Hot & Sinful Nights Spotlight: Shattered By Sylvie Fox

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The curtains are drawn, and the sheets are rumpled…

Prepare to melt for 22 tales of lustful abandon that will fulfill your deepest, darkest, most secret desires on many HOT & SINFUL NIGHTS.

Inside, you’ll find over one million words of sexy and steamy romance from today’s NEW YORK TIMES, USA TODAY, and International bestselling authors!

These wanton and wicked novels promise happily ever afters and enough heat to set more than your heart aflame with bikers, bad boys, fighters, dashing rogues, rock stars, athletes, doctors, billionaires, and more!

Don’t worry – there are plenty of book boyfriends to go around! So go on…be a bad girl…and preorder your copy today!

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Two shattered lives. Can they help each other put the pieces back together?

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Shattered by Sexy Contemporary Romance Author, Sylvie Fox will join twenty one other smoking novels in the September release Hot and Sinful Nights.

Ex-child star Gemma Hart is sick and tired of hiding—from the paparazzi, from her thieving relatives, and from the ex who made a sex tape public—with her center stage. She wants to move on with her life, on her own terms. And she knows just the man to help her…

Adonis Andreis likes his work as contractor to the stars. He gets to work in beautiful surroundings on interesting projects. Of course, he knows he’d better keep his eyes and his desires strictly off of his lovely boss. Gemma Hart is way out of his league. Adonis also has bigger problems, like getting his sister to speak to him again. He killed her best friend driving drunk, and they haven’t spoken since. And don’t even get him started on his father—who is having all the romantic adventures Adonis isn’t.

Can two shattered people find their way back to life, together?

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GET SHATTERED AND 21 OTHER TALES OF LUSTFUL ABANDON.

PRE-ORDER HOT & SINFUL NIGHTS TODAY

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Sylvie-white-backgroundSylvie Fox is the author of smart women’s fiction. Her compelling stories are boldly told, designed to keep readers turning the pages. Whether you’re reading Sylvie’s romantic women’s fiction or legal thrillers, penned as Aime Austin, she wants you to enjoy the heroine’s journey. She splits her time between Los Angeles and Budapest, where she enjoys yoga, knitting, farm-to-table cooking, and life with her husband and son. When she’s not writing, her nose is stuck in a book.
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Are You Ready For Some Sizzle???

Twenty-two authors. Twenty-two sexy contemporary romances in Hot and Sinful Nights!

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The curtains are drawn, and the sheets are rumpled…

Prepare to melt for 22 tales of lustful abandon that will fulfill your deepest, darkest, most secret desires on many HOT & SINFUL NIGHTS.

Inside, you’ll find over one million words of sexy and steamy romance from today’s NEW YORK TIMES, USA TODAY, and International bestselling authors!

These wanton and wicked novels promise happily ever afters and enough heat to set more than your heart aflame with bikers, bad boys, fighters, dashing rogues, rock stars, athletes, doctors, billionaires, and more!

Don’t worry – there are plenty of book boyfriends to go around! So go on…be a bad girl…and preorder your copy today!

PREORDER NOW FROM YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER

 

 

Read The First Chapter Of Hard Time!

You don’t have to wait any longer…at least to read the first chapter! LOL.

Sorry, I know I’m a terrible tease. But trust me, Hard Time will be worth the wait. Jeff and Ari are finally making their way back onto Kindles…only a few more weeks to go!

Here’s the first chapter. If you love it, comment below! Actually, if you hate it, I want you to comment as well! I want to hear EVERYTHING!!! ❤

Chapter One

Jeff

 

Five fucking years down the drain, and for what? To win a pissing contest against the schmuck who got my ass terminated and destroyed my life?

I take one final deep breath to blunt the feelings of rage that always bubble to the surface whenever I think of that bastard. The prison alarm blares, making my ears ring for what I sure as hell hope will be the last time. The automatic metal door creaks open, and I step into the warm late afternoon sunshine, finally seconds away from freedom.

All I need to do is walk through those tall wrought iron gates, the ones wrapped in barbed, electrified wire. There were always stories floating around about inmates who’d felt the need to test out the silent threat, but ended up roasting themselves. Same idiots who weren’t smart enough not to get caught. Five years was a damn long time, but not enough of a sentence that would make me risk deep-frying my balls. And yeah, even though I got out early on good behavior, I was one of those idiots. I did get caught.

Gone is the bright orange jumpsuit. I look normal, even though I feel anything but. The Nevada desert air is dry, stagnant, and still. In any other situation, it’d be thick enough to choke me, but being on the other side, the free side? It’s so fucking sweet. I adjust my belt, several notches too big. Being in lockdown takes more than a few inches off the waistline, mainly due to grueling daily workouts, food that was best described as maggot meal, lamenting, and plotting…mostly plotting.

The alarm sounds again, shattering the blissful silence, and the large gates swing open, allowing me access to the outside world. So many thoughts run through my mind about what had gone wrong on that fateful night. Almost everything had been within my control, but I overlooked a single detail, and it was fucking major. I lost my focus. Didn’t see the signs. Walked right into the goddamned trap.

So, now, there’s a score to settle. A big one. Because the last time stripped me of everything.

I turn and look back at the dark gray concrete building known as San Pedro State Penitentiary, my home of the last five years.

No fucking way will I be back here again. Ever.

Idiots have nothing to lose. I have everything to gain.

My partner Remo is waiting for me at the exit in a beat-up, navy blue Honda Accord. The car is as non-descript as they come. Remo on the other hand? He towers over me, over most people, at almost seven feet tall. Dark hair, dark skin, menacing eyes. He looks like a badass motherfucker, but he’s one of the best guys I know. Huge heart in a very unexpected package. I peer in the windows of his car, furrowing my brow at the paper bags scattered on the backseat. He also has an unhealthy obsession with saturated fat. Remo gives a half-shrug as I open the passenger side door. “I’m trying to run it into the ground before I buy something new.”

“Better to have a getaway car like this than the pimped out Hummer that Rand drives.” I yank the door handle and pull it open, sinking into the bucket seat. The stale stench of fast food immediately assaults my nose. “Jesus, Remo. This shit’ll kill you,” I say, kicking at the bags surrounding my feet.

“It’s how I fuel up. You know that. I think best loaded up on grease and salt.”

“Yeah, well, it’s too bad I made you skip dinner the night I got pinched. Maybe things might’ve gone differently.”

“And now you’ve paid the price. I bet you’ll never make me skip another meal again.” He puts the key in the ignition and the car coughs its way to life. “How was the clink?”

A loaded question. To say it’s full of interesting characters is a gross understatement. The shadiest ones had their own personal lines to the outside, and with a little bit of cash, you can get a lot of shit from them. But I didn’t care about things like porn, smokes, or booze. I wanted information, which was harder, and more expensive, to get. But like minds always come together, and I used my steady stream of cash to get me exactly what I needed to concoct a plan, the plan that would make me whole again. “Not horrible. Gave me time to clear my head.”

Remo sticks his hand in a grease-stained bag on the console and digs around, producing a fistful of soggy french fries. “Want some? Looks like you can use some food.”

I stare at his hand and then at him. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“Not good enough for ya, huh? Even after five years of choking down that horseshit they’ve been shoveling onto your plate?”

I snicker. “I am starving. How about a beer? And I’m talking about a cold one, not one you pull from some magical hiding place in this shit heap.”

“Is that the way you talk to the only guy who volunteered to pick your ass up in Nevada and drive you all the way back to LA?” Remo shakes his head and pulls the clunker onto the freeway heading south. “Jesus Christ, in about twenty minutes, I’ll be an accomplice to your parole violation. Not to mention I’m the only one who has the inside scoop about where the star of our upcoming show is gonna be later tonight, and guess what? A Grammy ain’t the only thing she’ll be wrapping her hands around and squeezing.”

****

Ariana

“We’re getting married!”

Even though my head is blissfully thick with cobwebs, courtesy of the gallon of vodka I’ve already consumed, those words reverberate between my ears like clanging symbols. I can’t drown them out, and believe me, I’ve tried. For hours.

Pulsating beats vibrate the lacquered floor beneath my stilettos as I make a futile attempt to dance away the hollow feeling in my heart. A stream of perspiration drizzles down the back of my neck, making me cringe. I’m alone…alone in the most frivolous and artificial world I can imagine. Hollywood. La La Land. Tinseltown. Call it what you want. It’s still a big ass bubble of superficiality.

I’m jaded. At twenty-eight. Of course, out here, that’s pretty damned ancient, not that I have any delusions about a career in acting or modeling. Nope, I don’t have any aspirations to be one of those diva bitches. My goal is simple. Keep said bitches out of the media. Note, I said nothing about keeping them out of trouble. My very expensive services only cover so much. I’m not their babysitter.

I’m a publicist.

A swift hip check jolts me from my scattered thoughts. “Hey! You’re dry.” My assistant Layna points to the empty highball glass in my hand.

“It’s not doing any good. I think I’ve drunk myself sober.”

Layna snickers. “Good! Grammy after-parties always equate to paparazzi poison for our clients, so it’s probably better if you’re sober. I sure as hell hope you’re ready to do some serious damage control.”

I let out a deep sigh. “Aren’t I always?”

Layna’s smile fades. “You’re still upset, aren’t you?” It was a question, but the tone of her voice made it sound more like a statement. She’d never understand, not that I’d ever bothered to explain the deep-rooted feelings I didn’t even want to acknowledge to myself.

“It’s just a little fast, that’s all. Can you blame me for being apprehensive?”

“I get it. I just think you need to let things go. She’s not you, Ari.”

No, she definitely isn’t.

I manage a weak smile and wave my glass at Layna. “Maybe it is time for another drink.”

“As long as you promise me that you won’t be dragging me into the office at three o’clock in the morning to handle disaster recovery for our leading ladies.”

“That’s part of the job, love. You signed up for that shit day one.” I link my arm through hers and push through the throng of sweaty bodies grinding to the deafening music. Groping hands slither over my hips and ass as we move, one even has the audacity to pinch. I spin around, narrowing my eyes at the leering dumbass. Pretty boy. Fucking stupid as hell though. I grit my teeth. It’s bad enough my clients cause tsunamis with their less-than-aboveboard antics, I don’t need my good name spiraling down after them. I have to be careful. Social media can crush me if I make a single wrong move. And I can’t afford to have that kind of negative attention on me right now.

Still…I don’t have patience for this crap.

I lean toward his tall, built frame, my lips curling into a saccharin sweet smile. “Did you need something?”

He grins, swaying toward me. “Just a dance. Then maybe a fuck.”

I squeeze Layna’s hand and avert my eyes in an attempt to look demure before I knock him on his cocky ass. “I’m pretty sure that a guy who looks like you can get a girl to drop her panties without having to manhandle her.” I flutter my eyelashes and move in for the kill. “But I can’t say she’d be too eager to screw you once she finds out your dick’s the size of a peanut. Because really, if it wasn’t, wouldn’t you be waiting for me to come to you?” I wink. “Try not to overcompensate too much. In this town, you need an air of mystery. Especially with a small penis.”

I don’t use brute force unless I absolutely have to. I’m better with words. It’s why I get away with charging such exorbitant retainers to preserve livelihoods.

And, despite everything polluting my mind, tonight is a good night. One of my clients walked away with the Grammy for Best Female Pop Vocalist. It’s celebration time for a job well done, all around.

The bar is packed. We stand around, pressed together like a bunch of slimy sardines in a can, since the air in the club is drenched with humidity. A whiff of Prada cologne floats under my nose and I stifle an inward groan.

“Ariana Carlson?”

I paste on a smile and twist in the direction of the gruff voice to my right. You never know whose tarnished reputation is in need of polishing, which is another reason why I don’t go around pummeling drunk, handsy dipshits in bars. I’m always on the job.

“Yes?”

Dark eyes crinkle in the corners as they narrow at me, full lips stretched into a tight line. Tall, menacing yet delectable, and, built like a brick shithouse. I can work with this, provided he hasn’t killed anyone. I’m good, but I know my limits.

“You need to follow me.”

I snort and turn back to my assistant Layna, who’s waving a fifty at the bartender as she flirts madly with her boobs. “I don’t think so.”

He steps closer, completely invading my space, his breath hot against my ear. “My boss has a message for you. He’s asked to speak to you privately.”

A dry laugh escapes my lips. “Well, if it’s so important, he can get off his ass and find me himself.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Ms. Carlson. You’re about to have a very big problem, and only one person can solve it. I suggest you follow me. If you don’t, your very lucrative client list will dissipate like a fart in the wind by sunrise. That’s a guarantee.”

****

Jeff

Her expression is stony and petulant. I can see it clearly from my vantage point in the back corner of the dimly lit lounge. Good. She’ll need to channel that anger and hostility pretty damned soon. Remo nods his head in my direction and she turns toward me, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed. I maintain a steady gaze, even though my eyes beg to rake over the luscious curves storming through the crowd. They are desperate to leer, but that’s not why I’m here.

I never make personal appearances for professional reasons. Ever.

But this situation requires an exception. Nothing will be left to chance, not this time.

Her tits bounce as she walks, high heels making her leg muscles flex with each step. The tight black dress wrapped around her body like Saran Wrap makes my cock twitch, and I grit my teeth. It’s gonna be a long night, and nothing about it is even remotely sexual.

Remo disappears like the good minion that he is, and Ariana Carlson stands in front of me, arms folded, accentuating the fact that she’s about to have a wardrobe malfunction if she squeezes her arms together any tighter. I can’t say I’d be sorry to see those tits up close and personal, but now’s not really the time. We’re on the clock, starting exactly thirty-seven minutes ago. I knew my nemesis would come out of his fucking hole sooner than later, and Ariana Carlson is the one person who can help me string up that bastard by the balls.

Finding her wasn’t much of a challenge, but convincing her that I’m not the enemy is going to take some finessing, something that doesn’t come naturally to me. Especially since that is exactly what I am.

“I don’t appreciate being summoned. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

I allow a smug grin to spread across my face. “I’m the one who got you over here despite that claim.”

Her mouth drops open and then quickly closes. “Make no mistake. I’m not intimidated by you or your thugs.”

“I’m aware of that. You’re here because you’re curious, and that’s good.” I pick up the half-full glass of scotch in front of me and swirl it around before taking a long sip. Impatience is creeping into her expression, and I know this cat and mouse shit isn’t going to work for much longer. “It might be better if you sit for this next part.”

“I’m fine right here.”

“I don’t think you want me to shout.”

She rolls her eyes and slams her hands on the table. A definite spark plug with a mouth that can spit fire. Fuck, that has so many possibilities…

“What makes you think I care?”

“Because if I mention a name that currently pays your firm $20,000 a month for representation, the same one who walked away with a very prestigious award tonight, it won’t bode well for you if anyone overhears why said name is in question.”

She sinks onto the leather bench, searing me with a glare that could slice through concrete. “Listen, you creepy mother fucker. I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’m about two seconds away from calling the cops. Don’t you dare try to dangle bullshit information in front of me and think I’ll give you the time of day!”

“Fair enough.” I pull out my iPhone and pick out one of the photos that I’d received. I hand it to her and watch the snark desert her body, deflating her with each second she stared at the image.

“How do I know this isn’t photoshopped?”

“Why hasn’t your client shown up yet? This is her after-party, isn’t it? Shouldn’t the hostess show up at some point?”

”She’s on her way.” Ariana’s shoulders are squared, voice strong and assured. But it’s her eyes that betray her. They flash a lot of fucking emotion, none of which includes certainty.

“On her way where, exactly? Because from the looks of these pictures, she’s not leaving her current location any time soon.”

She leans closer, dropping her voice, practically seething at me. Her perfumed scent wafts under my nose – sultry, spicy, and sexy as fuck. It momentarily clouds the issue at hand, and like some jackass, I allow it. I want to see the fire deep within this woman. She’s about to combust, and I want to be singed by the flames. “You think you’re the first jackass photographer who’s shown me a hacked up picture of a client and expected me to write a check for it? If you’re looking for a payoff, I’ll have my attorney so far up your ass, it’ll feel like a colonoscopy without the anesthesia. Fuck off.” She flips her hair, the smell of coconut whipping across my face, and slides away from me.

I grab her wrist and her head jerks backward, her eyes narrowed. “Take your hand off me.”

“I can’t let you go, Ariana.”

“The fuck you can’t.” She pulls her wrist away, but I keep my grip tight.

“I need your help.”

“What you need is a class that’ll teach you how to deal with people.” She yanks again, to no avail. Answers are what she wants, but she can’t have them. At least, not yet.

“Here’s the deal, Ari. If you walk away right now, you’re in for the biggest shitstorm you’ve never experienced in your professional career. This problem your client has wandered into will snowball very quickly, and unless we get in front of it, your reputation will go up in smoke by the time the first headline flashes on the morning news.”

“Let go of my arm,” she growls. I comply, partly to test her. Reading people comes pretty easily to me, and despite her bullshit I’ve-got-everything-under-control façade, I know she’s flipping the fuck out. And rightly so.

“Why should I trust you? I don’t even know your name.”

“Names aren’t important right now. And you should trust me because I’m the only one who can save the livelihood of your star client, America’s newest pop tart sweetheart, the one who’s on her knees right now with a dildo shoved up her skirt and a dick plugging her in the ass.”

❤ ❤ ❤

“Death Inspires Me Like A Dog Inspires A Rabbit”

First, let me just say…this quote, while brilliant, isn’t mine. It belongs to the band TwentyOne Pilots. I’ll admit, when I first heard it, I scratched my head. I did that the next five times I heard it. But then, I actually considered the deeper meaning hidden behind these words.

Is it about a dog? Is it about dying? How the heck did a rabbit get pulled into the mix?

Stick with me here. I’m going to give you my own personal analysis.

This quote is all about drive, passion, and motivation. Fear of the unknown is common. It sometimes prevents us from heading down a potentially lucrative and rewarding path, because we are afraid we might fail. We would rather miss out on opportunities because we fear the worst outcome may occur. Hitting the brick wall when our path ends abruptly because we were too afraid to persevere is death in a metaphorical sense.

I refuse to hit that wall. I will do everything in my power to circumvent it, crash through it, leap over it…whatever will eliminate the possibility that my plans will come to a screeching halt.

I always try to break out of my comfort zone, to think big and wide. I have a long list of goals to accomplish, and I don’t intend to waste time wondering if I should have tried something different and exciting.

I’m a writer and an entrepreneur. I approach both types of endeavors in a similar way – I don’t let fear of failure hold me back. I don’t always make the best possible decisions, but I learn from them all. And I am always up for something fresh and new, which is why I decided to delve into the world of romantic suspense. I’d always written straight contemporary, but suspense is tricky. The plots are more complex, and there are more puzzle pieces to fit together, in addition to developing a romantic relationship.

I loved every second of the writing and found my new favorite genre. I opened my mind to the possibility, and wasn’t afraid to try something new. I did my research, figured out all of the intricacies of plotting this type of a story, incorporated all of the expected plot elements, and wrote the book.

That wall will never stop me. I will always find a way to plow through it.

The following is an excerpt from Fatal Lies, my very first true romantic suspense story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

A loud crash reverberates through my aching skull. Glass shatters around my feet, sharp shards slicing into my skin as I creep dizzily across the hardwood floor and down the hallway into the darkness. I clutch the sides of my head, a slick, sticky wetness soaking my fingers. The scent of metal stings my nostrils. Blood drizzles down the sides of my face, mixing with the hot tears streaming from my swollen eyes. It’s a miracle I can still move.

A shooting pain assaults my left arm, my hand hanging useless, dead weight at my side. The limp is getting worse, and the abrasions on my legs burn like I’ve been attacked by a hive full of hornets. But nothing can deter me now. I’m in too deep, and if I don’t get out now, I know I’ll never see daylight, or any light for that matter, again.

My pulse throbs, beating with such intensity; I’m convinced it’ll explode out of my neck at any second. But it proves there is still life left in me, and dammit, I’ll fight with everything I have to keep it that way.

I hobble toward the front door, cringing with each step, but before I can grasp the brass doorknob and my last shot at freedom, it swings open. A rush of cold air zips through the flimsy fabric of my t-shirt, and I crash backward into a wall, choking on the golf ball-sized lump lodged in my throat.

I squint, desperate to adjust my eyes to the blackness, so I can find an escape from the dismal fate I flat out refuse to accept. My breath expels in sharp, shallow gasps, as the footsteps get louder, angrier, and more determined to terminate the last source of evidence that can destroy everything in a blink. I’d been so careful not to be seen, but he knew I was here. And now he wants to kill me.

“Loren.” The deep, gravelly sound rumbles through me like a slow explosion, igniting every last spark of fear in my gut.

I tiptoe toward the kitchen, avoiding the creaky floorboards I’ve come to know so well in the house that I’d allowed to become my home. I also know the exact location of the butcher knife block, and my fingers twitch as they near the stainless steel blades to the left of the stovetop. My shaking hand closes around one of the handles and I pull it out of the slot, poised to slash.

I shift the weight onto my less-injured leg and raise my trembling arm, waiting to face my nemesis, praying my aim will grant me the precious seconds I need to catapult myself from this nightmare and into freedom’s waiting arms.

The skull-splitting ache in my head is enough to make me crumble to the floor, but I refuse to succumb. I’m too damned close to finally waking up from the nightmare that consumes my life. I inch forward and my heart stilts. The footsteps stop, and his breath slithers through my hair, hot against my neck. Behind me.

“Drop the knife, Loren.”

My chest tightens. The fuck I will.

Using every modicum of strength left in my body, I leap forward, the knife still secure in my hand. A bloodcurdling scream reverberates through me when my wounded foot hits the floor.

I can still feel…I’m still alive.

Move your fucking feet, Lor! Only a few more steps until—

The searing pain snaking around my leg is nothing compared to what he’ll do if I let him catch me. Every gasp for breath feels like tiny razor blades slicing at my lungs. The faint glow of moonlight peeks at me through the clouds in the dark sky, beckoning me. I’m almost there…

“You gave up your right to leave a long time ago. There is only one way out for you now.” A gloved hand closes around my throat, yanking me away from the threshold and slamming me against the wall.

My hands fly to my throat, trying in vain to pry away his beefy fingers. Beady black eyes peer at me, spitting malice. He lifts me off the floor, squeezing tighter, crushing my airway. A burning sensation shoots through my eye sockets before they droop closed and the pain finally dissipates.

And just like that, time runs out, like the last few grains of sand sliding through an hourglass.

Are you thirsty for more??? You can get the rest now. =)

Amazon ~ iBooks ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Kobo

 

Summer Sizzle & A Gift Card Giveaway!

This summer has been super busy, and we’re only halfway through JULY!!! Yikes! So much to do, and never enough time to get it all done.

I’m really excited about my upcoming releases, Fatal Lies and Hard Time. Fatal Lies comes out in a few short weeks, and it’s my very first romantic suspense story. You can check out the first chapter on Wattpad by clicking here.

And Hard Time is the full saga of Ariana and Jeff, who made their sexy debut appearance in the Drunk In Love anthology to benefit St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital. I use the word saga because, at almost 70K words, it’s the longest book I’ve ever written. LOL!

So, to make sure you don’t miss a single update on theses releases, I’m hosting a GIVEAWAY!!!! Click here to enter! Multiple chances to win! The contest closes on July 20, and the winner will be notified by email.

 

Hot & Sinful Nights Spotlight: Damaged By Jeanne St. James

Today, I’m going to give you all a sneak peek into one of the sinfully sexy books you’re going to get in the Hot & Sinful Nights boxed set! Available for preorder NOW!

Damaged

By Jeanne St. James

Genre: Erotic Romance with Suspense Elements

Available in the Hot & Sinful Boxed Set!

Preorder NOW for only 99¢

Blurb

Two scarred souls: one physically, one mentally. Both on the mend, hiding from their

pasts…

Mace Walker can’t wait to get home.

Being buried deep undercover for the past two years, on the most complex case of his

career, has torn him down physically and mentally. Now the FBI agent has come home

to recover after having his leg badly injured from a gunshot wound. Arriving home late

one night, his relief is short-lived as he’s faced with a stranger pointing a gun to his

head, acting like he is the one who doesn’t belong there!

Colby Parks, a biochemist at the local university, had come to town a year earlier to

escape an abusive relationship. She vows never to put herself in that situation again.

Then the perfect opportunity comes along: house-sitting for Mace’s sister while making

the house she purchased habitable. But she couldn’t anticipate this big snag: the one

wearing the tight Levis and worn leather jacket, looking like he had just escaped prison.

Being forced to share a house creates sparks between them in more ways than one.

However, things take a turn when their pasts catch up to them, threatening to pull them

apart forever.

Excerpt

As Mace Walker slid the key into the lock, an immediate sense of relief washed over

him. He hadn’t been home in…Hell, forever. Even though he owned the house and

considered it his home, he felt like a stranger when he opened the front door. He

chucked his keys on the table by the door with a sigh. He’d been home for a whole thirty

seconds and restlessness already ate at him.

The house was quiet, and he wondered where his sister was. Probably sleeping,

dummy, since it was—he glanced at his watch—freaking one in the morning. Most

normal folk slept at this hour. But then, he wasn’t normal. He couldn’t be to do his job.

But, he couldn’t do his job right now, anyway. He’d been forced home to heal.

Against his wishes.

Fucking bullshit.

The foyer was dark, but he didn’t need to hit the light. He still knew the house well

enough. He made his way to the stairs where he dumped his duffle bags on the floor

and ran a hand through his too-long hair.

Those two small duffels held little evidence of his life for the past couple years—just

some toiletries and a few basic items of clothing.

He turned toward the kitchen, and the foyer lit up, blinding him for a second. He

blinked against the harsh light, and a young voice rang out from the top of the steps.

“Hold it right there! Put your arms up and back away from the stairs.”

What the fuck?

Mace had expected to see his sister bounding down the stairway of his two-story

colonial, excited after not seeing him for the past two years. Actually, more like one

year, eleven months, and fifteen days. Not that he’d counted.

But instead, he stared up into the deadly eye of a Glock. And from his viewpoint, it

looked like a model 27, a .40 caliber—a compact, but still a decent sized gun in a very

small, very uneasy hand. Instantly, the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Damn.

He’d dealt with crime bosses and their flunkies—from drug to porno rings—and had

managed to survive. Now he was going to be killed by some measly punk he surprised

while burglarizing his house when he happened to come home? The cruel irony made

him want to laugh. Instead, he did as instructed. With caution, he raised his hands

above his head before stepping back toward the middle of the foyer. He avoided

standing directly under the light, trying to get a better view of the top of the steps. But he

didn’t have much success; the upstairs hallway and the upper section of the stairway

were hidden in shadows.

If he played his cards right, this little situation would be under his control in no time

at all. He just had to keep the kid calm and make the skinny punk believe he was the

one in command. The Glock didn’t have a conventional safety. All the kid had to do was

pull the trigger and pull it again and again until all the rounds in the clip emptied into

Mace’s body. And from what he could see in the limited light, the kid’s fingers twitched

from nervousness.

Not a good sign.

Where had a young punk gotten an expensive handgun like that? It certainly hadn’t

been in the house. And if it had been, it would have been locked up in the gun safe.

If only he could see the boy’s face. He needed to see the eyes. Without seeing

those, Mace couldn’t even begin to predict what the kid would do.

“Don’t you dare move, or I’ll blow your face off!” The kid’s voice raised an octave,

making him sound more and more like…a female.

Mace tensed when the person started down the steps. At first, he could see bare

toes, a slim calf, then another. His gaze flicked to the gun before returning to the

shapely naked thighs which couldn’t belong to a kid. No fucking way. Especially not a

boy. Those smooth legs definitely belonged to a woman, and he couldn’t wait to see the

rest of her.

So far, the view almost made it worth being held at gunpoint. Almost.

Hot & Sinful Nights Boxed Set Buy Links

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2sX7eLJ

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/hot-sinful- nights/id1250918560?mt=11

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2tzwK78

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1126619542

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/hot-sinful- nights

Enter to win $100 Gift Card AND 1 Year of PassionFlix here:

http://hotandsinfulnights.com

About the Author

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a best-selling erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male

(or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing since it gave her an escape

from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl

magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is

happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.

Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here:

BookHip.com/MTQQKK

To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at

http://www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter:

http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup

Author Links

Website: http://www.jeannestjames.com

Blog: http://jeannestjames.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JeanneStJamesAuthor/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jeannestjames/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JeanneStJames

Amazon Author Page: http://tinyurl.com/JeanneStJames

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/JeanneStJames

Newsletter: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup

Review & Book Crew: https://www.facebook.com/groups/JeannesReviewCrew/

Pre-Order & Massive Giveaway!!!

★★★ PRE-ORDER AND GIVEAWAY ★★★

Hot & Sinful Nights is now available for pre-order, and at 99 cents for 22 HOT romance novels you won’t want to miss!

To celebrate, the authors of Hot & Sinful Nights are giving away a $100 Amazon gift card, along with a one year subscription to PassionFlix! http://hotandsinfulnights.com/win/

Preorder On All Platforms!

iBooks ~ Amazon ~ Kobo ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Google Play

The curtains are drawn, and the sheets are rumpled…

Prepare to melt for 22 tales of lustful abandon that will fulfill your deepest, darkest, most secret desires on many HOT & SINFUL NIGHTS.

Inside, you’ll find over one million words of sexy and steamy romance! These wanton and wicked novels promise happily ever afters and enough heat to set more than your heart aflame with bikers, bad boys, fighters, dashing rogues, rock stars, athletes, doctors, billionaires, and more!

So go on…be a bad girl…and preorder your copy today!

Including stories from me and Alice Ward  |  USA Today bestselling author Barbara Devlin |  Ella Miles |  Courtney Hunt  |  Shyla Colt  |  Alyson Reynolds |  Ingrid Seymour  |  Jeanne St. James  |  USA Today bestselling author M. H. Soars  |  Award-Winning author Jenna Bayley-Burke  |  D.K. Combs  |  Sylvie Fox  |  Alexis Alvarez  |  USA Today bestselling author Amity Cross  |  Award-Winning author Katalina Leon  |  Award-Winning author Holly Dodd  |  Ashelyn Drake  |  Kacey Shea  |  Lena Bourne  |  Deliaria Davis  |  Award-Winning author Marie Long

Healthy Body, Healthy Mind

Never put all of your eggs into one basket.

We’ve all heard this at least a million times, right? Diversify your interests. Always give yourself options. Variety is the spice of life.

My issue? Too many freaking baskets.

I always bite off more than I can chew – figuratively and literally, like the shrimp taco I had to stuff into my mouth last night before the fillings busted out and ruined my new shirt. I never want to miss an opportunity, so I sacrifice time spent on other endeavors. For example, I’d probably be able to finish a book much faster if I wasn’t writing three others at the same time.

In a nutshell? I lack focus, which in turn, gives me stress. And there is no shortage of stress in my life, so I decided it was time for me to calm the hell down. Easier said than done.

I tried meditation. I’d just heard on the radio how Hugh Jackman and his wife attributed their successful marriage to meditation, so I figured it was worth a try. Except I got too stressed out trying to block out all of my thoughts. I didn’t want to focus on my breathing. I had a book to finish, and a cover to design, and a website to design, and a blog post to write, and…well, you get the idea. No bueno.

Even my daily workouts were stressing me out. I don’t leave the house, everything gets done right here at home. But sometimes, it’s hard for me to close my laptop and start lifting, especially if I’m in the middle of a scene or designing a user interface for a new app. And that happens quite often. So much for the elusive endorphins.

Until a week ago, I thought I was doomed. But then I made a choice that has finally given me some peace. Kickboxing. I know, I know. How can beating the ever-living crap out of a heavy bag bring you peace? Simply because you are so spent at the end of an hour-long class, you can’t possibly have the energy to be stressed. You unleash everything on the bag – stress, angst, anger, frustration – you use it all against your inanimate opponent and once you are finished. you walk out of the building lighter, happier, looser and – wait for it – FOCUSED.

Healthy body, healthy and CLEAR mind.

Novel FINISHED. =)

Small Wins, Books, and Booze

Some days, it’s all about the small wins. By themselves, they don’t seem like much. But when you get a bunch of them done within the few hours you have allotted to work before the afternoon crazy train barrels through the house, you feel like you’ve reached the pinnacle of productivity.

I had that feeling today. It was good.

That’s why I’m drinking wine right now.

What did I do that was so worthy of midweek alcohol?

Well, first (literally, it happened at 6:15 AM), I finished another scene for a Hanukkah romance I’m writing for the holidays. It’s  a rom com, and I’m loving it so far! I also love that I’m over 2K words in, and it’s only June.

Then, I decided to finally try the new formatting software Terry bought me…four months ago. I have a book to format, so I figured now was as good a time as any to give it a shot. Of course, I needed to call on a friend to help me figure out a few things, but guess what? The book is FORMATTED and ready to publish!

Score!

I also figured out a pretty critical scene in the book I’m working on right now, a romantic suspense called Hard Time. SWOONY!!! Wait until you see the cover! I’m actually pretty anxious to see it myself, but I digress… This is the story of Jeff and Ariana, who first made a sweltering appearance in Drunk In Love, the St. Jude’s anthology that I coordinated with Jesey Newman of Schmexy Girl Book Blog. And their book is so fantastic. I know it’s probably bad form to admit that, but I don’t care. It rocks!

All in all? Today was success with a capital S. Laundry? Done! Housecleaning? Done! Researching Instagram analytics? Done!

Okay, time to get back to studying for finals, the other big reason for midweek wine. =)

Create A Natural & Gorgeous Face In Less Than 10 Minutes!

I love the natural look, especially when I’m already late for whatever appointment I’m running to (which happens ALL THE TIME) and don’t have time to apply a full face of makeup. Quick and flawless are my primary makeup goals during the week. So, I decided to do a video to show you exactly how to achieve that in less than ten minutes!

I did cheat a bit, so I could show you the finished product on half my face. =)

This is perfect for the summer, too, since nobody likes the feel of heavy make up clogging your pores in the hot and steamy weather.

Get this look and GET GORGEOUS!!!

it Cosmetics CC Cream in Medium

Smashbox Contour Palette

MAC Powder Blush in Mocha Matte

Tarte Lightning Palette in Skin Twinkle

Rimmel Lipliner in Cappuccino

MAC Lipstick in Angel

Laura Mercier Caviar Stick Eyecolor in Rosegold

Make Up For Ever Aqua Eyes Mat Black 0L

 

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