sábado, 11 de julho de 2015

♡ Blog Tour + #Giveaway ♡ Elude (Eagle Elite #6) by Rachel Van Dyken @RachVD @InkSlingerPR




Elude
Eagle Elite #6
by
Rachel Van Dyken

Release Date: July 9th 2015





✾ Synopsis ✾


The sixth book in the internationally bestselling Eagle Elite Series.
*Interconnected Stand Alone*

Twenty-Four hours before we were to be married - I offered to shoot her.
Ten hours before our wedding - I made a mockery of her dying wish.
Five hours before we were going to say our vows - I promised I'd never love her.
One hour before I said I do - I vowed I'd never shed a tear over her death.
But the minute we were pronounced man and wife - I knew.
I'd only use my gun to protect her.
I'd give my life for hers.
I'd cry.
And I would, most definitely, lose my heart, to a dying girl - a girl who by all accounts should have never been mine in the first place.
I always believed the mafia would be my end game - where I'd lose my heart, while it claimed my soul. I could have never imagined. It would be my redemption.
Or the beginning of something beautiful.
The beginning of her.
The end of us.










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✿ Excerpt ✿


Loneliness tasted like hell. It also, lucky for me, tasted like a fifth of whiskey and what would most likely be a throbbing headache come tomorrow morning.

I brought the bottle to my lips and tilted it back, my eyes trained on the fire in front of me, the flames licking higher and higher, reminding me that I wasn't exactly in any position to ask God for any favors... it may as well have been hell waving back at me and confirming my suspicions.

I'd killed too much.

I'd lied even more.

And I was officially out of favor within my family — within my world.

I hissed as a drip of whiskey landed on my blood-caked knuckles. Beating the shit out of the wall hadn't even stopped the anger.

Ah anger, that was something I could talk about, something I could tangibly feel as it pulsed through my body. It had been my mistress for so long that I knew if I actually let it go — I'd be even more lonely than I already was.

I tried to take a deep breath, to calm myself down, but air wouldn't go into my lungs, I felt paralyzed and on an adrenaline high all at once.

Maybe that was another part of my punishment. I had exactly twenty-four hours before I had to marry a Russian.

And not just any Russian. An enemy, a double agent who had worked for both the FBI and, apparently, the Nicolasi family. She had sold out her own crime family, the Petrovs, and now... she was under the protection of the Italians.

How messed up was that?

I took another swig of whiskey and eyed the clock. Make that twenty-three hours and fifty-eight minutes.

I wasn't drunk enough.

I wasn't even close.

Marrying someone for protection I could do. Marrying someone and even killing them afterwards? Piece of cake. After all, that was my MO. I was a killer, a ghost, whatever the family wanted me to be.

But marrying someone, keeping them safe, only to watch them die within six months?

No. Hell no.

She had leukemia.

So why keep her alive this long?

I snorted and took another sip of whiskey. "I'd be doing her a favor by killing her."

"Ouch," a light airy voice said from somewhere in the room, causing all my hair to stand on end. "So as far as pep talks go, yours officially needs work."

I carefully set down the whiskey, not trusting myself not to throw it in her direction in an anger-filled rage. "I was talking to myself."

"Another sign you need to get laid." She laughed.

I didn't.

"Go away, Arabella."

"My name's Andi."

"Your legal name is Arabella Anderson Petrov. Care to know your social security number and credit score as well?"

"Romance is lost on you." I felt her move around the room. The air seized with electricity; she'd always had a presence about her, and right now I was five seconds away from losing my shit and ramming my head into the fireplace just so I could escape it all.

"Don't I know it," I huffed and reached for the bottle again.

Small warm hands clasped around mine before I could get there. I jerked away, causing her to stumble in front of me.

White-blond hair covered her soft features. Big brown eyes blinked back at me. I hissed in a breath and cursed. "You should go."

"We need to talk."

"Oh goody. Is this the part where you tell me I have to give up my virginity on my wedding night?"

"What?" She blinked like a startled deer, then a weak smile pulled her lips upward.

I ignored the way my body reacted and rolled my eyes in irritation.

"Aw, he has jokes now. At least, I hope it's a joke. You're not, are you? A virgin, I mean."

I snorted and eyed the bottle, calculating my odds on reaching it before she stopped me, then gave up. "Fine." I huffed. "Hurry up and get to talking so I can get drunk."

Andi sat opposite me in the leather chair and tucked her feet under her body. She was small, around five-one, but she packed a punch, knew how to use every automatic weapon on the market, and I was pretty sure I had once overheard that she was well-versed in torture. Looking at her, you'd think she was just graduating high school and getting ready to go shopping for her favorite pair of shoes with Daddy's credit card.

"You're upset," she finally said.

"No." I licked my lips and leaned forward. "I'm enraged. There's a difference."

Her eyes narrowed. "You know you can talk to me — since you're stuck with me for the next... while. That is, unless you kill me first... like you did that FBI agent."

My blood ran cold. No one knew about what I'd done last week. When I'd gained intel from another agent. "Her cover was blown. I did her a favor."

"Did you?" Her eyebrows arched.

"Have you ever been shot, Andi?"

She sighed and leaned her head back against the lush cushion. "No, why? Are you going to educate me on what it feels like?"

I exhaled and popped my knuckles; the sound reverberated through the empty room. "It happens in three stages."

"What does?"

"Getting shot."

"You mean you don't just pull the trigger?" she joked.

Ignoring her, I continued. "Shock. It's always the first emotion because the human brain hasn't yet caught up with the fact that you've been wounded. So your body starts going into shock, and then the pain happens, but it's not the type of pain you'd think. It burns, but it's more of an empty, hollow pain, that starts to spread from the wound throughout the rest of your body until a slow chill starts to descend. When the chill descends, the shock wears off and confusion sets in. Why was I shot? Why me? What have I done? As humans, our brains aren't meant to understand violence, so we have to logically explain it away. I had to have done something wrong to get shot. Or maybe I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The minute your brain finds something that makes sense you move onto the last stage."

Andi barely moved a muscle. "Death?"

"Worse." I reached for the bottle and took a long swig. "Denial."

"Why is denial worse?"

"You tell me."

Her eyes closed briefly before she offered a shrug. "Because it means you aren't ready."

"Look who just earned an A in class," I mocked. "And you're right. Denial happens when you realize it shouldn't be you, that even if your brain connected the dots, it isn't yet your time. The lovely little memories of your life start to play on repeat in your head — the moments you should have done something but didn't, the things you'll never say, the things you'll never do. And then... you either get lucky or, if I'm the one who pulled the trigger, your memories will click off after about one minute, and you'll be no more."

The fire crackled.

Andi refused to look at me.

"I'd make it fast, Andi."

"Are we seriously doing this?"

"What?" I shrugged.

"Having a conversation in what should be a nice cozy room, about you killing me?"

"It would be a kindness."

"Go to hell!"

"Already there, Andi. Already there. Don't you know? I belong nowhere. My family's punishing me, the FBI's investigating me for the murder of my superior, and now I have to marry a Russian whore."

"So..." She stood. "...you'd rather kill me than marry me?"

"Was I not clear? I thought I was... Allow me to say it slower, perhaps in Russian? If that's all you people understand." I stood, meeting her chest to chest. "I'd rather kill you than see you suffer... I'd offer a dog the same kindness."

"I'm not a dog."

"You're Russian."

"Stop saying that."

"What?" I sneered. "The truth? Well, sweetheart, it doesn't get any truer than your reality. Allow me to kill you before your family or cancer does, and at least you can own your own death rather than fearing it."

She reached for me, touched my shoulders, and then cupped my face. I hated it because I liked it; my body leaned without me telling it to. She was so warm. "And what makes you think I fear my own death?"

"Everyone is afraid of dying. The hardest part is never admitting we're mortal, but coming to terms with the fact that we have no control over how long we're given. You do."

"No... I don't... You're trying to take that control."

"Say the word." My hand moved to the Glock strapped to my thigh.

"I'm not afraid." Her lips trembled. "At least not of death... but I am afraid of something."

"Oh yeah?" I hissed. "What's that?"

"Yours."

Confused, I stepped back, immediately looking for a weapon. "I don't understand."

"You wouldn't." She shrugged. "Because you, Sergio Abandonato, are already dead." She moved gracefully across the room. "You're dead inside... and you don't even know it. Forget cancer — and take a long hard look in the mirror — that's what death looks like."





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✿ The Author ✿


Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at her website.



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♡ Author Spotlight ♡ Meghan Quinn @authormegquinn @TheNextStepPR



♡ Author Spotlight ♡






Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if "It's Raining Men" starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!






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✿ Latest Releases ✿



The Virgin Romance Novelist

Release Date: April 2nd 2015





✾ Synopsis ✾


Her bosom heaved at an alarming rate as his rough hand found its way down to her soft, yet wiry briar patch...

Can you say briar patch in a romance novel? What about meat sword? That's what it is... a meat sword, right, all meaty and sword like, slaying through the inner dungeons of a woman's dark desires. What about breasts? Do bosoms really heave?

God, I have no idea what happens when private parts touch.

I'm a virgin trying to write a romance novel and can't seem to write past a sex scene thanks to my lack of experience.

My two best friends encourage me to drop the pen for a while and gain some real life practice through multiple dating facets such as blind dates, online profiles, and random hookups.

But losing my virginity is proving to be tougher than expected...










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Forever a Jett Girl
Bourbon #3

Release Date: June 1st 2015





✾ Synopsis ✾


Justice. Faith. Power.

The words I live my life by, the three keys to my success, the foundation I built my entire empire on and now Goldie holds them all in the palm of her hands.

She once was a Jett Girl, a piece of me, a safety net I grew to depend on.

She once was mine... heart, body and soul.

But now she's gone.

I fell for a girl I should have left alone. I let her consume my life, control my feelings and own every aspect of my being. I tried to keep her, to make her see what she was doing to me, to clue her in that breathing was impossible without her around.

But she ran, she gave up and she returned the one thing that claimed her as mine, she gave me back her collar.

This is the story of a desperate man who lost everything that ever mattered to him... my little one.










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Newly Exposed

Release Date: August 18th 2015









Cover Reveal coming July 27th!






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♡ Sale ♡ The Billionaire's Obsession Series by J.S. Scott @AuthorJSScott @islandlovelies @isajones75



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The Billionaire's Obsession:
The Complete Collection





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This complete collection of The Billionaire's Obsession includes:

Mine For Tonight
Mine For Now
Mine Forever
Mine Completely





Heart Of The Billionaire
The Billionaire's Obsession #2





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The Billionaire Salvation
The Billionaire's Obsession #3





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The Billionaire's Game
The Billionaire's Obsession #4





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Billionaire Undone
The Billionaire's Obsession #5





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Billionaire Unmasked
The Billionaire's Obsession #6





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✿ The Author ✿


J.S. Scott is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of steamy romance. She's an avid reader of all types of books and literature. Writing what she loves to read, J.S. Scott writes both contemporary erotic romance stories and paranormal romance erotics. They almost always feature an Alpha Male and have a happily ever after because she just can't seem to write them any other way!



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Vera is Reading



♡ Book Blitz + #Giveaway ♡ When A Beta Roars (A Lion’s Pride #2) by Eve Langlais @EveLanglais @XpressoReads




When A Beta Roars
A Lion's Pride #2
by
Eve Langlais

Release Date: July 7th 2015

Genres: Adult, Paranormal





✾ Synopsis ✾


How degrading. Stuck babysitting a woman because his alpha said so. As Pride Beta, he has better things to do with his time, like washing his impressive mane, hunting down thugs for fun, and chasing tail — sometimes his own if his lion is feeling playful.

But his babysitting job takes an unexpected turn when the woman he's assigned guard duty over turns out to be his mate.

A female threatened by an outside wolf pack.

A woman he wants to call his own.

A mate who doesn't fall for his charm.

Usually Beta's leave the roaring to the Pride's alpha, but in this case given his level of frustration, he might have to make an exception. And if anyone doesn’t like it, they can kiss his furry tail.
Rawr!










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✿ Excerpt ✿


When An Alpha Purrs
A Lion's Pride #1


Chapter One


"What do you mean Dominic isn't here?" Arik didn't quite raise his voice, and yet everyone in the barbershop heard him and noted his displeasure. Heads ducked, hands busied themselves snipping and styling, and no one dared meet his gaze.

If they were lion shifters, he would have said it was because they recognized his alpha status — say hello to the king of the concrete jungle. But these were only regular humans, people easily cowed by a man in an expensive suit with a commanding attitude.

Except for one.

"Granddad is out west."

The woman's reply had him spinning, and he inhaled sharply, which drew in more than just the scent of the barbershop. It drew in her tempting aroma — and stirred a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

Smells delicious. For a human.

Standing at just over five and a half feet, the woman barely reached his chin. She didn't let her shortness deter her. Her head tilted. The chin raised, almost defiantly, as she met his stare. Brown eyes framed in dark lashes didn't turn from his amber-hued ones.

Someone's got spirit. But he didn't have time to explore how far her attitude and bravery went. There were more important matters clamoring for his attention. Such as his poor, shaggy mane.

"What do you mean he's out west? I have an appointment." People didn't cancel his appointments. Nor did they make him wait. The perks of being top of the heap.

"My Aunt Cecily had her baby early. He took some time off to go meet his new grandson."

A decent excuse, but still... "But what about my hair?" That might have emerged more plaintively than he'd like. However, who could blame him? They were talking about his precious luxurious mane that required a regular trim lest the ends grow ragged, or, worse, a split end dared to make an appearance.

Vanity, one of his faults, along with arrogance and an unwillingness to budge.

"No need to worry, big guy. I'm taking over Granddad's appointments while he's gone."

"You?" A girl, cut his hair? He couldn't help but laugh, the idea too ridiculous to contemplate.

"I'm sorry. I fail to see the entertainment."

"You can't seriously expect me to trust my mane to a woman?" Sexism, alive and well in Arik's world, the fault of the females in his pride who'd raised him. No coddling for Arik. They didn't believe in letting him play with dolls or caving to others. His mother and aunts, not to mention his numerous female cousins, had taught him to be tough. They didn't allow softness in his world, not when they groomed him as the future leader of their pride.

He was all male, all the time, and dammit, a man used a barber, not a hairdresser. Even if she was cute.

"Suit yourself. I0ve got more than enough men to take care of—"

Was that his cat growling?

"—without adding a pompous one to the list."

"Pompous?" Even if she'd pegged him right, it didn't stop his indignant glare.

A glare she chose to ignore. She crossed her arms over her chest, plumping her cleavage — ooh, pretty, shadowy cleft. His curious nature drew his eyes to the mysterious and beckoningvee until she cleared her throat.

"My eyes are up here, big guy."

Caught. Good thing he was a cat. His kind had no shame, nor did they apologize. He shot her his most engaging, boyish grin. "My name is Arik. Arik Castiglione."

She didn't react to his smile or titles, so he elaborated, "The CEO for Castiglione Enterprises." He stretched his lips wide enough to engage his deadly dimple.

And still failed to impress.

She raised a brow. "Is that supposed to mean something?"

Surely she jested. Within his mind, his poor lion lay down in a traumatized heap and crossed its paws over its eyes.

"We are the largest importer of meat in the world."

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I don't check the label to see who brings me my steak. I just eat it."

"What about our chain of restaurants? A Lion's Pride Steakhouses."

"Those I've heard of. Decent, I hear, but overpriced. I can get a bigger plate of food at LongHorn. And according to my girlfriends, the male waiters are cuter too."

For once, Arik found himself at a loss for words. His lion on the other hand? His mane was definitely ruffled — and itching.

Arik had already gone two weeks longer than usual for this haircut because of an overseas business trip. Time to get back to his highest priority. "How long until Dominic is back?"

"A week, maybe two. I told him to take his time. Granddad doesn't often take time off, and he's getting up there in years."

A few weeks? He'd look like a wildebeest if he waited that long. "That's no good. I need a cut. Are there any male barbers available?"

"Afraid to let a girl touch your precious hair?" She smirked. "I can peek at the schedule and see if we can squeeze you in this afternoon."

"I don't have time to come back. I need it done now."

Usually when he used the word now, people jumped to do his bidding. She, on the other hand, shook her head.

"Not happening, unless you've changed your mind and are willing to let me cut it."

"You're a hairdresser."

"Exactly."

"I want a barber."

"Same thing."

Said the girl without a Y chromosome. "I think I'll wait."

Arik turned away from her, only to freeze as she muttered, "Pussy."

If she only knew how right she was. But, of course, she didn't mean the feline version.

Pride made him pivot back. "You know what. On second thought, you may cut my hair."

"How gracious of you, Your Majesty." She sketched him a mock bow.

Not funny, even if accurate. He glared in reply.

"I see someone's too uptight for a sense of humor."

"I greatly enjoy comedy, when I hear it."

"Sorry if my brand of sarcasm is too simple for you to understand, big guy. Now, if you're done, sit down so we can get this over with and send you and your precious hair back to your office."

A woman giving him orders? Not uncommon when a male lived surrounded by them. But actually obeying, that was new – and in this case, unavoidable.

Head held regally high, Arik took the proffered seat, putting his back to the female, but he could still watch her in the mirror and track her by scent. Coconut lotion, fabric softener, and musky woman. All woman.

My woman. Want to taste.

His lion grumbled in hunger. Odd because Arik had eaten a hearty breakfast, even wrestling his beta, Hayder, for the last two pieces of bacon.

The hairdresser swirled a fabric cape around his upper body, swathing him in protection against snipped tickly bits. So far the same as usual, except Dominic's mere presence never had Arik's body so aware. The light touch of her fingers at his nape as she fastened the Velcro closure caused all the hairs on his body to stiffen. And they weren't the only thing standing at attention.

Before he could wonder at his reaction, she withdrew her hand and busied herself with her tray of instruments. Razor, scissors, brush, comb. But forget the manly black colors a barber would use. Her tools were pink and black, zebra striped.

The indignity of it. He almost said something but held his tongue, only because he could see her watching and waiting for it in the mirror. As if he'd give her the satisfaction. This cat held his own tongue — for now.

The hairdresser sifted her fingers through his long strands, lifting and studying the various layers Dominic usually cut into it. Unlike many businessmen, Arik preferred to keep his golden mane somewhat long. Funny how many of his lovers had told him it gave him a leonine appearance — if only they knew the truth.

"How much are we taking off?"

As little as possible, given he still didn't trust her. "About a half inch or so. Just even up the ends." That should tide him over until Dominic returned.

"Are you sure?" She frowned at his crown, as she held long strands up. "You look like you could use at least two inches off, if not more."

How did she know? Arik usually kept his mane to a civilized length that just touched the top of his collar.

"I'm sure."

"You know, a man your age really should have a more mature cut. The shaggy surfer style is more suited to young guys."

He dug his fingers into the armrest and fought not to growl. "I like my hair like this."

"Suit yourself. I was just saying you'd look better with a shorter cut."

Shave his precious mane? Never! "Do you always argue with your clients?"

Her eyes met his in the mirror, and he wasn't surprised to see a smile lurking at the corners of her lips. "Only when they're wrong."

That surprised a bark of laughter from him. Despite his irritation with the situation, and her outspoken nature, he grudgingly liked Dominic’s granddaughter. "Very well. You may cut it a little shorter than a half inch. But not much shorter. I do not want to end up scalped."

"For a man your age and in your position, you are way too obsessed with your hair," she muttered as she bound sections of his mane with hairclips. Not exactly his most manly look.

Arik kept a close watch for anyone with a camera or cell phone. Dare to take a pic and he'd probably go furry.

Okay, he wouldn't go furry in public, but he sure as hell would extract retribution. CEOs of billion-dollar corporations had an image to maintain, and pink hair clips holding his hair at crazy angles didn't exactly fit it.

"How come I've never met you before?" Dominic had paraded a great number of his children and grandchildren through his barber shop over the years.

Attention focused on her hands, which wielded a set of scissors, she answered. "I don't visit often. I live out in the Midwest with my mom and dad. I was actually working at a hair salon out there until it shut down, and Granddad offered me a job here."

"You just packed up and moved?"

"Why not?" She released a layer of hair, and the scissors kept snipping. Golden bits flittered to the floor, and Arik tried to not tense. There was just as much hair strewn as when Dominic cut it. She seemed to know her business when it came to using scissors, but for some reason, he couldn't shake his unease.

"Women should stay close to family." His female family members certainly did, despite his best efforts to pawn them off onto other tribes and cities. Hell, he'd even tried to bribe some of his more rascally cousins with the promise of condos on other continents. However, the lionesses in his pride were content. A sign he was a good leader, but annoying as it meant they were constantly putting their whiskered noses in his business.

And they also loved to play matchmaker.

"When are you going to give us some cubs?" Not a day went by that he didn't hear this.

"I've got a friend I want you to meet." Fun for a night, until the next day when his cousin hammered him to make some kind of commitment.

The hairdresser reacted to his statement about a woman's place with a snort. "Get with the times, big guy. We're no longer strapped to a kitchen or forced into arranged marriages. We even get to vote. Girls nowadays often move away from home and have jobs. Or at least this one does."

He couldn't help but wince as she gave a decisive snip to his mane. So far, everything looked good. Yet he could have sworn ominous music hummed at the edges of his mind, feeding a certain dread he'd never admit aloud.

Scared of this woman and her scissors? Never. And his lion reinforced this with a very masculine rawr.

Still though, she'd essentially accused him of being a chauvinist. He explained himself. "I did not mean to sound misogynistic. I merely stated that women often find comfort in having family around them."

"I do have family here."

"Touché." Then he couldn't have said what prompted him to ask, "What of your boyfriend? I'm sure he's not pleased at your abrupt departure."

She paused and stared at him in the mirror. "Is this your not-so-subtle way of asking if I'm single?"

"Was I being subtle? Let me rephrase then. Do you have a lover?" He'd challenge him to a duel if she did and—

Hold on a second. He wasn't challenging anyone, especially not the human boyfriend of a hairdresser he'd just met.

Just met, and yet wanted.

The realization made him frown. Time to hit the dating circuit again if a plump and mouthy human girl was capable of making him irrational. It didn't help that his lion urged him to rub against her and mark her with their scent — to keep other males away.

Not happening. Marking any kind of female was bound to create complications. Arik wasn't about to settle down or commit himself. He was in his prime. Playing the field.

Flirting with a hairdresser who set his hairs on end — and brought his erotic senses alive.

The things I could do to her. Nibbles on her creamy skin... Nips at that luscious lower lip, which pulled taut as she frowned at him and said, "First off, I don't think my love life is any of your business." Snip. "Second. Even if I were single, I wouldn't date you." Snip. Snip.

"Why not?" He could have blinked in astonishment when the query emerged from his mouth. However, a curious kitty needed to know. Women just didn't say no. It wasn’t arrogant of him to claim it, not when it was fact.

Rejection was not something he encountered. Until now.

"Are you seriously having to ask why I won't date you?" She sounded so incredulous. "Would you like me to recite the list alphabetically?"

Actually, he did. "Let's hear it."

Not even a pause. "Asshat. Braggart. Cocky tied with chauvinist. Dumbass. Egotistical. Do I really need to go on?"

A chuckle rumbled forth from him — again. What was it about this woman that delighted him? She kept arguing and defying him at every turn, and yet he couldn't help but find her amusing. She utterly intrigued him, especially as he tried to guess what she'd say next. How refreshing to come across a female that wasn't related to him, or impressed by him, who dared to treat him as a man.

One she considered beneath her standards.

"I think your list needs tweaking." He launched a defense of his character.

"Oh really? And just how do you see yourself? I'm sure this will be good."

"Let me see. Attractive, bold, courageous, daring, elegant, ferocious, especially as a lover," he admitted with a wink. "Gallant."

With a derisive snort, she interrupted. "Ha. I highly doubt that."

"And yet you don't really know me. My lady friends would tell you that I am a gentleman." When it came to opening doors and picking up the check. Other than that, there was nothing gentle about him. Just ask those who crossed him.

Kings didn't let anyone question their authority.

"I wouldn't know, though, about this supposed gallantry, because I'm not your lady friend."

"You could be." He gave her another chance. She truly did draw him in with the roundness of her figure, hugged by faded denim and topped with a baggy sweatshirt that drooped enticingly off a shoulder, baring a black strap.

Lace or cotton? A feline mind wanted to know.

But apparently he wouldn't know today, as she, yet again, managed to resist him.

"Date you? Not likely."

Again words emerged from him without volition. "Why not?"

"Oh please. I've seen enough to know you're not my type."

Such a liar. Apparently he wasn't the only one aroused by their repartee. The musky scent of her arousal tickled his senses. It made him bolder. "I guarantee when I'm between your thighs and you're clawing my back, you'll be screaming a different tune."

So he might have come on a tad strong with that last statement. That was still no excuse for what happened next.

"Pig." However it wasn't the animal insult that was her most grievous crime. It was the gigantic hunk of hair she snipped off!

An irreplaceable, thick chunk of his hair permanently removed. Accidental or intentional, it didn't matter.

Ack! My mane. My beautiful, precious mane.

He couldn't help a low rumbling growl. His eyes glinted in the mirror, the gold catching the light and reflecting it, along with his fury.

"You. Did. Not. Just. Do. That." And yes, he might have growled the last bit.

"Oops? Did I do that? Sorry." Said with no repentance at all. With a smirk and a blown kiss, she let her crime rain down over him in a golden, threaded shower.

And then, she ran.






✿ The Author ✿


Hello, my name is Eve and I am a Canadian author who loves to write hot romance, usually with werewolves, cyborgs or aliens.

I should warn you that I possess a twisted imagination and a sarcastic sense of humor something I like to let loose in my writing. I enjoy strong alpha males, and shifters. Lots of big, overprotective shifters. I am also extremely partial to aliens, the kind who like to abduct humans and then drive them insane... with pleasure. Do you like something a little darker? Then check out my cyborgs whose battle with humanity have captivated readers worldwide.

I love to write, and while I don't always know what my mind is going to come up with next, I can promise it will be fun, probably humorous and most of all romantic, because I love a happily ever after.



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