Release Tour for Just The Thing by Marie Harte

JUST THE THING

The Donnigans series, book 2
by Marie Harte

Genre: Spicy Contemporary Romance

"The sultry sex and seduction scenes are just the icing on this incredibly rich and satisfying cake. Readers will sit down, read this book from cover to cover in one sitting, and then pick it up to read it all over again."―RT Book Reviews, 5 Gold Stars

A FLING MIGHT BE JUST THE THING...

Gavin Donnigan left the Marine Corps a shell of a man, hounded by guilt for deaths he couldn't prevent. But teaching a self-defense class at the local gym brings some stability to his life―along with a gorgeous woman who won't give him the time of day.

Zoe York lost her twin sister to a freak car accident a few months ago. She's been struggling to bury her grief, but it isn't until she signs up for a self-defense class with its distractingly hot instructor that she begins to come out of her shell again. With the memory of her sister telling her to live a little, Zoe decides a fling with buns-of-steel Gavin Donnigan might be just the thing.

Soon they're sparring both in and out of the gym. And for the first time in a long time, each is looking forward to tomorrow.

Gavin chuckled, then turned to Zoe, only to see her watching him, her gaze intense. “What?” She looked like she either wanted to run him over, punch him, or—dare he hope—kiss him.

“I’m just waiting for one of your incredibly fascinating comments about pink pants, small biceps, or fine form.” She didn’t sound too winded, yet she’d been on the machine for a good ten minutes at least. She was in phenomenal shape—those yoga pants didn’t lie.

He frowned. “Hey now, your biceps are just fine. Nothing small about them.” He didn’t recall ever criticizing her shape.

“I meant yours,” she said drily.

“You really are mean.”

She scowled. “I am not.”

“You are. That’s why I like you.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.” Her lips curled, and his heart raced.

“Yet true.” Before a nearby musclehead could jump on the machine that opened up next to her, Gavin stepped in front of him, blocking the way. “Sorry, man. I’m training her.” He turned around, searching for a free machine. “There you go. That one just opened up.” He pointed out a machine in front of them before facing Zoe again.

The guy gave him an odd look and shrugged. “Well, I’m not gonna kiss you, but I get it. Poor bastard.” He chuckled and walked away, no harm no foul.

Before Gavin could ask what the guy was talking about, Zoe cut in, “Training me? Liar.” She slowed her machine to a walk.

Gavin put on a hurt look. “But I am training you. To smile. Slowly but surely, I’m working on that last nerve. The same one I’m constantly rubbing the wrong way on everyone else, according to my siblings. They, like you, have no appreciation for my sense of humor.” He bent over to touch his toes, luring her with his flexibility. When he straightened, he noticed the strange look she gave him.

Zoe glanced at him a moment more before grinning. Man, she had one sexy mouth. “Oh, I don’t know. I appreciate humor as much as the next gal.”

“Yeah?” He stared in awe. Her bright eyes were so…blue.

“How about this?” She added a husky laugh that shot sparks through his chest and radiated all over his body.

“You have a great laugh. You should do it more often.”

“Oh, I will.” She chuckled some more. “Thanks, Gavin. You really made my night.” Then she shocked the hell out of him when after getting off her machine, she leaned close to kiss him on the cheek.

“Th-thanks.” God willing, he could control himself with the woman. “Not that I don’t deserve that, but what made you kiss me? Uncontrollable lust? Finally owning up to your feelings? Realizing you’re in love with my charming self?”

She looked on the verge of exploding with mirth. “You sure you want to know?”

“Well, yeah, before we set our wedding date, at least.” He grinned at her. But she laughed again, and he had a feeling it was at—not with—him. He frowned. “Okay, what?”

She cleared her throat, her humor still plain to see. “Well, Smoky, there’s a sign on your back that says Kiss me if you pity men with small brains.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I feel for you. It’s not your fault size really does matter.” She snickered again before leaving him busy staring over his shoulder at the mirrored wall behind him.

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A SURE THING

Meet the Donnigans

With the eldest Donnigan brothers adjusting to civilian life, their younger sister constantly in trouble, and their little brother clueless about life in general, falling in love is the last thing on anyone's mind...

Can this Bossy Badass Marine...

The Marine Corps was everything Landon Donnigan ever wanted in life...until a bullet sent him home with a medical discharge. Teaching a self-defense class at the gym is old-hat for a marine, but when he meets sexy Ava Rosenthal, his combat skills are useless for protecting his heart.

Be her Mr. Right?

Ava can take care of herself and likes quiet, bookish men-not muscular warriors who think women need to be coddled. But Landon is more than he seems, and when they come together, the results are explosive.

THE ONLY THING

Releasing in 2018, date TBD

On the cusp of turning thirty, Hope Donnigan is getting her life together. She’s working in a job she likes, has good friends, and has finally stopped dating Mr. Wrong. Entirely. So she should have no problem ignoring J.T. Webster. He’s big, bad, and totally what she should be steering clear of.

J.T. fell for the hot blonde months ago at his sister’s wedding. Having seen what love did to his father, he’s never felt close to a permanent relationship with a woman. But Hope gets to him. When he agrees to be her pretend boyfriend to annoy her mother, he never expects their fake relationship will be better than anything real he’s ever had. Before he knows it, he’s falling in love and not sure what to do about it.

But someone else wants Hope all to himself, and that someone isn’t happy about J.T. being in the picture. Soon, J.T. and Hope will have to deal with a secret admirer, her protective family, his annoyed sister, and their feelings for each other, which aren’t so pretend. But sometimes, there’s only one thing to do when you’re falling in love. And that’s let yourself go.

Caffeine addict, boy referee, and romance aficionado, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Marie Harte has over 100 books published with more constantly on the way. She’s a confessed bibliophile and devotee of action movies. Whether hiking in Central Oregon, biking around town, or hanging at the local tea shop, she’s constantly plotting to give everyone a happily ever after. Visit Marie's website and fall in love.

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Blog Tour for Country Nights by Winter Renshaw

AMAZON

Sixty country days and sixty country nights—that’s all I wanted.

I needed to get away from the city, away from the hot mess that had become my life.

When I stumbled upon my childhood home on RentBnB.com, I took it as a sign, cleaned out my life savings, and hightailed it to the only place that ever meant something to me, a place I hadn’t seen since a lifetime ago.

Only when I arrived to the familiar South Dakotan farmhouse, I was met by a brooding, we-don’t-take-kindly-to-strangers cowboy by the name of River McCray, who insisted this was his house and most definitely not a rental property.

I’d been internet scammed.

And that cocky, smart-mouthed stranger had the nerve to make me a humiliating offer: I could stay in his house for the next two months rent-free, but I had to work for him.

He’d be my boss. And my roommate.

With no money and nowhere else to go, I agreed. But nothing could have prepared me for the tension, the attraction, and the bombshell revelation that changed … everything.

“You know it’s three o’clock in the morning, right?” Leighton closes the picket fence gate and steps lightly up the paved sidewalk. She’s grinning, coming toward me like a woman floating on a breeze.
Anchored in a wooden rocking chair, I flatten my lips. “Your point?”
“Why are you still up?” She takes the chair beside me, crossing her legs and leaning toward me. “Were you waiting for me to get home?”
“Nope.” I fold my hands across my stomach, staring ahead.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Something like that.” I exhale. Story of my life.
“Can I ask you something?” Leighton’s brows are furrowed, like she’s concentrating, and she rests her chin on top of her hand.
“No.” I rise to head in, only she reaches for me, tugging on my sleeve until I return to my seat.
“Talk to me.”
“We’re not friends,” I remind her.
“We don’t need to be friends to talk.” She sits up tall in her rocker, squaring her shoulders. “I’m just curious about some things.”
“And those things are probably none of your business.” My words are sharp, cutting.
“I know that,” she says, watching me. “Doesn’t make me any less curious.”
We linger in silence for a moment, nothing but the sound of cicadas and the rare bellow of a cow calling her calf somewhere over the hill.
“When I talked to Molly earlier, she said some things…” Leighton pauses.
“Molly says a lot of things.”
“She gave me the impression that you weren’t always like this.”
I scoff. “Weren’t always like what?”
“Closed off. Bitter. Temperamental.” Leighton seems to choose her words carefully, but it doesn’t make them any easier to swallow.
I know what I’ve become. In fact, I’m well aware. No man has his heart and soul pulverized and comes out completely unscathed. I may not have visible scars, but it doesn’t mean they’re not there, taking up permanent residence just beneath the surface.
I feel them every day, a stark reminder of everything I lost.
One day she was here …
The next day she was gone. And she took my whole world with her.
And it wasn’t her fault. Not one bit. It was mine.
That’s something I have to live with the rest of my life.
“Molly thinks you’re lonely,” she says, releasing a gentle chuckle.
Dragging in a ragged breath, I ponder my answer before letting it go. “I’m not sure why you think any of that would concern you.”
“So you are.”
“I didn’t say that,” I snap.
“Well, Molly seems to think that, and she says you guys have known each other since you were kids.” Leighton rocks, staring up at a starless sky with her hands folded across her lower belly. I glance away. “She’s worried about you. She wants to see you smile again.”
“Smiling’s overrated.”
“Molly wants me to stick around,” she says, “for your sake. I told her it probably wasn’t a good idea. I feel like you find me annoying.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong.”
Her brows lift, her jaw unhinges. “Really? So you do find me annoying …”
“You talk way too much. You ask too many questions. And for a city girl, you’re awfully naïve.”
She stands, hands on her hips. “You don’t talk enough. You don’t ask nearly enough questions because you don’t seem to care about anyone but yourself. And for a small-town boy, you’re awfully rude.”
I rise, towering over her and breathing out my nose. She smells like a bar: cheap beer and stale cigarettes. I liked her better when she smelled like my soap and her exotic perfume.
Nothing about this woman belongs here, in this town. She’s too polished and pretty, her eyes too filled with life and hope. This town would chew her up and spit her out, just like it has everyone else who stuck around.
“I’m going to bed,” I say.
Her eyes narrow. “You can’t just walk away.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Because we’re fighting. And you’re trying to run from it.”
“Don’t use my words against me.” I shake my head, hooking my thumbs through the belt loops of my jeans. “I’m not running, Leighton. I’m tired. I’m going to bed. And trust me. We’re not fighting, sweetheart. You’d know if we were.”
Leighton’s hands grip the sides of her head, tugging at her dark hair, and she releases an exasperated moan. I imagine I’m infuriating her right now, but I don’t particularly care. In fact, I couldn’t care less.
“Goodnight, now.” I head back inside, letting the screen door slam behind me.

Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.

And if you'd like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out, please sign up for her private mailing list here ---> http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j

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Release Blitz for Untamed by Lauren Hawkeye

The first part in Lauren Hawkeye's super sexy UNINHIBITED! serial is available today - and you don't have long to wait, with the next part releasing next week!

Find out more about UNTAMED below and pick up your copy today!

   

About UNTAMED (Uninhibited! #1)

Celebrity archaeologist Cari Dunn is so over the Georgia heat, the red tape at her dig site, and the threatening messages left on her motel door. She just wants to dig, and the network just wants to keep her safe—with a bodyguard. She can’t complain. Jasper Benjamin radiates raw masculinity that penetrates her to the core and ignites passion she’s never felt. Too bad for him, she's not going to be easy to handle.

Lusting after the bodyguard shouldn’t be so tempting, especially when her life is on the line.

Grab your copy of UNTAMED now

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Preorder UNBOUND (Uninhibited! #2) - Releases July 10th

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Preorder UNDONE (Uninhibited! #3) - Releases July 17th

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Get a Sneak Peek at UNTAMED

“You know what Krav Maga is, and you let me spar with my imaginary friend for the last hour?” I let myself go limp, become dead weight, expecting the move to surprise him enough to drop me.

It did not. Instead he rolled with me until his back was against the parched grass, and I was seated astride him. I should have been able to get free since I was on top, but I couldn’t rid myself of his steely grip on my arms, and I knew he’d chosen that position deliberately, to prove his point.

Damn it. This was not the result I wanted—proof that I did, in fact, need him.

“I get it. You’re stronger than me. Now let me up.” Temper-tears stung the back of my throat. Convincing my stepfather that I was going to go to university, convincing my colleagues that I wouldn’t have a nervous breakdown just because some idiot spray painted my door—why did I always have to fight just to live my life the way I wanted?

Instead of gloating and letting me up, my newly vindicated bodyguard tugged me down so that I lay at on top of him. I surprised myself by wanting, suddenly, to bury my face in his T-shirt and just let go for a moment, rather than fight this new reality—that I might actually be in danger.

“I’m not trying to prove that I’m stronger than you. I don’t have to. It’s obvious.” The urge to snuggle passed as I cranked my head around with a glare.

Way to make me feel worse, asshole.

“Krav maga is a discipline, and the first rule is to avoid confrontation. You know this. So why the hell are you out here, alone, after dusk?” His words were tinted with frustration, the first hint of emotion he’d shown, and I was surprised enough to stop tugging at his grip. When I did, he let go, and I pushed myself up on his massive chest but didn’t roll off.

“You’re serious.” I waited for the punchline, but it didn’t come. Instead, he fixed me with a stare from those pale eyes, and a shiver skittered down my spine. “You don’t actually think someone is out to get me, do you? It’s a prank, right?”

“Let’s look at it this way.” Propping himself up on an elbow brought that rock-solid stomach of his in contact with my hip. I thought he would push me away, but he didn’t, seeming completely unaffected by the closeness of our bodies.

That stung, because I sure as hell wasn’t. This close, I could feel the warmth of his skin, smell a hint of soap, and it invaded my senses slowly, lazily, like honey melting on a summer day.

“You’re an archaeologist. You search for physical proof of things before you build theories on top of that evidence. Would that be an accurate explanation?”

“Yes.” Narrowing my eyes, I tried to drag my attention from the scent of his skin to what he was saying. My mouth was dry, and the space between my legs that pressed into the cradle between his hip was warm and starting to ache.

He gave no indication that our position was getting him all hot and bothered, too. None. How was I the only one feeling this?

“You have your physical proof. Harassment in the form of vandalism, and the more direct threat with the poster mailed to Margot.” With the sort of ab crunch I couldn’t do even on my best day, he hauled himself into a sitting position, still without pushing me off his lap. “Sure, it could be that someone just wants to mess with your head. But what if it’s more? Wouldn’t you rather be prepared?”

“I like being prepared.” I ran my tongue over my lips and swallowed. Holy mixed messages. His words, his demeanor—he was still fully in G.I. Joe mode, but still, he hadn’t pushed me away.

“So how is this going to work? You just follow me around all the time?” A thought occurred to me. “You’re not expecting to stay in the same room, are you?”

Looking at him, though, I felt that same strange pull that I had in Margot’s suite. I might not actually mind having him that close.

What was wrong with me?

Margot and the network had been right—I was absolutely in danger. But the threat?

It was him. 

About Lauren Hawkeye

Lauren Hawkeye/ Lauren Jameson never imagined that she’d wind up telling stories for a living… though when she looks back, it’s easy to see that she’s the only one who is surprised. Always “the kid who read all the time”, Lauren made up stories about her favorite characters once she’d finished a book… and once spent an entire year narrating her own life internally. No, really. But where she was just plain odd before publication, now she can at least claim to have an artistic temperament.

Lauren lives in the Rocky Mountains of Alberta, Canada with her husband, toddler, pit bull and idiot cat, though they do not live in an igloo, nor do they drive a dogsled. In her nonexistent spare time Lauren can be found knitting (her husband claims that her snobby yarn collection is exorbitant), reading anything she can get her hands on, or sweating her way through spin class. She loves to hear from her readers!

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Release Blitz for Collaring His Cadet by Claire Thompson

*★**★**★**★**★*

Collaring His Cadet

By Claire Thompson

*★**★**★**★**★*

Buy Link:

amzn.to/2rsgt3g

Bondage, discipline, sadomasochism… Masters and slaves, whips and chains… What have I gotten myself into?

My name is Remy, Cadet Remy Harris, and I always show the world my tough-girl side—ready, willing and able to beat any guy at any challenge. When I enrolled at a venerable Southern military college, I never dreamed I’d be inducted into the secret BDSM society that pervades the campus and military at every level.

My submissive fantasies explode as I’m drawn into a dark, edgy world of erotic servitude, training and punishment. Each new experience pushes my masochistic boundaries, but the yearning in my submissive soul remains. Though I’m assured the Slave Corps is the be-all and end-all for serious slave girls, my doubts and questions linger. Maybe I just don’t have what it takes for true submission?  

Then I meet Him…

 Purchase links: 

amzn.to/2rsgt3g

Excerpt: 

Mistress Janet led me to the circle of chairs and remained standing beside me. “Allow me to present Remy Harris. She has no previous formal training, so please keep that in mind as you put her through her trials.”

Put her through her trials.

Her words jolted me into another round of internal questioning. What the hell was I doing there? What had I signed up for? I glanced nervously from face to face, settling at last on Jacob, who continued to smile his bland, ironic smile.

Was there still time to back out?

Stand and fight, I reminded myself. Never surrender.

Mistress Janet placed cool fingers on my arm. “I believe you are already acquainted with Master Jacob?”

I nodded, resisting the urge to say something sarcastic about the precise nature of our acquaintance. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said in a soft but steely voice.

“Yes, Mistress,” I promptly amended.

“And this is Mistress Diane”—she nodded toward the woman and then turned toward the other guy—”and Master Floyd.”

Floyd? Who the hell was named Floyd?

Keeping my face military impassive and respectful, I nodded politely toward each of them.

Turning back to me, Mistress Janet said, “You’re here of your own free will, is that correct?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I managed, pleased my voice sounded steady, even if my legs had turned to jelly.

“You are about to undergo a series of trials devised by this committee to determine your suitability,” she continued. “If you pass and choose to join the Slave Corps, you will be admitted as a novice. Based on your predilections”—I must have looked blank at the unfamiliar word, because she clarified—”your sensual hardwiring, you’ll either be trained as a potential slave or a potential Dominant. Watching your reaction the other night, along with input from Master Jacob, we will conduct the trials with the assumption you’re a submissive.”

No point in denying it. Without looking at Jacob, I replied, “Yes, ma’am, er, Mistress.”

“Good,” she said crisply. She took her seat beside the others. “Start by removing your uniform. Then you will kneel on the floor facing us, forehead touching the ground, arms extended in front of you along the ground.”

I glanced from face to face. They were regarding me intently. Jacob’s expression was slightly mocking, as if challenging me to fail.

Fuck him.

Bending down, I unlaced my boots. I pulled them off, along with my socks, and set them neatly aside. Standing tall, I took a breath and reached for the top button of my blouse, willing my hands not to shake. As I shrugged the garment from my shoulders, I ordered myself not to blush.

As their eyes burned into my flesh, I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. My torso bare, I became uncomfortably aware of my breasts, wishing as I always did that they were small and high, instead of full and large. In spite of my discomfort, my nipples tingled and hardened under the four Doms’ relentless gazes.

With fumbling fingers, I opened my fly, pushed my pants and underwear down past my hips and kicked out of them. I glanced at Mistress Janet, who gave me a small nod as if to say, “Go on.”

Glad to hide my bare body, I lowered myself to the floor and leaned forward until my forehead touched the carpet. I extended my arms in front of me. My heart was mutinying in my chest, my gut clenched into a ball as I waited for whatever was coming next. I tried to take in a deep breath and release it slowly in an effort to relax, but it came out as a heaving shudder.

I heard the sound of a chair scraping back, and then saw Mistress Janet’s feet appear in my peripheral vision. Reflexively, I lifted my head to look up at her.

Mistress Janet placed a firm hand on the top of my head, pushing it back down to the floor. “Stay in position. I’m going to blindfold you.” When my forehead was once more touching the carpet, she fitted what felt like a sleep mask over my eyes.

She tapped my shoulder. “Stand up, feet flat and shoulder-width apart, hands locked behind your head.”

I stood awkwardly, slightly off balance because of the blindfold. Though my heart was still pounding and my lungs seemed to have collapsed, something else was happening too. Assuming that position—blindfolded, naked and on display—brought about that familiar, softening release I had experienced when Jacob had commanded me in his bedroom. As nervous and uncertain as I was, I couldn’t deny my excitement.

I lifted my arms as instructed and stood waiting in front of the four judges, my nipples tingling, my clit swelling. This was it. I was poised at the top of a steep slope, ready to fly down this mountain of adventure. I sensed all it would take was one little push.

“Very nice,” murmured Mistress Diane. “Such supple youth, such strength, and yet she’s every bit a woman, no doubt about that.”

I felt the heat of a flush rise up my neck and into my face, but I stood my ground, clenching my interlaced fingers against the back of my head to keep from reflexively covering my body.

“Too bad she cuts her hair like a goddamned boy,” Master Floyd interjected. “All these GI Janes trying to act like guys. Enough to make you puke.”

My distaste for the man blossomed into full dislike.

“Let’s see how she handles a whipping,” Jacob said mildly, as if he didn’t care one way or the other.

A whipping!

I drew in a sharp breath, my muscles tensing as adrenaline squirted into my bloodstream. At the same time, I couldn’t deny the hot pulse of desire that surged through me as my skin tingled with anticipation.

I heard some movement, and a moment later two large, masculine hands gripped my shoulders from behind.

Author Bio:

Claire has been writing for nearly two decades, and has published over 70 novels. She writes BDSM romance and non-con abduction tales, spanning both m/f and m/m genres. She has received numerous awards for her bestselling work, including the 2010 NLA-Int’l Pauline Réage Award for best BDSM fiction. Her darker works press the envelope of what is erotic and what can be a sometimes dangerous slide into the world of sadomasochism. Ultimately her work deals with the human condition, and our constant search for love and intensity of experience.

Connect with Claire:

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Also available:

Claire's entire book list of over 70 books are all available on kindle unlimited.

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