Friday, October 17, 2014

COVER REVEAL ~ WHERE SEA MEETS SKY by KARINA HALLE

WHERE SEA MEETS SKY
KARINA HALLE

A new adult novel that perfectly captures the existential angst of your early twenties with raw wit, fresh insight, and true feeling from a critically adored USA TODAY bestselling author.




SYNOPSIS:

Joshua Miles has spent his early twenties spinning his wheels. Working dead-end jobs and living at home has left him exhausted and uninspired, with little energy to pursue his passion for graphic art. Until he meets Gemma Henare, a vivacious out-of-towner from New Zealand. What begins as a one-night stand soon becomes a turning point for Josh. He can’t get Gemma out of his head, even after she has left for home, and finds himself throwing caution to the wind for the first time in his life.

It’s not long before Josh is headed to New Zealand with only a backpack, some cash, and Gemma’s name to go on. But when he finally tracks her down, he finds his adventure is only just beginning. Equally infatuated, Gemma leads him on a whirlwind tour across the beautiful country, opening Josh up to life, lust, love, and all the messy heartache in between. Because, when love drags you somewhere, it might never let go—even when you know you have to say goodbye.


WHERE SEA MEETS SKY by Karina Halle
Atria Books
Paperback
On Sale: March 31, 2015
ISBN: 9781476796406, $15.00
384 pages
eBook ISBN:  9781476796437, $7.99






About the Author
Karina Halle is a former travel writer and music journalist and the USA TODAY bestselling author of Love, in English, the Artists trilogy, and other wild and romantic reads. She lives in a 1920s farmhouse on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her husband and her rescue pup, where she drinks a lot of wine, hikes a lot of trails, and devours a lot of books.

Find Karina Online
Twitter: @metalblonde
Instagram: @authorhalle







PRE-ORDER:
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UK PRE-ORDER
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AUS/NZ PRE-ORDER
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Read on for a look at the next novel by USA Today bestselling author Karina Halle

Where Sea Meets Sky
Available from Atria Books in eBook and Paperback in March 2015



Vancouver
Josh
            I get an erection the moment I first lay eyes on her. She looks like no one I’ve ever seen before. Tall, curvy, with thick superhero thighs and a round ass, showcased in black Lycra that hugs every slope. Her big, high breasts and small waist are accentuated by her white tank top. Her body has just enough meat for me to grab a good hold of, and I imagine running my hands over her hills and valleys. I want to imagine more than that, but I’m horny as hell as it is and my erection is already inappropriate, considering I’m in public and all.
            She finally looks my way, aware that I’ve been staring like an idiot. She catches my gaze, her eyes twinkling a vibrant yellow, her pupils large and wet. She smirks at me, causing a shower of glitter to rain from her cheeks, and brushes her purple hair over her shoulder before she bends over to slide a gun out from the harness strapped to her boot.
            I try not to stare into the blinding sun of her tanned cleavage. I try to think of something clever to say to her. Something along the lines of, “I think I know who you are, but shouldn’t you have one eyeball instead of two?”
            But it’s she who comes over to me, gun comfortably in her hand, and stops only a foot away. When she smiles at me, I see fangs.
            Now I’m really confused. At least I know what to say now.
            “Who are you?” I ask her, happy that my voice is hard and deep. I hope it makes her think of sex.
            She raises a perfect brow and up close I’m struck by how bronzed her skin tone is. I don’t think it’s makeup. Not many people in Vancouver manage to keep their tan into the fall.
            “You don’t know?” she asks. She has an accent. I immediately want to say she’s from England but that’s not it. It’s not Australia either.
            “I thought I did,” I say. “But your eyes and fangs are throwing me all off.”
            “I’m vampire Leela, from Futurama.”
            I grin at her, happy that I was half-right. “Shouldn’t you just have one eyeball then?”
            She reaches into her other boot and effortlessly pulls out an eye mask. It’s painted white, with a black pupil in the middle. She waves it at me. “I put it on for photos but I can barely see out of it. I walked into a wall, twice.” She raises two fingers for emphasis. “I figured I’ll just be a vampire the rest of the time.”
            I can seriously listen to her talk all day. “I don’t remember any episode where Leela turned into a vampire.” Maybe it hinted at my secret nerd-boy status, but I watched the cartoon Futurama religiously.
            She wets her lips for a moment and I try my hardest not to adjust my boxer briefs underneath my costume. “I like to think she’ll become a vampire in future episodes. Or maybe she was one once and Matt Groening scrapped the idea. I believe characters have more to their lives than the lives we are shown.”
            “Kind of like people,” I say, hoping I come across as somewhat profound.
            She gives me a slight nod – indicating I’m not as profound as I thought – and looks me up and down. “I just had to come over here to tell you you’re the best-dressed guy here. I mean, that must have taken some effort.”
            I grin at her. “Game of Thrones, fan?” I ask.
            Another sly nod. “Of course. But who doesn’t love Khal Drogo?”
            “Last year I dressed up as the author George R.R. Martin,” I tell her. “People kept mistaking me for Ernest Hemingway, even though I was carrying a bucket of fried chicken around with me and had a pillow stuffed down my shirt.”
            “So you went for something sexier…” she says as she lets her eyes trail over my body, which automatically makes me stand up straighter. I haven’t left much to the imagination. Jesus sandals, weird billowy pants that I think some granola dude dropped off at the thrift store, plus a leather corset over my abs and leather cuffs on my forearms. My upper body is bare and covered with bronzer and streaks of blue paint and I found a black wig with a long braid down the back. It kind of works. I guess if you don’t know the show, I look like some sparkling warrior who wears too much eye-makeup.
            “Hey, girls can’t be the only ones to slut it up at Halloween.”
            She raises her brow.
            And once again, my foot goes in my mouth. “I mean, not that you’re dressed slutty or anything, I just mean--”
            She laughs. “Don’t worry about it,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Everyone here is dressed slutty. That’s what the holiday is all about, isn’t it? Pretending to be someone else? This is actually my first Halloween, so I’m feeling a little overdressed. Or super nerdy.” She looks around her at the drunk girls—referees and fairies and nurses in wonderfully indecent outfits—and shrugs.
            “I wholeheartedly disagree,” I say, trying not to ogle her all over again. I pause. “Wait, your first Halloween?”
            “First proper Halloween. The North American kind. We don’t really celebrate it the way you guys do.”
            I cross my arms, insanely curious now. “And who is we?”
            “New Zealand,” she says. “I’m from Auckland.”
            “Nice,” I say, “I was going to ask if you were from New Zealand.”
            Her lips twitch and she gives me a shake of her head. “No you weren’t.”
            “Well, I definitely wasn’t going to ask if you were from Australia. I know how you feel about that.”
            For a moment her features look strained, then it passes. “Kind of like if I asked if you were American.”
            “Exactly.”
            “So,” she muses and steps closer. She lays her hand on my bicep and I suck in my breath. “Are the tattoos real?” She removes her hand and peers at her palm which is streaked with bronze shimmer shit. “Because your tan sure isn’t.”
            Damn, I hope I’m not blushing. I clear my throat. “The tattoos are real, I assure you. I needed a bit of, um, help to get that Dothraki tan going on.”
            “And this?” She reaches for my face and I am frozen in place while she gently fingers my goatee and beard. She grabs the end of it, which I had attempted to braid, and gives it a little tug.
            “Ouch,” I say, though it doesn’t really hurt. It turns me on instead. Big surprise.
            “So it is real,” she says. She sounds impressed.
            I shrug. “I had a month to grow it in. I say, it’s all or nothing. But tomorrow everything is getting shaved off.”
            She frowns and lets go. “Pity. I love a scruffy guy.”
            I can’t help but smile. “Lucky for you, I’m scruffy for at least twelve more hours.”
            Her mouth twists into a wry smile. I realize I’m being kind of forward with her, but at the same time, she just felt my bicep and fondled my man hair. Then again, I’ve never been very good at reading women. Half of them seem to love my tats and black hair and piercings; the other half seem to think I’m a delinquent from Skid row.
            I’m wondering what she thinks about me when I realize I don’t know her name.
            “I’m Josh, by the way,” I say to her, holding out my hand.
            She gives me a surprisingly firm shake in return. “Gemma.”
            “That’s a beautiful name,” I tell her. Even though I’m sincere, I’m aware that it’s very much a pick-up line.
            Gemma snorts and it’s absolutely adorable. “Right. Well, in New Zealand, Gemmas are everywhere.”
            “But I bet they don’t look like you.” Okay, so now I’m totally swerving into pick-up line territory. I push it further. “Can I buy you a drink?”
            And there the question sits, floating between us, along with the haze of pot smoke that hangs in the air. The rejection might come fast, or if I’m lucky, not at all. But it’s Halloween, I have a three-beer buzz going on, and I’m feeling pretty good.
            Still, when she nods and says, “Sure” I feel my whole body lift with relief.

SIGNED PAPERBACK GIVEAWAY !!!!!



NAUGHTY AND NICE BOOK BLOG IS GIVING 

AWAY A SIGNED COPY OF:



SEDUCING CINDERELLA 
by Gina L. Maxwell


THE SECRET OF ELLA AND MICHA 
by Jessica Sorensen



ENTER TODAY FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN.

(US RESIDENT ONLY)




SYNOPSIS:

A sexy category romance from Entangled's Brazen imprint...

He'll teach her the art of seduction...for a price.

Mixed martial arts fighter Reid Andrews’s chance to reclaim his title as light heavyweight champ is shattered when he’s injured only months before the rematch. To make sure he’s healed in time, his trainer sends him to recuperate under a professional’s care—Reid’s best friend’s little sister, all grown up.

Disorganized and bookish Lucie Miller needs some professional help of her own. She’d do anything to catch the eye of a doctor she’s crushed on for years, so when Reid offers seduction lessons in exchange for 24/7 conditioning for the biggest fight of his career, Lucie jumps at the chance.

Soon Reid finds himself in the fight of his life...winning Lucie's heart before she gives it to someone else.








SYNOPSIS:

Ella and Micha have been best friends since they were kids. But one tragic night shatters their friendship and their lives forever.

Ella used to be a rule-breaker with fiery attitude who wore her heart on her sleeve. But she left everything behind when she went to college and transformed into someone that follows the rules, keeps everything together, and hides all her problems. But now it's summer break and she has nowhere else to go but home. 

Ella fears everything she worked so hard to bury might resurface, especially with Micha living right next door. If Micha tries to tempt the old her back, she knows that it will be hard to resist.

Micha is sexy, smart, confident, and can get under Ella’s skin like no one else can. He knows everything about her, including her darkest secrets. And he’s determined to bring his best friend, and the girl he loves back, no matter what it takes. 

(New Adult Contemporary)


*Mature Content** Recommended for ages 17+ due to sexual situations and language.





RELEASE LAUNCH ~ THE FOREVER LOVE SERIES by Chelsea Landon and Megan Smith






From the lights of the field, to the curve in the road, one shattered breath leaves friendships forever altered.

The Forever Love Series will submerge you into two novels intertwined together where love and loss can break you down, tear you apart, and even last forever, if you’re willing to let it. 
After a celebratory night for six friends on the cusp of adulthood ends tragically, they’re left learning how to carry on. Years later, through their own struggles and accomplishments, each is left suspended by fears that encase them with such an intense blinding light, and a horrific soul-stealing darkness. Can they find their way out of the intricate web of guilt and deceit? Can they grasp the light amongst the shadows of what they used to be... and manage to be who they should become?

Sometimes the only way to heal is to face the fear of forever.




Forever Dark by Chelsea Landon

In Forever Dark, a novel by Chelsea Landon, you’ll spiral through life’s twists and turns of Cash Bryant, humbled quarterback, living his dream on the brink of fame, and Madison Thomas, a girl who shares the burden of the accident and destined for failure. Two people torn apart by tragedy; fearing that letting go will sever their remaining connection.




Forever Light by Megan Smith

In Forever Light, a new novel by USA Today Bestselling Author Megan Smith, you’ll meet Landon Hayes, an all-star wide receiver who is spiraling out of control after that one fateful night, and Macy Thomas, a college sweetheart who is shy and afraid to come out of her shell since the accident. When the heart-breaking reality sets in, can they find their light or is the past too dark to find their way?





Excerpt from Forever Dark

It’s pouring outside, rain pelting my face and soaking my t-shirt. I don’t care. I still walk in the rain. 
Before I know it, I’m on the third floor and approaching her door, my shoes squeaking on the concrete floor. Taking my phone from my pocket, I send Madison a text.
You up?
She answers right away. It’s locked. Hold on.
My shoulder hits the wall, I lean into the door waiting for her to unlock it. A couple holding hands and beer passes by me. I don’t give them the time of day, even though they bump my shoulder and congratulate me on the season though we loss last night. 
Fuck football at this point.
I’m angry.
So fucking angry. 
I know I should have known that she was this girl but the fact that she kept stringing me along, that has me so angry.
I thought it was more.
That’s my problem. I thought.
When Madison opens the door, she’s dressed in my jersey from freshman year… yeah, the one she stole, and it’s a fading fucking reminder of what we used to be. I want to rip it off her body like she rips my heart out. 
When I step inside, she’s not looking at me and she won’t. She barely ever does.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice is low and hushed as she reaches to close the bathroom door.
I step inside raising an eyebrow at her, but I don’t look up, I can’t. The thump is louder, her proximity is suffocating. We don’t touch as I speak. “You don’t want me here?” 
She shakes her head, hopeless eyes fail to find anything they’re looking for. Slumped shoulders give way and she wraps her arms around me bringing our bodies together. Her hands slide over my wet shirt, catching as it clings to my body. She kisses down my jaw until her lips find mine. She captures me, right then, consuming me with her kisses. Our lips never fumble, maybe frustrated we can never get close enough, but they’re sure kisses that designate what we are, for the briefest moment. 
We’re this, right here, right now. 
A three AM text and no questions, only mumbled words of acceptance. 
I’m here for something and she knows it, her mouth finds mine again fisting her hands in my t-shirt, pulling me into her. We stumble, the wall meets her back and I’m dying, falling, soaring into the high only she can give me. I close my eyes and ignore the thump in my chest, ignore the fact that’s she’s never gonna love me the way I love her.
It’s just not going to happen. 
Ever.
Stop beating. Stop believing in anything but never.
The moment her tongue meets mine, I can’t breathe again. I’m screaming in pain that she can’t see what she does to me, how she makes me feel.











Excerpt from Forever Light

I push everything out of my mind and move with determination. It has to be this way. It’s for the best. I throw everything that’s left of me into soul-searing sex between us. My movements becoming harder, faster, my left arm wrapped around her waist, my right hand on her ass moving her against me. Macy’s panting and gently biting down on my neck and it only fuels my fire and sends me over the fucking edge. Macy’s body tightens around me and I push harder into her chasing my own orgasm, praying she’s close because I’m not lasting. 
“Oh Landon,” she cries out. Her body goes limp in my arms as I continue to drive into her. It starts out low in my stomach building rapidly and then it hits like a freight train. 
“Damn,” I grind out still pumping in and out of her slowly as my release hits. 
I rest my head on her shoulder and it’s then that I realize she’s crying. 
Shit. Was I too rough? 
Did I hurt her? 
No, that’s all I’ve ever done is hurt her. This is more. This is her knowing there’s no chance for us. Not when I can’t give myself to her in the ways she needs. I lift her chin and a tear slips down her cheek. Her next words break that last piece that was holding me together. 
“You stole my heartbeat.” I blink, pulling away from her, and the words come out before I can stop them. 
“I can’t steal something you give to me over and over again to destroy."









A stay-at-home mom, Chelsea spends her days drinking entirely too much caffeine, baking sugar-sweet treats she never eats, playing on Pinterest, and jotting down notes for her novels. A dreamer at heart, she’s been creating happily-ever-afters. She’s a lover, a writer, a dreamer, would rather type than speak, wants to remember everything, loves lots of ice in her drinks, and is slightly introverted.





USA TODAY bestselling author Megan Smith is a New Jersey native managing purchasing for an award-winning business IT and software development firm - and by night creating the memorable characters her fans have grown to adore. Smith's The Love Series introduces readers to MacKenzie Cahill - a hopeful young woman who experiences adversity, challenges and the bittersweet triumph of true, authentic love.

Smith is a wife and mother, who makes time for her family, professional life and the creation of the Cahill's world. Fans of The Love Series - Trying Not To Love You, Easy To Love You, Hard To Love You - are captivated by relationships, special bonds and family ties pervasive in Smith's emotional, energized and engaging work. Smith is also the author of the 2014 releases, Let Me Love You - continuations of The Love Series, Finding Us (Finding Series) and a few top secret projects.






Thursday, October 16, 2014

BOOK LAUNCH ~ MR. BEAUTIFUL (UP IN THE AIR #4) by R.k. Lilley



MR. BEAUTIFUL (UP IN THE AIR #4) 
Add to Goodreads
Buy from iBooks


JAMES

I’ve been remade four times in my life. 

It is a distinct feeling. Impossible to mistake. The very marked sensation of being unraveled and reknit into a new thing, a new person. It can be good or bad, helpful or harmful, but above all, it is unstoppable. 

I was remade when my parents died, went from a happy childhood, into navigating a very dark world, with endless responsibilities, surrounded by enemies, and despairingly alone. 

It happened again at the hands of a cowardly predator. I’d become angrier with that one, more cynical, and it undoubtedly turned me into the kinky f**k I was today. 

The third happened swiftly. One day I looked up into a pair of pale blue eyes and saw the other half of my soul. Checkmate. I went from a completely controlled existence, a life where I made every decision with cold calculation, to a man overcome with feelings and emotions that were foreign but somehow wonderful. 

And all too soon after that cataclysmic change was this fourth one, this one where I begged a God I’d never entertained to spare the life of a woman that I could not live without. 

Follow all of the characters from the Up in the Air universe in the years after the trilogy, with POVs from James, Stephan, Frankie, Tristan, and Akira. 

This book is intended for readers 18 and up.






JAMES

MY RAVENOUS SELF

It was some endless span of time later, after the shooting. 

Weeks that felt like ages. Time I’d spent agonizing and worrying. 

I’d adjusted almost completely to working from home, as I wouldn’t even consider leaving her side while she recovered. My businesses suffered through some minor hiccups for this, but nothing catastrophic. All of it had become rather relative, besides. 

So what if a few other people helped me run things, and I lost control over some of the minute details that used to consume me? I couldn’t even recall why it was so important to manage it all myself anymore. 

What was the worst that could be happen? I’d become slightly less filthy rich?

We were dining privately, and Bianca was being very quiet. Too quiet. She was up in her own head again, though her worries were always the polar opposite of mine. 

She worried about me. My stress levels, my lack of sleep, my unmet needs.

It was a difficult thing to grow accustomed to, as I couldn’t remember the last time, pre-Bianca, that someone fretted over me.

Not since my mother, I supposed. 

She cleared her throat and brought her level stare to meet my troubled one.

“I heard you talking on the phone earlier, to your Detroit manager. It sounded as though the situation would best be handled if you went there in person. I think you should do it. You can’t stay home with me forever. I’m perfectly self-sufficient now, and even if I wasn’t, I have Stephan and Javier next door, not to mention all of the staff.” 

I didn’t even consider it. She may have been ready for that, but I was not. 

“Maybe in a week or two,” I told her, not meaning it, but using it as a subject ender. 

I went back to my food, feeling her presence acutely to my left. I was a focused man, but I could not be in a room with Bianca without at least half of my attention on her at all times. 

Her presence was a great gaping void in my concentration—my ultimate distraction.

I caught her sigh out of the corner of my eye and turned my attention on her fully. 

She set down her utensils, sitting back in her chair. 

“Was it not to your liking?” I asked her, eyeing up her barely touched dinner. She’d finished only about a third of her filet and less than half of her vegetables. 

“It was very good. I just wasn’t that hungry. I think you actually need to expend energy to work up an appetite.”

The words hungry and appetite coming out of her succulent mouth with that soft voice of hers was enough to make me hard, though it was a fact that it didn’t take much these days. 

I looked at her, keeping my eyes squarely on her face. 

I’d taken one look at the little dress she was wearing earlier and decided wisely not to look at it again. 

My control was hanging on by the thinnest thread, and that dress, or more specifically, the body it revealed more than clothed, was more provocative than I could stand. 

It was overkill, really. 

Inflammatory, when I was already on fire. 

Still, if I let my mind wander for even a second, I could picture it perfectly—her body in that dress. 

It was palest peach, a lovely color on her, feminine and loose, with ruffles at the neck and hem, and so minuscule that it could have been a shirt. I had to force my mind away from any thoughts about her long, bare legs in it. 

It also exposed nearly her entire back, just one T shaped strap all that covered her from her shoulder to the little dimples above her ass, which was torment for all kinds of reasons, one being that her back drove me mindless, the other being that it meant she was braless, and that drove me from mindless to madness incarnate.

The neckline was decent enough, but the sides of the dress were cut severely, on account of the back, leaving the sides of both breasts exposed, so much so that the wrong movement could slip her clean out of it. 

I took a few deep, grounding breaths for control.

I allowed myself one brief glance at her bare neck. Her choker was locked away, since the injury. 

The sight of her neck without it always made my fingers twitch restlessly.

This also brought my mind to other things she’d lost during her long hospital stay. 

Like both of her nipple piercings, which brought my mind to her breasts, the absolute last place it needed to go.

In spite of myself, I glanced at the white skin of one rounded tit where it nearly spilled out of the side of that damned dress.

And felt myself begin to shake.

I looked away, setting down my fork and knife, attempting to hide the fine tremor that ran through the entire length of me, and seemed to be most apparent in my hands. 

“James,” she said, voice quiet and solemn, almost chiding, like she knew what afflicted me. 

Like she held the cure if only I’d reach for it. 

She did, of course, but I wouldn’t let myself reach. Not yet. 

It was too soon. 

She’d nearly died and needed time to recover, time unsullied by my selfish, unquenchable need. 

I didn’t look at her directly, but needless to say, I was still hyper aware of it when she stood and moved to stand at my side. 

I took in a deep breath, then let it out, calming myself and taking her in all at once. 

She touched the top of my head lightly with her elegant fingers. “Oh, James,” she sighed, tone gentle enough to make me ache. 

She stroked her hand into my hair, gripped it lightly, and started to pull. 

She leaned forward, pressing my tense head to her soft bosom. 

I shut my eyes tight.

The image of me putting my ravenous self on her wounded self was a crystal clear picture in my head. 

Obsessively, repetitively, day and night, asleep or awake, I pictured this. 

It was very nearly too much to bear; this voracious, prodigious need of mine. 

I’d not gone through a celibate stage like this since I’d become sexually active, back in my teens. In the beginning of our relationship, when Bianca had left me, I’d come close, but this spell had since outlasted that one. 

It was an ordeal. 

I jerked off at least five times a day, to cope with the readjustment, but it was about as satisfactory as eating cardboard instead of steak. 

My traitorous hands moved to grip the bare backs of her thighs, keeping her leaning against me. 

After one inflamed, torturous moment, I tore myself away. 

She let me go, moving back to her seat. 

I looked at her, making my gaze go to the bandaged side of her face, which I usually avoided, but not now, because I needed that reminder of why I had to put her needs before my own. 

Her injury was still dressed from the latest round of reconstructive surgery, covering one side of her face from cheekbone to jaw. 

It was a sobering sight, not because it was grisly, in fact I couldn’t even see the actual wound, it was covered so thoroughly, but because it was a stark and clear reminder of what had almost happened.

That reminder was dampening, which was what I needed at the moment. 

I finished eating, and Bianca quietly excused herself. 

I knew where she was going, and I forced myself to move in the opposite direction. 

If I followed her to her painting studio, watched her work on and around a canvas in that fucking dress, I’d surely snap, and lose all restraint.

She was not recovered enough for my unrestrained self. 

I tried not to follow her, to hover, as that was not what she wanted, but it was a constant struggle against myself not to check in on her.

Instead, I took up residence in my home office and attempted to work. 

That lasted all of thirty seconds. 

That fast and my mind was wandering back to her, and back to the image of my ravenous self on her recovering self, and I recalled rather urgently that I was do for another jerk off session. 

I had just pulled my erection from the oppressive confines of my pants when my office door opened with no preamble.

This was unusual. Bianca never came to my office. 

She stepped inside, then shut the door behind her, not looking even slightly surprised at what I’d been up to, while I found myself flushing in embarrassment.

Her eyes were unflinching on mine as she approached. 

I’d pushed my chair back from the desk in preparation for my after dinner jerk session. There was enough space between for her to fit. 

She did, facing me and leaning back until her ass was perched right on the edge.

I raised my desperate eyes to her devastating ones. 

Our gazes never wavered as, at the bottom of my vision, she lifted her wispy little dress up to bare herself. 

With a sigh of defeat, I let myself look, but only for the briefest moment. 

No panties, as I’d suspected. 

My eyes, as they returned to hers, were pleading now. 

I couldn’t fight her and myself. 

Myself was bad enough, but I’d never been any match for her. 

Not for one lovesick second since the first time I’d set eyes on her.

“You need more recovery time, Love,” I told her, voice desperate, heart pounding. 

“Shh,” she soothed, holding her arms out for me, her skirt falling back down to barely cover the essentials. 

With a shudder, I moved into her, sliding my chair close between her legs. I rested my cheek on her soft, bare thigh and attempted and failed to hold onto any vague shred of my once dependable control.

She stroked her fingers through my hair. 

It wasn’t long before I raised my head to take her in again. “Grip the edge of the desk with your hands,” I told her roughly, unsteady hands lifting her skirt, letting myself look my fill at last. 

“I’m off the painkillers,” she told me. 

My eyes jerked to hers, nostrils flaring as I caught what she meant me to. We both knew I wouldn’t touch her impaired. 

“Why?” I asked, just to be sure. 

“I don’t like them, and the pain is manageable.” 

“You can’t do that. You can’t make yourself suffer on my account.” 

“Don’t put this on yourself. This is how I’ve always been. I never could stand to take pain medication, no matter the reason, so as soon as it becomes bearable, I stop.” 

I shut my eyes tight and took a deep breath, so torn I was doubting myself. 

“Please, Mr. Cavendish,” she breathed. 

She was ruthless. 

I was lost. 

I turned my head, burrowing my face between her legs, tasting her. 

My moan was almost loud enough to drown out hers. 

A taste turned into a feast and I lapped at her, one hand pinching the tip of my cock to hold off on coming as my other hand delved between her thighs to finger her. 

She came undone fast, thank God, as I jammed two fingers into her and pushed my tongue repeatedly against the swollen nub of her clit. 

I pulled my face away to look at her as my hands went still, stopping her on the brink. 

I didn’t have to tell her. She knew what to do.

She begged.





R.K. Lilley lives in Colorado with her husband and their two beautiful sons. She's had a lot of interesting jobs, from being a first class flight attendant, to being a stablehand, but swears she never knew what hard work was until she had children. She's been addicted to both reading and writing fiction since she can remember. She loves to travel, read, hike, paint, game, watch anime, and make the most of every single day. She is the author of the erotic romance novels In Flight, Mile High, Grounded, and the novella, Lana.




OTHER BOOKS  in the SERIES



IN FLIGHT (Up in the Air #1)

MILE HIGH (Up in the Air #2)

GROUNDED (Up in the Air #3)

LANA (Novella)