Pages

Showing posts with label Harper Sloan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Harper Sloan. Show all posts

19 December 2017

Release Blitz ~ Cowboy Up, Coming Home #3, by Harper Sloane


Cowboy Up
Coming Home – Book 3
Release Day 12/19/17
By Harper Sloan


New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Harper Sloan returns with a passionate and breathless romance about the sparks that ignite when a cautious cowboy and a once-scorned woman open up to each other in the third installment of the Coming Home series.

As the eldest Davis, Clayton has always tried to lead by example. He takes his job as head of the family businesses seriously, making sure the farm and auto shop are running smoothly—along with keeping an eye on his brother and sister. For him, there’s a time and place to let go of the control he holds with an iron grip. And with the way he grew up, coupled with a disastrous end to his last relationship, he’s just fine with his quiet, solitary life.

Most of the time.

What he hadn't counted on was the cute, quirky, shy bookstore owner, Caroline Michaels. She's the proverbial woman next door—well, the next town over, that is. Caroline hasn't lived an easy life, but after escaping a verbally abusive ex, she's finally living it for herself. The last thing she ever expected was a one-night stand with Clay Davis she can’t stop thinking about.

So when she falls on hard times and Clay comes out of nowhere to her rescue, she realizes just how impossible it’ll be to stay away from him. Now all she has to do is convince him to live a little…. Will Clay be able to give up the reins and finally settle down? And, more importantly, will Caroline muster enough courage to lasso him up?


Amazon US | Paperback | UK | AU | CA

About The Author

Harper is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author residing in Georgia with her husband and three daughters. She has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books, hibachi, tattoos and Game of Thrones. When she isn't writing you can almost always find her with a book in hand.


18 July 2017

New Release ~ Kiss My Boots, The Coming Home Series #2, by Harper Sloan


Kiss My Boots
The Coming Home Series, Book 2
By Harper Sloan
Release Day: July 18, 2017


In this second of the sultry, Western-set Coming Home series from New York Times bestselling author Harper Sloan, Quinn Davis might finally have a shot at her own happily-ever-after—but will she let love in, or will she tell it to go ahead and kiss her boots?

Quinn Davis prefers to live her life quietly. She’s the stereotypical tomboy with two overprotective big brothers who have always been there to protect her, especially from devilishly handsome cowboys with silver tongues. That is, until Tate Montgomery comes riding into town. Their first meeting, however, is far from something out of a fairy tale and only further convinces Quinn that men aren’t worth her time.

The only place Tate Montgomery ever truly felt at home growing up was during the long, sweltering summer months he spent at his Gram and Paw’s farm in Pine Oak, Texas. Now, Tate has returned to his childhood sanctuary seeking a fresh start—but if he’s being entirely honest, he’s not just back for the wranglers and Stetsons. During those summers, Quinn was a friend-turned-young-love who Tate lost when life threw him a curveball and he cut all ties to his past; but all it takes is one glance at the raven-haired beauty he did his best to forget for him to realize just how much he’s been missing….


Amazon US | UK | AU | CA
B&N | Kobo | iBooks | BAM | Google


Excerpt

Quinn

“Middle of a Memory” by Cole Swindell

*****

The aroma of oil and exhaust fumes swirls in the air, mixing and mingling with the scent of metal baking in the strong summer sun. Even with the bays of the garage closed, the shop can’t escape the soaring temperatures. Every truck that’s brought in gives off waves of fiery heat for what seems like hours while we begin our work.

If you’ve ever worked under a vehicle that spent any amount of time kicking up rocks on the scorching Texas asphalt, then you know it’s about as close to feeling the heat of hell that one chick can take.

And I love every second of it.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been happiest when getting my hands dirty. Most of the girls I knew went to mudholes to find their dirty fun—not me. While they were in the passenger seats of their dads’ or brothers’ or boyfriends’ trucks, laughing and screaming as they bumped along through the holes, I was too busy climbing behind the wheel analyzing each and every move my truck would make—even before I could legally drive, which made my own brothers, Clay and Maverick, insane. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t get enough of it. I would envision ways to make the truck roar louder, kick up its spray of murky clay and water more powerfully, and take those backwoods trails with a supremacy that even the deepest rut couldn’t stop.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that while I was growing up, my father had owned the best auto shop around. It was also the only one around, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the best. Davis Auto Works has been the place for custom auto needs since 1982.

And it’s been my haven for longer than I can remember.

“Q! You gotta second, doll?” Tank bellows from somewhere close to the 2017 Dodge Ram I’ve been working underneath for the last hour.

Taking a second, knowing he can’t see me, I close my eyes and take a deep pull of my special brand of calming air. The scent of motor oil, chassis grease, and brake dust trickles through my system and blankets my frazzled nerves instantly.

“What’s shakin’, cowboy?” I ask with a sigh, pulling myself to my feet. My hands go to the sides of my coveralls to wipe them clean out of habit before I realize I pulled them down after lunch to try and cool off. “Damn,” I mutter, peering at the black handprints now adorning my faded denim. “I liked these jeans, too.”

“Nothing a little elbow grease can’t handle, darlin’.”

I look up . . . and up . . . and up, finally meeting the dirt-brown eyes of Miles “Tank” Miller. The man is huge—hence the nickname—and, bless his heart, dumber than a box of rocks. He’s a handsome devil, don’t get me wrong, but even if he wasn’t a complete idiot when it comes to anything other than motors, I wouldn’t be interested.

I don’t date. Ever.

“What do you need, Tank? I need to get this lift finished before five so I’m not stuck here all dang night.”

“Got a real shitter comin’ in. Man said he wanted every whistle and toot out there. I ain’t sure what that meant though, seein’ as he said it ain’t even runnin’. Not sure you can put a whistle and toot on a heap of broken metal.”

It takes every ounce of sweet southern darlin’ I have deep in my soul not to snap at Tank and tell him I can barely understand his broken English, but my brothers didn’t raise a rude little bitch.

“Tank, sweetheart, can you be a little more clear for me?” I roll to the tips of my boots and reach up to pat his beard-covered cheek.

He looks down, blinks a few times, and shrugs one meaty shoulder. “Naw.”

Patience, Quinn. Patience. “Did you take his number?”

His eyes crinkle as his brow pulls into a frown. “Reckon I might have.”

“How about you finish up fine-tuning the suspension system on the Ram for me? I was almost done so there isn’t much left, just finishing up with the sway bar. I’ll go look for that number. How’s that sound?”

“Sure thing, Q. You takin’ this baby up nice and high. Chester handlin’ the engine on this bad boy?”

I nod, but don’t bother answering him since he’s already dropped down to disappear under the truck. I walk over to the sink in the corner and wash up with some GOJO. I might love getting my hands dirty working with trucks, but I still enjoy looking like a girl—which means I’m anal about washing often to avoid the perpetual black stains most mechanics have on their hands.

Stepping into the back office, I cringe when I see the mess on my desk. Normally, it’s kept in the state of what I lovingly refer to as organized chaos, but all it took was one visit from our resident Tank and it looks like an EF5 tornado blew through.

“Jesus Jones,” I mutter, shoulders dropping in frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to find something in this mess?”

“My guess would be clean it up.” A familiar sardonic voice laughs from behind me.

“I do clean! Which you know damn well!” Fake annoyance laces my words as I spin around, smiling as I face my eldest brother.

“Let me guess: Tank?” The corner of his mouth tips up as he smirks at me. I can’t see his eyes because of the shadow of his cowboy hat, but I imagine the deep hunter green is brighter than usual with a knowing sense of mirth.

“The one and only,” I drone.

“I just stopped in to handle payroll. I didn’t have everything I needed at the ranch, but I can hang around if you need somethin’.”

“Now, Clayton Davis, you keep that up and I might think you enjoy tinkerin’ around the garage,” I jest, knowing damn well Clay hates working in the shop.

He takes off his hat, placing it on top of the filing cabinet open-side up as any good Texan would, running one hand through his thick black hair. “Funny, Quinny.”

“I try, big brother. I know you’ve got your hands full at the ranch, so don’t worry your pretty little head over things here. I’ve got everything under control.”

“I know you do, Q. You could run this place hog-tied and blindfolded. But everything is handled at the ranch. Drew’s been one step ahead of me all damn week. It’s drivin’ me insane.”

I laugh at the mention of the ranch’s foreman, Drew Braden. He’s the only man I know who works harder than Clay. He keeps that ranch running with so much pride you would think it was his own family’s land—but that’s just the type of man he is. He always does say you can tell the measure of a man by how hard he works. He’s been around since well before my father died last year, and he’s always treated all of us like his children.

“Still workin’ like crazy?”

“Ever since Jill told him she was pregnant. You would think at his age he would know how to wrap his shit up, but I have a feelin’ Jill knew exactly what she was doin’.”

“You make forty-eight sound ancient, Clay.” I giggle, pushing some of the papers around, hoping to find some sort of message regarding the call Tank took.

“Shit, Q, I’d be freakin’ out too if I was going to be a dad—again—years after my grown kids had already left the house. He’s old enough to be my dad.”

I roll my eyes. “I think that’s a stretch, cowboy.”

“He had Missy when he was fifteen, Q. And I graduated high school with Missy. Not exaggerating in the least, darlin’.”

“Well, even so, that’s what happens when you’re pushing fifty and get yourself a new bride who probably graduated with your daughter, too.”

Clay starts grumbling under his breath about beauty queens, big hair, and gold diggers. Not that I would call Jill a gold digger, but rumor around Pine Oak has it that she married Drew for his money. The man might work at the Davis ranch by choice, but he’s never had to work a day in his life, he’s that loaded. His grandfather’s grandfather struck it big in the oil fields years ago, and to this day the Braden family is rolling in money from the investment. Not that Drew acts like it; the man still drives the same truck he had when he was in high school.

Finally spying Tank’s near-illegible chicken scratch, I grab the torn scrap of paper and move to sink my tired body into my office chair. Clay heads toward his desk in the corner—much neater than my own—right as I pick up the receiver to dial what I hope are the correct numbers that Tank wrote down.

Then I see the name.

And everything around me washes away, my vision going foggy until memories long since banished start slamming into my head. They’re so crystal clear that I feel like I’m the same love-drunk eighteen-year-old all over again.

****

Nine Years Ago—Beginning of the Summer

“Damn,” a husky voice grits out. “It’s just not right how hot you look tinkerin’ around my truck, darlin’.”

I look up from the oil cap I just finished tightening and smile, wide and toothily, before giving him a wink. “Is that why you asked me to change your oil when we both know you’re more than capable? You’re lucky—I don’t normally make house calls.”

He reaches up, the material of his T-shirt lifting from his Wranglers, showing off the toned, rock-hard abs and that mouthwatering V at his hips. I let out a squeak when I feel the weight of the hood lift off my hand, looking up to see him gripping it, returning my wink with a smoldering gaze of his own.

“Busted,” he whispers, bending down to press his full, smooth lips against mine. The kiss is brief, but the butterflies that take up residence in my stomach whenever he’s around pick up their fluttering until I feel like they might fly right out of my mouth.

I move awkwardly out of the way while he slams down the hood on his brand-new Chevy. I busy myself with washing up, making sure to clean my hands thoroughly until not a speck of grease is left on them, even if my pretty manicure is blown to hell. The last thing I hope Tate Montgomery is thinking about is the chipped red polish adorning my nails. His grandparents are out of town at a craft show near Austin and my brothers think I’m at my best friend Leighton’s tonight.

We’ve got more important things to do than hold hands.

Tonight, I hope and pray that Tate makes good on all the promises our heated make-out sessions have been hinting at. I’m ready to give myself to him, pretty red bow intact.

“You hot, darlin’? I didn’t think it was that bad since the sun went down, but we can head on in if you want.” He points toward his grandparents’ house and all I can do is nod. I can see the questions in his eyes, but he doesn’t voice them as we make our way inside. “Paw said Gram left a fresh batch of chicken and dumplin’s if you’re hungry.”

He’s a few steps ahead—his back now facing me—when he speaks, so I take the time to take a deep fortifying breath before he turns back around. The last damn thing I want is chicken and dumplin’s, but how do you tell your kinda-sorta-maybe boyfriend that you would rather he eat you than dumplin’s?

“I’m good,” I whisper, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. God, Quinn Everly Davis, cowgirl up and take the bull by the horns . . . or the man by the balls, same thing.

“Darlin’?” he questions, heat pooling in his denim-colored eyes.

“Please,” I croak, the little badass that usually lives inside me long gone, made weak with hunger that has nothing to do with golden, fried buttermilk biscuits. “Please, Tate. We’ve been scratchin’ this itch for two years now, and every summer you say not yet. Don’t make this another summer where you leave without showing me how much you love me.”

“Quinn.” He sighs, taking off his white Stetson and running a hand through his chocolate waves. “Baby, you know I love you, but this isn’t just any other summer. I’m not goin’ back home when I leave this time. We’re both about to start the next chapter of our lives—you takin’ over the auto shop and me startin’ at Emory. Georgia is a long way away, and we both know we’ve never tried long distance for a reason. Not sure that’s somethin’ I can stomach, finally gettin’ to have you completely, only to lose you.”

His words are all it takes for my temper to snap. “We’ve never tried the long-distance thing because of you, Tate. Don’t put that bullshit on me.”

“Not because I didn’t want to, and you know it,” he growls in return. “Fuck, Quinn, you don’t think I’ve wanted to make you my girl since the first summer my parents shipped me off to Gram and Paw’s? You know damn well I have, but it isn’t that easy.”

“Because I’m not some high-society princess?”

He stomps the few feet between us and curls his fingers around the back of my neck with a touch that is gentle but unmistakably dominant. His thumbs, resting at my chin, give me a gentle push of encouragement to look up at him. I don’t even bother fighting him. My head moves, eyes traveling the strong planes and sharp features of his handsome face until I meet his pleading gaze.

“You know I don’t give two shits about what they think, Quinn, but until I finish medical school they’ve got more pull over me than I wish they did.”

I sigh, knowing he’s right. The Montgomery family holds the purse strings to Tate’s future, and that’s a hell of a bind. He’s had his hopes set on going to an expensive out-of-state school and we both know he wouldn’t be able to afford it without their help. I know how much it means to him too—going to Emory University—because it’s where his paw attended, so as much as I hate accepting him leaving for a school that far away, I’ll support that dream.

The silence ticks on while we hold each other’s gaze. I pray that he can see the desperation my love for him makes me feel. The need to get as close as two people physically can is almost unbearable. What I feel—this fire burning deep in my belly—only becomes more powerful the longer I deny what I crave.

He must see something written in the silence around us because in that moment, the deep, dark blue of his irises swirl and light up with understanding. And unmistakable lust.

“You sure about this, Grease?” he questions on a whisper, lips quirking with his nickname for me. He’s used it since the first day we met, when I was covered in engine grease.

“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life, Starch,” I answer, the butterflies picking back up to full speed when his smirk grows into a panty-melting smile at the use of my nickname for him—a standing joke about the high-society world he comes from back home in Dallas.

“Nothing in this world could make me stop lovin’ you,” he murmurs, his head moving down, closer to me, and before I can reply, his mouth captures mine in a deep kiss. I feel him all the way to my bones with this kiss. He’s branding himself into my very soul, and I know without a shadow of doubt I will always feel him there.

There isn’t any more talking after that. Moans, grunts, and the sound of bare skin brushing against bare skin, tentatively at first and then more urgently as we move together, are the only things that fill the silence around us. Through the pain of losing my virginity to the only boy I’ve ever loved, I bask in the beauty of this moment we’ve been building toward for years, knowing that my life will never be the same. Our future might not be set in stone, but we’ve come this far with only summers together since we were middle-school age. I have no doubt that we have what it takes to make it through him starting his medical school career and beyond. We’re not little kids anymore, confused about how we feel. We’re on the cusp of adulthood, old enough to understand our hearts are connected so powerfully, you can almost feel them nestling close together, beating as one.

As one.

****

Present Day

I gasp when the memory clears, feeling my cheeks wet as I focus back on the paper in my hand. I pray that the name I read wasn’t his, but even with the shaking of my hand making the paper vibrate softly, I know it’s just wishful thinking.

The Ghost of Heartbreak Past apparently is back in Pine Oak.

Tatum Montgomery.

Jesus Jones.


The Coming Home Series

Lost Rider

In Lost Rider, the first Western romance in New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Harper Sloan’s Coming Home series, an injured rodeo star encounters an old flame but will she be just what he needs to get back in the saddle?

Maverick Austin Davis is forced to return home after a ten-year career as a rodeo star. After one too many head injuries, he’s off the circuit and in the horse farming business, something he’s never taken much of a shine to, but now that it’s his late father’s legacy, familial duty calls. How will Maverick find his way after the only dream he ever had for himself is over?

Enter Leighton Elizabeth James, an ugly duckling turned beauty from Maverick’s childhood—his younger sister’s best friend, to be exact, and someone whose heart he stomped all over when she confessed her crush to him ten years back. Now Leighton is back in Maverick’s life, no longer the insecure, love-stricken teen—and Maverick can’t help but take notice. Sparks fly between them, but will Leighton be able to open her heart to the one man who broke it all those years ago?

Written in the vein of Diana Palmer and Lindsay McKenna, this Texas-set series is filled with sizzle, heart, and plenty of cowboys!

Amazon US | Paperback | UK | AU | CA
B&N | Kobo | iBooks | BAM | Google



Cowboy Up

New York Times bestselling author Harper Sloan returns with the third in her sultry, Western-set Coming Home series, in which the eldest Davis sibling Clay may have finally met his match—but will he be able to give up the solitary, quiet life he’s built in the name of love?=

As the eldest of the Davis clan, Clayton has always tried to lead by example. Along with taking his job as head of the family business seriously, he is also determined to keep his brother and sister in line. Clay is known for being serious, silent, and stoic—completely in control of his life. And with the way he grew up, coupled with a disastrous end to the last relationship he was in, he’s just fine with his quiet, solitary life.

What he hadn’t counted on was Caroline Michaels. She’s the proverbial woman next door—the town next door, that is. Caroline hasn’t lived an easy life, but after escaping from an abusive relationship, she’s finally living for herself and no one else. The last thing the quirky, shy bookstore owner expected was a steamy one-night stand with Clay Davis.

When Caroline and Clay meet, the connection is instant, both falling into one heated night of passion before parting ways—both driven by their own reasons to deny what they clearly wish didn’t have to end. It isn’t until Caroline falls on hard times and Clay comes back into the picture that they realize just how impossible it will be to stay away from each other.

Will Clay be able to give up his rootless existence in favor of finally settling down? And, more important, will Caroline want him to?

About The Author

harper1Harper is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author residing in Georgia with her husband and three daughters. She has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books, hibachi, tattoos and Game of Thrones. When she isn't writing you can almost always find her with a book in hand.

Facebook | Website | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | Goodreads | Amazon


25 April 2017

Release Blitz ~ Lost Rider by Harper Sloan


Lost Rider
By Harper Sloan
Release Day: April 25, 2017


In Lost Rider, the first Western romance in New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Harper Sloan’s Coming Home series, an injured rodeo star encounters an old flame but will she be just what he needs to get back in the saddle?

Maverick Austin Davis is forced to return home after a ten-year career as a rodeo star. After one too many head injuries, he’s off the circuit and in the horse farming business, something he’s never taken much of a shine to, but now that it’s his late father’s legacy, familial duty calls. How will Maverick find his way after the only dream he ever had for himself is over?

Enter Leighton Elizabeth James, an ugly duckling turned beauty from Maverick’s childhood—his younger sister’s best friend, to be exact, and someone whose heart he stomped all over when she confessed her crush to him ten years back. Now Leighton is back in Maverick’s life, no longer the insecure, love-stricken teen—and Maverick can’t help but take notice. Sparks fly between them, but will Leighton be able to open her heart to the one man who broke it all those years ago?

Written in the vein of Diana Palmer and Lindsay McKenna, this Texas-set series is filled with sizzle, heart, and plenty of cowboys!



US | Paperback | Audible | UK | AUCA
B&N | Kobo | iBooks | BAM | Google

Add to Goodreads



Excerpt

I should tell Quinn and Clay that he’s here. But one look at him and it’s like the last ten years have never passed and I’m back at the bonfire, the awkward high schooler uncomfortable in her own skin. Marching away from him in the woods. It was the last time I saw him. How is it possible that he can affect me this much after all this time?

He hasn’t noticed me, not with his head bowed, so I quickly turn around and focus on Pastor John as he finishes up his prayer. Him being here means nothing. I should be happy that I remember the pain from that night so well, it will make keeping my walls up around him so much easier.

“On behalf of the Davis family, I want to thank everyone for coming today. At this time, the family has asked for some time alone as they say their good-byes. They wanted me to remind everyone that the PieHole will be opening up for a few hours tonight starting at five for anyone that wishes to join them.”

I keep my arm around Quinn, not looking back to where I saw Maverick. I can hear the church slowly emptying and I feel a frown pull at my lips. I had hoped that when everyone started to leave that he would have come up front to be with his family, but so far, the pew we’re in is still empty save for the three of us. We sit and wait for everyone to leave, something that Clay had asked Pastor John to make arrangements for in place of the customary recessional, knowing that no one in this town would really mean a word of it anyway. Plus, I know Quinn is having a hard time. Regardless of the fact that she wasn’t the closest with her father, she was really counting on this—Maverick home. She’s still shaking in my arms, but when I look over at Clay I realize his silence isn’t because of the heaviness of Buford’s death, but instead anger over his brother’s absence that has started to build to a boil. I fear that he’s seconds away from tipping over the edge.

I stand when Clay and Quinn do, but hang back at the edge of the row we had been sitting in as they meet Pastor John and gather their father’s ashes. I can’t wait to get out of these heels. If it would have been acceptable to wear my boots, I would have, but Quinn would have killed me. As it is, I feel like I can’t take a deep breath with how tight my dress is against my chest. I never wear tight shirts. I haven’t since my boobs became beasts of their own right. I’m too busy fiddling with the straps of my dress, trying desperately to get some of the pressure against my chest to ease up so I could take a deep breath, when I heard Quinn gasp.

“Mav!” Next thing I know she’s running past where I’m standing, her black hair streaming in the air behind her as she speeds forward right into her brother’s arms. Clay moves to stand next to me and I look up to meet his green eyes, the questions he isn’t vocalizing dancing in their emerald depths. He’s not stupid and I’m doing a crappy job at hiding the memories haunting me right now. He gives me a small smile, shifting his hold on the urn to wrap his free arm around me and pulls me into a strong hold.

“You’re shakin’,” he says against my temple and I just nod.

“I’m good, Clay. Go see your brother.”

“I’m fine right where I am, sugar.”

I keep my eyes to the ground, focusing on his worn boots instead of looking up, hating myself for making this moment about me when I should be focused on them. Like it or not, I can’t fight the feelings that being near him bring me. I’m that stupid, naive sixteen-year-old all over again. “Let’s get out of here,” he says after a few silent seconds. I look up and give him a smile, hoping that it looks a hell of a lot braver than I feel. Inside I feel like I might puke.

 “You think I could have a second with my family?”

My head shoots up at the coldness I hadn’t anticipated in Maverick’s voice. He’s not focused on me, though, instead looking at his brother with a hard expression and one brow raised upward.

“Mav!” Quinn gasps and he moves his attention from his brother to her.

“Sorry, Quinn, but I’m thinkin’ that Clay’s lady friend would understand that this should be a moment for our family and give us time alone.”

“I’ll just—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, sugar,” Clay all but spits through clenched teeth and drops his arm to take a step forward. “You’ve got something to say, Mav, then say it.”

“Nothing to say, Clayton, I just think it would be nice for your girlfriend to give us some space.”

“My girlfriend,” he parrots sarcastically, his deep voice vibrating in anger.

“Mav.” Quinn attempts to butt in, but stops when Maverick leaves her side and turns to stalk out of the church. I should find it comical that he obviously didn’t recognize me, or hell, maybe he did and he’s just picking up where he left off ten years ago in the middle of the dark woods. I take a deep breath. “It’s okay. He’s right. Y’all need some time as a family. I’ll head over to the PieHole and start settin’ up for tonight.”

Quinn brushes a tear from her cheek and just shakes her head. I look at Clay to see him staring in the direction that his brother just left.

“You’re family,” he finally says, not looking in my direction.

 “Clay, really, it’s okay. It’s been a long time since y’all were back together and I don’t need to be there for that reunion. It sucks that it takes all of this to finally bring him home, but he’s here and y’all need to make up for a lot of time lost.”

“Shut up, Leighton.”

“Don’t, Clay.”

“Don’t what? You’ve got every right to be here. You’re just as much a part of our family as he is. Hell, maybe even more so than he is at this point. So just shut up, come with us, and ignore him.”

I shake my head, the fight instantly leaving my sails, knowing I would be arguing until the end of time if I pressed this issue.

“I can’t believe he doesn’t even recognize you,” Quinn whispers.


About The Author

harper1Harper is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author residing in Georgia with her husband and three daughters. She has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books, hibachi, tattoos and Game of Thrones. When she isn't writing you can almost always find her with a book in hand.




23 November 2015

Book Tour & Giveaway ~ Perfectly Imperfect by Harper Sloan



Meet Willow and Kane in the newest stand alone by Harper Sloan!

Now Available

Amazon US | UK


Blurb

Mirror, mirror ... who's the fairest of them all?

I still cringe when I hear that line. A fairy tale that had girls pretending they were the fairest, the most beautiful, and the most entitled. A fairy tale most couldn't grow out of turned my haunted childhood memories into a living nightmare. Girls who grew up believing that pile of garbage became the meanest of all 'mean girls.'

And those mean girls were right - it was a line meant for all the beautiful people in the world - and I knew the answer would never be me.

The women with long legs, flat stomachs, and perfect chests.

The type of women Kane Masters gravitated toward.

Well, that's definitely not Willow Tate.

No. That will never be me.

Because I'm completely imperfect.

And ... I hate myself.

I have no idea what Kane could possibly see in someone like me when he could have them.


Excerpt

“Are you nervous right now?”

I nod.

“Tell me why.”  His demand, steady and calm, gives me the courage I need to tell him.  To open a vein and bleed my insecurities.

“I’m not perfect,” I whisper.

“And neither am I, Willow.  I don’t want perfect.  What so many see as perfect, to me, is fake.  Perfect isn’t achievable naturally.  No one, and I mean no one, is perfect.”

I’m shaking my head before he’s even done speaking, but one long finger comes up and presses against my lips before I can speak.

“No, let me finish.  There isn’t beauty in perfection.  It’s as fake as the image the word projects.  Beauty is found in imperfection, Willow, because to admit you’re not perfect means you’re admitting you’re not whole and absolute.  When I think of myself, I see someone willing to admit he’s as far from complete as it gets because, in order to get to that perfection, I need to find the other part of me who will make my life better.  To take all the faults I have and fill them, and only then will I be there.  You see, the way I see it, the only way to become perfect is to find that perfectly imperfect person who brings it out of you.”

When he stops, I swear I might have stopped breathing.  How am I supposed to respond to that?

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice strong and sure.

“Yes, Kane.  Nerves or not, I do.”

“Then let me show you what I see when I look at you.”

He brings his hands up, framing my face once again in a way I’m quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of.  His warm eyes implore, begging me without words to let him continue.  I do not intend to stop him, regardless of the butterflies currently taking over my system.  I’m all in.


About the Author


Harper lives in small town Georgia just a short drive from her hometown of Peachtree City. She (and her 3 daughters) enjoy ruling the house they dubbed 'Estrogen Ocean', much to her husband’s chagrin. Harper has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books; you can almost ALWAYS find her with her eReader attached. She enjoys bad reality TV and cheesy romantic flicks. Her favorite kind of hero--the super alpha kind!

Harper started using writing as a way to unwind when the house went to sleep at night; and with a house full of crazy it was the perfect way to just relax. It didn't take long before a head full of very demanding alphas would stop at nothing to have their story told.



GIVEAWAY
$50 Amazon Gift Card



25 February 2015

Blog Tour ~ Unexpected Fate by Harper Sloan


Excerpt
 
“Dani-girl.”  His voice, that rich rumble of masculine excellence, washes over me and I shiver again before cursing under my breath.  The rumble of his low laughter tells me that he definitely didn’t miss that little move.
 
Kill me now.
 
“Hey, Coh,” I say with a smile.  “What brings you in?  Last minute, I might add.”  I pat the chair before walking around and holding the back while he sits down.
 
When his scent hits my nose, I almost come on the spot.  Lord, he smells good.  I wonder what he would smell like while his body covered mine, all sweaty from hours of good lovemaking.  I run my fingers through the longer lengths on the top and feel my cheeks heat slightly, thinking about doing the same when his face is buried between my legs.
 
“…needed a trim.”
 
Shit.  I missed what he said because, naturally, I was thinking about him naked.  Naked and thrusting into my body.  Naked and feasting between my spread thighs.
 
“You feeling okay?  I thought Nate said you were better?”
 
“Uh, I’m fine.  Just—is it hot in here?”  I fan my face and avoid his eyes.
 
He’s silent, so I take that as a sign that it’s safe to bring my attention back to him.
 
Big mistake there.  His knowing eyes are boring right into mine.  The chocolate depths sparkling in a way that makes it clear he has a good idea about where my mind was going.
 
“Did you hear what I said, Dani-girl?”
 
“Of course I did, Cohen.  What, did you think I was standing here daydreaming?” I joke.
 
“Well, yeah, that’s exactly what I think.”  His eyes darken and he smirks a devilish grin.  “Did you know you talk in your sleep, Dani?” he asks, and I drop my comb.
 
Oh, God.  Shut up, shut up, shut up.  This is not happening.  No way.
 
“No, I don’t,” I childishly snap.
 
“Dani, you do.  So, yeah, I do think you were standing there daydreaming.  Want to know why?”  He uses his booted foot to move his chair so that he’s facing me, and then he leans in so that his face is dangerously close to mine.  Even when he’s seated, his head is almost level with my own.  Curse my horizontally challenged self.  “While you were zoning off into space with your fingers running through my hair, you had this smile on your lips.  The same smile you had the other day when you were dreaming.  About me, Dani.  And don’t deny it, because you don’t moan my name if you’re dreaming about another man.  Yes, Dani, you very much do talk in your sleep.”  He smiles again before leaning back and looking down to his phone.  “Clean up my neck please, cut the length off the top, and give me a buzz on the sides.  Other than that, you’re clear to continue with your thoughts.”
I must have been standing there like an idiot because he looks up from his phone, laughs to himself, and, with one tan hand, reaches out and pushes my mouth closed.
 
“You’re going to catch flies that way, Dani-girl.  One day, maybe you can clue me in on what those dreams are about.”
 
Drives me insane, the control he has over me.  There isn’t a single person in the world, other than Cohen, who can turn me into a ridiculously stupid, sputtering fool.  My normal confidence disappears.  And clearly, he isn’t as oblivious to my feelings as I originally thought.
 
How in the hell am I supposed to handle this?
 
Wait a minute.  Cohen or not, I’m not going to let him pull my strings when I know he is just doing this to make me feel uncomfortable.
 
So, time to call his bluff.
 
“Why?  You planning on doing something about it?”
 
He looks up sharply, clearly not having expected me to actually say something in return since he was going for shock value.
 
“Try me,” he demands, his voice thick and even deeper than normal.
 
I throw my head back and reach out to run my fingers thought his hair again, just barely suppressing the shivers.  Curling my fingers slightly so that I can grab a good hold, I lean in and pull his head back at the same time.  With my nose just a hair away from his and our breaths mingling together, I say, “Cohen, you couldn’t handle the truth of my thoughts when it comes to you and we both know it.  So how about you let me know when you’re ready for me to clue you in.”  I give his hair a light tug and smile when he swallows loudly and shifts in his seat.  “Ready for that trim?” I ask with a wink, and I’m rewarded with his groan.
 
I have no idea how I do it, but I manage to get through his cut without coming unglued.  I can see Lyn trying to get my attention from across the room.  Stella had to leave after she overheard my words to Cohen because her giggles were getting the best of her.  Cohen has remained silent the whole time.  His eyes though…  They’re speaking louder than his words ever could.
 
They haven’t left my reflection in the mirror since I started.  I can feel them every time I shift.  When I stopped to go grab another comb after I dropped my fourth one, I felt his gaze follow me across the room to Stella’s station.  The few times I stopped cutting to meet his eyes, the heated promise written all over his face almost did me in.  I almost just said ‘fuck it’ and climbed on his lap to have a go regardless of the people watching our every move.
 
I finish the last buzz of my clippers around his right ear and move to brush all the stray hair off.  “All done,” I say softly and unclip his cape.
 
He stands, shoving his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, and walks over to stand in front of me.  I continue to pretend I’m busy with the cape I just removed, brushing stray hairs off here and there, when his hand comes up, his finger and thumb hitting my chin, and my face is lifted until I have no choice but to look in his eyes.
 
“Do not tease me, Dani.  It’s not a game you want to play if you don’t intend to follow through.”
 
“I-I wasn’t… I wouldn’t,” I stammer.
 
“You did, and I have no doubt you’ll have the brilliant idea to do it again.  The next time you allude to those dirty thoughts I know you have about me, don’t think for a second that I won’t drag you to the closest bed to show you just how fucking dirty they’ll get.”  He leans close, his scent hitting my nostrils, and I involuntarily inhale deeply, earning me a rumbled chuckle.  “What you don’t know, Dani—because contrary to what you think, you don’t know me well enough to assume what having me would really be like.  But I promise you this: every little thought that you have had that causes you to moan my name while scissoring those perfect legs back and forth, praying for completion—it would be so much hotter than you could ever imagine.”  He gives me a soft, sweet kiss against my temple that has fire racing from that spot all over my body until it ends in the awareness that I’m pretty sure I just came in my pants.


Unexpected Fate by Harper Sloan

Prologue

“Axel Reid, don’t you dare!”  my mom exclaims. Then she yelps when my daddy charges through the front door.

“Don’t I dare what, Princess?  No way that boy is going near my girl.  Look at him!  He looks like he can’t wait to creep on my daughter!”

“Well, there is no need to scare him to death!” she mocks.

My cheeks heat instantly when I see Dane start backing away from the porch.  My hopes of being able to actually go to my senior prom are starting to go up in flames.

Poof.

Just like that.

Not that I should be surprised about it.  Mom did her best to calm Daddy down, but we should have known better.  He took one look at me and stormed over, only to return ten minutes later looking like he does now.

So embarrassing.

“You need to stop this nonsense right now, you big lug, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch,” Mom fumes.

“Like hell I will, woman!” Daddy roars at my mom.

I watch her face get sharp.  He stops long enough to sling one of—that’s right, ONE of—the rifles he’s carrying over his shoulder, where it lands next to the other one he already has over his other shoulder.

Only my mom would be brave enough to deal with him when he’s in “Protect Dani from everything with a penis” mode.  He looks absolutely ridiculous.  He has two hunting rifles now hanging by their leather straps over each shoulder.  He has two handguns strapped to each thick thigh, two on each side of his belt, and various knives along the way.  His shirt, which he thinks is hilarious to wear when I attempt to go out on a date, says I kill things…and eat them.  I know it’s a hunting shirt—for animals, not teenage boys—but Dane doesn’t.

Mom moves in front of him, standing in the front doorway and blocking his path, where Dane is still slowly retreating.  She’s been dealing with this way before they even had me.  He’s…protective.  I guess that’s the nicest way to put it.  Well, she calls him protective.  However, I call it possessive, overbearing, controlling, demanding, and jerky.

“This is her senior prom, Ax.  You wouldn’t let her go last year.” She pauses when he grunts. “And I’m sorry, but you won’t be stopping her this year.  She has a right to experience this.  And Dane is a nice boy.  Right, Dane?” she yells over her shoulder.

“Uhh…” he stammers, causing my daddy to grunt some more.

“The boy doesn’t even know how to talk, Izzy.  I bet he will be nothing but handsy and think with his little pecker.  Nope.  No way.  Not near my baby girl.”

Oh.  My.  God.  I wish I could just fall into a hole right now.  I try to see over my parents to find out if Dane heard that, but with Daddy basically being a giant, that’s not happening.

“You did not just say that!” I yell at his back.

Daddy turns around, his movements awkward with how many weapons he has strapped to his body.  His green eyes, so like my own, slant and harden.  He looks down at my dress for the thousandth time since I came downstairs and doesn’t even bother hiding his displeasure that it’s showing too much of my body.  Even if it is about as tasteful as it gets.

My strapless, red dress has a sweetheart neckline, and everything he calls my “girly bits” is covered.   There isn’t really any cleavage.  Well, okay, there is some, but surely with my lack of being busty, you couldn’t even call what is showing “cleavage.”  His first problem was with how much of my legs was showing.  Then I made the mistake of turning around without my wrap on.  That’s when he saw that the dress was completely backless to my bra line.  Well, what it would be if I had been wearing one.  Which is clearly when he lost his mind.

“You look just like your mother did that night twenty years ago when we finally came back to each other.  Right down to those strappy shoe things. And I guarantee you, Danielle Reid, any teenage boy who doesn’t bat for the other team will be thinking thoughts I’ll cut his dick off for.  No.  You aren’t going with that boy, and that’s final.”

I harden my eyes, and his narrow even further.

I put my hands on my hips, and he squares his shoulders, his rifles clinking together.

I raise one brow, and he mirrors the action.

“Daddy.”

“Dani.”

“I’ll cry.”

“No, you won’t.  You have more balls than that.”

“Want to bet?”  I attempt to muster up some tears, knowing that he won’t be able to handle them, but before I can force the first one out, my brother jumps into my line of sight and blocks our standoff.

“Yo, Dane!  You just run along now.  Dani is unfortunately feeling a little under the weather.  Ebola. Or the flu. I don’t know.  It’s really ugly and you probably don’t want to be around this.  The boils—they could pop at any moment.”

“You did not just do that,” I heatedly whisper, fuming at his nerve.

Nate turns and smirks at me. “Oh I just did.”

“I can’t believe you two!”  I spin to look at the one person who can help me.   “Mom, seriously?”

Her expression softens, and she just shakes her head.  “I’m sorry, Dani.  I tried.”

“You two,” I start, pointing between my older brother and father.  “You just can’t leave it alone?  I’ll be eighteen in a few months.  What are you jerks going to do then?”

“You’re not dating, Danielle.  Not ever.”

“Oh yeah, Daddy?  And how realistic is that crap?”

“Watch your mouth, little princess.”

“Mom?”

“I’m so sorry, Dani.”  She walks over and wraps me in her small arms.

I could probably really cry now a lot easier than when I was trying to fake it, but I’ve never been one of those girls who weep constantly.  It would be easier to just go upstairs, take off the dress mom and I spent hours looking for, scrub off the light makeup she helped me apply, and pretend this night didn’t happen.

***

An hour later, I’m sitting in my bedroom, still wearing my perfect dress.  My makeup is still done and my hair is still flowing in long waves.  And I’m no less mad at the men in my life than I was earlier.  I’ve considered climbing out my window.  I’ve considered asking my best friends, Lyn and Lila, to come help me escape.  But what would be the point?  Rambo-Dad already scared away my date, the only boy left in school who had been willing to ask me even though his friends had warned him about my father.

I lie down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling.  Maybe I should go away for college.  I planned on living at home while I attended Georgia Tech, but there is no way I can deal with this stuff any longer.  If my father had things his way, I would be shipped off to become a nun.  Or he would buy an island and make it an all-girls cult.

“Uhggggg!” I yell to the empty room.

“Seriously, Dani-girl, things can’t be that bad.”

I jump up when I hear the deep, gravelly, insanely sexy voice coming from my bedroom door.  That voice.  My lord.  The things it alone does to me should be classified as illegal.

My hair slaps me in the face, a good handful landing in my open mouth, and I hastily pull it out before I turn to where he is standing.

My lord, he’s beautiful.  He’s always been.  My heart speeds up when I take in his smirking face and the mischief dancing in his brown eyes.

“Cat got your tongue?”

I shake my head.

“Speechless?”

I shake it again.

“Do you really have some flesh-eating, boil-slash-Ebola-like sickness?” he laughs.

I narrow my eyes at him, and his rich laughter booms through the room.

“I’m just kidding, Dani-girl.  Come on. Get yourself ready and let’s go rock this prom.”

My jaw drops again.  “What?” 

For the first time, I notice that he’s dressed in a perfectly tailored tux.  My eyes travel down his tall form to his shining, black dress shoes.  On the way back up, my eyes hit the corsage spinning around his finger before I look back up into those gorgeous eyes.

“Let’s go, beautiful.”

“Does Daddy know you’re here?” I ask, not moving from my spot.

He sighs, steps into my room, and walks over.  His cologne, Gucci Black, wraps around me.  He’s worn the same scent for years.  I perversely sniff it every time I hit the mall with Lyn and Lila.  That scent—it’s my undoing.

He grabs one of my hands and gives my knuckles a kiss before placing the corsage around my wrist.  He gives my hand a squeeze before letting go.  Placing his strong hands on my shoulders, he presses down until I’m seated on my bed.  Kneeling before me, he takes my feet one by one and fastens the straps of my black heels before standing and grabbing my hands, again, to pull me to my feet.

The whole time, I act like a freak and just gape at him.

What in the hell is going on?

“Ready?” he asks.

“Uhhh…”

“Right. You’re ready,” he laughs, grabs my hand, and pulls me through the house, down the stairs, and into the entryway of the house, where my parents are waiting.

Mom has her camera ready, forcing us to take some pictures, for all of which I’m sure I’m just standing there in a daze.  I think I smiled in them, but I was too busy trying to figure out what the hell is going on.  Daddy smiles big and triumphantly the whole time, like he’s won some battle here.

“Oh, good.  You got here,” Nate mumbles through a sandwich he’s stuffing down his throat.

I shake out of my stunned stupor and look over at him.  “You did this?”  I ask with disbelief.

“Well, duh.  Can’t have my little sister miss her prom because of some boils.  Plus, I knew this guy,” he says, pointing at our father, “wouldn’t mind him.”  He takes another bite before he looks over my shoulder.  “And I know he isn’t going to try to pet the cat.”

“Nathaniel Gregory!” Mom gasps.

“What?  Why do you think Dad acts like he does?  Just because I’m willing to say the words doesn’t mean you have to freak out.”

I look over at my mom, who has turned bright red.

Daddy laughs at her embarrassment and pulls her into his arms.  “Are you sure we didn’t drop that one a few times as a baby?”

She slaps his hard stomach and shakes her head. “You look beautiful, honey.  Have fun, okay?”

I smile at her and move my eyes to Daddy to judge his mood.

He just smiles at me. “I trust him.  He won’t let any of those pimple-faced, prepubescent boys touch a beautiful hair on your head.  Have fun, sweetheart.”

I walk over and give them both a hug, standing up on my toes as far as a can to whisper my gratitude in his ear.  He’s annoying, overprotective, and possessive of his girls, but I love him and I know he comes from a good place.

“Uh, excuse me?  Do I not get any little-sister love here?  I’m the one running this show, you know?”

“You’re such a dork, Nate,” I laugh and give him a hug before turning back to my date.

He’s standing by the door, talking in low tones to my daddy.  I can’t hear him, but he’s still smiling, so I’m guessing there isn’t any talk about dismemberment going on.  He looks over, his smile deepening and the lines around his eyes crinkling.  Something moves behind his eyes that darkens them slightly, but he looks back over at Daddy, finishing up their conversation.

“Ready, Dani-girl?” he asks a few minutes later, making my heart speed up again.

Holy.  Crap.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”  Or at least as ready as I’ll ever be.

**
 
That night, while dancing to Brett Young’s “Kiss by Kiss,” I knew I would never be the same.  I could feel the jealous waves coming off every female in the room as he held me in his arms.  Of course, I had a man and not a boy as my date.  Five years older than I am and very obviously not a teenager.

Being held in his arms was a dream come true.  His scent invaded my lungs with every inhale.  His eyes twinkled as his smile held me hostage.  I knew I would never love a man as much as I love him.

Yeah.  That was the night I confirmed what I had always known.  What I had always felt.

Cohen Cage owned my heart and I never wanted it back.



Meet Cohen & Danielle in the newest stand alone in the Hope Town Series by Harper Sloan!



Unexpected Fate
(Stand alone)

Have you ever felt like you were living your life for a future that was predetermined? Like there was some bigger picture you just prayed you would someday see clearly? That picture has been crystal clear to me since I was old enough to recognize it for just what it was.

Or I should say recognize him for who he was.

I’ve loved Cohen Cage since I was a small child. He’s been my everything for the last twenty-two years. I’ve loved him through every girlfriend he’s ever brought home. Through his college years and then mine. I’ve loved him through two deployments. And ever since the day I told him how I felt, he’s acted like I’m a stranger.

My name is Danielle Reid, and it’s time for me to get my man.

Our future is an unexpected fate, and no matter what our parents, siblings, and friends say…it’s going to be worth every second of the fight to make it happen.


About the Author

Harper lives in small town Georgia just a short drive from her hometown of Peachtree City. She (and her 3 daughters) enjoy ruling the house they dubbed 'Estrogen Ocean', much to her husband’s chagrin. Harper has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books; you can almost ALWAYS find her with her eReader attached. She enjoys bad reality TV and cheesy romantic flicks. Her favorite kind of hero--the super alpha kind!
 
Harper started using writing as a way to unwind when the house went to sleep at night; and with a house full of crazy it was the perfect way to just relax. It didn't take long before a head full of very demanding alphas would stop at nothing to have their story told.
 

 
GIVEAWAY
$50 Gift Card (2 Winners)