“No passion, no emotion, no originality—a train wreck of epic portions.”
Those were the words to describe Eve Thorton’s exhibition. Not even a fine arts degree from Yale or her daddy’s bank account could save her from the scathing reviews. And failure was a word Eve would never be comfortable with. Not even close.
Plotting the demise of every critic who’d written her off was her first instinct. But that would come later. Instead, she would show them that she wasn’t a bored socialite with more money than talent.
She would prove everyone wrong, and she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. But when her journey for redemption crashed headfirst into Josh Logan, the sexy, talented tattooist from Queens, getting her hands dirty took on a whole new meaning.
Josh was everything Eve wasn’t, translating on skin what she couldn’t onto her canvas. All she had to do was convince him to share his jaw-dropping brilliance, and help her—seeing him naked—a bonus. Then she could go back to her regular life, vindicated.
It should have been easy. Pity her plans had a habit of derailing.
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Kitty had said Josh Logan was gorgeous.
Her description was tall, athletic and covered in exquisite wearable art.
With jet-black hair that was cropped short except for the top which he wore longer and combed back. Sort of like Elvis, but a thousand times hotter, and without the retro clothes.
So, I had been mentally prepared for a decent looking guy. But I had just shipped off all of Oliver’s stuff and scruffy guys with tattoos weren’t really my thing. Besides, I was here for a purpose, and that was not to get a date. I was a professional and this was New York, and gorgeous men were everywhere. It’s not like I was a bag of hormones incapable of using her head.
Yet all it took was a single freaking smile.
How it was even possible was beyond me, but Kitty severely understated.
Josh Logan was well over six-foot and built like a South American soccer player. You know the kind—hot, toned, and looked fabulous in their underwear on the side of a building. Sadly, Josh was wearing clothes—a fantastic pair of jeans and a black fitted T-shirt that hugged his arms and chest so lovingly it needed a standing ovation.
And those eyes? Wowzas. Perfect cerulean blue.
Tattoo Jesus was freaking HOT.
And another thing, his tattoos were insane. Each perfectly toned arm was covered in intricate designs that went all the way up into his sleeves where they were tragically hidden by his T-shirt. Then the color reappeared, snaking up his neckline. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to lick his skin or hang it on a wall. Oh, that sounded bad. Yeah. Hanging it on the wall sounded creepy. Licking. Licking was better.
I had been a locked vault. Kept it together and pretended he wasn’t the hottest man I’d seen. I’d even managed to carry on a conversation, completely hiding the fact my panties had disintegrated the minute he’d walked into the room. That, my friends, was where the real talent was.
About T. Gephart
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Title: The Unrequited
Author: Saffron A. Kent
Genre: Contemporary/Erotic Romance
Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
Release Date: July 13, 2017
Layla Robinson is not crazy. She is suffering from unrequited love. But itâs time to move on. No more stalking, no more obsessive calling.
What she needs is a distraction. The blue-eyed guy she keeps seeing around campus could be a great oneâonly he is the new poetry professorâthe married poetry professor.
Thomas Abrams is a stereotypical artistârude, arrogant, and broodyâbut his glares and taunts donât scare Layla. She might be bad at poetry, but she is good at reading between the lines. Beneath his prickly faÃ§ade, Thomas is lonely, and Layla wants to know why. Obsessively.
Sometimes you do get what you want. Sometimes you end up in the storage room of a bar with your professor and you kiss him. Sometimes he kisses you back like the world is ending and he will never get to kiss you again. He kisses you until you forget the years of unrequited love; you forget all the rules, and you dare to reach for something that is not yours.
NOTE: Please be aware that this book deals with sensitive topics like cheating and death. 18+ Only.
Iâm hit by a storm of desire to kiss him better. Itâs a tornado, an avalanche in my body, and in one breathless moment, I decide to go for it. Itâs okay. I can take the blame for it later.
I break the rules and reach up and kiss him. A feathery peck on his plump lips, itâs a kiss of solidarity, a kiss that intends to tell him I understandâbut one isnât enough. It only manages to ratchet up my lust. So I give him another, this time on the corner of his mouth, and then another one on his jaw.
Itâs not enough, these small, barely-there touches. I want more, but I wonât take it. Iâll be good; Iâll only give.
Abruptly, he fists my curls and stops me. I look at him fearfully, ready to apologizeânot for the kiss, but for being the kisser. His gaze reflects passion, stark, raving need, and I shiver, despite wearing layers and sweating with his heat.
âAre you trying to kiss me, Layla?â he rasps, flexing his fingers on my makeshift ponytail.
He couldnât tell? Blush rises to the surface and I know Iâm glowing like a neon sign. Swallowing, I nod. âYes.â
He inches closer to me, still not touchingâas impossible as that isâbut infinitely closer. âYou want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it right.â
Oh God, does he have to call me that? Now, here? My spine arches on its own and my heavy tits graze the contours of his shuddering chest.
âH-How?â I ask innocently, belying the daring action of my body. His stern, professor-y voice is doing things to me, making me wild, uncontrolled.
For a second, heâs silent, just watching. Iâm afraid heâll back out from whatever this is, whatever insanity weâre about to commitâbut then I sense the shift in the liquor-laced air as he opens his mouth and growls, âLike this.â
Writer of bad romances. Coffee Addict. White Russian Drinker. Imaginary Ballet Dancer and poetess. Aspiring Lana Del Ray of the book world.
I'm a big believer in love (obviously). I believe in happily ever after, the butterflies and the tingling. But I also believe in edgy, rough and gutsy kind of love. I believe in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.
The kind of love I write about is flawed just like my characters. And I hope by the end of it, you'll come to root for them just as much as me. Because love, no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.
From New York Times Bestselling author Elisabeth Naughton, comes HUNTED,a new novella in her Eternal Guardians Series, brought to you by 1,001 Dark Nights! Be sure to grab your copy today!
Erebus – Dark in every sense of the word, a skilled and lethal warrior, and sinfully sexy by design.
Since the dawn of modern man, Erebus was Hades’ secret weapon in the war between the immortal realms. Until Hades lost the minor god in a bet to his older brother Zeus. For the last hundred years, Erebus has trained Zeus’s Siren warriors in warfare and the sexual arts. But he’s never stopped longing for freedom. For a life filled with choice. And lately, he also longs for one Siren who entranced him during their steamy seduction sessions. A nymph he quickly became obsessed with and who was ripped from his grasp when her seduction training was complete. One he’s just learned Zeus has marked for death because she failed the last Siren test.
Before Erebus can intercede on the nymph’s behalf, she escapes Olympus and flees into the human realm. In a fit of rage, Zeus commands Erebus to hunt her down and kill her. Erebus sees his opportunity to finally go after what he wants, but he’s torn. Freedom means nothing if the Siren at the center of his fantasies doesn’t truly crave him back. Because defying the gods will unleash the fury of Olympus, and if he chooses her over his duty, whether she joins him in exile or not, the hunter will become the hunted.
A flash of blonde hair to his left caught his attention as he ran through the dark forest. His target—Trainee #429745--was close, but then he knew that already. His god powers were strongest in darkness, and his hearing, smell, even sight were amplified when night disadvantaged other hunters. He could hear her labored breaths echoing in his ears, could smell the lemony scent of her skin in his nostrils, but seeing the flash of long blonde hair had surprised him.
He hadn’t looked at her picture before he’d left Olympus for this hunt. He’d memorized her trainee number, read through her file and made mental notes of her trainers’ mostly average comments about her hand-to-hand combat and warfare skills. Had questioned the stupid guards she’d overpowered at the gates of Olympus when she’d fled, and who were now suffering their own just fates. And he’d located the portal she’d used outside the gates to cross into this forest in the human realm. But he’d purposefully not looked at her image.
Putting a face to a number gave his prey a human quality he didn’t need to concern himself with. His orders from Zeus were clear: “She failed her last Siren test and ran. Hunt her down and bring her back to me.” It was not Erebus’s place to question Zeus’s command. The King of the Gods could have ordered Erebus to kill the trainee—which he’d done in the past and would do again when called upon because it was his duty—but Zeus hadn’t. That made Erebus’s job this time a helluva lot easier, and for that he was thankful.
But that flash of blonde...
He’d seen it somewhere before. Or hair like it. Not a white blonde. Not a honey blonde. Not even a multicolored blonde like many of the Sirens sported on Olympus. This hair had been a golden blonde so bright it had looked like a gilded waterfall in the darkness of the forest when she’d whipped past him through the trees.
What she looked like had no impact on his current assignment. Clearing his mind, he shifted direction and picked up his speed, heading toward the flash of blonde he’d seen. Her labored breaths grew louder. Her scent stronger. Ahead, that golden blonde flashed again, whipping behind her as she turned to look into the dark forest at her back then angled forward again and ran faster.
ABOUT ELISABETH NAUGHTON:
Elisabeth Naughton is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. From Elisabeth: “I was never one of those people who knew they wanted to be an author at the age of six. I didn’t have imaginary friends. I didn’t write stories in my journal or entertain my relatives by firelight after Thanksgiving dinner. For the most part, I was just a normal, everyday kid. I liked to read, but I wasn’t exceptional at it. And when my teachers complimented me on my writing abilities, I brushed them off. I did, however, always have a penchant for the unique and absurd. And as my mother told me all throughout my childhood, I should have been an actress—I was a drama queen before my time.
“Years ago, my husband bought me Scarlett: The Sequel to Gone With The Wind. If you ever saw the book, you know it’s a long one. I sat and read that thing from cover to cover, and dreamed of one day being a writer. But I didn’t actually try my hand at writing until years later when I quit my teaching job to stay home with my kids. And my husband? After that week of reading where I neglected him and everything else until I finished Scarlett, he vowed never to buy me another book again. Little did he know I’d one day end up sitting at a keyboard all day drafting my own stories.
“My writing journey has not been easy. I didn’t just sit down one day, decide I was going to write a book and voila! sell my very first attempt. As most authors will probably agree, the path to publication is filled with hours of work, pulling all-nighters I thought I’d given up in college, sacrifices, rejections, but a love I discovered along the way I just can’t live without. Instead of a big, thick book to read by lamplight (I do read much smaller ones when I get the chance), I’ve traded in my reading obsession for a laptop. And I’ve never been happier.
“I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a wonderful family and fabulous husband who put up with my writing—and obsessive personality—even when life is chaotic. More than once my kids have been late to swimming or baseball because I needed just five more minutes to finish a scene. Their support and encouragement mean the world to me. I also have amazing friends and a support network I couldn’t survive without. So to all of you out there who have encouraged me along the way, sent me emails and fan letters, phone calls and congratulations, I just want to say, thank you. You make this whole writing gig that much more enjoyable. I truly wouldn’t be here without you.”
From New York Times Bestselling author Kristen Proby, comes a steamy and passionate friends-to-lovers romanceâEASY NIGHTS! The sixth standalone title in the Boudreaux Series, Savannah and Benâs highly anticipated story is now available on all retailers! Grab your copy today!
About EASY NIGHTS (Boudreaux Series #6):
The Boudreaux SeriesâSexy. Intriguing. Easy.
No one said change was easyâ¦
Savannah Boudreaux knows what it is to hurt. To bleed. To be afraid that the man sheâs promised to be true to until âdeath do us partâ might in fact separate them far sooner than anyone had ever anticipated. But Van also knows what it is to survive. To move on. To live life to the fullest. With five brothers and sisters and a loving mother as her constant source of strength during the pain and the healing, Van realizes there is little else she needs.
But some things never changeâ¦
Benjamin Preston sat on the sidelines of the Boudreaux family for years, in love with a woman he couldnât have. As the best friend of the Boudreaux brothers since childhood, Ben has seen both tragedies and joys in the family. And as a former MMA fighter and KravMaga expert, Benâs used to fighting for what he wantsâand winning. His hands were tied when Savannah married her high school sweetheart not long after graduation, but now two years have passed since Ben found Savannah broken in her own home.
Sometimes what you need most has been right in front of you the whole timeâ¦
Vanâs convinced that happiness isnât in the cards for her, no matter how right it feels to be in Benâs strong armsâand his bed. Ben is determined to win her heart and fight for her trust. Heâs promised to protect her, to be her friend. But more than anything, he wants to finally make her his, and this is one fight heâs not willing to lose.
Pick up your copy of EASY NIGHTS today!
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I spin at the sound of Benâs voice, and silently cringe. I look horrible. Iâm sweating like an ice cold drink without a coaster, and the clothes I wear here are skin tight, making it easier to move.
âYouâre not usually here at this time,â I say and dab a towel on my face. âWhatâs up?â
âI had a meeting with another instructor,â he says with a smile. âThought Iâd say hi.â
âHi.â I smile and readjust my ponytail. Itâs much smaller now, but I can still pull it back. âHow was your day?â
âBusy,â he replies and surprises me by letting his eyes travel up and down my body. âI like the new hair. You look great.â
âIâm a mess.â I chuckle and hook my towel around my shoulders. âYou, however, do look great.â
Thatâs a fucking understatement. Heâs in cargo shorts and a black tank top, showing off his tattoos and his muscles.
Good lord, the muscles.
âCan I show you a few things?â he asks, breaking my concentration on his muscles.
âSure,â I frown as I follow him back into the empty classroom. âAm I doing something wrong?â
âNo, I just want to go over some form things.â He leads me to the center of the room and stands behind me, looking into my eyes through the mirror.
Oh God. This is way sexier than it probably should be.
âAssume the stance.â
I follow his directions and work very hard to not react to his strong hands on my sides as he walks me through punches, kicks, and better ways to keep my center of gravity.
âYouâre small,â he murmurs and pushes my legs just a little closer together. âI want you to keep your feet just a little closer together. Youâll have better balance.â
I nod. âIt feels better.â
He smiles at me. I canât keep my eyes off of him in the mirror. The way he moves, his facial expressions.
Ben has always been attractive to me, but holy shit, did he get hotter? Or was I just too broken before to see it?
Because holy shit, heâs hot.
âI just asked you to do the spin/elbow move.â
âOh.â I bite my lip and will myself to stop ogling his arms.
âAre you okay?â
âOf course.â I do as he asks and spin, attempting to ram my elbow in his nose, the way Iâve been taught, but he blocks and sends me onto my ass. âDamn it.â
âYouâre not spinning quickly enough.â
âIâm as clumsy as they get,â I remind him. âIf I spin too fast, Iâll fall on my ass. Iâll be helping my attacker more than anything.â
âItâll actually feel easier,â he says, helping me to my feet. âYou can do this. Iâve seen it.â
âYouâre taller than anyone else Iâve ever sparred with.â
âGood,â he says and narrows his eyes. âChances are, if you ever have to defend yourself, your attacker wonât be shorter than you.â
âTrue.â I nod thoughtfully.
âBut if youâre still not comfortable doing this with me, thatâs fine. I can make suggestions for Shelly to work on next week.â
âIâm okay,â I reply, and am surprised to realize that itâs true. It wasnât long ago that I couldnât stand for any man to touch me, not even my brothers. But I donât mind so much now.
In fact, Iâm utterly shocked to realize that his touch is turning me on. I donât remember the last time I had sexual thoughts toward a man. Even Ben. Which was one more thing that made me sad.
But hello, long lost hormones.
And donât miss the first standalone titles in the Boudreaux Series!
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