From New York Times bestselling author Laura Kaye, comes the second standalone title in her brand, new Warrior Fight Club series, FIGHTING FOR WHAT’S HIS. Preorder your copy of FIGHTING FOR WHAT’S HIS, and join the Warrior Fight Club world today!

About FIGHTING FOR WHAT’S HIS (Warrior Fight Club #2, 9/7/18):

This fight club has one rule: you must be a veteran…

Resisting her only makes him want her more…

Private investigator Billy Parrish is good at three things—fighting, investigating, and sex. MMA training with the other vets in the Warrior Fight Club keeps his war-borne demons at bay—mostly, and one night stands ensure no one gets too close. But then his best friend from the Army Rangers calls in a favor.

Shayna Curtis is new to town, fresh out of grad school, and full of hope for the future. With a new job starting in a month, she’s grateful when her brother arranges a place for her to stay while she apartment hunts. But she never expected her roommate to be so brooding. Or so sexy.

Billy can’t wait for Shay to leave—because the longer she’s there, the more he wants her in his bed. To stay. He can’t have her—that much he knows. But when fight club stops taking off the edge, Billy lets down his guard…and starts fighting for what’s his.

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A note from Laura Kaye:

I’m so excited to share Fighting for What’s His, because this story is such a sweet, sexy, and funny roommates-to-lovers and brother’s best friend story! Need more to pique your interest? Enjoy this excerpt:

“I got the bandages you asked for. I’ll grab them,” Shayna said.

Without looking at her, Billy nodded once. She heard the frustrated breath he released as she left the room. When she came back up, he was waiting at the top of the steps. “I got it from here, thanks.”

“I can help—”

“I’ve got it,” he said again, not quite meeting her gaze.

“You helped me, so why can’t I help—”

“Shayna.”

“Billy.” She understood how guys like Billy and her brother thought. She’d been around enough Rangers to know they hated needing help. But that didn’t mean they didn’t actually need it. “You won’t be able to reach the back of your shoulder. Let me help.”

He let out a harsh breath, then turned away. “Fine.” He disappeared into his bedroom at the back of the hallway.

She followed the rectangle of light spilling from the master bathroom and found him gathering supplies from the medicine cabinet. For a moment, she just stood in the doorway, because she could feel the anger rolling off of him. “I’m sorry if carrying my stupid desk made your shoulder worse.”

He slanted her a look, and it was clear that he was attempting to beat back his frustration. “It didn’t, so don’t worry.”

“I’m kinda predisposed to think things are my fault, so it can’t be helped.”

He frowned, and this time all the frustration bled from his expression. “Why do you say that?”

Because my idiocy and stubbornness killed my brother. That was what she thought, but what she said was, “I don’t know. Old habit.”

Billy shook his head. “Well, this isn’t your fault, Shayna. And I’d be willing to bet that whatever else you’re worrying about isn’t either.” He closed the toilet lid and sat heavily, and Shayna was glad that he looked away, because his words had unleashed a sting at the backs of her eyes. “I hate that I need help with this. Not that you’re the one helping.”

There went her belly again. “Just pretend I’m Ryan,” she said in a quiet voice.

He smirked up at her. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you probably wouldn’t care if a buddy was patching you up, right?”

He shrugged with one big shoulder. “Anyone ever told you that you can be too damn perceptive?”

“I am a photographer, after all. It’s literally my job to notice things.”

“Mine, too,” he said, tossing an appreciative glance over his shoulder. Their gazes collided. Held.

Made Shayna’s heart beat harder. “So, do I need to do anything special or just clean, bandage, tape?” she asked as her gaze scanned over his burn scars.

“Put antibiotic cream on before you bandage. Otherwise, that’s it. And be sure to pat rather than wipe. Because of the movement of the joint, this spot is the one area that has struggled to heal.”

She washed her hands and ran warm water over a wash cloth, then did as he said. “Let me know if I hurt you.”

“You won’t,” he said. “I can’t feel much where its scarred. My nerves are mostly shot back there.”

Shayna debated whether humor would help or hurt the situation, then went for it. “Well, in case you have one left, I don’t want to get on it.”

One beat passed, then another. Billy chuckled, and the sound did funny things to her chest. “Appreciate that, smart ass.”

She put a playful sauciness in her voice as she said, “You noticing my ass, Billy Parrish?”

He didn’t answer, even though his mental debate as to how to respond seemed to ring loudly, making her laugh as she tended to him.

“This is pretty much the same thing I had to do when I got the tattoo on my shoulder,” she said, smoothing antibiotic cream over the rent skin. She grimaced as she did so, not because she found it unpleasant, but because she worried about hurting him despite his reassurances.

“How many tattoos do you have?” he asked in a low voice.

The question reminded her that he’d seen one of them—her most intimate one, and heat filtered into her cheeks as she positioned the bandage. “Four. The one on my hip, and three on my back and shoulders. Once you have one, it’s kinda addicting.”

“Is that right?”

“Mmhmm,” she murmured, concentrating on the tape. “I think the bottom piece of tape might need to wrap under your arm a little to hold it in place. Is that okay?”

“Whatever you say, Goldilocks.”

“That’ll be Dr. Goldilocks to you, ya git.” She smoothed the tape down.

He chuckled again. “What’s with the colorful cursing?”

She grinned. “I grew up with brothers. Am I offending your sensitive ears, Ranger Parrish?”

“Hell, no,” he said. “I’m a fan.”

“There,” she said, surveying her work. Satisfaction warmed her belly, because she’d gotten to help him. And he’d called her pretty. And said he was a fan of the crazy crap that came out of her mouth. “All done.”

He rose and peered in the mirror. “Perfect, Shayna,” he said, their gazes meeting in the mirror.

And she could’ve sworn he said, “Perfect Shayna,” without the pause between. Especially when he looked at her like he was doing right now.

As if she had on far too many clothes. And Jesus did she suddenly agree.

“Any time you need patched up, consider me your girl,” she managed, still meeting the heat in those brown eyes.

Brown eyes whose reflection looked her up and down. “Don’t you mean woman? Consider you my woman?” he teased, throwing her earlier words back at her. “You know, when I need patched up.”

Shayna released a shaky breath. “Yeah. Exactly.”

He gave a slow nod, then turned to look at her directly, bringing them toe to toe. “Then, consider me your man when you need muscle. Now, how about I go move your car and help you build a desk?”

AND GRAB BOOK 1, FIGHTING FOR EVERYTHING, right now!

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“The always amazing Kaye is kicking off a terrific new contemporary romance series that centers around a wounded warrior’s fight club. Kaye does a beautiful job exploring the fallout from war and PTSD as various characters struggle to cope in their own ways. The love story between Noah Cortez and his childhood friend Kristina Moore is both compelling and touching, for the obstacles in their way loom large. A truly memorable read!” ~ RT Book Reviews

About Laura Kaye:

Laura is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty books in contemporary and erotic romance and romantic suspense, including the Blasphemy, Hard Ink, and Raven Riders series. Growing up, Laura’s large extended family believed in the supernatural, and family lore involving angels, ghosts, and evil-eye curses cemented in Laura a life-long fascination with storytelling and all things paranormal. Laura also writes historical fiction as the NYT bestselling author, Laura Kamoie. She lives in Maryland with her husband and two daughters, and appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.

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From the national bestselling author of Before We Were Strangers, Swear on this Life, and Wish You Were Here comes a powerful story of two people who spend years denying their scientifically-proven chemistry.

Penny spends her afternoons sitting outside a sandwich shop, surrounded by ghosts. Fourteen years ago, this shop was her childhood dance studio—and she was a dancer on the rise. Now she’s a suburban housewife, dreading the moment her son departs for MIT, leaving her with an impeccably-decorated McMansion and a failing marriage. She had her chance at wild, stars-in-her-eyes happiness, but that was a lifetime ago. After The Kiss. Before The Decision.

The Kiss was soulful. Magical. Earth-shattering, And it was all for a free gift card. Asked to participate in a psych study that posed the question, “Can you have sexual chemistry without knowing what the other person looks like?” Penny agreed to be blindfolded, make polite conversation with a total stranger, and kiss him. She never expected The Kiss to change her life forever and introduce her to Gavin: tattooed, gorgeous, and spontaneous enough to ask her out seconds after the blindfolds came off.

For a year, they danced between friendship and romance—until Penny made The Decision that forced them to settle for friendship. Now, fourteen years later, both of their lives are about to radically change—and it’s his turn to decide what will become of their once-in-a-lifetime connection.

Renée Carlino is a screenwriter and the bestselling author of Sweet Thing, Nowhere But Here, After the Rain, Before We Were Strangers, Swear on This Life, and Wish You Were Here. She grew up in Southern California and lives in the San Diego area with her husband and two sons. To learn more, visit ReneeCarlino.

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WE SAT AT the bar of the pub as I continued to stare at him, a mixture of curiosity and fear boiling in my gut. He ordered a beer, and I ordered Chardonnay with beer-cheese pretzels.

“That’s different for you.”

I usually stuck to salads, an old habit from my dancing days, but I had lost a lot of weight in the past few weeks. “Don’t think you can distract me so easily. Tell me what’s going on. Did you break up with Briel?”

He took a long pull from his beer and stared straight ahead. “Don’t be mad, okay?”

I stared at him, wordlessly, the fear fully boiling over. And then he dropped the bomb on me.

The next few minutes were hazy as Gavin, the bar, and my glass of Chardonnay swam together before my eyes. I tried to reach for the glass but found it suddenly empty. That’s weird. It was full a minute ago. I motioned to the bartender for another, then poured it down my throat in a steady stream.

I was breathing fast when I slammed the glass on the bar, shattering my fugue state—and bringing Gavin into sharp relief. I was reeling.

“Shit, Penny! Be careful. You almost shattered your glass!” He practically yelled.

“You’re moving to fucking France?!” I yelled back.

The bartender jerked his head toward the door, and within minutes Gavin was forcibly dragging me out of the bar by the arm. I slipped out of his grip and stood in the middle of the parking lot, seething, very much drunk, and fully freaking out. “So, do you love her?”

“Briel? What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer me.”

“Fuck, Penny. That’s not what this is about. I don’t really have a choice here, though, do I?”

“You always have a choice.”

He glared at me. “That’s fucking rich, coming from you.”

I shook my head vigorously. “Totally different situation.”

“Like hell it was.”

“When do you leave?”

“In two days.”

“WHAT?!”

He ran up and shook me by the shoulders. “Jesus, if I knew you were gonna take it like this, I wouldn’t have told you in public. Pull yourself together.”

I screamed at the top of my lungs and then made a guttural sound as I hunched over and held my stomach.

“First Milo, now you?”

“Don’t you put that on me. I’m not the reason why you’re about to be alone and unhappy.”

“Fuck you, Gavin!”

“Fuck you, Penny!”

He didn’t turn around—he just stormed off in typical Gavin fashion: petulant, recalcitrant, and a total shithead. People in the parking lot were gawking, appalled, covering their children’s ears. But no one made a move to leave. When Gavin and I got like this, we were like a car wreck by the side of the road, impossible to look away from.

Gavin slid into his ’67 Chevelle and fired up the engine. I hated that car because he loved it so much. It had a black leather interior, a flawless paint job, and tinted windows, like it belonged to some kind of celebrity—which Gavin definitely wasn’t. It was his only possession worth a dime, besides his garage, a few guitars, and a Zippo lighter he swore River Phoenix had given to him at the Viper Room the night of his death.

I ran to the exit and stood in the middle of the lane, daring him to run me over as he ripped out of his parking spot and raced around the corner toward the exit. “We’re not done talking, you coward!”

He slowed but let the car idle while he revved the engine. “I dare you!” I yelled.

He stuck his head out the window, leaned his tattooed arm against the door, and actually grinned at me.

So smug. What a dick.

“You look ridiculous standing there. Get out of the way!”

I walked toward his window and noticed that his demeanor had completely softened. There was even humor in his expression. He wanted me to block him, and he knew I would.

“Can’t you have a proper fight without running away?”

“You were lecturing me, yet again. I have a mother, thank you. You have a child you can order around . . . and a husband you can control. I don’t need your shit, okay? Don’t you realize that I’m freaking out, too? I’m going through the hardest time of my life, and you’re making this all about you.”

“You’ve been going through the hardest time of your life for the whole fourteen years I’ve known you.”

“And as my friend, do you think you’re helping my situation right now?” he spat back, his mood shifting once again. “Don’t even. Don’t you dare act like I haven’t been a good friend to you. You’ve put me in the most awkward situations, you’ve bolted on me, you’ve stopped speaking to me for weeks at a time, but still . . . I make myself available to you. I’ve been here for you, always. And now you’re moving thousands of miles away when I need you most?”

He shook his head slowly. “That’s right, Penny. You have been here. You’ve been right by my side, lecturing me, rolling your eyes at me, pressuring me to get serious about Briel, all so I could go and fuck up my life even more while you sit in your nice house, with your KitchenAid mixer, your Oracle espresso machine, and your fucking yellow Lab.”

“Don’t talk about Buckley that way! He’s a good dog. And you love our espresso machine.”

Gavin’s lips turned up at the corners. “You’re so messed up, Penny. You definitely have a chemical imbalance.”

I pointed to my chest, shocked. “Me? Look who’s talking? Please, pull into a parking space. I don’t want to stand here anymore, making a spectacle of myself. Some parent from Milo’s school is probably watching this whole thing. There’ll be whispers at the next PTA meeting. Is that what

you want for me?”

“Don’t pretend like you go to PTA meetings. And look around; everyone’s gone. It’s just us.”

He was right. The parking lot had cleared out. Gavin was sitting in his idling car while I was standing outside his window like a moron.

“I resent you for saying I pushed Briel on you. And yes, for your information, I do go to PTA meetings.”

“You encouraged me to go out with her, then you needled me about it until I finally did.”

“You were horribly depressed! I thought you were gonna jump off a bridge. I told you to go out with her and to have some fun. She’s a nice girl. I didn’t say turn your life upside down, pack up, and run away with a foreigner! You’re thirty-six-years old, Gavin. I think it’s time you grew up.” I shook my head. “God, I can’t believe you.”

He jerked his head back and squinted. “Great band but not totally PC to call someone a foreigner, Penny.” His voice was low.

“Are you going to become a French citizen now, too? You better brush up on your French.”

“Everyone speaks English there.”

“No, they don’t! People always say that, but you’ll see. They might be able to communicate to a degree, but it’s not conversational English.”

Why am I still standing here, screaming about French people?

I needed to tie this conversation up in a pretty little bow. I needed closure. I couldn’t say good-bye to my best friend without it. He was leaving, going to France to chase a girlfriend

I knew he didn’t love. I was losing him. And it was my fault. We couldn’t leave each other angry.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said. “Try not to make me feel worse about my situation, though I know that’s hard for you.” “Your situation? It’s always your situation. What about my situation?” He just stared at me. He was hurting; I could tell. But I was hurting, too. “Listen—”

“What?”

“Don’t interrupt me.” I cleared my throat. “Gavin . . . it’s just . . . I’m going to fucking miss you, okay? I’m having a hard time right now, and life is about to get a whole lot harder the second you leave.” I started to cry.

He hated it when I cried, but he didn’t ask me, “Why are you crying?” He never had to ask. He took a deep breath in through his nose, then released it forcefully in a burst of frustration. A second later his car stalled. He put it in gear, got out, and swooped me up in a bear hug. “Penny, Penny, Penny . . . my crazy girl,” he said as he rubbed my back. I was wiping my snot-covered nose on his black T-shirt and he didn’t care one bit.

He held me for a long time. When he started to release me, I said, “It’s not enough.”

He picked me up again and squeezed me harder. Tucking his face into my neck, he said, “It’ll never be enough.”

“Why?” I said, fully bawling against his shoulder. He brushed a strand of my hair, damp with tears, behind my ear. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to be with your family now.”

I felt the lump in my throat growing. “You don’t have to constantly remind me that I have a family. I love my family. But you’re a part of it, too, and that’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m fucking crying in the parking lot in front of Bank of America.”

He pulled away and we stood there, two feet apart, staring at each other, as if we were committing each other to memory. Allowing one another to really look at and take the other person in, stripped down to our bones, without scrutiny.

“Is this it?” I asked.

“This is it, P.”

I shook my head, leaned up on my toes, and wrapped my arms around him. We hugged again for a long time before he got into his car. I tried to hold on to the feeling of having him in my arms, or maybe I was trying to hold on to the feeling of being held in his.

He started the engine as I stood there, waiting for him to leave.

“We’ll talk on the phone or email or something, okay?”

“Okay,” I told him.

He swallowed nervously. Looking up at me from the car window, he said, “I wish it were you, Penny.”

That was my bow. He knew I needed it, good or bad—no matter what feelings it shook loose from our long and complicated history together.

Renée Carlino is a screenwriter and bestselling author of contemporary women’s novels and new adult fiction. Her books have been featured in national publications, including USA TODAY, Huffington Post, Latina magazine, and Publisher’s Weekly. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two sons, and their sweet dog June. When she’s not at the beach with her boys or working on her next project, she likes to spend her time reading, going to concerts, and eating dark chocolate. Learn more at www.reneecarlino.com

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The Left Side Of Perfect – Release Day – August 30

For better or for worse,’til death do us part . . .

The better captured me; she’s who stole my heart.

And made me realize I couldn’t live without this woman.

The worse of her took my breath away–kicked me when I was down and twisted me into a million knots.

When I first met her, I thought she was someone I would never see again.

The second time I ran into her, it was a random coincidence.

The third?

I didn’t know it at the time, but she was the girl I was going to marry.

But life isn’t always perfect. You have to take the better and the worse–even if it means giving her up, having her slip between your fingers, and letting her walk away.

I’m getting married.

This is forever, ’til death do us part.

The Right Side Of Forever – Release Day August 31

In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish . . .

It sounds so simple, to love someone unconditionally.

To give them your heart.

So why is she slowly eating away at my soul with every unanswered phone call, every unread text, and every door left unopened?

She said yes, and yet, in order for her to be with me . . . I need to let her go.

READ CHAPTER 1 OF THE LEFT SIDE OF PERFECT HERE

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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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Lachlan’s Protégé by V.F. Mason is AVAILABLE NOW!
She never knew nightmares. Until she became mine.

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She never knew nightmares.
Until she became mine.

She was a ballerina.
He was a serial killer.

She ran away from him.
He caught her.

She begged for mercy.
He gave her none.

She was an angel.
He was a monster.

She wanted to escape.
He wanted to destroy her.

They were at war.
And only one of them would win.

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About the Author:
V.F.Mason always loved reading books and had quite a few fights with her momma over the genre she liked (romance, duh!) She studied filmmaking and thought that would feed her desire for stories, but that didn’t happen. Finally, when she was tired of all those voices in her head, she sat down and wrote a book. It was a huge decision to make and she thanks her friends and family for supporting her in it. When she is not writing, she can be found with her friends doing all sorts of crazy things or reading recent romance books that were written by her favorite authors.

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From New York Times bestselling author Meghan March comes a brand new saga of forbidden love and second chances.

A Riscoff and a Gable can never live happily ever after. Our family feud is the stuff of legends.

Ten years ago, Whitney Gable caught me off guard with her long legs and grab-you-by-the-balls blue eyes.

I didn’t know or care what her name was.

Like any Riscoff worth the family name, I went after what I wanted. We burned like a flash fire until she married another man.

She hates me, and she should.

I objected on her wedding day.

Now she’s home, with those same long legs and man-eater stare, but there’s no ring on her finger.

They say a Riscoff and a Gable can never live happily ever after . . . but I’m not done with Whitney Gable.

I’ll never be done with her.

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Guilty until proven innocent.

That’s the way the world works, right?

I’m tired of being convicted without evidence, all because my last name is Gable.

The Riscoffs might own this town, but I’m done following their rules.

If only I could forget just how easily Lincoln Riscoff can drag me under his spell.

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Whitney Gable is the kind of woman you fight to the death to protect.

To keep.

To cherish.

I’ve finally learned my lesson, and it’s time to prove I’m the man who’s worthy of her.

I don’t care what it takes, because failure is not an option.

No matter who or what stands in our way—this time, she’ll be mine forever

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A New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels, Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.

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To get the inside scoop on a daily basis, search Meghan March’s Runaway Readers on Facebook and join the fun.

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It’s release day for J. Lynn Bailey’s PEONY RED. Check it out and grab your copy today!

Title: Peony Red

Author: J. Lynn Bailey

Genre: Contemporary Romance

About Peony Red:

Alex Fisher hasn’t been able to find her stride since the death of her husband three years ago. She’s out of a job, out of time, and running on fumes. So, when she receives two postcards from Granite Harbor, Maine, inviting her for a visit, she takes it as a sign for a start fresh.

For game warden Eli Young, life is simpler when he’s exploring the back roads of Maine. In the north woods, he doesn’t have to deal with town politics or his soon-to-be ex-wife.

When Alex makes Eli an offer he can’t refuse, he should say no. He should walk away. Except he can’t. Something about her leaves him tangled.

A dark storm is brewing in the small coastal town, and everyone is on edge when word spreads quickly about a young woman who has gone missing.

When a picture of Alex shows up at a gruesome scene, no one is prepared for what will happen next.

Eli wants to save Alex, but she has to save herself.

The question isn’t, Can she? It’s, Will she?

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Exclusive Excerpt:

Eli scoots closer, his look hooded. “Get under the covers.”

I obey. I know what he needs because I feel the same carnal need. Maybe we should just have sex, and all this would go away. I want him to slide on top of me, and I want to feel him between my legs.

Hesitantly, with the blanket between us, he carefully brushes the strands of my hair out of my face and then slides his hand down my neck. My body is fully aware of his presence, and I want nothing more than to feel him.

My breathing quickens.

With a layer of feathers between his hand and my body, his hand grazes over my breasts, my nipples knowing full well the seriousness of this situation as they tingle and expand, creating an ache.

His hand slides down across my stomach, and his eyes ask if this is all right.

I know this is not Kyle but Eli. Someone new. The only other man I’ve allowed to touch me like this. The feathers provide the buffer that I think we both need.

My lips part, and I lick them because they, too, desperately need attention. My legs fall to the sides, providing Eli with space that he needs and me with more want.

I need to resist him.
I need not to want him.
I need to gain clarity in my mind of what this looks like, this situation we’re both agreeing to, but I can’t. Because all I see is his face, which is full of concern, but I think it’s also something he can’t stop.

Eli’s hand stops right before he reaches the center of my body, the part that has only been claimed by Kyle. It isn’t because Eli wants to; it’s because he has to.

“I can’t do this with you, Alex.”

About the Author:

Lynn Bailey has loved to write since she learned to read, around the second grade. When she isn’t running after her children, watching COPS, or on the hunt for her next Laffy Taffy joke, you can probably find her holed up in her writing room feverishly working on her next book. She lives in Northern California with her family.

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Today we have the cover reveal for THE REBEL, book 1 in The Rockwell Legacy, a passionate new series from USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Bernard. Preorder your copy today!

Title: THE REBEL
Author: Jennifer Bernard
Series: The Rockwell Legacy
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release: September 4

About THE REBEL

What would you do for love?

Ever the rebel, Kai Rockwell happily risks his life on a daily basis as a rescue paramedic. What he refuses to deal with? His impossibly stubborn father, “Mad Max” Rockwell, who runs the historic Rocky Peak Lodge deep in the Cascade Mountains with an iron fist.

But when his family faces an unexpected threat at Rocky Peak—in the form of a beautiful woman—Kai knows it’s time to go home.

Fiercely protective nurse Nicole Davidson would do almost anything to take care of her disabled sister–even accept a hefty offer to ask a few harmless questions at the charming old lodge where she’s working. Until the outrageously sexy Kai Rockwell shows up and sets everything on fire—most especially her.

Equally determined, equally passionate about protecting their families, Kai and Nicole don’t know if they should be enemies or lovers—or both. All they know is they can’t resist each other…no matter the price.

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About Jennifer Bernard

Jennifer Bernard is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance. Her books have been called “an irresistible reading experience” full of “quick wit and sizzling love scenes.” A graduate of Harvard and former news promo producer, she left big city life in Los Angeles for true love in Alaska, where she now lives with her husband and stepdaughters. She still hasn’t adjusted to the cold, so most often she can be found cuddling with her laptop and a cup of tea. No stranger to book success, she also writes erotic novellas under a naughty secret name that she’s happy to share with the curious.

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We are just 3 weeks away from the release of TEN REASONS TO STAY by Candace Knoebel–check out the teaser below and add TEN REASONS TO STAY to your TBR today!

About TEN REASONS TO STAY

Available August 30th, 2018

One day a week—Thursdays—my husband and I could do whatever or whomever we pleased.

Protection was non-negotiable.

And no matter what, we had to be home by midnight.

Jack was the one who wanted an open marriage, but we were supposed to keep things simple. No strings. No commitments. It seemed so easy…until it wasn’t.

Devilishly handsome Cole Blackwater was only supposed to be a fling, but everything about him made me feel alive. Wanted. Seen. When I realized he was my husband’s boss, I should have broken things off right then…but I didn’t.

One day a week, I could pretend that I was his and he was mine…until Cole wanted more.

But how could I decide between the man I’d promised to love, honor, and cherish, and the man who tempted me to break every single vow I’d made?

TEN REASONS TO STAY releases August 30th–add it to your TBR today!

TEN REASONS TO STAY on Goodreads

About CANDACE KNOEBEL

Candace Knoebel is a hopeless romantic with an affinity for whiskey and good music. Her love of words began when she met the boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs. She’s a self-proclaimed Lost Girl. Words are her mirror.

With two completed series, her work ranges from paranormal to contemporary, all centered heavily around romance. Currently she lives in Florida with her husband and two children, and has just completed her thirteenth novel, The Taste of Her Words.

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