Thursday, October 20, 2016




Four years ago I lost my virginity on live, streaming television.

Too bad I wasn’t awake for it.

The video went viral. Of course it would. A Senator’s daughter on camera? Wouldn’t you click “share”? Besides, that’s what three of the four guys in the video did.


They shared me.

But that fourth guy? The nondescript one in the background in the upper left corner of the screen, just sitting on the couch? The only one who did nothing?

Not one single thing.

That was my boyfriend, Drew.

And that was the last time I saw him.

Until today, when my father—now on a path to the White House—hired him as head of security for my new team as I return home after four years of “recovering” in an undisclosed location that involved white lab coats, needles, pills and damage control.

You see, the other three guys never went to jail. Never had charges pressed.

Never faced consequences.

Until today.

Game on.

* * *
A Harmless Little Game is the first in this political thriller/romantic suspense trilogy by USA Today bestselling author Meli Raine.


Get your hands on A HARMLESS LITTLE GAME now:

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Preorder A HARMLESS LITTLE RUSE (Harmless #2):

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What something seems like is not always the case.

In this book four years after a viral video and having been in seclusion, Lindsay comes home to discover on the of the 4 responsible for what happened to her is now her personal security guard. As the author takes us along for a ride, we realize what we thought was true is not necessarily what actually happened.

This book is filled with lots of twists and surprises. It is one of those books you find very difficult to put down.

I received a complimentary copy of this book.

5 stars

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Meli Raine is giving away a Kindle Fire - you can enter via the Rafflecopter below!

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About Meli Raine

Meli Raine writes romantic suspense with hot bikers, intense undercover DEA agents, bad boys turned good, and Special Ops heroes — and the women who love them.

Meli rode her first motorcycle when she was five years old, but she played in the ocean long before that. She lives in New England with her family.

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Title: Rebel Heart
Series: Rebel #2
Author: J.C. Hannigan
Genre: Second Chance Contemporary Romance

Cover Design: CJPB Designs
Release Date: November 3, 2016


In the four years since Elle Thompson's first love broke her heart, she hasn't been able to get over him and move on. Luckily, a tempting new romance begins to simmer—but then fate throws Elle and Braden back together again, and Elle is trapped between her past and her possible future.

Braden Miller regretted pushing Elle away from him the moment it happened. Blindsided by grief, he lost sight of what and who mattered and quickly hit rock bottom. Since then, he's kept his head down and worked on becoming a man he can be proud of. But coming home to Parry Sound means seeing Elle again. As they're constantly pushed in the same direction, Braden realizes that he has to make amends with more than just his family.

Elle's yearning for both men in her life intensifies. Wavering between loyalty to one and memories of a long-ago flame with another, she struggles with her feelings. But fear of having her heart broken again keeps her from diving in either direction with both feet. Too bad it's not only her heart on the line...

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99c until release day only!!!


Also Available


Free in Kindle Unlimited

 Author Bio

J.C. Hannigan lives in Ontario, Canada with her husband, their two sons, and their dog. She writes contemporary new adult romance and suspense. Her novels focus on relationships, mental health, social issues, and other life challenges.

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Title: The Predator Part One
Author: Brooke May
Genre: Romance
Cover Design: Eleanor, Schmidt's Author Services 
Release Date: December 13, 2016


I spent most of my life a disappointment, unwanted, and unloved. That is how I knew life to be until a low whistle pulled everything I knew upside down and inside out.

Chamberlain Lawrence was a man any woman would dream of. He was kind, sweet, and saw me for something no one else had ever seen before. Or so I thought. I fell for him hard and fast. I thought what we had was real and could last a lifetime. I thought what we had was a type of fighting love, one of such love we would last forever.

I should have paid closer attention to the signs around me. Chamberlain was too handsome, too charming, and too perfect to ever really want something like forever with a girl like me. Just as fast as I feel for him, I burned up faster. I'm left alone in life again with a broken heart, but a strong will to survive on my own.

No one ever said a Predator could love.

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 Author Bio

Born and raised in Northern Wyoming, Brooke spent a great deal of her childhood and well into her adulthood in her imagination and creating different stories.

A busy mother of two growing boys and a wife, she spends most of time her outdoors and in her beloved BigHorn Mountains; fishing, four-wheeling, hunting, hiking, or camping. She usually has a notebook by her side at all times never knowing when inspiration will hit, as well as her camera.

She published her first book February of last year, My Cowboy, the second, Faith in My Cowboy, in September of last year, and the third, Loved by My Cowboy, this past May. Her newest, The Predator Part One, is something she has dreamed of and finally has it ready to be read.

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Wednesday, October 19, 2016




Today we are sharing chapter one from GILT: ALL FALL DOWN by Geneva Lee. GILT: All Fall Down is a romantic suspense title, that is the third, and final, book in the GILT series. It will be released on October 31st! Be sure to check out the links below to pre-order and to purchase previous titles in this series.



Click here to add GILT: ALL FALL DOWN to Goodreads


GILT: All Fall Down by Geneva Lee

Gilt Series, #3

Coming October 31st!


Book Blurb:

The stunning final book in the Gilt series. In Belle Mére, sin and secrets go hand in hand, but when what happens in Vegas doesn't stay there, no twisted secret will be safe. Everyone here has something to hide and a lot more to loose, including their lives.

When the Dealer plays his card, will they all fall down?



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Chances are choices or something like that. Take for instance opening a door to find the last person you expect on the other side. You might choose to shut the door or feign surprise. A kinder person might give the guilty party across from them a gracious out.

But no one has ever accused me of being nice.

"Monroe." I greet her by the name I know her as when she flies into the room. Then I remember myself. "I mean, May."

May West. There's a certain poetry to it. I wonder if she was being clever or if she'd unintentionally chosen such an infamous alias. Her usually stick-straight hair waves into soft curls over her shoulders and she’s wearing enough eyeshadow to make a porn star blush. She’s gone from looking like an entitled seventeen year-old Houser to passing for a hard-used twenty-five-year-old showgirl. If we weren't standing so closely I might not have recognized her as my fellow classmate, boyfriend's sister, and, dare I add, psychotic bitch? We'd made some minor progress on that front of late but something told me this less than chance encounter would put us right back at square one.

Monroe tugs up the silver, sequined tube masquerading as a dress and glares at me. I have to give her credit. The momentary flash of fear that I’d spotted when I opened the door is hidden behind a mask of annoyance.

“How much?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“I thought I was the one who paid you.” I lean against the hotel door, closing it behind us. As soon as the lock clicks her eyes narrow.

“I’m not interested in your little jokes,” she hisses. “Tell me how much you need to keep quiet.”

I blow a stream of air between my lips. “A pony. The lost city of Atlantis. Maybe a trip to see the Wizard.”

I don’t suffer from any misconceptions. If the situation were reversed, the Wicked Bitch of the West, aka my darling Monroe, wouldn’t hesitate to blast the news of my fall from virtue to every student at Belle Mére Prep. But I’m not here for that. I’d come to this hotel room for one reason: The Dealer had led me here. A few days ago a mysterious new photo had shown up on The Dealer’s feed. I hadn’t expected it to lead me to an escort agency. When I’d realized where I was I’d gambled and pretended to be interested in a job. The ploy had worked, granting me enough time to schedule an appointment with May. The only clue The Dealer had attached to his post.

But why lead me here? What did Monroe’s extracurricular activities have to do with the night that Nathaniel West died. I thought the purpose of the Instagram account was to expose the killer. I’m not so certain anymore. Unless The Dealer’s plan is simply to disgrace each of us as thoroughly as possible.

Monroe steps closer to me, jabbing a finger in my chest. “How did you even find out?”

I sidle away and walk toward the minibar. Grabbing two tiny bottles of West Tennessee Whiskey I toss her one. She can play it cool but I know she needs liquid courage as much as I do.

She rolls her eyes when she reads the label and sashays over. “I prefer gin.”

“Doesn’t your family own West Tennessee Whiskey?” I ask as I screw off the cap and down mine in a single gulp. It blazes down my throat, lighting a fire in my stomach.

“Yes, but my family owns everything.” There’s a brittle edge in her words but she swallows it down along with her shot of gin.

“What are you doing?” I ask her and suddenly this isn’t an interrogation. I’m not trying to pry information out of here. Instead I find myself wanting to shake her. I may have no love for Monroe West, but I know what this would do to her family. I liked her mother, but I was in love with her brother. With everything the two of them have been through this year, this might destroy the fragile threads holding their family together.

“Why would you care?”

That’s a cry for help if I’ve ever heard one. “Because The Dealer sent me here, which means that anyone else who’s following his posts could have opened that door.”

It’s only a matter of time before the police and FBI caught on to the account. That would be bad enough but the handful of people already following the mysterious feed wanted to know the identity of our friendly neighborhood stalker, too. The Dealer hasn’t been posting our proudest moments so no one has started sharing the pictures—yet.

“What does he have on you?” she asks, her eyes flash as if something important has finally occurred to her.

So much for hoping that Monroe is as smart as she looks. I’d had my suspicions that the blonde, air-head heiress act was for show, now I know it is. If I’m following The Dealer closely enough to wind up here it’s not out of curiosity.

I shrug. Two blondes can play dumb.

“Maybe the proof that Mackey is looking for.” She pours another glass, but she doesn’t down it this time. Sipping thoughtfully, she watches me for a sign that she’s right.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but he’s got nothing.” None of the photos on the feed seemed directed at me, but plenty of them focused on people around me. Of course, the company I keep has as good as convicted me in the eyes of the FBI. “I know what it will take for me to keep quiet.”

“Yes?” she snaps. For a second, I’d almost swear her eyes flash a demonic red but that’s probably just me.

“The truth.” If Monroe expects me to keep quiet about this discovery than I’m going to need to know why she’s doing it in the first place.

“The truth is in short supply these days.” She drops into a chair and stares out the window at the sparkling city lights. Even in the daylight, Vegas flashes its best smile, calling tourists to come hither with promises of good luck and good fortune. Monroe’s gaze grows distant as if she’s as lost to this city as anyone else.

“Why?” I continue. “You have everything. Why throw it away?”

“You think I’m throwing it away?” Her head whips around so she can glare directly at me. “Do you know what Vegas is? A place for dreamers. It’s easy to lose your way here. Ask your daddy.”

“Ask yours,” I counter coldly.

She flinches but shrugs it off with a hollow laugh. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she goes on. “You can either lose yourself or you can make yourself.”

I’m pretty certain that Monroe West already has it made, but I keep the thought to myself. If I keep provoking her, I’ll never get my answer.

“My father made himself into a mogul. Everyone expects me to spend the rest of my life in the spa or shopping. I don’t have to work.” Her eyes flicker over to check if I’m listening. I nod for her to continue. “But I don’t want to be another parasitic heiress. God knows the world has enough of those.”

“You want to be a hooker instead?” The question slips out, and I clamp my mouth shut. When you operate at my level of sarcasm, it’s hard to contain it.

“I’m not a hooker,” she says with a withering look.

“Escort,” I correct myself, tacking on a “sorry.”

“My father made his fortune on gamblers. He made money on money. Jameson gets to take over that empire. No work. No hardship. It’s just his.”

“I doubt he sees it that way.”Defensiveness flares in my chest at the mention of my boyfriend.

“Of course not. He, like most men, has the luxury of being able to complain about his circumstances while still taking advantage of them.” She wags her finger at the space between us. “We don’t.”

Now I’m in the same class as Monroe? Will wonders never cease? Although, I don’t expect that our two girl Breakfast Club is going to meet again after we leave this room.

“There’s plenty of money in Vegas. It’s almost an insult to make money on money.”

“So you’re going to make money off sex?” I guess.

“I’m going to build my empire on sex,” she corrects me. “The youngest madame in Vegas history. I’ve learned the trade from some of the best, and let’s face it, I’m well-educated.”

I thought back to English class. I suppose you don’t need a spectacular grasp of the classics to run an escort agency.

“I won’t have any competition.” She leaves the last statement lingering in the air as bait.

I bite. “And why is that?”

“Because they’ll all be terrified that I’ll reveal that they employed me while I was underage. Instead I’ll get to play the part of business savant,” she concludes.

She already has the part of idiot down, I think.

Monroe studies me for a moment. No doubt wondering what I think of her now. “If things don’t work out with Jameson, I might have a job for you.”

“I don’t think we should be in business together,” I say dryly. Having Monroe as my high school enemy and my pimp is a bit much to swallow.

“You know where to find me,” she says, unfazed. “If you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do with my day and you must have…something to do with yours.”

Like your brother.

When she leaves I settle onto the bed and stare at the ceiling above. Various shapes emerge from the spackle like pieces of a mysterious puzzle. There was one question I didn’t think to ask Monroe: why would The Dealer want to out her? I’m beginning to question if my eyes were playing tricks on me before. I check my phone for a response but there is none. When I open Instagram, the photo is gone.

It looks like The Dealer got my message and made a move after all. It should be a victory but instead it feels like I’ve painted a big target on my back.

My sandals click across the marble floor of the West Resort lobby. Slot machines ring out in the distance and even here I can taste the stale cigarette smoke from the casino floor. It’s the same as every hotel and casino in this town. Arguably a little nicer than most. So why is it the current epicenter for crime in a city that’s no stranger to vice?

This is where the mystery began for me. Is this where it started for a murderer as well? It’s hard to believe that months have passed since the deadly party that dragged me into this world. I hadn’t even wanted to go, but my best friend, Josie, who desperately wants to be in with the cool crowd, shanghaied me into attending Monroe West’s end of the year party. It was supposed to be a celebration of the last day of our junior year—one that I wasn’t invited to attend.

We crashed, and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy the look on Monroe’s face when she caught me. The two of us had never gotten along, especially after Monroe screwed my boyfriend in front of half of our freshman class. It had been war between the two of us ever since, and trespassing on her party was a declaration of battle. I’d wanted to leave after the confrontation, but instead of tracking down Josie, I met someone. He was a stranger, but something about him put me at ease. We’d spent the night together. Not in the Biblical sense but pretty damn close. The next morning he was gone.

As if waking up alone in my best enemy’s house wasn’t bad enough, I’d been forced to hitch a ride with my ex-boyfriend, Jonas, and his smarmy best friend, Hugo. I thought that was the end to a night I’d rather forget—until news broke out that Nathaniel West had been murdered.

The prime suspects? Everyone who’d been at his daughter’s party. I might have gotten away with a simple questioning until I found out that the guy I’d shacked up with that night was Jameson West—the heir to the West fortune and the victim’s son. Obviously I have questionable taste in men. Not as strange as my best friend, Josie’s penchant for older men, a vice that sent her to some dude’s hotel room and left me needing an alibi.

Jameson was everyone’s number one suspect, even mine. Especially after he started showing up wherever I was. Despite his stalker tendencies, I decided to find out for myself. I never expected to fall in love with him.

I know he’s innocent, but that hasn’t removed either of us from suspicion in the eyes of the FBI. So when a mysterious Instagram account ran by someone known only as The Dealer started posting incriminating photos of Belle Mere Prep’s most likely to be a murderer list, I took it upon myself to investigate. I need to clear our names, and I can only do that if I figure out who killed Nathaniel West.




GILT: By Invitation Only (Gilt Series, #1)

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GILT: Sin Never Sleeps (Gilt Series, #2)

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Geneva Lee is the New York Times, USA Today, and Internationally bestselling author of the Royals Saga. She likes writing steamy scenes almost as much as imagining crazy ways to torture her characters. Geneva travels frequently, never says no to champagne, and spends more time with fictional people than living, breathing ones. She lives her husband and two children.



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Title: A Love Letter to Whiskey
Author: Kandi Steiner
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 13, 2016


"Ten stars for this brilliantly written love story. It's raw. It's real. It's flawed. It's simply perfection." - New York Times Bestselling Author Kim Karr

"A Love Letter To Whiskey starts out with a slow burn, but before you know it you are intoxicated and unable to stop until you reach the end. Once you hit the end, you are completely drunk in love with Steiner's words. Her best work to date and my favorite read of 2016." - Brittainy C. Cherry, Amazon #1 Bestselling Author

"You will savor Whiskey to the very last drop, and the hangover will be worth every heart-wrenching second. Steiner's writing is as smooth as scotch, as heady as whiskey, with a sweet afterburn that will leave you addicted." - Bestselling Author Staci Hart

"A Love Letter to Whiskey will get you drunk on feels. Wildly intoxicating, I could not put it down. An absolute masterpiece for angst lovers." - Angie, Angie's Dreamy Reads


It’s crazy how fast the buzz comes back after you’ve been sober for so long.

Whiskey stood there, on my doorstep, just like he had one year before. Except this time, there was no rain, no anger, no wedding invitation — it was just us.

It was just him — the old friend, the easy smile, the twisted solace wrapped in a glittering bottle.

It was just me — the alcoholic, pretending like I didn’t want to taste him, realizing too quickly that months of being clean didn’t make me crave him any less.

But we can’t start here.

No, to tell this story right, we need to go back.

Back to the beginning.

Back to the very first drop.

This is my love letter to Whiskey. I only hope he reads it.

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The first time I tasted Whiskey, I fell flat on my face.


I was drunk from the very first sip, and I guess that should have been my sign to stay away.

Jenna and I were running the trail around the lake near her house, sweat dripping into our eyes from the intense South Florida heat. It was early September, but in South Florida, it might as well have been July. There was no “boots and scarves” season, unless you counted the approximately six weeks in January and February where the temperature dropped below eighty degrees.

As it was, we were battling ninety-plus degrees, me trying to be a show off and prove I could keep up with Jenna’s cheerleading training program. She had finally made the varsity squad, and with that privilege came ridiculous standards she had to uphold. I hated running — absolutely loathed it. I would much rather have been on my surf board that day. But fortunately for Jenna, she had a competitive best friend who never turned down a challenge. So when she asked me to train with her, I’d agreed eagerly, even knowing I’d have screaming ribs and calves by the end of the day.

I saw him first.

I was just a few steps ahead of Jenna, and I’d been staring down at my hot pink sneakers as they hit the concrete. When I looked up, he was about fifty feet away, and even from that distance I could tell I was in trouble. He seemed sort of average at first — brown hair, lean build, soaked white running shirt — but the closer he got, the more I realized just how edible he was. I noticed the shift in the muscles of his legs as he ran, the way his hair bounced slightly, how he pressed his lips together in concentration as he neared us.

I looked over my shoulder, attempting to waggle my eyebrows at Jenna and give her the secret best friend code for “hot guy up ahead”, but she had stopped to tie her shoes. And when I turned back around, it was too late.

I smacked into him — hard — and fell to the pavement, rolling a bit to soften the fall. He cursed and I groaned, more from embarrassment than pain. I wish I could say I gracefully picked myself up, smiled radiantly, and asked him for his number, but the truth is I lost the ability to do anything the minute I looked up at him.

It was an unfamiliar, warm ache that spread through my chest as I used my hand to shield the sun streaming in behind his silhouette, just how you’d expect the first sip of whiskey to feel. He was bent over, hand outstretched, saying something that wasn’t registering because I had somehow managed to slip my hand into his and just that one touch had set my skin on fire.

Handsome wasn’t the right word to describe him, but it was all I kept thinking as I traced his features. His hair was a sort of mocha color, damp at the roots, falling onto his forehead just slightly. His eyes were wide — almost too round — and a mixture of gold, green, and the deepest brown. I didn’t coin the nickname Whiskey until much later, but it was that moment that I saw it for the first time — those were whiskey eyes. The kind of eyes you get lost in. The kind that drink you in. He had the longest lashes and a firm, square jaw. It was so hard, the edges so clean that I would have sworn he was angry with me if it weren’t for the smile on his face.He was still talking as my eyes fell over his broad chest before snapping back up to his sideways grin.

“Oh my God, are you fucking blind?!” Jenna’s voice snapped me from my haze as she shoved Whiskey out of the way and latched onto my hand, ripping me back to standing position. I’d barely caught my balance before she whipped around to continue her scolding. “How about you brush that long ass hair out of your eyes and watch where you’re going, huh champ?”

Oh no.

I didn’t even have time to call dibs, I couldn’t even think the word, let alone say it, before it was too late. I watched it, in slow motion, as Whiskey fell for my best friend before I even had the chance to say a single word to him.

Jenna was standing tall, arms crossed, one hip popped in her usual fashion as she waited for him to defend himself. This was her protocol — it was one of the reasons we got along. We were both what you’d call “spitfires”, but Jenna had the distinct advantage of being cripplingly gorgeous on top of having an attitude. She flipped her long, wavy blonde ponytail behind her and cocked a brow.

And then he did, too.

His smile grew wider as he met her eyes, and it was the same look I’d watched fall over guy after countless guy. Jenna was a unicorn, and men were enamored by her. As they should have been — she had platinum blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, legs for days and a personality to boot. Now, before you go thinking that I was the insecure best friend - I had it going on, too. I worked hard, I was talented - just not at the things traditional high school boys valued.

But we’ll get to that.

“Hi,” Whiskey finally said, extending his hand to Jenna this time. His eyes were warm, smile inviting — if I had to pick the right word for him, just one, I’d say charming. He just oozed charm. “I’m Jamie.”

“Well, Jamie, maybe you should make an appointment with the eye doctor before you run over another innocent jogger. And you owe Brecks an apology.” She nodded to me then and I cringed at my name, wondering why she felt the need to spill it at all. She always called me B — everyone did — so why did she choose the moment I was face to face with the first boy to ever make my heart accelerate to use my full name?

Jamie was still grinning, eying Jenna, trying to figure her out, but he turned to me after a moment with that same crooked smile. “I’m sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” He said the words with conviction, but lifted his brows on that last line because he and I both knew who wasn’t paying attention to the trail, and he wasn’t the guilty party.

“It’s fine,” I murmured, because for some reason I was still having a difficult time finding my voice. Jamie tilted his head just a fraction, his eyes hard on me this time, and I felt naked beneath his gaze. I’d never had anyone look at me that way — completely zeroed in. It was unnerving and exhilarating, too.

But before I could latch onto the feeling, he turned back to Jenna, their eyes meeting as slow smiles spread on both of their faces. I’d seen it a million times, but this was the first time I felt sick watching it happen.

I saw him first, but it didn’t matter.

Because he saw her.

Author Bio

Kandi Steiner is a Creative Writing and Advertising/Public Relations graduate from the University of Central Florida living in Tampa with her husband. Kandi works full time as a social media specialist, but also works part time as a Zumba fitness instructor and blackjack dealer.

Kandi started writing back in the 4th grade after reading the first Harry Potter installment. In 6th grade, she wrote and edited her own newspaper and distributed to her classmates. Eventually, the principal caught on and the newspaper was quickly halted, though Kandi tried fighting for her “freedom of press.” She took particular interest in writing romance after college, as she has always been a die hard hopeless romantic (like most girls brought up on Disney movies).

When Kandi isn’t working or writing, you can find her reading books of all kinds, talking with her extremely vocal cat, and spending time with her friends and family. She enjoys beach days, movie marathons, live music, craft beer and sweet wine – not necessarily in that order.

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Tuesday, October 18, 2016



It's release day for STIRRED by Sylvie Fox!! Check out this fantastic contemporary romance and be sure to grab your copy today!!


About Stirred:

Warning: One kiss can lead to another...


Quirky cartoonist, Zoe Andreis puts her life on hold, flying back to the States to care for her ailing father. Spending her post-college years gallivanting all over Europe while capturing her adventures in comic form, Zoe grapples with the notion of being shackled to one city.


When she encounters Max Kiss, Zoe's true adventures begin. Although Max would love to branch out and take carefree and crazy chances of his own, he too is tied to LA, tending to his aging father. Stirred by Zoe's zest for life, Max longs for a future full of love and spontaneity.


While they struggle to find balance between caring for their parents and living a life of their own, Zoe and Max form a strong and sensual bond. When tough challenges surface, Zoe and Max search for a way to have the life they want without feeling the burden of guilt. Can they find of balance of duty and excitement while building a future together?

Get your copy today!

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Catch up on the Series Today:

Unlikely | Impasse | Shaken


Exclusive Excerpt:


“What are you working on?” Max asked.

The drafting chair nearly fell as Zoe jumped a mile high. “You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing skulking around at four in the morning?”

“I wasn’t skulking. I had to go to the bathroom. When I came back, I realized you weren’t in bed.”

“I’m used to living alone,” Zoe said in explanation, shaking her head. “I’ve learned never to ignore the muse. She likes to play hide and go seek sometimes. When she asks to come out to play, I always say yes.”

Halfway between wakefulness and sleep, Max smoothed a hand through her hair and down her back. She was back in the sexy little outfit she’d put on after her shower, but before she’d blown his mind with that massage. Thinking about that massage was certainly waking up certain parts of his body.

“You want to come back to bed?” he asked, all awake now and ready for a second go round.

“Maybe in a little bit,” Zoe said, turning back to the white paper and black ink in front of her. She had a pencil behind one ear. Ink stained most of her fingers. He wondered if she ever got any on the paper. She was scratching the pen across the textured sheet, when he looked close at the drawing. It wasn’t Budapest or Prague or Krakow on the page, but a single level house that looked very much like post World War II suburban Los Angeles.

His eyes snapped to the upper right hand corner. The place where the name of the strip was always placed. But her stylized lettering of Wanderlust was absent. In its place was Canoga Park. It was in pencil, yet to be inked. Max’s eyes wandered across the table. There were three or four Wanderlust strips scattered about that looked halfway completed, pictures drawn, but the words were still in pencil. These Canoga Park strips were nearly done, though.


“Is that the Valley?” he asked.

Zoe jumped again. “You’ve gotta stop doing that. I thought you’d gone back to bed.” Forcefully, she snapped off the klieg bright light that had illuminated the desk. “I’ll come with you this time, make sure you make it.”

Max got into the blanket and duvet laden bed first, then lifted up the covers in blatant invitation. Zoe slipped in, curling toward him. She was quiet so long Max thought she’d fallen asleep. But she shifted her legs, and let out a long sigh.

“What’s that other strip you’re working on?”

“Nothing. Just a throw-away idea.”

“What do you mean, throw-away? Looks like you’ve done some work on it.”

“Not throw-away, exactly. Just something that probably won’t go anywhere. I don’t have a Beetle Bailey or Peanuts. Most strips don’t have that kind of longevity. I certainly don’t think anyone will be hard pressed to continue on Wanderlust after I’m dead. So I have to have some back up plans. It’s not like I’m Mort Walker and have a big family to keep me alive after death.”

“Do you want a family?” Max asked because he very much wanted one when the timing was better.

“I already have a big one. You’ve met every last one of them, I think.”

“I’m asking if you want to get married and have kids.” He was more blatant this time.

“I like to practice,” Zoe said, derailing any further a conversation he really wanted to pursue.




About Sylvie Fox:


Sylvie 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 romantic women’s fiction or legal thrillers, written 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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She's playing a harmless little game...with his heart. USA Today bestselling author Meli Raine's A HARMLESS LITTLE GAME is available now - you do not want to miss the first book in this new political thriller/romantic suspense trilogy!




Four years ago I lost my virginity on live, streaming television.

Too bad I wasn’t awake for it.

The video went viral. Of course it would. A Senator’s daughter on camera? Wouldn’t you click “share”? Besides, that’s what three of the four guys in the video did.


They shared me.

But that fourth guy? The nondescript one in the background in the upper left corner of the screen, just sitting on the couch? The only one who did nothing?

Not one single thing.

That was my boyfriend, Drew.

And that was the last time I saw him.

Until today, when my father—now on a path to the White House—hired him as head of security for my new team as I return home after four years of “recovering” in an undisclosed location that involved white lab coats, needles, pills and damage control.

You see, the other three guys never went to jail. Never had charges pressed.

Never faced consequences.

Until today.

Game on.

* * *
A Harmless Little Game is the first in this political thriller/romantic suspense trilogy by USA Today bestselling author Meli Raine.


Get your hands on A HARMLESS LITTLE GAME now:

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Preorder A HARMLESS LITTLE RUSE (Harmless #2):

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This conversation is dangerous. Being alone on this path is risky. Drew won’t hurt me. I know that in my soul. The danger and risk isn’t the normal kind.

The danger and risk is that I’ll let myself fall for him again.

Fall for a guy who let those monsters do unspeakable things to me.

How messed up am I to still want him? What kind of woman still has feelings for a man who would do what Drew did to me? Am I that self-destructive? The therapists on the island said yes. They told me that while it was normal to have feelings for Drew, it wasn’t normal to hold on to them.

I cling to those feelings. Four years of clinging makes my fingers ache, and yet here I am. Here I am, now, alone with him and looking at him with a pleading in my eyes that must scream out to him.

Tell me why.

Tell me why.

Tell me why, damn you.

He flinches. Maybe I really do have telepathic powers, because he stands, his breathing picking up again, his face twisted with emotion. His eyes are dark with a mixture of protectiveness, rage, and a desire so strong it makes me hold my breath.

When his hand touches my scraped knee, I gasp. When his other hand reaches for mine and clasps it, I flood with heat. My pulse quickens and I keep my eyes down. If I look up, I’ll reach out for him. I’m two different Lindsays inside right now. I’m the angry, betrayed Lindsay who wants Drew to suffer like I have.

And then I’m the sad, lonely Lindsay who just wants my best friend and boyfriend back.

I can’t look up. If I look up, if I meet his eyes, if I squeeze his hand and feel his skin, if I move one millimeter I’ll fling myself into his arms and beg him to love me like I thought he did.



I stiffen.

“I—” He starts to talk. I look up and pull my hand away, standing.

And without another word, I limp off, back to the house. He follows. I can feel him. But he doesn’t say another word.

I can fix my own damn knees, thank you. I can tend my own wounds.

I can protect myself.

I don’t need Drew.

I don’t need anyone at all.

Get your hands on A HARMLESS LITTLE GAME now:

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About Meli Raine

Meli Raine writes romantic suspense with hot bikers, intense undercover DEA agents, bad boys turned good, and Special Ops heroes — and the women who love them.

Meli rode her first motorcycle when she was five years old, but she played in the ocean long before that. She lives in New England with her family.

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