28 May 2017

Release Blitz & Giveaway ~ Redefining Us, A Reclusive Novel, by Harloe Rae

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$0.99 or FREE with KindleUnlimited


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In order to truly save him, I need to redefine us.

Xander Dixon was my best friend.
Loyal and dependable.
A brave warrior.
A permanent presence in my life until that fateful day he boarded a plane headed overseas.

Xander’s unwelcome silence haunted me for three years…
Until he suddenly resurfaces.
Blinded by misplaced fury.
Trapped in a pool of darkness.
Unable to escape the perpetual pain.

Though it would be easy to walk away, I refuse to give up on him.
I want to know his misery and torment, so I can rescue him.
Then Xander will finally be mine.

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Prologue

Pain.

Debilitatingain is all I feel as I attempt to keep my emotions in check. Saying goodbye to my best friend was never a thought I entertained. Now it's my reality.

“Wills.” His voice takes on a pleading tone as he stares into my tear filled eyes. “Please don’t make this harder for me than it already is.” He continues to look at me as the saltwater drips down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, X, but you have no idea how difficult life will be here without you.” I can’t catch my breath as the hysteria threatens to take over. I try to take deep inhales between puffs of pitiful exhales.

He presses his forehead to mine and I don’t think he understands how much that involuntary, ingrained move means to me at that moment. Xander is one of the greats and I’m about to lose him.

“Promise me,” I begin in a begging voice. “Swear to me that you’ll come back and everything will be the same.”

“Willow Shae, I could never stay away from you longer than necessary, so you don’t even have to ask. But yes, I promise and swear I will be back as soon as possible to return to our regularly scheduled friendship.”

With that remark, he has me cracking a smile. Even through the tears. Gosh, I will miss this man.

“Will you write me? Does that sound cheesy? I see it in all the old time movies and I always wanted to say it.” Maybe it is the dreamy lilt to my voice that has his lips quirking into a smile.

“Wills, I will write you every chance I get and I expect the same. Now, give me a hug that means everything you feel because I won’t see you for at least a year.” His eyebrows crease with that devastating blow, even though I’d heard that timeline before. I can tell he’s still very worried about how I’m feeling based on the telling nonverbal cues radiating off him.

We embrace easily, like so many times before, yet this is different. His hands linger on my hips before settling on the middle of my back. His breath holds until he blows it slowly across my neck. His eyes find my gaze like he had more to say than his voice would allow. I indulge these rare affections and give a few curve balls of my own.

“I’ll miss you every day, Xander. I will never go a single moment without a thought of you. Best friend or not, you mean more to me than any other person in this world. Please be careful. I will be waiting for you.” I pull away before he’s able to reply. I can’t stand to further delay this inevitable separation.

Xander looks down at me once more before picking up his pack and hoisting it over his shoulder. Then he tosses out the toughest blow ever dealt.

“When I am having a bad day, or we get into brutal battle, or a friend gets hurt, or… just something awful happens, I will think of your smile because it always makes me happy.”

Then he turns and walks toward the airline gate.

This was it. I have to tell him. It is now or never. As he passes through the threshold, I gain my courage.

“Xander!” I scream. He turns around immediately and looks startled by my outburst. It’s then I realize he had planned to keep walking until I called out. I can’t lay out my heart then just watch him leave.

Instead of telling him exactly how I feel, I blow him a kiss. Maybe for good luck or maybe for all the kisses I wish we had actually shared. He catches it and smiles. Then continues on his way.

Xander is much braver than I am, he's an amazing man, and he will make our country proud. But my most forefront thought is worry that I will never get to tell him how much I love him.

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2 x $25 Amazon Gift Cards
2 x $10 Amazon Gift Cards
2 x Signed Paperback of Redefining Us


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File_000 (3)Harloe Rae is a new author and just released her debut romance novel, Redefining Us. The idea for this book has been building in her mind for years and she finally decided to let the story out.

Harloe is married to an amazing man and they have an adorable little boy. Family is what makes her life worth living and she cherishes the special moments together. She is also passionate about horses, reading, blogging, and having fun!

Interaction is really important to Harloe, so make sure to follow her pages and say hello!



27 May 2017

Blog Tour ~ The Sin Bin by Nikky Kaye







Beckett

Lucy Solomon showed up to watch a hockey game in a luxury box wearing jeans and a hoodie, and she didn't give a puck who I was. Now the hotter it gets between us the better my team does on the ice, and I'm getting superstitious. I'm not skating around my feelings--I want to win the playoffs, and I want Lucy. But something's gotta give.

Lucy

After being in a grad school cave for two years, it made sense that I'd be drawn to a caveman. I melted for Beckett Hallstrom's brazen moves and boyish charm when we first met, but things exploded when I found out who he really was. Beck wants me to be his good luck charm, but the press is relentless and now my career is in jeopardy. Every competition has a loser and I'm afraid it's going to be me losing my heart.




Someone knocked on the door. We froze, breathing heavily and entwined together like a Rodin sculpture. It was too dark for me to see the expression on Beckett’s face when he called out casually, “Yeah?”

“I have that jersey for you, Mister Hallstrom,” a man said quietly. Discreetly.

Awkwardly, Beck removed his hands from every part of my body and turned to the door. He cracked it open, the outside light and sound slicing into the tiny room but thankfully I remained out of sight.

“We’re three up now,” I heard. “End of the second.”

“Shit, three? Okay, thanks.” Beck took a plastic bag from the guy. Then he leaned back against the closed door and reached out with one arm to flick the light back on.

At my position on the counter, the light was bright above my head. I squinted reflexively. And then when I realized how I probably looked, I wanted to turn off the lights and screw my eyes shut again. Oh my god, how embarrassing.

My legs were spread, my jeans gaping open and pushed down on my hips. I was practically sitting in the sink on top of his bespoke suit jacket, but at least my butt hadn’t turned on the water. Yet. My breasts quivered over the shelf bra of my athletic tank top, the tips still wet from his mouth. I was a slutty mess.

But Beck looked at me like I was the Stanley Cup turned into a chocolate fountain.

Without taking his eyes off me, he raised his right hand to his mouth and licked his first two fingers. If he were a metaphor, there would be canary feathers sticking out of his mouth.

“I, uh, just want you to know that this is not normal behavior for me, Beckett Hallstrom,” I said shakily. Understatement of the year.

I couldn’t help it. I closed my eyes. Maybe if I couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t be there. But he was there, all right. I heard the rustle of the plastic and the stretchy snick of him ripping off the price tag. And his rough chuckle.

“It’s not exactly routine for me either, Lucy…” He trailed off as we both realized he didn’t know my last name. My embarrassment graduated to humiliation, and my eyes flew open as he pulled me off the sink. “Careful, there.”

With surprising gentleness he tucked me back in and zipped me back up, before slipping a jersey over my head. The guy he’d sent had actually found one for the opposing team, which I suspected was hard to find in the home team’s store. It was big on me, but so was Beck.

“Solomon. Lucy Solomon.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucy Solomon.”

His mouth quirked as he pulled my hair out from under the collar of the jersey, like he’d done earlier with his jacket. This time, though, he wound my hair around his wrist and tugged my head back to expose my neck. He pressed his mouth to my thumping pulse, nipping softly.

I sighed. “The pleasure was all mine.”

He stepped back, adjusting his slacks with a wince and shoving half his shirt back into his waistband. “I wish my name was on your back,” he said.

“You used to play?”

He nearly bent in half with mirth. “Oh, Jesus.” He laughed so hard and so long that I wished I knew the punch line. If he didn’t stop soon, he would be the punch line.

“Ahem?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

Outside I heard the distinct sounds of another goal for the home team. Not Andy’s team. Not Beck’s team. We both looked to the door. How long had we been in here, anyhow?

I blinked at him. He reached behind me and plucked his wrinkled suit jacket out of the sink. Now that I was extra embarrassed about. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “Casualty of war. We should…”

“Yeah, we should. I’m sure people are waiting for you.” I tugged the jersey down over my thighs. It was big enough for me to wear it as a dress. Maybe next time.

He traced my lips with his broad thumb, pressing his own lips together in an obvious effort not to laugh at me. “You’re fucking adorable, Lucy. You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Should I? I already told you I’m not into hockey.”

In fact, I came from the least athletic family on the planet. It was a shock to my computer programming parents that Andy was even tangentially working in sports. Frankly I was proud that I knew hockey was measured in periods and not quarters. With regards to my knowledge of the sport, the bar was pretty low.

“That is the adorable part that I’m looking forward to fucking.”

“You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

He smirked. “Let’s say, confident.”

“Cocky.”

“If you want.”

Hmmm. I did want.



Nikky Kaye is almost my real name. I’m a former Film professor who likes more than her movies to be black and white. Sadly, the world doesn’t work that way. I have worked with movie stars, Ivy League brainiacs, and the United Nations—all of which means that I’m familiar with ass-kissing, power struggles, greed and faking it. In my spare time I parent 5 year-old twin boys, serve on the board of an independent cinema, and run a medical consulting company.





Book Blitz ~ Best, The Change Series #3, by Melanie Jayne


Best
The Change Series, Book 3 
by Melanie Jayne
Date of Publication: May 16, 2017


Blurb

I have a new name in a new city.

Tye and I agreed to be friends only. Now he sleeps in my bed every night, holding me close, protectively. After everything that I've been through, I'm not sure that I can handle more, besides he isn't a relationship kind of guy. I'm not even sure why he's here with me.

I saw Billie and wanted her immediately. I know that she has secrets but getting to know her is like unwrapping a gift, slower is better. Her scars run deep and every day is a struggle. I want to help her, to protect her from those that want to hurt her. I tell myself that's why I'm holding her every night.

We're just friends… It's for the Best that way.

Isn't it?





The Change Series






About Melanie Jayne

Melanie Jayne lives on a grain farm in central Indiana with her husband of twenty-seven years and two mastiffs, Ginger and Duncan Keith. She's worked retail, in a federal courtroom, closed loans and behind the scenes in a casino. Now she is living her dream—as a Romance Writer. Her first book was published in 2015 and she features characters over the age of thirty-five. She loves to meet readers and discuss all things book related.



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26 May 2017

Release Blitz & Review ~ Under Her Skin by Aria Cole




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Sienna Taylor walked into Mad Ink looking for a temporary escape. Instead, she found River Madden, the gorgeously talented and impossibly moody owner of the shop. One look in her big, dark eyes makes him desperate to possess her, his need to mark her untouched skin a primal distraction.

One touch of his needle sends electricity rocketing between them, and by the time he's finished leaving his brand on her, he's doing the unthinkable and offering her a job—and possibly losing his sense of sanity.

Finding forever is the last thing on River's mind, but one taste of her sweet innocence has him consumed with claiming her.

She's too innocent, too sweet, too untouchable, and far too good for him. But she has a darkness that claws at her, a crack fracturing her heart that only makes him crave her more.

Warning: From the moment his tattoo gun touches her skin, River is utterly obsessed with his girl. If over-the-top, insta-love goodness with a moody, tattooed alpha is your cup of steam, look no further! River has a talent for pushing all the right buttons. ;)


One

River

“So, my hands are in her hair, and I’m fucking close, man. I don’t know what I did to the bitch to make her pull the teeth out, but no shit, I think I almost lost my dick last night.”

The sound of a feminine someone clearing her voice turned both of our heads. Jericho shot up, hand outstretched and that weird half smile he only did for chicks he wanted to bang curling his face.

The guy was a fucking whore, and if I had to live through another one of his one-night stands rehashed, I’d throw my fist through his teeth. I’d already thought about breaking a finger, but fucker needed them if he was going to permanently lay artwork on someone’s body, and the guy had talent.

I’d hired him when he got to page three of his portfolio—a portrait of a someone’s grandpa in a war uniform inked on the client’s bicep. The fucking most beautiful tattoo I’d ever seen in my life, and I knew I had to have Jericho in my shop.

Just a goddamn shame I had to put up with him every day.

“She’s a sweet one.” Jericho turned and winked. “And she’s looking for you. Told her I had more talented fingers, but she wasn’t buying it.”

I arched an eyebrow, irritation pulsing through my gut before I stood, plastering on a blank face for my new client.

I lived for tattooing and creating art. What I didn’t love was dealing with customers. Constantly. It was hard being an artist and not being able to control exactly how you would create on a canvas, since the canvas tended to belong to another human.

I’d learned to put on a reserved face over the years—I wasn’t one of those guys who chatted your goddamned ear off. I didn’t give two fucks about your life story or why this tattoo finally meant so much. In fact, half the struggle I’d had in the two years since I’d opened Aspen Ink was tuning out the dimwits so I could focus long enough to give them what they came for—a permanent piece of art on their skin.

Jericho and Dev busted my balls about my shitty chairside personality in the beginning, but it turns out customers don't give a shit about manners when you leave them with something they can't get anywhere else on their arm. I had plenty of repeat customers and was usually booked out months in advance. As a result, most of the clients I already knew, so the fact that I didn’t recognize the name on my schedule today had been a little odd, though not unheard of.

I pulled out a set of clean tools, giving a last glance over my sterile work area before heading to the front counter.

A small little thing, with golden blond hair cascading down to a tiny nipped-in waist, was waiting for me at the front desk. I frowned.

“Hi, I’m River Madden.” I came around the counter, touching her elbow.

She spun, that silky mass of waves brushing across my forearm and sending zaps of fire through my skin.

“I’m Sienna.” Indigo blue eyes nailed mine.

I shifted on my feet, throat already dry before I hooked a finger over my shoulder. “Follow me.”

Red lips pursed for a second, eyes narrowing before she nodded swiftly.

I gnashed down on my teeth, figuring I knew exactly what I was in for with this one. “Let me guess, cute little elephant tattoo on your ankle?”

I held a hand out, gesturing for her to sit in my tattoo chair.

“Not quite.” She plopped down, eyes connecting with mine again.

Fuck, what was it about those eyes? Like she couldn't keep herself from looking at me, staring into my soul or some shit. Weird as fuck and I hated every minute of it.

“Quote under your tit? That what the girls are getting these days, right?”

“I’m not a girl.” She crossed her arms. She certainly wasn’t. She might be small, but that fire burning in those ocean irises told me she wouldn’t hesitate to give a man hell. Fuck, why did that kinda make me smile?

“Well, safe to assume this is your first tattoo?” My eyes landed on her short denim cutoffs then crawled up her body to the long sleeves that covered her arms. This girl was A-1 vanilla, no doubt about it. I was good at reading people, and this one was just too sweet to have seen anything resembling a hard life.

“You know what they say about people who assume, right?” Her grin crooked to the side. “You make an ass—” she rolled up one sleeve, revealing dark slashes of purple and black ink “—out of mostly…you.”

“Impressive.” I moved closer. “I pegged you for a virgin.” I felt a shiver race through her when I cupped her arm in my palm, inspecting the work. “Where’d you go for this?”

“A few towns over. Got it a few months ago.” She pulled up her other sleeve, inked vines wrapping up her forearms to her elbow. “And this was my first, the day I turned eighteen.”

“Fair to say I am an ass, then.” I was unable to help the small smile pulling at my lips. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

She pulled the hem of her shirt above her head, luscious flesh revealed to my greedy fucking eyes.

Christ, she was beautiful. Creamy, soft, unmarred flesh. My vision swam with thoughts of inking her body, watching her squirm under my hands, sinking balls deep into the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen…

“I want to cover this.” She pulled her shirt up past her ribs, a thick white slash, about two inches long, covering her side.

The rough pads of my fingers dragged across the raised flesh, and a soft sigh pushed past her lips before our eyes met again. “What you got in mind for it?”

“A heart,” she said simply. “Shattered.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard this request, but something about the way she put those two words together sliced me open. I was wrong about her. This girl had darkness behind her pretty blue eyes.

“Got a picture?”

“Do you one better.” She slipped a folded scrap of paper from the back pocket of her shorts. “I want this.”

I unfolded the sheet, surprised to find a bloodied red heart inked faintly with the outlines of a skull. “This is pretty badass.”

“I thought so too.” She shrugged, smiling proudly before lying back on my chair. She stretched her arms above her head, the shirt riding up higher and revealing a hint of neon green bra against her creamy skin.

“Hate to ask, but I need to see an ID.”

She arched one sassy eyebrow before her lips curled up. “Does that mean you don't think I look eighteen?”

The way she said it made my cock fucking pound behind my zipper. Whatever in the hell had brought this woman into my studio today, I owed a huge debt of gratitude. I’d been inking people in this very chair for over two years now and never gave any fucks about my canvas. Until her. Until now.

I frowned, confused by the way she sucked me in, before I grunted. “I’ll get this sketched for you. Need to see an ID when I get back.”

I shot out of the chair and stalked to the light station as far away from her as I could get.

I didn’t have time for a saucy little girl running through my shop, making my dick hard, and causing me to think all kinds of nasty thoughts. Like what it would be like to bend her over my table. Or fuck her in the piercing room.

Shit. Did she have any piercings?

I’d be a fucking dead man if she did.

Just the idea of little metal barbells piercing her nipples had a ripple of pain coursing through my balls.

I hunched over the drawing table, adjusting my cock, as I started the outline for her tattoo. I caught glimpses of her watching me work, her eyes crawling around my shop and over me as I took my time designing her tattoo.

She didn’t flip through her phone once, which surprised the fuck out of me because girls her age had it fucking glued to their palm.

That shit wasn’t good for your mind, and if I didn't have to own a cell to stay in touch for the sake of my business, I wouldn’t own one. Worst goddamn invention on the planet, that little mini-computer sitting in everyone’s pocket.

“That looks incredible.” She breathed against my neck.

Fuck. She was too close for comfort.

“Wait, what if we add a few stitches across the crack? Just black slashes, like someone did a rushed job fixing it.”

I frowned as I thought, imagining the final piece in my head before coming around to the idea. “I think that would highlight the skeleton shaded into the background. Good call.” I added a few random stitches to the center of the heart, across the skull of the skeleton.

“I love it,” she whispered, her palms sliding down my forearms and squeezing tightly.

Her touch was like razor blades against my skin.

I wasn’t sure if I loved it or wanted to wrench my arm away.

It’d been so fucking long since I’d let anyone touch me like this. And now this girl was not only all up in my personal space, but in my head too.

“Great. Lie down on the table, and we’ll get you prepped.” I tried to keep my voice clipped and to the point, my only focus on being professional despite the raging hard dick tenting my pants.

I helped her up onto the table, avoiding the gorgeous view of her ass as she turned around. Her shorts were so fucking short I was sure I could catch a glimpse of her pussy if I looked hard enough. Why the fuck was she out in public wearing that shit? Didn’t she know what disgusting men like me thought of her?

“Got that ID?” I grinned down at her.

“Here you go, Daddy-o.” She flipped me her driver’s license, confirming she was of age. Nineteen. So, barely.

“Looks good.”

“Told you it would,” she sassed back. Goose bumps rippled across her skin when I applied the cool sanitizer to her rib cage. Then I placed the stencil I’d drawn into place, the crack in the heart matching the jagged edges of the scar slashed permanently into her flesh.

I had a mind to trace my tongue along the rough edges, listening to her shudder and come around me as I milked all the pleasure from her body.

I slipped my fingers along the edges of the transfer paper, making sure the ink outline deposited onto her skin. She shuddered when my fingertip drifted across her wrist.

Fuck, she was so sensitive.

I had visions of her spread out beneath me, my hands in her hair, my tongue licking up her silky skin. The thought of burying my head between her legs had blood rushing through my cock.

What the hell was that scent? And sweet fucking lord, did she taste that good too?

No. Better.

Probably better.

I shifted in my chair, and her eyes averted to me before the shadow of her eyelashes fell onto her cheeks. The air vacated my lungs, blood raging through my veins and making my heart pound a tattoo against my ribs. My cock throbbed, aching to push inside her, fuck her until she was breathless and begging.

Christ, what the hell was wrong with me?

Jericho had given me hell about living like a damn monk, but I’d never reacted to a woman this way. But this wasn’t just any woman; this was Sienna fucking Taylor, too young, too innocent, too good. Way too good.

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be.” She spoke up, and I nearly choked.

“Excuse me?”

Her eyes flickered up to me, a smirk turning up those succulent lips. “The tattoo, it’s big.”

“Ah, right.” I cleared my throat, peeling off the transfer paper and focusing on her eyes for the first time since she’d sat down. “I don’t think I could make it much smaller. You'd start to lose detail on the skeleton.”

“Oh, I like it. I just didn’t envision it that big, but I’m ready. I want it.” Her big, round eyes peered up at me, sweet, untouched. Heartbreakingly fucking beautiful.

I turned, opening the black ink and placing it at the table beside me. “Think you can handle the pain? This is gonna take me a while.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Bet I can handle more than you think.”

Jesus.

Who was this girl?


Review

What's not to love about a man that will anything to protect, care for, and love the woman of his dreams?

The last thing River expected was his next appointment, a woman that captives him like no other woman has before. And as he gets to know her, the stronger his pull is to her. So when someone threaten her life, he's alpha-ness will take over and never let anything happen to her again.

Sienna just wanted a tattoo to cover a scar that turned her life upside down. But River is about to turn her world around again, however this time for the better.

Under Her Skin is a saucy, feisty, quick read that heats things up from page one. I love how River fights all of one second before he's a complete goner for Sienna. He doesn't care what anyone thinks or says, he knows in his heart that Sienna is his one. And when he comes to her protection, swoon!!

I'm a huge fan of Aria and Under Her Skin has quickly become one of my favorites. I loved the witty banter and provocative story line. The chemistry between River and Sienna is evident from that first look and only got more intense with each pass page. I adore this couple and couldn't put this book down.

If you are looking for a quick read at the end of your day, then I highly recommend Under Her Skin.

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IMG_1077.JPGAria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.

Aria's new release BLACK is the first in her modern fairy tale series. For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn't take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!

Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she's writing next!


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Blog Tour ~ The Line by Amie Knight

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The Line, an all-new standalone from Amie Knight is available now!

The Line Full Jacket

The Line
by Amie Knight
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publication Date: May 23rd


I was a thief.
The invisible girl only he could see.
The woman who wanted to be more.

He was the mark.
The extraordinary cowboy who stole my sixteen-year-old heart.
The damaged man who still owned it, even four years later.

The Line was where we began.
Where fates collided.
Where truths derailed.
The place where our love story ends.



Excerpt

How could it be so damn hot at seven in the morning? I wasn't sure, but it was. Even in a thin tank, cut-off shorts, and my boots, I was melting. I stood at the top of a ladder Cole had placed against a tree so that we could reach the peaches up top. I used the rubber band on my wrist and tied my hair into a knot at the top of my head, hoping that it helped.

Cole climbed up behind me on the ladder and stood a couple of rungs below, but still, he towered over my small frame.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yep,” I answered, even though I wasn't okay. He was so close, and that familiar earthy, smoke smell I loved almost as much as rocky road invaded my senses.

“Good.” He looked at the peaches. “Alrighty. You see the ones that have that pink color?” He motioned to a cluster of fruit in front of us.

I nodded, trying not to breathe in too much. Because Jesus, he smelled delicious.

“Those look ripe and done. The paler ones behind them don’t look ready yet.”

I nodded again, and Cole grabbed my hand. He pressed his fingers in, wrapping both of our hands around a peach. He pushed the tips of his fingers into mine at the top of the fruit, near the stem.

“Feel the give, how it feels soft there?”

I squeezed my fingers around the stem again without his help and said, “Yep. Feels softer there.”

He smiled down at me. “Good. That’s also a sign it’s ripe for picking. But be gentle. They bruise easily.”

Cole’s front pressed closer to my back, and I shivered. The way Cole taught me to do things here was pure torture. It was also outright ecstasy. I lived for these moments as much as I loathed them. Because the man was a damn tease. He’d sent me back to the big house a sweaty, panting mess more times than I could count, my panties drenched.

He gently squeezed our hands around the peach and twisted and pulled. The peach came free, my tiny hand gripped it and his big, rough hand wrapped around mine. He brought our hands to my face and pressed the peach closer to my nose.

“How does it smell?” he asked in my ear.

I wanted to say, “I don't know. I can’t smell a damn thing but your smoke and leather, and I don't want to.”

Instead, I closed my eyes. I pressed my nose right up against the peach and concentrated on the smell.

“Sweet,” I said, my eyes still closed.

Our hands moved, and I felt the peach at my lips. My heart hammered and fire raced across my skin, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the weather.

Cole positioned himself even closer, and it seemed, in that moment, that every breath he took sucked up every bit of air in the atmosphere.

My own breath quickened, and a growl rumbled low in Cole’s chest.

“Taste it,” he whispered in my ear, his lips so close that I was sure he could taste me on them.

I opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around the fruit, the fuzzy skin tickling my lips. I bit down, and that rumble I heard from Cole made an appearance again. I moaned as I pressed my teeth to the fruit, the juicy sweetness of the peach sliding over my tongue.

“So good,” I groaned as Cole pulled our hands and the peach back. A little juice rolled down my chin and I attempted to lift my free hand to wipe it.

“I got it,” Cole said, brushing his hand over my chin, slowly picking the juice up with his finger, and ever-so-Goddamn-enticingly placing his finger in his mouth before sucking it clean like it was the best thing he’d ever put in his mouth.

“Delicious,” he said, his hooded eyes on mine as he popped his finger out of his mouth.

And fuck me. I swayed on that ladder, my own eyes closing as I willed my cowboy to kiss me with every breath I took. I made myself only will this about once a day, so I thought I was doing pretty good.

He brought our hands holding the peach to his mouth. He wrapped his mouth around it, his lips brushing my fingers, and I felt it deep in my core. I pressed my thighs together and swallowed a moan.

“Perfect,” he said, staring into my eyes. He held my gaze for a moment more before shaking his head and letting my hand, which was still clasped around the peach, go. Then he stepped off the ladder like he hadn't just made sweet, sweet love to that peach with his mouth right here in front of me.

I watched him walk off to another tree, place a ladder against it, and climb up like nothing in the world had happened. I kicked the rung of the ladder and turned back to the tree. Damn peach molester.

TheLineAN

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About the Author

AmieKnightAmie Knight has been a reader for as long as she could remember and a romance lover since she could get her hands on her momma's books. A dedicated wife and mother with a love of music and makeup, she won’t ever be seen leaving the house without her eyebrows and eyelashes done just right. When she isn't reading and writing, you can catch her jamming out in the car with her two kids to '90s R&B, country, and showtunes. Amie draws inspiration from her childhood in Columbia, South Carolina, and can't imagine living anywhere other than the South.