Out Now—Shopping for A CEO’s Honeymoon (Book 14 in the Shopping series) by Julia Kent @jkentauthor #MFRWAuthor
Shopping for a Billionaire’s Honeymoon
Release date: July 15, 2018
Genre: Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance
He says we never had a proper honeymoon.
So, instead, he’s giving me… a prepper honeymoon?
Who knew billionaire preppers were a thing?
I guess I’m about to find out.
Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series continues in Shopping for a CEO’s Honeymoon as Andrew and Amanda settle in to married life… and so much more.
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I am eating a piece of grilled white asparagus wrapped in prosciutto, drizzled with melted manchego cheese and coated in crushed pistachio, when my friend and co-worker Josh ruins my culinary orgasm by bringing up my honeymoon.
More specifically, my lack of a honeymoon.
And all I can do is grunt.
“I’m just saying,” he says with a sigh as he waves his bacon-wrapped, goat-cheese-stuffed date around on its toothpick like he’s the conductor of the Boston Pops doing a tapas bar gig, “you married a freaking billionaire. You deserve a honeymoon.”
“It’s not about what Amanda does or doesn’t deserve,” Carol insists on my behalf. As I chew, I give her a look that either says thank you or is so indecent, I need a cigarette and a fan, because damn, that asparagus is good.
“What is it about?”
“It’s about what they want. I mean, my God, Josh! Andrew bought her an estate as a wedding gift. I think he’s got all the good-husband bases covered.”
“Pfft. That? He’s a billionaire! That’s to be expected.”
“You’re pooh-poohing my husband’s gift to me? An estate in Weston, Massachusetts? It’s one of the most expensive zip codes in the country,” I say, parroting his affect.
“Hello? Billionaire? For him, that’s like buying a cheap condo behind the railroad tracks in Clinton. Declan bought Shannon an entire coffee chain.”
“This isn’t a competition,” I say, alarm making my pinot noir taste like vinegar.
“And he managed to give her a nice honeymoon in Hawaii.”
I lean in. “Define nice. Because those two still refuse to talk about their honeymoon.”
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down
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We’re delighted to host new-to-us Suzy Shearer, who like us, writes older heroes and heroines. You won’t want to miss the next installment in her Silk Rope Masters Series!
The Silk Rope Masters – Book Two
by Suzy Shearer
Heat Rating : Level 4
Word Count: 64,579
They ooze power, control, natural dominance – and sex. They are The Silk Rope Masters.
None have ever found love, but watch out! When they fall, they’ll fall fast and hard!
And that’s exactly what she was, a beautiful plus-sized woman with a pain so deep she’s buried her emotions rather than face the tragedy that happened just a few months ago.
Jake was assigned to care for her by Master Ash, the head of Silk Rope, and what Jake didn’t expect was to fall in love.
But she was only in his safekeeping until she could fly on her own then he would have to release her.
BDSM, anal sex, sex toys,
voyeurism, flogging, public exhibition
This is an erotic romance. There are explicit sexual descriptions and explicit language used throughout.
It will offend some readers.
So here she was.
It was almost eight on Friday night, and Emily sat nervously in her car in the large car park. Would this be the same as either Threshold or The Lair? She hoped it was. If it was a lower classed place she definitely wouldn’t be coming back. Maybe she could find another club somewhere if that proved to be the case. Still she was hopeful. She couldn’t imagine the manager of The Lair, Bevan Fuller, transferring her to a lesser club.
Then she wondered for the hundredth time, “What the hell am I doing here?”
She still felt numb inside. With every emotion rammed down that hard, Emily couldn’t even cry. She actually knew how foolish she was, knew perfectly well the therapists, her family, were right. Time and again they’d told her she shouldn’t keep everything bottled up, should allow herself to grieve and move on, but she was far too frightened to face her pain.
Her weekly sessions with the therapist consisted of her sitting, staring into her lap or answering in monosyllables and refusing to utter one word about what had happened. In fact, she’d never cried, never shouted, never gotten very angry since that day. As soon as she’d woken in the hospital and given her statement to the police, every emotion, every thought of what had happened—her grief, every single thing, she pushed deep down inside her and refused to look at them. She held them down for so long that now she honestly couldn’t take the chance on remembering.
She was dead, and yet she breathed.
Sometimes in a lighter moment she thought of herself as a zombie. An animated corpse walking amid the living. But mainly Emily thought she was like a well-shaken bottle of soda pop with the lid screwed down tight. A slight twist of the cork and the whole bottle would vigorously explode, its contents scattering everywhere, never to be replaced. She couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk her emotions, couldn’t set them free—the pain would be too great, and Emily knew she couldn’t handle it. She honestly doubted she would survive if at any time she was forced to face her past.
In the back of her mind she knew if she’d grieve, she’d be able to move on and live again, but instead she tortured herself by bottling everything up. This was her only escape now, coming to BDSM clubs—her haven. Sometimes she felt they were all that was left of her life, so at least she could vicariously live through its patrons.
It was strange, but those BDSM clubs now felt more like home than any house possibly could. Inside those doors in front of her she knew what would happen. She knew the rules, and she knew the outcomes. She knew exactly how people would react, how they would be toward her. She could sit and watch and know people would leave her alone unless she indicated she wanted company. No one would expect anything of her, and she could hide in plain sight. It was her secure place, the only one she had, and she knew it would protect her. It really was her safe house—impenetrable, sheltered. All those years she’d spent at Threshold only reinforced the idea. A club was her sanctuary, a place where, even if only for a few hours, she could pretend she was still alive. A place where she could hide among the living.
But at the same time, she wondered, would she ever be able to return to the woman she was?
The one who laughed, who enjoyed life and lived it to the fullest? Or was she destined to remain empty, afraid of showing any sort of emotion, afraid to face her heartache? Terrified of the floodgates she was sure she could never hold back if she allowed one iota of emotion, of agony, of her grief to slip through.
Finally getting out the car, she walked up the stairs that fronted the huge Georgian mansion. Clutching her coat a little tighter, she entered the warm foyer. Behind a desk a large, burly man smiled warmly at her.
“Good evening, Miss.”
“Hello. My name is Emily, Emily Miller. I believe the owner from The Lair, back east, contacted your manager about me transferring from there to here?”
© Suzy Shearer 2018
LINKS – WHERE TO FIND SUZY:
Website : http://www.suzyshearer.com
Twitter : https://twitter.com/SuzyShearer
Email her at: firstname.lastname@example.org
A FEW LINKS WHERE TO BUY:
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com
Angus and Robertson: https://www.angusrobertson.com.au
Renaissance woman, best-selling and Award winning author Suzy Shearer writes contemporary and paranormal erotic romances filled with mature and interesting characters. Her books always feature older heroes and heroines; ranging from mid 40s to 60s. The heroines are usually confident plus-sized women who are proud of their curves. Suzy feels it’s important for readers to connect.
Suzy also wants her readers to understand just because people are older doesn’t mean they aren’t intriguing, desirable, open to challenges and willing to experiment. They may be older but not always wiser. Remember sexy isn’t just for the under 30s.
A Buddhist and artist, Suzy lives in the Western Suburbs of Sydney Australia with one very spoilt dog and two equally spoilt cats keeping her company. When Suzy is not writing, she is usually painting – an accomplished watercolour Artist, her subjects range from portraits and animals to nudes and landscapes. She is also a quilter, toy maker, sculptor and potter. Suzy’s Art
E-BOOKS OUT NOW
The Club series
The Club: Bound
The Club 2: Uncollared
The Club 3: Waxed
The Club 4: Displayed
The Club 5: Submit
The Club 6: Unmasked
The Hunters series
A Hunter’s Heart – Book 1
A Hunter’s Choice – Book 2
A Hunter’s Challenge – Book 3
Dark Desires series
(each book is a standalone)
Craving Her Master
Melting Her Dom’s Heart
An Artist’s Kiss
Elephants and Ever-Afters
The Silk Rope Masters series
Daemons Are Forever
Build a Love
Her Dom’s Secret Past
MOST BOOKS ARE ALSO AVAILABLE AS PAPERBACKS
A Shameless Little Con
Author: Meli Raine
Release date: January 30, 2018
Genre: Romantic Suspense
**FREE 8/4 to 8/31**
I didn’t do it.
I never betrayed my friend.
Last year, I was kidnapped along with presidential candidate’s daughter Lindsay Bosworth, forced to help her assailants, my mother implicated in one of the biggest political scandals in American history.
I’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing, but that doesn’t matter. Once you’re tried by the media, you’re guilty as sin. The truth doesn’t get the public’s attention.
But shame? Shame sells.
And everyone assumes you’re tainted.
Now I have my own personal security team, courtesy of the United States government. Not the one you learned about in civics class, though.
I’m being tracked by the deep state. The shadow government. They’ve assigned Silas Gentian to be with me twenty-four seven. He thinks he knows everything about me – all of it bad — and he does.
Like everyone else, he assumes I’m a traitor. A backstabber. A betrayer. Someone who helped a group of violent psychopaths, puppets of powerful men in Washington who made me into a tool.
Yet I see how he looks at me. True desire can’t be faked.
And that goes both ways.
He assumes I’m trying to fool him.
And he might be right.
But not for the reasons he thinks.
A Shameless Little Con is the first book in the Shameless trilogy by USA Today bestselling author Meli Raine.
Read the whole series:
Book 1: A Shameless Little CON
Book 2: A Shameless Little LIE
Book 3: A Shameless Little BET
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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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He jolts, digging into his pocket to pull out a phone. Before he turns the screen away from me, I see his backdrop. It’s of a small dark-haired child on a beach, the picture taken from behind, her skirt flying around her legs, the little girl in motion, the blue skies over the green water idyllic.
Does he have a child? Who is the little girl? As Silas reads his screen, his shoulders slump slightly–in defeat.
What the hell is in that text he’s reading?
He leans his elbow against the door, setting the phone face down on his thigh, his expression troubled. I want to ask him if he’s okay. I want to ask him about the little girl. I want to ask him so many questions.
Most of all, I want to ask him to be kind to me.
I need someone to be kind to me.
Because you can live for a very long time in isolation.
But you can’t live among people for very long without needing kindness. It’s as essential as oxygen, as water, as food.
While you might not technically die without kindness, the existence you’re left with is worse than dying.
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