Two women. Two surprise pregnancies. Dmitri Papadakis is screwed. Dmitri's Christmas Angel by USA Today bestselling author Kat Mizera Releasing December 3rd! Only 99c - Preorder Now! Amazon -- https://amzn.to/33qtKvE Universal -- getbook.at/DmitriXmasAngel Apple -- https://apple.co/36JeFr8 Nook -- http://bit.ly/2NOynsC Kobo -- http://bit.ly/33lX4TO  Two women. Two surprise pregnancies. Dmitri Papadakis is screwed. When Dmitri’s fiancée cheated on him with his oldest friend, he was devastated and broke it off. He didn't think it was possible to find real love until he meets Angel Reardon, a quirky college student, who makes him believe in second chances. Angel has had a rough couple of years. She's lost both parents and custody of her little sister but she's finally broken free of her abusive ex and is getting her life under control. A sweet, sexy professional hockey player who makes her heart beat faster is icing on the cake. But when life throws Dmitri two unexpected surprises, he's torn between Christmases past, present and future. Can he truly believe in what he has with Angel when his past comes back to haunt him? *Previously released in the USA TODAY bestselling Hockey Holidays Anthology*
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Tasting Her Christmas Cookies
-- EXCERPT: “We are having a Christmas bath scene in the near future,” I said to the camera, “with holiday bath bombs and themed cocktails. But unfortunately, it won’t be tonight. The bake-off starts tomorrow, baking fans!” I looked longingly at the bathtub. Then, making sure the phone was definitely not recording, because I did not need to be that kind of Instagrammer, I took a quick shower. I seriously could not get over how huge the bathroom was. I could live in it. With a toaster and a mini fridge, I would totally be good. After wrapping myself in the robe, I tied a T-shirt around my hair. I had frizzy hair on a good day; keeping my curls manageable was a perpetual struggle. I applied a gingerbread-cookie-scented moisturizer while my videos uploaded. Because I was busy scrolling through my phone and answering comments as I came out of the bathroom, I didn’t notice the half-naked man until he swore. I looked up and screamed. “Help! Help! Stalker!” I shrieked and ineffectively pointed at the stranger. Between the rippling muscles, the washboard abs, and an ass I could bounce a quarter on, I hoped he wasn’t actually here to hurt me, because he could do some damage. Pointing and shrieking wasn’t going to stop him. Fortunately, he looked more shocked and horrified than angry and violent. “Stop screaming!” he bellowed. A freezing breeze blew into the room. It was as if the man had brought the rage of winter into the master suite with him. He looked like it, too, with his ice-blue eyes and silver-white hair. “This is my penthouse. You are not authorized to be here. That makes you the stalker!” I stopped screaming. It clearly wasn’t helping anything. I also couldn’t help but notice that the bathroom wasn’t the only thing that was huge in the room. With him wearing nothing but boxer briefs, I could tell Santa had brought the handsome man a very large Christmas package indeed. The breeze blew in from the balcony, swirling the strange man’s clean and masculine scent around the room. I forced myself to ignore it. “Get out of my house,” Big Christmas Package said flatly. “You get out!” I shrieked. “I’m a bake-off contestant. This isn’t your room!” “What the—” he grabbed his clothes, tugging on his pants. “The Great Christmas Bake-Off? I cannot have Christmas invading every element of my life. This is ridiculous. Christmas is ridiculous. It’s such a stupid, childish holiday.” He punctuated his words by snatching up articles of clothing. “Hey now!” I said, hands on my hips, fear subsiding. “Christmas is never ridiculous. It’s the best holiday ever. And if you can’t see that, well then, you’re just a grinch, aren’t you?” He advanced on me. I was suddenly very aware of how large he was. Christmas package notwithstanding, this dude was tall, broad shouldered, with rippling muscles. He could probably split me in two. Yes, please. “You’re some stupid little baker who never outgrew the childish fantasy of Christmas,” he sneered. My nose was inches away from his chest. He glowered down at me. I was too angry to be aware of his half-naked body. Okay, maybe I was like fifteen percent aware. But the majority of my energy was focused on being offended on behalf of Christmas. “Don’t insult baking,” I said, giving him my best “I want to speak to the manager vibe,” though it was ruined by the fact that I had to crane my neck up to see him and that I was completely naked under the robe. “And never insult Christmas!” His nostrils flared slightly. “Men like you constantly belittle the work that women do to keep cultural traditions like Christmas alive,” I continued, poking him in the chest. “We decorate homes to make them cozy.” Poke. “We cook holiday dinners and bake festive desserts.” Poke. “We host parties that bring families and friends together.” Before I could poke him again, he grabbed my hand in his much-larger one. Then, realizing what he’d done, he quickly released it. “I will not stand for your bad attitude!” I declared. He glared down at me, strong jaw clenched, eyes cold as a frozen lake. “I can’t even believe this,” he finally snarled. He grabbed his briefcase and stormed out, still shirtless. “Oh my God!” Fiona exclaimed, wide-eyed, as she ran into the room. She hugged me then pushed me to sit on the bed. “Are you okay? Who was that? Why was he in here? Someone call the police!” “I knew it! You’re trying to steal my boyfriend,” Amber yelled at me, rushing into the room. “That’s Owen Frost, and he’s mine!” 
GIVEAWAY!
The Nigerian Prince
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: “Ah, Oga,” The shorter of the two addressed me. “Anything for the boys?” Just as I thought. Being one of the richest people in Nigeria meant you always had to shower money on people at every turn. That was the Nigerian mentality. A rich man built and solidified his reputation by the amount of cash he disbursed freely and the regularity with which he did so. Personally, I thought the whole thing was backward, if not a bit uncivilized. But I did like giving and I had excess cash anyway. It wasn’t a bother. I gave them a thousand naira to share and was about to drive off when I remembered the bottles of Sprite I had bought earlier. “Boss, na you oh,” they both hailed as I handed them the drinks. I smiled and drove into the compound of the huge mansion Dipo had leased. As I got out of the car, I noticed that although most of the equipment was set up, nothing important was happening. I recognized some A-list actresses lounging around the pool in sexy bikini outfits. Had they finished shooting? Fear gripped me. Man, I had messed up. Heart in my mouth, I approached a member of the crew, a man probably in his early 30s with bushy eyebrows and a beard. “Good afternoon, sir. Una don finish?” I asked with an outward calm I wasn’t feeling. “For where? Director never ready na,” he responded. He didn’t seem happy about that but I was ecstatic. But I decided not to let my happiness show in case he transferred his aggression about the delay onto me. “Where is he?” I asked. At that, the man turned and gave me an appraising glance. I guess he was trying to determine if I was qualified to see the esteemed Dipo Ajayi. It seemed I passed muster – he jerked his head towards the left side of the building and gave me directions. A few minutes later, I knocked on a door labeled Director. On hearing a muffled response from within, I twisted the knob and stepped into… a den of iniquity. There was really no other way to describe the disturbing sight that greeted my eyes. Through a haze of smoke, I caught sight of half-naked girls lounging on every available piece of furniture in the spacious room. Some had the decency to wear bras but most were naked from the waist up. Everywhere smelt of Igbo, the popular Nigerian weed, and I could detect a whiff of freshly-made amala. Just as I was beginning to wonder if I was in the right room, I heard my name being called. “Ajibade? I was wondering when you were going to show up.” I peered through the smoke and right in the middle of the room, dressed in a colorful dashiki, sat Dipo. He was enjoying a meal of amala and ewedu soup. The dark brown amala made from yam flour, contrasted perfectly with the dark green hue of the mashed ewedu leaves. From the number of empty bottles of beer that lined the table, I could see that he had indulged far too much. He gestured towards me with fingers covered in soup. “Come over here, boy. Don’t stand there like a statue.” I slowly walked towards him and noticed the two bare-breasted girls beside him. The girl on the right was topping up his beer glass while the girl on the left was flagrantly smoking weed from a rolled paper. Granted, I had done some wild things in my life but I had never seen this level of classless debauchery and all at midday. “Won’t you sit down?” the girl smoking asked me, tapping the space beside her. Her eyes were glazed with the effects of the weed. “Or are you shy?” Dipo scoffed as he swallowed a morsel of amala. “Shy? The Deji Ajibade? I don’t think so.” I took the empty seat. “Ladies,” Dipo called out overly loudly. “This is the real estate prince. Next in line to the Imena throne and heir to the Ajibade real estate empire. He wants to try his hand at movie production. I have no idea why,” he announced, muttering the last part to the girl on his right. “Rich people, eh?” he said mockingly, winking at his girls who giggled in response. I stood up abruptly, feeling embarrassed, angry, and disgusted all at once. This wasn’t what I signed up for. “Sit down, Deji. Jé kí àwon girls mi tójú e dáadáa. Let my girls take care of you properly.” I watched impassively as they all perked up at Dipo’s words, each wanting to be the one to ‘take care of me’. Their eyes had taken on an avaricious glint since Dipo had introduced me. My Timberlands, Ralph Lauren polo shirt, and Armani jeans screamed style, and I knew I wore it all well. Also, not to blow my own trumpet, I knew I was probably far better looking than the clients these girls were used to. But smoking weed and having random sex with girls who I strongly suspected were underage was not my scene. It was at times like this that I wondered what drove young girls to sleep with men old enough to be their fathers. It definitely wasn’t because the men in question were handsome. In fact, Dipo was what my friends and I would describe as plain ugly. Maybe that was why he hid behind the cameras, I thought slyly. When I had first seen him, I thought his head was too small for his large body. I had met him multiple times now and my opinion had not changed. In fact, his body looked disproportionate in several ways, as though the Creator had been distracted when forming him; eyes too big and round for such a small head, a crooked nose that made me wonder just how many times it had been broken, and a mouth that was curled in a perpetual sneer. “I’m sorry,” I said, realizing that everyone in the room was looking at me expectantly. I was trying to infuse the right mix of politeness and firmness into my voice. “Thanks for the offer but I have to decline.” “Well, you can’t be tainting your royal blood with these local ashewos (prostitutes). The high-class escorts are more to your taste, eh? I totally understand,” he retorted haughtily. He swallowed another morsel of food and winked at me like we had just shared a secret filthy joke or something. His statement irritated me further and I gave him a look of distaste. “I’ll be outside,” I said quietly and headed for the door. I had had enough. It seemed the rumors were true after all, I thought as I took in a gulp of fresh air and let the sun warm my face. Dipo had proven without a doubt that talent, no matter how great, was a poor substitute for character. 
GIVEAWAY!
The Lonely Lover
-- EXCERPT: She took my hand to her face; she was wearing a mask like mine. I tried to caress her, to get to know her body but she firmly held my hand. – “A choir of maidens offers immense happiness.” She said. I got so excited that I could not hold back when I felt the brief touch of her hand, which did not seem a human touch at all. My sex got erect craving that silky touch. I could feel her breathing next to my glans, but she did not grab it into her mouth. She caressed it in such a way that I could barely feel her touch. The imaginary touch felt even better than her actual touch. I guessed she would first caress it with her hand. My breathing invited her to continue torturing me in such unbelievable and enjoyable way. I was standing in nothingness, in the dark; it was like returning to the motherly womb. It was an experience beyond all senses. Then, Love and Death by Grien came to my mind; I was the maid who brushed her hair off her face, and she was the death that touched her gently, taking off the silken cloth wrapped around her beautiful body. However that was not a macabre dance of death. That was The Rite of Spring. “Having a lover is fair. A person who truly loves like I do, knows life is like a wheel…” as the song goes. That was what I called life; that masked woman knew exactly what I meant without even knowing her. She held my penis tight and led me to bed. I felt like Lancelot fleeing from bed, but actually I was not trying to escape. I was totally surrendered to pleasure. I let myself be dominated for the first time. I was able to free my mind as never before. I felt out of my body; as if my other self were looking at me enjoying the higher peaks of pleasure and allowing myself to be led by a woman I have never seen before, a woman I could just imagine and feel. I imagined she was the most beautiful and sensual woman in the world. She helped me sit on the bed. She let me touch her hips. I traced the curves her body. She was not a young woman. She had a curvy shaped butt and ample thighs, though thicker than I had thought. Her belly was fleshy but tight and muscular. I could feel the gummy texture of silicone in her breasts. She is the kind of woman who fights against time, who hates to grow old; like a hymn to life. The skin on her cheeks was soft and moisturized; well cared for. She had wide lips, which were also perfectly moisturized. She played with one of my fingers and sucked it, so I got even more excited. I could feel her mask again while she sucked my finger. She also wanted to go back to that strange world in which feelings are multiplied. My hand reached her sex; it was like ripe fruit. I could feel she had applied some lube. Then, she leaned over the bed looking for something; she turned off the device. She held my sex in her hand again; then she rubbed some icy-hot gel which drove me mad. A second later I had the feeling that my whole body was my sex; that my penis was not just an organ. The exacerbated pleasure that she made me feel a while before had spread to every inch of my skin; throughout my body. She kissed me on the lips, like The Lovers, by Magritte; we kissed without been able to see our faces. She brushed her lips with mine then she sucked my lips gently. She dipped her tongue past my lips, caressing my tongue with hers. – “Love makes you intrepid.” She whispered in my ear. I became aware of the background music again. She gently pushed me and I lay down face up. She climbed on top of my face spreading her sex. – “I’m a slave to your love. But I don’t mind because you make me feel safe.” She said. I grabbed her butt with both hands. She gently put a cushion under my head to raise it until my mouth was in perpendicular communion with her sex. She then grabbed my sex and it burst into hot and cold flames; there was ice and fire in her hand. Meanwhile I ate her soul in raw flesh. She moaned when she got her pussy eaten like no other; I licked it, I sucked it, I sipped it, I blew it, I bit it, I ate it all. I tried to get hold of her vaginal scent; unfortunately she had camouflaged it with lube. I slowly slid my tongue in and out of her vagina, and then I ran it back up to her clit; trying to drive her wild. Her body fit comfortably to offer me her short and wide clit which was not that easy to hold with my tongue. I took her clit between my lips and sucked it. I felt her shudder deliciously. My fingers played with her lips near the anus. She was really enjoying it. – “The sun comes up. The moon goes down; just like fortune goes around.” She muttered. She could not contain herself and began to thrust her pelvis back and forth. I stuck my fingertip in her anus. – “You make me melt like ice.” She shouted. I sensed some delicious scent coming from the most intimate part of her body. She released my penis and concentrated on herself; she covered her mouth to muffle her cry. Her pelvic thrusts began to slow down as contractions faded away. She began to recover her breath. She was covered in a thin layer of sweat, which made her seem even more adorable. – “Oh fortune!!” She laughed. “Oh fortune!!” 
GIVEAWAY!
MEET THE AUTHOR
Andie M. Long is author of the popular Supernatural Dating Agency series amongst many others.
She lives in Sheffield with her son and long-suffering partner.
When not being partner, mother, writer, or having a nervous breakdown, she can usually be found on Facebook or walking her whippet, Bella.
Links:
Andie’s Reader Hangout: https://www.facebook.com/
Mailing List: (get a free ebook of DATING SUCKS on sign-up):http://www.
INSTAGRAM: @authorinpyjamas
FACEBOOK PAGE: http://www.facebook.com/
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