A GIFT OF TIME is the HIGHLY ANTICIPATED conclusion to the NINE MINUTES trilogy where Grizz, Kit & Grunt's gritty tale continues! You aren’t going to want to miss this! NOW AVAILABLE Amazon US: http://amzn.to/29pc7nZ Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/29LBJvU **Additional retailers to follow** RECOMMENDED FOR READERS 18 AND OLDER DUE TO STRONG LANGUAGE, SEXUAL SITUATIONS AND VIOLENCE. Book 3 of 3 in the Nine Minutes Trilogy. A Gift of Time is the third installment in the Nine Minutes Trilogy. It is not intended to be a stand-alone novel, but could be read as one. Still, I highly recommend that you read my first two novels, Nine Minutes and Out of Time, to be able to understand the background stories of the main characters. There are many twists and turns in both books that can best be connected if read consecutively. Are some secrets meant to stay buried? Three months have passed since Jason “Grizz” Talbot was put to death by lethal injection for crimes he committed. His former wife, Ginny, whom he had abducted from a convenience store when she was a teenager and became the love obsession of his life, has spent more than the last decade trying to carve out a life of normalcy in the bustling suburbs of Fort Lauderdale—including a thriving and happy marriage to Tommy "Grunt" Dillon, a former member of Grizz’s gang. Tired of the secrets and the lies, Ginny and Tommy thought the final piece of their past could be left behind forever with Grizz’s execution. However, the past comes crashing around Ginny and Tommy when a newly discovered secret threatens to destroy their marriage. When tragedy strikes, Ginny is forced to reach into her heart and decide, once and for all, what she really wants. In this third book in the Nine Minutes trilogy, A Gift of Time takes readers from the busy tropical metropolis of South Florida into the serenity of the North Carolina Blue Ridge mountains as Ginny chases down the answers she needs. Will she have the strength to confront the secrets of her past…and her heart? Haven’t read this series yet, check out Nine Minutes for ONLY $1.99 (lowest price ever) Amazon US: http://amzn.to/29HiNhb Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1BCH3cV iBooks: http://apple.co/29HVRtU Nook: http://bit.ly/2a8PrJn Kobo: http://bit.ly/2a0324j About the Author Beth Flynn is a fiction writer who lives and works in Sapphire, North Carolina, deep within the southern Blue Ridge Mountains. Raised in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Beth and her husband, Jim, have spent the last 18 years in Sapphire, where they own a construction company. They have been married 32 years and have two daughters and two dogs. In her spare time, Beth enjoys writing, reading, gardening, church and motorcycles, especially taking rides on the back of her husband’s Harley. She is a five-year breast cancer survivor. STALK HER: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
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Title: An Act of Obsession (Acts of Honor Series - Book 3)
Author: KC Lynn
Release Date: July 20, 2016
TBR Link: Goodreads
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Amazon US: http://amzn.to/29L3Hsg
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/29KwtmR
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Synopsis
She’s beautiful yet scarred beyond repair.
He’s powerful and lethal, in and out of the ring.
One act of kindness brought Sophie Parish far more danger than she could have ever imagined. Now she’s on the run, leaving behind her family and the only dream she’s ever had.
Retired EFC fighter Kolan Slade’s life has been one endless battle after another. He has a dark past with an even darker desire—the only one he’s ever known.
Until he meets Sophie.
Intrigued by her raw beauty and the secrets she’s trying to hide, Kolan craves to know who she is and what she’s running from.
Protecting her becomes his obsession and he’ll sacrifice it all to save her. But in the end her love will have him questioning himself and everything he thought he knew.
Excerpt
Reaching my SUV, I place her feet on the ground and cage her against the passenger door, bracing both my hands on either side of her head. “And what about you, Lia?” I ask, dipping my head in close to hers. “Hmm? You know my secrets. What about yours?” She might not know all of mine but she knows enough. “What is it you want to know?” she asks, a slight tremble in her voice. “I want to know who you are and where you came from. But more than anything, I want to know what you’re hiding under that scarf.” The stark pain that enters her eyes strikes me to my fucking core. “Trust me, you don’t want to see what’s under there. I can’t even bear to look at it myself.” “Nothing scares me.” It’s a complete lie. She scares the hell out of me. A heavy silence descends upon us, her pretty eyes wide and fearful. “What are you so afraid of?” I ask. Her breath hitches, emotion shining bright in her gaze. “Everything.” There’s so much despair in that one word that I want to fucking kill whoever put it there. Unable to resist, I gently drop my forehead on hers, my jaw locking as I restrain myself from doing what I really want to do. “I’m going to respect your privacy…for now. But one day, you’re going to tell me who made you so afraid. And if they’re still breathing—they won’t be for much longer.” Her eyes fall closed, lip trembling as she tries to shield her pain from me. “Some secrets, Kolan, are best left unknown.” “Not between us. The day will come when there will be no more secrets between us.” Her eyes open, locking with mine, but she remains silent. I press my lips to her forehead then reach for the door handle. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
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Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/29CXu0h
Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/29FOHX5
ibooks: http://apple.co/29ltJPg
Kobo: http://bit.ly/299UdDQ
About the Author
K.C. Lynn is a small town girl living in Western Canada. She married her high school sweetheart and they have four amazing children: two lovely girls and a set of handsome twin boys. It was her love for romance books that gave K.C. the courage to sit down and write her own novel. When she is not in her writing cave, pounding out new characters and stories, she can be found living between the pages of a book, meeting new tattooed, hot alpha males with very big…Hearts.
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Today we are celebrating the release of GILT: SIN NEVER SLEEPS by Geneva Lee. GILT: Sin Never Sleeps is a young adult suspense title, that is the second book in the GILT series. Be sure to check out Geneva Lee's facebook page today for an incredible contest you will not want to miss.Click here to add GILT: SIN NEVER SLEEPS to GoodreadsPURCHASE NOWAMAZON | IBOOKS | NOOKBook Blurb:On the heels of a brutal attack, Emma Southerly finds herself swept away to Palm Springs, but she can't run from trouble, especially when it has a habit of chasing her down. A mysterious stranger is posting incriminating photos of the less-than-upstanding citizens of Belle Mère, but is it a friendly game or something more sinister? When Jameson West breaks his bail and tracks her down, he delivers more bad news. Emma's landed on the suspect list. No one knows who killed Nathaniel West, but now there are two suspects, two investigations, and two people with every reason to turn on one another. Someone in Belle Mère is a murderer—someone closer to both of them than they could ever imagine—and unless they stick together, they might find themselves falling into a trap instead of falling in love. Because when the cards are dealt, everyone might lose. "Gilt is positively dirty, deadly, and delectable. Romeo and Juliet meets Pretty Little Liars in this unputdownable new series! Must read!" KA Linde, USA Today bestselling authorPREVIOUS BOOK IN THE SERIESPurchase here for FREE!Amazon | iBooks | NookABOUT THE AUTHOR: Geneva Lee is the New York Times, USA Today, and Internationally bestselling author of the Royals Saga. She likes writing steamy scenes almost as much as imagining crazy ways to torture her characters. Geneva travels frequently, never says no to champagne, and spends more time with fictional people than living, breathing ones. She lives her husband and two children.AUTHOR LINKS: Sign Up For Geneva’s Newsletter Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram Release Boost Title: Take Me Author: Sara V. Zook Release: July 12, 2016 Cover Designer: Susan Garwood from Wicked Women Designs The depths of his soul are as black as his eyes. He’s a thief and a murderer. Add kidnapping to the list now that he’s taken me, forced me away from my father’s house in the middle of the night. There’s no room for mercy in his dead heart. He’s driven by purpose, and I keep messing up his plans. So he hates me. He punishes me. He’s my captor, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. But then he’s forced to make a decision—keep me or let someone else have me? He’s still my captor, but also a kind of savior now too. Somehow things have changed between us. I can see it in his eyes. He doesn’t like it, but he can’t stop the motion from going forward. He wants me in a different way, and it’s killing him to give in to his desires. I’m beginning to see that sometimes even a dead heart, even one belonging to Creed, can be revived.CHAPTER ONE CREED “I need all the money,” I growled. The old man just stood there, terror written all over his face, as I continued to aim the gun at his chest. I did need all the money. Every last fucking penny. “I…I…” he stuttered. “Don’t try to bullshit me.” I narrowed my eyes at him. That’s all he could see—my cold, dark eyes. The rest of my face was covered up in a black spandex mask, my body covered in black also. None of my tattoos were exposed. “Where’s the safe?” I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He wasn’t moving. He was studying me, testing the waters to see how serious I was. I shoved the end of my gun in his ribs. There. Him feeling the cold steel against his skin should make his fear spike. “How much does that money mean to you?” I questioned him, my tone low and bitter. “Tell me, is it worth your life? You think you’re gonna take that cash with you into Hell once I blow a hole through you?” The old guy held up his hands, his eyes pleading with me. “Please. I don’t want trouble.” “Then you’d better get a move on.” I pulled the gun away from him to give him space to move. My temples were starting to throb. A dull pain was always there, always right under the surface, but seemed to come alive when I was really stressed or really pissed off. Both were occurring right now. I wanted to reach up and massage the sides of my head; instead I mentally shook off the pain. Nothing was going to interfere with what I had to do tonight. Nothing. “This way,” he whispered, moving cautiously in front of me. I followed him, glancing at a large antique grandfather clock in the hallway as I passed by. 1:05 a.m. “Who else is in the house?” I asked him. “What?” He stopped in front of a closed door. “Who else is in the house?” I repeated, irritated that I had to do so. This guy was really pushing my buttons. I’d anticipated being out of here by now. The old man’s bushy gray eyebrows furrowed together. “Just the housekeeper. She’s asleep.” “Where’s her room?” His eyes moved past the railing that overlooked the second floor below. “Downstairs?” I asked. He nodded. I didn’t like the fact that someone else was here. Made me nervous as hell. This situation was already dangerous. I didn’t need to ante up. Now I had to keep one eye on Mr. Moneybags here and one eye on the stairs. “Open the door,” I commanded him. We stepped inside an office. It was messy, with papers scattered all over the desk, newspapers carelessly tossed on the floor beside it. Bookshelves lined the walls. Then I spotted it. In the very back corner of the room was a black safe. I gave the old man a look and then gestured toward it with my gun. He quickly made his way to the other side of the room and began fiddling with the combination lock. The seconds ticked on in my head. This was taking too fucking long. I turned sideways so that out of my peripheral vision I could see into the hallway in case that housekeeper decided to take a little middle-of-the-night stroll. “Dad?” I turned my head right. My gun was still pointed left. A woman—no older than middle to late twenties—stood in the entranceway of the office in a short white nightgown, her long brown hair slightly disheveled, her hand pressed tightly up against her mouth as she gasped at the scene unraveling before her. “Don’t move,” I growled at her, my tone fierce and lifeless. I could see the silent scream emanating from her mouth as she slowly brought down her hand, her eyes now shimmering over in tears as she focused on the gun. “Your housekeeper calls you Dad?” I cocked an eyebrow. The old man’s face filled with dread. “I…I…” “Here comes the stuttering again.” I reached out and took hold of the woman’s thin arm, pulling her farther into the room. “Next to him.Now.” I glared at the man. Tick.Tick.Tick. The seconds were flying by and the damn safe wasn’t even opened up yet. “I’m going to ask you one more time.” I gritted my teeth together. “Who else is in this fucking house?” “Okay. Okay.” He gently grazed his daughter’s back with his fingertips. “There’s no one else, I assure you.” My eyes moved back to the girl, who was on the verge of hysteria. “I didn’t mention her because…I was just trying to protect her.” “Your protection method is going to get her fucking killed,” I told him. “Any more surprises, and I shoot her.” She let out a shrill cry. “Keep quiet.” “Honey, calm down.” He pulled his daughter into his side to try to soothe her. “Everything will be all right.” “The money,” I reminded him. “Who is he?” the woman asked as her father returned to plugging away at the combination. “I don’t know.” “You can’t just give him your money.” “I have no choice.” “Why is he here?” The throbbing pain in my temples doubled. “I can fucking hear you.” Her eyes locked with mine, and instead of startled fear, they were now outlined in rage as if she were suddenly challenging me. I’d interrupted her conversation with her father. I’d interrupted her peaceful dreams. I ran my finger along the edge of the gun trigger. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. I ignored her. “You have two minutes to load this up.” I tossed the empty duffel bag onto the floor. “You’re not going to get away with it.” She was glaring at me now through blue eyes that spilled tears onto her cheeks. I gave her only the briefest glance. “Now it’s one minute. You can thank your daughter’s mouth for that.” The old man let out a huff as he opened the safe. I could see all the neatly stacked green from the other side of the room. It wasn’t a very wide safe, but it was long, and it was definitely filled with cash. Jackpot. Thank god. I hadn’t been sure what exactly he was going to have here at his house. “I’m working as fast as I can. Briston, please stop.” Briston. I’d heard the name slip from his mouth. Interesting name. I watched as he emptied out the contents of the safe into my duffel bag. He was working quickly now. Everything was running smoothly. A few more minutes and I’d be on my way to the warehouse. All of my sleepless nights and time spent planning this were well worth it. “That’s it.” The guy’s eyes locked with mine. I could tell it was killing him to part with his beloved money. Not like he couldn’t just get more. “Zip the bag,” I ordered him. He did as he was told. The daughter stood by his side, her arms now wrapped around herself as if just now realizing she was dressed in practically nothing. “Throw it at my feet.” The bag was nudged by the old man’s foot. It skidded across the smooth wooden floor and landed at the edge of my boots. Damn. It was almost too good to be true. Here was the money I’d needed all this time—within grasp. All I had to do was pick it up, get to my vehicle, and get the hell out of here in a hurry. Picking up that bag would change my life. Then again, breaking into this guy’s house and holding him at gunpoint was another life changer—if I was caught—which I had no intentions of happening, so it was time to end this little rendezvous while the ball was still in my court. I tossed the bag over my shoulder and began to back out of the room, my gun still pointed ahead of me. “You won’t get away with it, you know,” the daughter said to me. There was pure venom in her voice. “People like you, you always think you’re smarter than the rest of the world, but you won’t get far, and then what? You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars.” I smirked under my mask, which of course they couldn’t see. The girl had audacity, I’ll give her that. A loud burst of Spanish being spewed out behind me had my gun arm swinging around and pointing toward the hallway. There stood a short, rotund woman with curly black hair, her arms waving around madly in the air. I could only assume that this was the housekeeper. She became silent momentarily once she saw the gun aimed her way, but then recovered with another round of Spanish I couldn’t understand. That’s when I spotted it—a cell phone gripped tightly in her hand. Fuck. Panic overtook me. The woman was thrashing her arms around so much I couldn’t tell if the phone was on, if she’d already dialed someone, and I sure as hell couldn’t understand what she was saying to tell if the police were already involved. “Stop moving!” I screamed at her. But she didn’t stop. She just kept rambling on. “Get her to stop!” I yelled. “Cecelia!” the old man shouted out at her. Then he rambled off some Spanish, too. No, no, no. What was he telling her? What were they communicating? I exhaled loudly through my nostrils as my grip tightened on the gun. The housekeeper was still carrying on, her lips moving a mile a minute. I should shoot her. I needed to shoot her. I steadied my aim. I watched her stop jabbering long enough to gasp. Shit. I couldn’t do it. But I had to do something. I was still too startled by the fact that she was holding that phone. I reached over and took it from her, sending it flying to the floor, and watched as it shattered in pieces from the force of my adrenaline. I still didn’t have a clue as to if she had made any calls. I wasn’t taking any chances. “You,” I growled out, reaching over to the daughter and taking her by the wrist. “What are you doing?” the old man cried out. “Ow! Let me go!” she shrieked. This was the only way I was getting out of here right now. They’d back off and leave me alone if I had a hostage. But shit, this wasn’t part of the plan. Then again, plans fail and new ones had to be formed. I brought the woman in front of me and held the barrel of the handgun to her back, pushing it into her skin so she’d know it was there. She gave out a tiny yelp, her eyes pleading with her father to do something, anything. But no, there was nothing he could do. I’d just taken control of the situation once again. I was leaving—with her. The old man was in panic mode as well. “No. Please! I’ll…I have more money I can get you. Name your price. Please! Don’t hurt her!” I gave him one last glance out of the corner of my eye. It was as if I was waiting for the sirens to start echoing in the distance. There was no way I could do this now without taking something as leverage just in case. I’d think about where I could dump her off later. Right now it was all about escape, getting out of here without cuffs, alive. “Move,” I instructed her, pushing her toward the door. “Dad!” she shrieked. The Spanish woman’s mouth started rambling again. Too.Much.Noise. I forced the woman out into the hallway, my grip tightening on her arm as she winced in pain. “Daddy’s not gonna save you from me,” I whispered into her ear. I forced her down the stairs and to the wooden double front doors. The old man and housekeeper were side by side, fear very evident in their eyes as they stared down at me. “I’m going to make this simple. No one has to get hurt if you just leave me be. Don’t try to follow me. Don’t involve the police, and everything will turn out just fine.” “Please,” the old man pleaded one last time before I slipped outside into the darkness. The woman struggled against my grip. “Stop fighting me.” “You’re hurting me,” she snapped. I was beginning to get very heated under all this spandex. I gave the woman a little shove and released my hold on her. “Fine. Walk,” I instructed her. “But if you try anything, the gun’s still on you.” She stumbled a moment before regaining her balance. My eyes scanned down her bare legs and feet. The rocks underneath her steps had to be bothering her, but why should I care? Her being here with me only intensified my irritation. She was going to not only slow me down, but I now had to figure out what to do with her, how to deal with her. Something about the attitude I’d already seen from this girl told me it wasn’t exactly going to be a breeze. My car was parked up ahead along a back alleyway. It wasn’t anything extravagant. It was a plain black sedan with tinted windows. Anything to try not drawing attention to myself. I opened up the trunk. “I’m not going in there,” the woman snapped. I glared at her, the gun still pointed her way. “You’ll do what the fuck I tell you to do.” I tossed the duffel bag inside and slammed the trunk lid back down. Then I walked around to the passenger side. I had had no intentions of shoving her in the trunk, but the idea was appealing to me now. “Get in.” She hesitated. “Look, I don’t need to go with you. You’ve gotten this far…” I put my palm on the top of her head and forced her inside. Then I slammed the door shut and hurried to the driver’s side. I had to get going. There was no time for this useless chitchat. I put the gun on my left side so it was out of the woman’s reach. I glanced in the rearview mirror. No police lights flashing—yet. With my foot on the accelerator, the car leapt forward. “I hope you burn in hell,” the woman stated between gritted teeth beside me. The mask was making my face sweat and itch as I raked my fingers across my chin on top of the fabric. “Do me a favor and shut the fuck up.” I reached across her. She jerked back as if I were going to hurt her. Smirking, I took hold of her seatbelt, pulled it across her body, and fastened it tightly in place. Sara V. Zook pursued her dream of becoming a writer and after earning her bachelor's degree, sat down to create her first novel in which Strange in Skin was completed in three short months. She's the author of the Strange in Skin Trilogy, Clipped, A Magic Within, Evanescent, Reminiscence, her mobster release, Six Guns, A Chaos Within, and her first contemporary romance, The Pull and its sequel The Push. She resides in Pennsylvania, where she was born and raised, with her husband and three small children.Facebook | Website | Twitter | Goodreads hosted by
Title: Complexity
Author: Harper Miller
Genre: Gay Erotica/Erotic Romance
Release Date: July 8, 2016
The dents on my wall from where my headboard kept knockin’ against the same spot was the first clue that I needed to calm my ass down. At the rate I was racking up notches and plowing through hookups, I wasn’t ever gonna find nothing real. Guess I kinda jinxed myself. I created my circumstances. You can’t get what you want if you keep falling back into the same pattern of bad habits. But then things changed. I stumbled onto somethin’ I never in a million years expected to happen. You gotta understand, I’m never the guy who wins. It was supposed to be just sex, but that shifty rhyming and scheming bastard, Cupid, pulled a fast one. I may have changed some stuff to protect a couple of people. But before you go believing the tabloids, make sure you understand that you’re gettin’ the lowdown straight from the source. I needed to get this off my chest, and it’s only fair that you at least get my side of it all. At some point, I might regret telling you any of this, but for now, you need to know. *Disclaimer* This is a novella. Not a short story, novelette, or novel. This tale features an M/M pairing. If gay erotica/erotic romance is not your cup of tea and you are offended by same-sex relationships or crass language, you should bypass this story. Content is intended for a mature audience, 18+. Complexity is the fourth installment in The Kinky Connect Chronicles. The Kinky Connect Chronicles are short erotic stories/novelettes all wrapped up in neat little bows. These stories are standalones. No cliffhangers in the lot!
KOBO
B&N
© Harper Miller 2016
“Hey,” he says. The hoarse sound of his voice catches me off guard and a stabbing sensation seizes my chest. I know it’s all in my head, but it’s like rapid, tiny needle pricks all over my skin.
I’m a mess.
Has it only been a week since I’ve heard his voice? Hearing him now—just that one syllable—is painful relief. No matter what’s going through my head, right now I’ve gotta keep my shit together.
“Hey, yourself.”
“It’s good to hear your voice, Manny. You’ve been avoiding me.” Wasn’t a question, but a statement—a true statement.
“Yep,” I nonchalantly reply. “If you’re leaving messages and callin’ me ‘Emmanuel,’ then you must really wanna get my attention.”
He lets out a half chuckle. “I’ve been trying to get your attention all week. I’ve missed your company. Care to tell me why you’re shunning me?”
I avoid answering his question and ask one of my own instead. “Were you really gonna make a trip up here?”
Ever since this little thing between us started, I’ve always headed downtown to his place. He’s never come up here. Too many things could go wrong and make a bad situation epically worse. There are mild fuckups and things you can’t come back from. Me taking the trip downtown is a better bet.
“If you didn’t pick up your phone, yes. I’ve been calling and calling and calling. And would have pounded on your door all night. I’d do whatever needed to be done until you talked to me. It’s been a week, Manny. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
Avoiding his question again, I say, “That ain’t the smartest move, loco. You’re not exactly unrecognizable. The paparazzi would be up here with the quickness. Not to mention the cops. You don’t come up here making a crapload of noise and not expect the cops to get called.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It was a dumb idea, but I wasn’t thinking. You do that to me, you know—cause me to not think straight.”
“I see,” I respond with a low grunt. He always does that shit. Make comments about how I affect him. I quickly wonder if he’d been leavin’ me a trail of bread crumbs all this time. Hope slams against my rib cage. Does he have feelings for me too?
“Can I see you, Manny?” he asks, his voice that syrupy-sweet tone he uses when we’re in bed. The shit that sucker punches me right in the gut. And now I’m hot, but for an altogether different reason.
“What do you need to see me for? Armand not occupying enough of your time?” I was being a dick, but whateva.
“Ah, so now we’re getting somewhere. That’s why you’ve been avoiding me? Because of Armand?”
I remain silent.
“Manny?”
“What?” I can’t deal right now. Not with the way he says my name. . . .Manipulative bastard.
“Come see me. Let’s talk about it.”
“Nah. No need.” I’m acting like a pissy bitch, but I don’t care. “Got a client in the morning and have to be up early.”
“Fine, you won’t come here, then I’m coming to you.”
“Didn’t we just agree that that is a dumb idea? What the fuck are you doing?”
“You might not want to talk, Manny, but clearly some things need to be addressed. Avoiding the issue won’t make it go away. We need to straighten this out, now.”
“Mierda,” I mumble under my breath.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” he says before hanging up, leaving me no time to talk him out of it.
I almost fling the phone across the room, but if I do, I won’t have shit to use once it’s broken. I bite down on my tongue to tamp back my anger, and I ain’t tasting whiskey no more.
He’s an idiot. An idiot for comin’ into my space. An idiot for putting himself out there like that. So what if I wouldn’t go to him? I had been tryna put some distance between us, but it only seemed to make shit more difficult for me, and there is only one explanation.
Love. I’m in love with a guy, and I’m so fuckin’ angry. Angry because I can’t do anything about it. I tried to fight it, and I mean hard, but the way I reacted to his voice and to him threatening to trek up to my apartment, risking shit just to talk to me, tells me all I need to know.
I am in love with Christopher.
Harper Miller is a thirty-something native New Yorker. She’s traveled the world and lived in a variety of places but always finds her way back to the Big Apple. A lackluster love life leaves time to explore new interests, for Harper it is writing. The Sweetest Taboo: An Unconventional Romance is her debut novel. In her mind, the perfect Alpha male possesses intellect, humor, and a kinky streak that rivals the size of California. When she isn’t writing, Harper utilizes her graduate degree in the field of medical research. She enjoys fitness-related activities, drinking copious amounts of wine and going on bad dates.
Twitter ➝ @authorharpmill
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Title: Until Harry
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