Tuesday, 4 August 2015

Cover Reveal for Marley: A Carnage Novel @LesleyKJones

Lesley Jones Biography
Lesley was born and grew up in Essex, just outside of London, England but moved with her family to Australia in 2006 and now lives close to the city of Melbourne. As well as writing, Lesley is an avid reader and also enjoys watching a game of football- the round ball version- while sipping on a glass of wine, during her down time. Despite now living in Aus, she is still an Essex girl at heart and remains partial to her waxing, tinting, sculpting and shellac routines. Lesley is a huge fan of social media and can often be found chatting to her readers in her various groups. She is a sucker for a reality TV show, with TOWIE being her obvious favourite.
Social Media
·         Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/LesleyKJones  
·         Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LesleyJonesAuthor

Marley: A Carnage Novel Book Summary
From the author of Carnage 1&2, comes this follow up novel. Marley tells the story of Carnage from Marley Layton’s POV. It will give you the missing years. Marley is a companion novel to Carnage 1&2 and both of those books should be read first.
Want to know what really happened in that hotel room in Paris?
Want to know if the rumours of Marley, Sean and their sexploits were true?
We got to watch Georgia fall apart but what was Sean going through in those four years they were separated?
Marley will give you the answers but he might just break your heart along the way.
"‘So, they want me to write a book? They want to know about my band, my life, my loves and my losses. But they have no idea what they’re asking for. If I give them what they want, they’ll get so much more than the sex and drugs and the rock and roll they’re expecting. They’ll get the secrets that I’ve kept for so long, they’ll get an insight into the person I really am, or at least was. They think they know my story, they know nothing.
If I do this, if I write honestly and give them the ugly truth, people will get hurt. People that I love, people that have already suffered in the worst possible ways.
Do I do this, or do I walk away? Taking my secrets to the grave."
Marley is an adult contemporary romance. It contains content suitable only for grownups with an open mind. There are scenes of group sex which include m/f/m a little bit of f/m/m and even some f/f/f/m/m/f/f/f. There is drinking and drug taking involved. A lot of swearing, some Essex slang and some very high emotion. Please don’t complain after reading this book that you weren't warned.
 And yes, of course you’ll need tissues.

Carnage: The story of us Book Summary
I love him, from the instant I set eyes on him when I was just 11 years old I have loved him and nothing will ever change that, he owns me, he owns my heart and he owns my body and no matter how many lies are told, no matter how many people conspire to keep us apart, despite the fame and the distance, we will find a way.
“Georgia Rae, when we made love you used to cry”… He waits for me to sing my bit. I try to swallow down a sob but I just end up singing through it…
“I said I love you like the stars above, I’ll love you till I die”
Carnage, an edgy coming of age love story that breaks all the rules and transcends the decades. Georgia and Sean's story will stay with you long after you read the final word.
An emotional, smoking hot, gut wrenching read.

Carnage 2: The story of me Book Summary
When your world, your life and all of your hopes and dreams for the future are ripped out from under you, how do you go on?
Death without dying is not only the most painful kind of death, it's also the most painful kind of life and I don't know if I'm strong enough to live it.
I spend my lonely days and nights trying to make sense of what my life has become. Do I have the strength to move forward into the light, or should I just let the darkness take me?
I'm Georgia Rae Layton McCarthy and this is the story of me, just me.
I'm no longer a part of an us, it's just me.
By myself.

RELEASE BLITZ Reckless Surrender by R.C. Martin @givemebooksblog @AuthorRCMartin

Title: Reckless Surrender
Series: Made For Love #2
Author: R.C. Martin
Genre: New Adult Romance
 Release Date: August 4, 2015


[Reckless Surrender is book two in the Made for Love series but can be read as a STAND ALONE novel. Written for audiences 18+ years of age.]

Three and a half years ago, Daphne walked into my shop, kicked open the door to my soul, invited herself inside, and got comfortable. By the time I realized she’d made herself at home, it was too late to kick her out. Now, I’m in love with her. But I’m not her boyfriend. She’s not my lover. We’re just friends…

Trevor’s it for me. I love him so much it drives me crazy. But we’re broken—two battered people whose souls have been ravaged by the world. We decided a long time ago that we wanted to love each other but not attempt to fix one another. Instead, we give each other as much as we can. I’m beginning to wonder if that’s ever going to be enough…

I don’t want to be her bandaid.

I don’t want to be his addiction.

But if we never cross that line, will I lose her?

If I don’t tell him what I want, will I lose myself?

Purchase Links


Available Now



I twist my bangs back away from my face and pin them in place before washing off today’s makeup. I feel completely plain without it, but it’s also refreshing to be rinsed clean and I know present company doesn’t mind. Speaking of which, I’m glad I get to keep him for the night. I love it when that happens. We don’t exactly make a habit of it, but I always sleep better cocooned in his arms. It makes me feel like I’m his. I guess in some ways I am, even though I’m not. I certainly don’t belong to anyone else. I can’t imagine ever being with anyone else—even if being with Trevor without actually being with Trevor one day breaks my heart.
I shake the thought away, aware that I’m starting to think too much. He’s here, now, and that’s what he can give me. Besides that, it’s more than anyone else gets. This is how it is between us. It works.
I stop just inside the doorway of my bedroom, caught off guard by what awaits. Or should I say, who? I have to stifle a small gasp at the sight of him—not because I’m startled by his change in appearance, but because he leaves me breathless. He’s so damn mesmerizing I can’t help but stare. Every. Time.
At this point, I think it’s safe to assume I’ll never get used to the masterpiece that he is, and that’s more than fine.
It’s quite apparent that he has endured the confines of his dress attire for as long as he can stand it. I can’t mourn the lost image of him all spruced up, not when I have the image of him all stripped down to admire. All he has on is a pair of gym shorts. He keeps a pair stowed away in my dresser for nights like these. He’s sitting at the window, which he has opened, with one leg straddling the bench and the other bent in front of him so that he might rest his beer atop his knee.
Trevor isn’t built like an athlete. He isn’t bulky with muscle. He isn’t lanky, like me, either. He’s made up of lean, toned lines that whisper of the physical power that makes him all man. But his inner strength? All the vulnerable and fragile pieces of him that make him so strong, the pieces of him that I love so much, that’s what catches my eye.
He wears his heart on his sleeve. Literally. The world might not know it, but I do. I know that every inch of ink that covers his beautiful skin tells his story. The tattoo on his left arm stretches from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder and spills over his heart. I can’t see it now, because of the way he’s sitting, but I know he’s got script tattooed down his left side across his ribs. Finally, his right arm is adorned in a half sleeve. I say finally not as a way to express finality, but simply the end of his list for now. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that he’s dreaming of more.
“Daph! Your beer’s getting warm!” he yells, his gaze still directed out the window.
I grin, partly because I love how he knows I hate it when my beer gets even the slightest bit warm; partly because he hasn’t noticed me standing here staring at him. “I’m right here,” I say as I continue to make my way into the room. I speak softly, but I startle him just the same.
“Shit, Wings—” he mutters, spitting out his nickname for me as he jumps. He has to snatch up his beer as his leg shoots out in front of him. I laugh and grab my half empty bottle from off of the edge of the bookshelf where he’s lined up our reserve. “How long were you standing there?”
“Not long,” I lie. I sit opposite of him, bending my knees and propping my feet up.
“Sure,” he murmurs, shaking his head at me in disbelief. I smirk in response.
Now this is one of those moments where, if we were in a movie or a romance novel, he’d crawl across the bench and kiss me. But this isn’t a fairy tale and he won’t kiss me because I won’t let him. We can’t go there. What he and I share, it works because we don’t go there. As crazy as it might sound, our restraint excites me. Simply knowing that he feels it, too, makes this moment more intimate than not.
He brings his beer up to his lips and tilts his head back as he empties the remaining contents into his mouth. As he sucks out every last drop, he watches me watch him and I get lost in his oval eyes. His irises are in a glorious state of confusion, unsure of whether or not they are blue or green. His hair struggles with the same color dilemma, his dark blonde locks sometimes appearing light brown, depending on how the light hits them.
For just a second, I imagine running my fingers through his soft, loose, curls. Or, at least, I consider them curls; or they would be—big, beautiful, silky curls—if he grew his hair out longer. I know he won’t. He likes to keep his slightly shaggy, fuck-me-now mane just long enough to entice you to do just that. Except, we won’t be doing that, either.
His gaze is still locked with mine. He’s teasing me. I know it. He knows it—but this is our game. I can’t look away first. If I do, he’s won. So instead, I bring my beer to my lips, tilt my head back, and drink, all the while watching him watch me.

When we’re both finished, he stands and takes my empty bottle before leaning down to kiss my neck, just below my ear. “You win, Wings,” he murmurs. I grin, feeling victorious. “But you left the bottle opener in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.” He kisses me once more as a reward and then turns to leave.

Author Bio

R.C. Martin finds it a bit awkward referring to herself in the third person, so she's only going to do it for this one sentence. (We all know who's writing this bio anyway!)

I'm a born and bred Coloradan. I will always claim that square state as my home! While I now reside in Virginia, the land of the Rocky Mountains is where I've left a piece of my heart and where my characters come to life. I'm a woman in love with love and filled to the brim with compassion for women like me, on a journey to find themselves in today's society. I aspire to inspire my readers to do more than settle. I hope that my writing will remind everyone that she (or he!) is valuable and worthy of the best kind of love--the kind that is gentle, patient, faithful, passionate, all consuming, never ending, and leaves you breathless.

When I'm not writing I'm reading; when I'm not reading I'm writing...you know how it goes! I also enjoy cooking, baking, crocheting, and jigsaw puzzles. Basically, I'm an old soul with a young heart, nonchalantly waiting for my prince to come.

Author Links


Carly Phillips - Dare to Rock @carlyphillips

Carly Phillips
Dare to Rock
Release Date: 8/4/2015

Avery Dare lives a quiet life in Miami as an online fashion/makeup video blogger. She has good friends, a close, large family and if her love life is lacking, she likes it that way. But when she receives an invitation to one of her ex's concerts along with an invitation to meet him back stage, she decides to take the risk... and comes face to face with the reality of his rock star lifestyle - the press, the crowds, and the half-naked groupies.
At eighteen, Grey Kingston left everything he knew and loved behind to seek fame and fortune as a rock star, and he found it as the lead guitarist and singer for the band, Tangled Royal. Fans adore him, women throw themselves at him, and he can afford everything he couldn't growing up. Yet at the height of his career, he's ready to walk away and return home to a simpler life... and the woman he left behind, if he can convince her to give him another chance.

Except moving on isn't as easy as Grey would like. When Avery is threatened by a stalker, it becomes evident Grey's fans not only don't want him to retire, they don't want Avery in his life either. And Avery isn't sure she wants the pressures that are part of Grey's life... but she doesn't want to lose him again, either. Can their recently renewed love survive the fallout?

Buy Links:
Kindle - http://amzn.to/1KBeuzZ
Nook - http://tinyurl.com/qyhx334 
iBooks - 
Kobo - 
Google Play - 
Print - 

About Carly Phillips:

After a successful fifteen year career with various New York publishing houses, and over 40 sexy contemporary romance novels published, N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carly Phillips is now an Indie author who writes to her own expectations and that of her readers. She continues the tradition of hot men and strong women and plans to publish many more sizzling stories. Carly lives in Purchase, NY with her family, two nearly adult daughters and two crazy dogs who star on her Facebook Fan Page and website. She’s a writer, a knitter of sorts, a wife, and a mom. In addition, she’s a Twitter and Internet junkie and is always around to interact with her readers.
Website: http://www.carlyphillips.com/
Tsu: http://www.tsu.co/carlyphillips

Dare to Rock Video:

Embed code:
<iframe width="854" height="510" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9rFfNH0W9AE" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>


Sweat poured off Grey Kingston’s body, and his heart beat a too-rapid rhythm, the high and adrenaline rush from his performance still pulsing through his veins as he walked into the lounge backstage. He pulled off his soaked shirt and tossed it onto the floor, grateful for the stocked room and waiting pile of towels. He grabbed one and dried his face and hair, deliberately trying to slow his breathing.
The sound of Tangled Royal fans stomping their feet and demanding an encore echoed through the walls, but the band had performed their final set. Even as his pulse still soared.
He glanced toward the door. “Did she pick up the ticket?” Grey asked Simon Colson, their manager, who was busy texting on his phone.
“What? Who?” Simon, ever the well-dressed Brit, shoved his phone into his trouser pocket. No jeans for him. “Good show,” he said to Grey and the rest of the band, ignoring Grey’s question.
Lola Corbin, their lead singer and Grey’s best friend, was still bouncing in her heels, not yet coming down from their shared high either. “We did rock it,” she said, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder.
Milo Davis, their bassist, grunted something and fell into a chair in the corner. Grey narrowed his gaze. Milo barely had the energy for a full concert these days, and that worried him.
But right now Grey had bigger concerns and turned to Simon. “I asked you if Avery Dare picked up the VIP tickets I told you to leave at the box office.”
Simon shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you.”
Grey scowled at his manager’s I don’t give a shit tone. More and more lately, Simon’s lack of consideration about what the band members wanted grated on Grey’s nerves. Lola might be considering using him for her solo career, but anything Grey did going forward wouldn’t be with the man.
At least he’d indicated he had left the tickets. He’d be out of a job if he screwed with Grey on this. “Fucking find out.”
“What’s so special about this piece of ass?” Simon barely got the words out because Grey grabbed him by his collared shirt and pinned him up against the wall.
“Talk about her like that again and you’re done.”
“Whoa.” Lola put her petite body between them, pushing Grey away from their manager. “Everyone breathe,” she muttered. “You. Go take a walk and calm down before your company shows up,” she ordered Grey.
He stormed off, missing whatever lecture she gave to Simon next.
Though the man had done his job well, helping maneuver Tangled Royal to the elusive top of the charts, he cared about the bottom line and not much else. Especially not the fact that Tangled Royal was more than a band, people with real feelings, issues, and lives. No wonder Simon didn’t believe how serious both Grey and Lola were about changing their futures.
Danny Bills, their drummer, already had a wife and two daughters who lived in L.A. He was ready for home time, and everyone knew it. Milo was another story. If he didn’t stop the drugs, he wouldn’t have a future.
As for Grey, he hoped for more than the travel and fame that had been so important to him way back when. He hoped for her.
His eyes flickered to the door. No sign of Avery. He tipped his head back, wondering if she’d come backstage or ignore the invitation … and him. His stomach gripped painfully at the thought of not seeing her again. She was the one person who not only understood the loner musician he’d been as a teen but who’d grounded him when he’d threatened to spiral. With her soft voice, that thick mane of dark hair, and those lavender-like eyes, she’d burrowed someplace deep inside him. Still, she hadn’t been enough to hold him, not when fame, fortune, and the need to be something more lived within him.
But it was Avery whose face he saw in the nameless women he’d fucked over the years. Avery whose belief in him kept him going when times were hard. Funny how that worked. He wondered if she’d thought of him over the years and if she was as hyped up about possibly seeing him again now.


<a class="rcptr" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/bc4d7a90118/" rel="nofollow" data-raflid="bc4d7a90118" data-theme="classic" data-template="" id="rcwidget_cxwbnsol">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>

About the Dare to Love Series
Dare to Love (Dare to Love #1) – FREE!!!


New York Times Bestselling Author Carly Phillips turns up the heat in her newest sexy contemporary romance series, and introduces you to the Dare family… siblings shaped by a father’s secrets and betrayal.

Since finding out his father had another family on the side, Ian Dare swore to be the upstanding, responsible man his cheating parent had never been. When it comes to his relatives, he gives his all but in relationships he offers the bare minimum. But one glimpse of sensual Riley Taylor arouses his dominant and protective instincts and Ian is entranced. He will do anything to possess her … and does. But any future with Riley must include him extending an olive branch to the half-brother who is a constant reminder of the pain he’d rather forget.

Independent and always in control, Riley Taylor makes no apologies for choosing men carefully. Relationships have never been a priority and she believes herself hardened to domineering men – until she meets charismatic Ian Dare. He manages to turn a simple kiss into an all out assault on her senses and when he takes control in the bedroom, she’s stunned to discover she likes it. As their affair heats up, they soon realize they complete each other in ways neither imagined. But Riley’s past is closer than she cares to remember, and her struggles with Ian’s dominance might just cost her everything. 

Release Day Blitz for Kick, Push by Jay McLean. @JayMcLeanAuthor


Title: Kick, Push Author: Jay McLean  
Release Day: August 4, 2015


BLURB There’s a single defining moment within every skater. It lasts only a second. Two if you're good. Three if you’re really good. It’s the moment you’re in the air, your board somewhere beneath you, and nothing but wind surrounds you. It’s the feeling of being airborne.
The sixteen-year-old version of me would’ve said it was the greatest feeling in the world. Then at seventeen, I had my son. And every single second became a defining moment. Even the ones that consisted of heartbreak when his mother left us.
Seventeen. Single. Dad. That’s what my life became. Yet, every day, I managed to find that feeling of being airborne. Or at least I convinced myself I did. But I lied—to myself and to everyone around me. Until she showed up; Tanned skin, raven dark hair, and eyes the color of emeralds.
You know what sucks about being in the air? Coming down from the high. Sometimes you land on the board and nail the trick. Then kick, push, and coast away. Other times you fall. You fall hard. And those are the times when it’s not as easy to get back up, dust off your pads and try again. Especially when the girl with the emerald eyes becomes your drug... And you become her poison.





kick-push-teaser-3 kick-push-teaser-2


Jay is an avid reader, writer, and most of all, procrastinator. When she's not doing any of those things, she can be found running after her two little boys, or devouring some tacky reality TV show.
She writes what she loves to read, which are books that can make her laugh, make her smile, make her hurt, and make her feel.
For publishing rights (Foreign & Domestic) Film, or television, please contact her agent, Erica Spellman-Silverman, at Trident Media Group.

AUTHOR LINKS Jay McLean Facebook | Fan Group | Web | Twitter | Instagram | Newsletter |

SALE BLITZ: If I Were You - Special Edition Paperback @lisareneejones

ppbk walmart 1.jpg

IF I WERE YOU has a brand new cover and is in WALMART stores NATIONWIDE beginning TODAY! This is a limited edition mass market paperback and 99% of the paperback copies can only be found in WALMART stores.
**This is book 1 in the INSIDE OUT series, previously published with a different cover. The INSIDE OUT series, is currently in development for TV with Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland, Must Love Dogs, The Boiler Room, Austin Powers and more!). To read more about the show and to get ready for a BIG update soon, please visit the series page**.


If I Were You (bk 1) Special Edition Paperback

Get your copy $4.37 copy at:  http://www.walmart.com/ip/44978692

**Shipping NOT included in price**

if I were you cover.jpg


From New York Times Best Selling author Lisa Renee Jones, a story with the heat of 50 Shades and the mystery of Pretty Little Liars. Now in development for cable TV with acclaimed producer Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland w/Johnny Depp)

How It All Started...
One day I was a high school teacher on summer break, leading a relatively uneventful but happy life. Or so I told myself. Later, I'd question that, as I would question pretty much everything I knew about me, my relationships, and my desires. It all began when my neighbor thrust a key to a storage unit at me. She'd bought it to make extra money after watching some storage auction show. Now she was on her way to the airport to elope with a man she barely knew, and she needed me to clear out the unit before the lease expired.

Soon, I was standing inside a small room that held the intimate details of another woman's life, feeling uncomfortable, as if I was invading her privacy. Why had she let these items so neatly packed, possessions that she clearly cared about deeply, be lost at an auction? Driven to find out by some unnamed force, I began to dig, to discover this woman's life, and yes, read her journals--dark, erotic journals that I had no business reading. Once I started, I couldn't stop. I read on obsessively, living out fantasies through her words that I'd never dare experience on my own, compelled by the three men in her life, none of whom had names. I read onward until the last terrifying dark entry left me certain that something had happened to this woman. I had to find her and be sure she was okay.

Before long, I was taking her job for the summer at the art gallery, living her life, and she was nowhere to be found. I was becoming someone I didn't know. I was becoming her.

The dark, passion it becomes...

Now, I am working at a prestigious gallery, where I have always dreamed of being, and I've been delivered to the doorstep of several men, all of which I envision as one I've read about in the journal. But there is one man that will call to me, that will awaken me in ways I never believed possible. That man is the ruggedly sexy artist, Chris Merit, who wants to paint me. He is rich and famous, and dark in ways I shouldn't find intriguing, but I do. I so do. I don't understand why his
dark side appeals to me, but the attraction between us is rich with velvety promises of satisfaction. Chris is dark, and so are his desires, but I cannot turn away. He is damaged beneath his confident good looks and need for control, and in some way, I feel he needs me. I need him.

All I know for certain is that he knows me like I don't even know me, and he says I know him. Still, I keep asking myself -- do I know him? Did he know her, the journal writer, and where is she? And why doesn't it seem to matter anymore? There is just him and me, and the burn for more.

ppbk teaser 2.jpg

Full Chapter

Chris maneuvers the 911 into the drive of a fancy high-rise building not more than four blocks from the gallery. Before I can question the fancy location being home to a pizza joint, as he’d called it, a valet is already opening my door.
“I’ll come around to get you,” Chris says with a touch on my arm. He doesn’t wait for a reply, climbing out of the vehicle and disappearing from full view.
I am both charmed and embarrassed at the prospect he believes the extra wine has made me a helpless lush. Worse, it wouldn’t be an assumption completely without merit, and this night is exactly why I never let myself lose control. It always backfires.
I unsnap the seat belt about the same moment Chris appears at my door. Holding my skirt down, I slide my legs to the ground, all too aware of his scorching gaze on my legs.
His hand appears in front of me, and I hold my breath, preparing for the impact of his touch, as I press my palm to his. He pulls me to my feet, onto the sidewalk beneath an awning, his hand settling possessively on my hip. The rich sensation of desire spreads through my limbs. I have never in my life reacted to a man this intensely.
Behind me, I hear the car door shut, and the engine rev, before the 911 pulls away. “This doesn’t look like a place that serves pizza,” I comment, but I am not looking at the building. It is Chris who has my full attention.
“Two blocks down,” he explains. “We can walk there if you want, or we can go upstairs to my apartment.”
Chris lives here, at least when he’s in the States. The implications of our location are clear.
His long fingers curl around my neck, under my hair, and he lowers his mouth to my ear. “Be warned, Sara. I’m no saint. If I take you upstairs, I’m going to strip you naked and fuck you the way I’ve wanted to since the moment we first met.”
The shockingly bold words ripple through me, and I am instantly aroused, squeezing my thighs together. He has wanted to fuck me since we first met. I want him to fuck me. I want to fuck him. Yes. Fuck. I want to give myself permission to forget good, proper behavior and fuck and be fucked. Wild, hot, uncontrollable passion, with no worries during and regrets in the aftermath. I’ve never let myself feel those things. When in my life have I ever experienced such a thing? When has any man ever made me think I could?
I press against his chest and lean back, my eyes seeking his. “If you’re trying to scare me off, it’s not working.”
“Not yet,” he says, dark certainty to his tone, to the lines etched in his handsome face. It is as if this is simply a seed already planted that cannot be stopped.
“Not at all,” I counter.
He doesn’t immediately respond, and his expression is a mask of hard lines, his jaw set, tense. Slowly, his fingers slide from my neck to caress a path down my arm until his fingers lace intimately with mine. “Never say never, Sara,” he murmurs, and starts walking, pulling me with him.
Anticipation sizzles through me as we walk toward the automatic doors to be greeted by a man in a dark suit with an earpiece and buzz cut.
“Evening, Mr. Merit,” he says, and glances at me. “Evening, miss.”
“Evening, Jacob,” Chris replies. “Pizza coming our way. Don’t frisk the delivery guy.”
“Not unless he’s a delivery woman, sir,” Jacob comments, and I get the sense these two are familiar beyond the casual exchange.
I lift a tentative hand at Jacob. “Hi.”
“Ma’am,” he replies, and there is a slight shift in his gaze I’m certain he doesn’t intend for me to notice, but I do. I read it as surprise at my presence, and I can only assume I am far from Chris’s normal choice in women. It isn’t hard for me to imagine Chris being a blond bombshell kind of man, and where I hadn’t felt insecure moments before, I suddenly do now. I am angry at myself for feeling such a thing when I’ve promised myself no more self-doubt. When I crave the escape, the freedom, I was so close to experiencing only moments before.
The elevator is right off the fancy lobby and past a security booth. Chris punches the button, and the doors open immediately. I follow him inside and watch as he keys in a code. The doors shut, and he pulls me hard against him.
My hands settle on his hard chest, inside the line of his jacket, and warmth spreads through me. “What just happened?” His hand brands my hip.
My breasts are heavy, my nipples aching. “I don’t know what you mean,”
“Yes. You do. Second thoughts, Sara?”
I scold myself for being so transparent. “Do you want me to have second thoughts?”
“No. What I want is to take you to my apartment and make you come and then do it all over again.”
Oh . . . yes, please. “Okay,” I whisper, “but I think you should feed me first.”
His lips curve into a smile, his eyes dancing with gold specks of pure fire. “Then you can feed me.”
The bell dings, and the doors begin to open. Chris wastes no time pulling me to the edge of the elevator, and I watch in surprise as a gorgeous living room appears before me, rather than a hallway. Chris has a private elevator, and I am entering his private world, a world very unlike my own.
Chris releases my hand, our eyes lock, and I read the silent message in his. Enter by choice, without pressure. On some level I sense that once I enter his apartment, the decision to do so is going to change me. He is going to change me in some profound way I cannot begin to comprehend fully. I think he might know this, and I wonder why he would be so certain, what is etched with such clarity to him beneath the surface.
He has misplaced doubts of me in this moment, as he’d doubted me at the gallery. I can see it in his eyes, sense it in the air. I refuse to allow his lack of confidence in me, or anyone else’s for that matter, to dictate what I can or cannot do ever again. I’ve been there, and I ended up on the sharp edge of a cliff, about to crash and burn. I’d recovered, and I am beginning to see that locking myself in a shell of an existence isn’t healing. It’s hiding. Regardless of what happens at the gallery, I’m done hiding.
My chin lifts, and I cut my gaze from Chris’s and exit the elevator.
My heels touch the pale perfection of glossy hardwood floors, and I stop and stare at the breathtaking sight before me. Beyond the expensive leather furniture adorning a sunken living room with a massive fireplace in the left corner is a spectacular sight. There is a floor-to-ceiling window, a live pictorial of our city, spanning the entire length of the room.
Spellbound, I walk forward, enchanted by the twinkling night lights and the haze surrounding the distant Golden Gate Bridge. I barely remember going down the few steps to the living area, or what the furniture I pass looks like. I drop my purse on the coffee table and stop at the window, resting my hands on the cool surface.
We are above the city, untouchable, in a palace in the sky. How amazing it must be to live here and wake up to this view every day. Lights twinkling, almost as if they are talking to one another, laughing at me as they creep open a door to the hollow place inside me I’ve rejected only moments before in the elevator.
I swallow hard as the song “Broken” from the band Lifehouse fills the room, because Chris doesn’t know how personality is to me. I’m falling apart. I’m barely breathing. I’m barely holding on to you.
This song, this place with the words, and I am raw and exposed, as if cut and bleeding. Who was I kidding with the refusal to hide anymore? This is why I’ve hidden. The past begins to pulse to life within me, and I am seconds from remembering why I feel this way. I refuse to process the lyrics and shove them aside. I don’t want to remember. I can’t go there. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to seal those old wounds, desperate to feel anything but their presence.
Suddenly, Chris is behind me, caressing my jacket from my shoulders. His touch is a welcome sensation, and when his arm slides around me, his body framing mine from behind, I am desperate to feel anything but what this song, no doubt aided by the wine, stirs inside me.
I lean into him and hard muscle absorbs me. There is a strength to Chris, a silent confidence I envy, and it calls to the woman in me.
His fingers, those talented, famous fingers, brush my hair away from my nape, and his lips press to the delicate area beneath, creating goose bumps on my skin. And still, I barely block out the words to the song and their meaning to me.
As if he senses my need for more—more something, anything, just more—he turns me around to face him, and his fingers tangle almost roughly into my hair. The tight pull is sweet, dragging me from other feelings, giving me a new focus.
“I am not the guy you take home to Mom and Dad, Sara.” His mouth is next to mine, his clean male scent all around me. “You need to know that right now. You need to know that won’t change.”
But the song does change, and this time to another track on what must be a Lifehouse CD. “Nerve Damage” begins to play. I see through your clothes, your nerve damage shows. Trying not to feel . . . anything that’s real.
I laugh bitterly at the words, and Chris pulls back to study me. And I am not blind to what I see in the depths of his green eyes, what I’ve missed until now but sensed. He is as damaged as I am. We have too many of the wrong things in common to be more than sex, and the realization is freedom to me.
I curve my fingers on the light stubble of his jaw, the rasp on my skin welcome, and I have no idea why I admit what I have never said out loud. “My mother is dead, and I hate my father, so don’t worry. You’re safe from family day and so am I. All I want is here and now, this piece of time. And please save the pillow talk for someone who wants it. Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m no delicate rose.”
A stunned look flashes on his face an instant before I press my lips to his. The answering moan I am rewarded with is white-hot fire in my blood that he answers with a deep, sizzling stroke of his tongue. He slants his mouth over mine, deepening the connection, kissing me with a fierceness no other man ever has, but then, Chris is like no other man I’ve ever known.
His tongue plays wickedly with mine, and I meet him stroke for stroke, arching into him, telling him I am here and present and I’m going nowhere. In reply to my silent declaration, his hand cups my ass and he pulls me solidly against his erection. Arching into him, I welcome the intimate connection, burn for the moment he will be inside me. My hand presses between us and I stroke the hard line of his shaft.
Chris tears his mouth from mine, pressing me hard against the window, and I know I’ve threatened his control. Me. Little schoolteacher Sara McMillan. Our eyes lock, hot flames dancing between us and some unidentifiable challenge.
Some part of me realizes the window behind me is glass, and all things glass can break. He knows this, too, it’s in the dark glint of his eyes, and he wants me to worry about it. He’s pushing me, testing me, trying to get me to break. Because I slid beneath his composure? Because he really believes I am out of my league? And maybe I am, but not tonight. Tonight, as the song has said, I am broken, and for the first time perhaps ever, I am not denying the truth of all of my cracks. I am living them.
I lift my chin and let him see my answering rebellion. His fingers curl at the top of my silk blouse and in a sharp pull, material rips and the buttons all the way down pop and clamor in all directions. I gasp, in unfamiliar territory, and burning alive with the ache I have for this man.
He turns me to the window, and my hands flatten on the glass. Wasting no time, Chris unhooks my bra, and it and my blouse are off my shoulders in moments. He is behind me again, his thick erection fit snugly to my backside.
“Hands over your head,” he orders, pressing my palms to the glass above me, his body shadowing mine. “Stay like that.”
My pulse jumps wildly and adrenaline surges. I’ve been ordered around during sex, but in a clinical, bend over and give me what I want kind of way I tried to convince myself was hot. It wasn’t. I hated every second, every instance, and I’d endured it. This is different though, erotic in a way I’ve never experienced, enticingly full of promise. My body is sensitized, pulsing with arousal. I am hot where Chris is touching me and cold where he isn’t.
When he seems satisfied I’ll comply with his orders, Chris slowly caresses a path down my arms, and then up and down my sides, brushing the curves of my breasts. He’s in no hurry, but I am. I am literally quivering by the time his hands cover my breasts, welcoming the way he squeezes them roughly, before tugging on my nipples. I gasp with the pinching sensation he repeats over and over, creating waves of pleasure verging on pain, and the music is fading away, and so is the past. There is pleasure in pain. The words come back to me, and this time they resonate.
His hands are suddenly gone, and I pant in desperation, trying to pull them back.
Chris captures my hands and forces them back to the glass above me, his breath warm by my ear, his hard body framing mine. “Move them again and I’ll stop what I’m doing, no matter how good it might feel.”
I quiver inside at the erotic command, surprised again by how enticed I am by this game we are playing. “Just remember,” I warn, still panting, still burning for his touch. “Payback is hell.”
His teeth scrape my shoulder. “Looking forward to it, baby,” he rasps. “More than you can possibly know.”

ppbk teaser 3.jpg

**Additional teasers attached to email**
ppbk reading order.jpg

For More information on The INSIDE OUT series page including: buy links, and excerpts for the additional books in this series.  Visit Lisa’s website here: http://bit.ly/1fWXnem

ppbk teaser 6.jpg
About the Author:
lisa renee jones bio.jpg
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT SERIES, and is now in development by Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland) for cable TV. In addition, her Tall, Dark and Deadly series and The Secret Life of Amy Bensen series, both spent several months on a combination of the NY Times and USA Today lists.

Watch the video on casting for the INSIDE TV Show HERE

Since beginning her publishing career in 2007, Lisa has published more than 40 books translated around the world. Booklist says that Jones suspense truly sizzles with an energy similar to FBI tales with a paranormal twist by Julie Garwood or Suzanne Brockmann.

Prior to publishing, Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by Dallas Women Magazine. In 1998 LRJ was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at on her website and she is active on twitter and facebook daily.

bag & pens ppbk.jpg
Prizes include:
$500 gift card (winner’s choice!)
INSIDE OUT prize basket (full set of SIGNED INSIDE OUT books)
20 Chris Merit and Tote Bag sets

a class="rcptr" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e837c2b0240/" rel="nofollow" data-raflid="e837c2b0240" data-theme="classic" data-template="" id="rcwidget_r2vtstux">a Rafflecopter giveaway