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the youngest of four in a rambunctious Irish-American family. She became obsessed with books early on, and remembers her first library adventure. She wrote her first story when she was six and never stopped. She received her BA at U/Mass Boston, married the love of her life, has three perfect children, and earned her third degree black belt in Parker American Kenpo Karate. She plays classical piano, loves road trips, and is a fanatic for warm water ocean. If she’s not writing, she’s reading all sorts of romance. Ms. Rafferty lives happily ever after in North Carolina, writing.

 

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release day blitz

Book Title: Extra Credit  
Author: Poppy Dunne 
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: March 22, 2017 
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

book blurb
The first time I saw Will Munroe I had him pegged as a typical LA douchebag—a little too handsome, a little too rich, a little too into his probiotic kale smoothies. The next time I ran into him—at his daughter’s parent/teacher conference (me: teacher, he: parent)—I noticed his steel grey eyes, his hard chest under a crisp white button down, and his suggestively bare ring finger. I was hooked.

If life really imitated art, he’d have swept me off my feet and taken me right there on the principal's desk. Instead, we are stuck in our assigned roles. He’s the workaholic single dad of a precocious girl child, and I’m her fiery substitute teacher. Never the two shall meet. Enter one zany, yurt-dwelling ex-wife, a stock market that never sleeps, and some over-the-top, A-list fundraisers, and I've got plenty of drama ahead. Better to keep my hands to myself.

But when Will asks me out for a pancake breakfast, how can I resist? My heart (and my stomach) say yes, but am I willing to risk my job for a short stack and a romp in the hay? A slow, sensual, mind-blowing romp in the hay…

But where there’s a Will…


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excerpt
I’m asking for a tissue when he sweeps me up into his arms and kisses me. His mouth covers mine, nothing tentative about it. It’s a masterful kiss, him claiming my mouth over and over again. My arms twine around his neck, when what I should be doing is pushing him away with a Scarlett O’Hara “I do dee-clayah! Mr. Munroe!” But I don’t. Instead, I pull him closer, feeling the scrape of his stubble against my cheek. He tastes like breath mints from heaven, or something else celestial and minty fresh. When we finally pull apart—which body does not want, but brain insists on—I find I can finally exhale. Will lowers me back to the ground like I’m floating back out of a dream, back to my job and the school and…the fact that I’m still doing my job at the school.

While snogging a parent.

Snogging’s a great word.
Okay, brain. Let’s get back to it.

“That was…” Will’s voice trails off. The tone is deep, rugged, sexy.

I respond, “Shhweee.” I think I was looking for the word sweet, but we’ll never know.

“Very,” he agrees. He steps away, even though every molecule in my body right now is telling me to fling myself back at this tall, infuriating, infuriatingly gorgeous man. But just as I’m about to throw caution and my bra to the wind, someone adorable comes bouncing up to us, her mouse-eared hoodie still on.





meet the author
After ten years of hiding behind a bathroom door, Poppy Dunne has sent both children to school, emerged from the bathroom, and is excited to release Room Service, a romantic comedy plotted mostly on the toilet.

Poppy writes books with relatable heroines who speak their minds and whose riotous inner dialogue reflects their complex characters. Her goal is to deliver a story that has equal parts heart, romance and humor. Her heroes are swoon worthy, yet hold on to your suspension of disbelief, because they pick up their own socks and cook.

In her free time, she looks for hobbies other than Netflix and procrastinating to fill out this author bio. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband and children.

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