Saturday, 7 June 2014

Reward of Three by Kelly Jamieson Pre Order Blast

Reward of Three by Kelly Jamieson Pre Order Blast

pReward of Three

Title: Reward of Three

Author: Kelly Jamieson

Release Date: July 8th, 2014

Sometimes the darkest nights produce the brightest stars.
Rule of Three, Book 3
When the pregnancy test turns positive, Kassidy, Dag and Chris are thrilled they’re going to be parents at last. Their polyamorous relationship has blossomed, and there’s more than enough love to go around for their long-awaited little “Belly Bean”.
Then reality sets in. Dag grew up without a father. Does that mean he’s too damaged to be a good role model? Kassidy is at a critical point in her career, working long hours on a high-profile project. And Chris gets a disappointing—but not exactly unexpected—reaction when he contacts his parents with the news.
As worry nibbles at the edges of their happiness, fate is poised to tear it to shreds, leaving a loving foundation three years in the making cracking under the weight of grief and guilt. And the trio in the fight of their lives to repair their unconventional bonds.
Warning: Our sexy threesome is back for their happy ending. Keep extra tissues on hand for tears, a fan on standby for hot sex, and a post-it note to remind you to take a deep breath. It’s time to find out if the juice is really worth the squeeze.
Dag slid out of bed on one side of Kassidy long moments later, dragging a hand over her ass. “I gotta get cleaned up. Wanna come jump in the shower, babe?”
“Mmm. In a minute.”
“I’m coming,” Chris murmured from her other side. He left the bed too and Kassidy heard the water turn on in the bathroom attached to their bedroom, their quiet voices, then the sound of the heavy glass door on the big shower thunking closed.
She smiled into the pillow, relaxed and satisfied and so very happy. She’d made her two guys so very happy also, and that added to her own joy. She loved giving them this special, precious gift. The baby. Not the ménage sex.
She giggled at her own thought as she lazily rolled over in bed and stretched.
She pushed the covers aside and crawled out of bed, then sauntered across the thick rug toward the bathroom. She paused in the open doorway and let her gaze linger on the shapes of the two men, naked behind the steamed-up glass door. Even though fog obscured her vision somewhat, their bodies were beautiful, Dag’s skin a little darker, Chris’s muscles a little bulkier. She watched as Dag reached for Chris and pulled him up against him, their mouths joining. When they moved apart, Chris picked up a bottle of body wash and squeezed some into his hands. Kassidy’s breath stuck in her throat as Chris reached for Dag’s cock and languidly stroked it with both hands. Dag’s dark head fell back and one hand flattened on the fogged glass door.
God, that was so beautiful.
She approached the shower, wanting now to join them.
She pushed on the door and slipped into the steamy enclosure, the shower big enough for three they’d had built when they renovated their big master suite after purchasing the house. “Hey, I want in on this,” she complained, inserting herself between the men.
Chris grinned down at her, his eyelashes dark and wet, water running over his sleek shoulders. “Just washing him up, sweetheart. You can come between us any time.”
Dag’s hands landed on her waist and his lips touched her shoulder. “Yeah. What he said.”
The three of them began to wash each other, slick, soapy hands everywhere, Kassidy giggling at a ticklish touch or a nip of lips on her neck.
“So, Chris,” Dag murmured. “You over your Madonna-whore complex? Or do I get Kass all to myself for the next nine months?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Chris said mildly. He cupped one soapy breast. “I just had a moment.”
Kassidy giggled. “It was kind of funny.”
Now Chris gave her wet ass a little slap and she jolted, laughing again. “Hey!”
“You laughing at me?” he growled, leaning in and kissing her lips.
“With you, big guy,” Dag said. “We’re laughing with you.”
“It was an understandable reaction,” Kassidy added.
Chris’s lips curved up and his eyes gleamed. “No way in hell I’m going nine months without having sex with you, sweetheart.”
“Glad to hear that.” She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her wet body to his. Behind her, Dag’s hard, slick body pushed against her butt and as Chris cupped her face in his hands, slanted his head and came in for a deeper kiss, Dag’s arms went around both of them to Chris’s ass. “Very glad to hear that.”
“When are we going to tell people?”
Chris looked up from the newspaper he was reading at Kassidy’s question. Saturday morning they lounged around in the great room attached to the kitchen, drinking coffee—well, Dag drank his usual Coke—reading the newspaper and checking sports scores on TV. “Aren’t you supposed to wait a while?” he asked.
“Yeah. Most people wait until the first trimester is over. In case there are problems. I guess once you’re past that, it’s more likely you won’t lose the baby.”
“Okay, so we wait three months,” he said.
“I can’t wait that long!” Kassidy cried. Chris exchanged a grin with Dag.
“Babe,” Dag said. “It’s not that long.”
“It is!” She sighed. “Okay. I can wait to tell people at work.” She and Chris worked together at RBM Technologies. “Acquaintances. But I can’t wait to tell my parents. And our friends.” She gave them big brown eyes that pleaded with them.
As if they could say no to her.
“Sweetheart, if you want to tell them, that’s fine,” Chris said cautiously.
“What’s the point of waiting?” she demanded. “If something goes wrong, we’re going to tell them then anyway. It’s not going to make dealing with it any easier.”
“True that.” Dag nodded. “Let’s just tell the world then.”
“No. We don’t need to tell everyone. Um, we didn’t talk about what we’d tell people…you know, people at work, or acquaintances. They’re going to assume the baby is Chris’s.” She bit her lip.
Dag nodded. “Yeah. I know that.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what people think. All that matters is what we think. And we know that our baby is going to have two fathers.”


Rule of Three: GR // Amazon // Kobo // Barnes and Noble

Rhythm of Three: GR // Amazon // Kobo // Barnes and Noble


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About the Author
Kelly Jamieson Kelly Jamieson writes romances with heat that's sweet. Her writing has been described as “emotionally complex”, “sweet and satisfying” and “blisteringly sexy”. If she can stop herself from reading or writing, she loves to cook. She has shelves of cookbooks that she reads at length. She also enjoys gardening in the summer, and in the winter she likes to read gardening magazines and seed catalogues (there might be a theme here...) She also loves shopping, especially for clothes and shoes. But her family takes precedence over everything else (yes, even writing). She has two teenage children who are the best kids in the world, not that she’s biased, and a wonderful husband who does loads of laundry while she plays on the computer writing stories. Facebook | Goodreads | Kelly's Website | Twitter      

Hot Sale

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Title: Ravage Me (Ravage MC #1)
Author: Ryan Michele
Genre: MC Romance
goodreads-badge-add-plus-d700d4d3e3c0b346066731ac07b7fe47   Synopsis   pRavage MeAfter spending the last two years stuck behind bars for a crime she didn’t commit, Harlow ‘Princess’ Gavelson’s time inside has finally come to an end, and she’s ready for revenge. Unfortunately, being the daughter to the Vice President of the Ravage Motorcycle Club cuts into her plans, as orders must be followed. Trying to settle back into this life is proving difficult when the tables are turned and the woman who framed her is out for blood. Lucky for Princess, growing up in a MC has taught her how to hold her own. After spending years in hell overseas, Donavon ‘Cruz’ came home to lose the very thing he went into hell for, sending him to the darkest moments of his life. Joining Ravage two years ago was his safe haven, and he protects his family at all costs. When a dark-haired bombshell struts into the club’s shop, he’s caught off guard but immediately knows she’s the one he’d do anything for. Tough as nails, and taking no crap from anyone, he’s captivated by a woman who could handle this life. Trying to meet the needs of the MC business and follow his heart proves to be difficult when the two collide, and lives are at stake. Can these two find a way to be together, or will the needs of Ravage cost them everything, including their lives? *Contains mature content including, sex and violence. Mature audiences only.*  
About the Author
I'm a mom and a wife who works full time. I have a huge obsession with collecting paperbacks and reading. Becoming an author, wasn't exactly what I set out to do, it just happened. I needed something to help me get rid of the feeling of being 'just a mom' or 'just a wife' that was consuming me and writing became that outlet. My book(s) cover some tough issues which are hard for some readers to digest. I am grateful for every single one of you who read my books.

Cover Reveal: Cover Me by Carrie Elliott

Cover Reveal: Cover Me by Carrie Elliott


Title: Cover Me

Author: Carrie Elliott

Release Date: June 23rd, 2014

Derek Bast, always has the final say. In business and in his personal life, things are done his way, or not at all. So when a scathing review of his new band is published in The Scene and has his record producer second guessing his artistic choices, his band mate trying to call the shots, and Bast’s manager convinced he’s impossible to work with, it’s time to hunt down the source of his problems: Bess Halprin, reviewer for The Scene, the girl next door growing up, and his ex-best friend since senior year when she decided to hate him for no reason. The last person Bess Halprin wants to see standing in the lobby of The Scene is Derek Bast. Unfortunately, she can’t deny that the last nine years look damn good on him. She expected to hate him. She didn’t expect the way he can still tug at her emotions, or the way his kiss—and his hands—set her on fire. Bess should’ve kept her distance, because Bast was right when he guessed her review was written for revenge. The problem is, to this day he has no idea what he did—how he screwed her over their senior year. The bigger problem? She’s giving him the opportunity to do it again, because she never could resist him. When circumstances bring them both home to Santa Cruz, Bast earns his way into the heart of the girl next door, but when they return to L.A. and real life rushes in, will he be able to keep her this time or are the mistakes in their past destined to be repeated?
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I threw The Scene down onto the marble table in front of my band manager, Kurt Detrick. “She’s hated me since high school. That’s what this shit review is about. Revenge.” Kurt sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I don’t know, D. I mean, it is a shit review, but every time I’ve dealt with Bess Halprin she’s been nothing but professional. I’m not sure she’d risk the reputation of her magazine for revenge.” “Whatever the case,” Joe Schmidt, my record producer said, his voice echoing from the conference phone in the middle of the table, “she makes some good points. We need to rethink the tracks we have recorded, maybe ditch them altogether and find something else.” “Good points? Ditch them?” Was he fucking insane? I snatched the magazine off the table and read, “Unholy Union is a quintessential band name for the mind-numbing melding of indie-to-corporate singer/song-writer, Derek Bast, and teen pop sensation, Adrian. In no known universe should the music of these two collide.” I whacked Adrian on the arm with The Scene—Adrian who used no last name, like Prince or Madonna. “Hey. Pretty boy. You got anything you want to add to this conversation?” Adrian shook his head, his hair whipping around his face. “Nah. Not really.” I clenched my teeth. My jaw twitched. “Joe. We’ll call you back.” I reached over and jabbed the off button on the phone. Kurt flew forward. “What the--” “Kurt.” My chest constricted, tight as stone. My nostrils flared with the effort to inhale, exhale and not rip someone’s face off. “Fuck you.” I pointed to Adrian. “And fuck you.” I pushed away from the table and stood so fast, my chair fell over. “Since I’m the only one who gives a shit about Joe trashing the tracks we recorded, I’ll go fix this.” I gave them a mock bow. “You’re both fucking welcome.” I couldn’t say I remembered the drive across town. There were flashes from the paparazzi when my tires squealed out of the parking garage, but then I was lost in a blind rage until pulling up in front of the ugly glass building where The Scene’s offices were located. A scruffy guy in filthy clothes sat on the ground beside a palm tree. This wasn’t the best part of L.A. if there even was such a thing. “Hey. Do me a favor.” I pulled a hundred dollar bill out of my pocket and held it out to him. He scrambled to his feet. “Don’t let anyone near my car.” He nodded, shoving the cash in his pocket. The reception area was bright and modern with purple furniture, Wi-Fi stations and flavored coffee set up on a cart with a striped awning, like we were outside. It reminded me of Willy Wonka’s factory. “Can I help you?” A blond with big blue eyes looked up from behind the rounded desk. “Oh! Derek Bast.” Her throat rippled as she swallowed hard. It put an image in my mind that made me look away. “I need to see Bess Halprin.” “I’m not sure she’s in the office. Did you have an appointment?” She clicked on her computer screen, quickly searching Bess’s appointments. “No. It’s urgent. Do you know where she is?” “Behind you,” said a deep female voice that clawed its way up my back. I turned to see Bess standing a few feet from me. The realization hit that after all the years we spent living beside each other growing up in Santa Cruz, that this was the first time I’d seen her in about nine years, since high school. This Bess Halprin wasn’t the skinny girl with baggy jeans and glasses who used to knock on my door every Friday after school to try and get me to go to her youth group roller skating party with her. She didn’t even look like the girl who was voted most likely to become first female President of The United States in high school. This girl—woman—was someone I didn’t know. Bess Halprin grew up. And filled in. “Stop starting at my boobs, Bast.” She tugged the strap of her black leather bag up higher on her shoulder.