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Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Dirty Filthy Reveal

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  Add to Goodreads Synopsis
I own Second Circle, the hottest underground sex club in Texas. And ashard as it is, pun intended, I’ve learned better than to fuck with the playthings at my club. It only leads to trouble. But being twenty-seven, well-hung, and a millionaire, coupled with a brand of kink that makes most romance novels look like nursery rhymes, it’s a magnet for pussy.
The one exception to that rule seems to be the tight-assed reporter named Lola who joins Second Circle seeking answers about the girl who went missing from my club last year.
Her only objective is to solve a mystery, while mine is to fuck her senseless.
Good luck, pet, you’re going to need it.
Filthy Dirty Alpha is book 1 in a hot new series.
Book 1 - May 11 Book 2 - May 18 Book 3 - May 25
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Synopsis
My unique brand of kink has most women dropping their panties.
But not Lola.
Which makes her all the more interesting. You know the old cliché that men love the chase? Hell yeah we do. I want her to fight me. Resist me.
Because when I finally take her, I’ll have conquered not only her body, but her mind. And to a Dom like me, there is no better victory.
This is book 2 in the Filthy Dirty Alpha series, continuing the erotic journey of Lola and Burke, and the dark, and troubling secrets he's been hiding.
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Synopsis
BDSM isn't just about sex, it's about laying yourself bare.
I'm the Dom, and yet with Lola, I've been stripped to the core and my secrets exposed for her to judge.
I've pushed her limits, and now it's time for her to make her choice—can she love both the man and the Dom?
Only that answer will determine our fate.
In this third and final installment of the Filthy Dirty Alpha series, Lola and Burke's passionate relationship is put to the ultimate test.
About the author
Grace Morgan is a Midwestern girl who kicked off her snow boots and ran west to the land of sunshine and flip flops. You can find her sipping cocktails with her girl posse, going on epically bad blind dates, and pretending to be prim and proper while she dreams up steamy scenes, alpha bad boys, and sassy heroines.
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Jase by MariaLisa deMora Blog Tour & Giveaway

Meet Jase Spencer.

He’s just your everyday kinda guy, a hard-
partying, hard-living professional hockey player. Nothin’ special.

Good-looking and ripped, the man has moves, on and off the ice. But, he’s also jaded and alone, and tired of living out of suitcases.

For as long as he can remember, hockey has ruled his life. He’s chased pucks across more than a dozen countries, and had his pick of women in any town he visits.

Then he met HER. And now, he’s about to turn his life upside down because of HER. Because he can’t get the one night of passion he shared with a smokin’ hot biker babe out of his head. Unfortunately, DeeDee wasn’t interested in anything long term, and she’s gone before he’s ready.

Life becomes complicated and difficult when Jase is traded to another team, and as he tries to settle in his new hometown, everything seems to conspire against him, determined to go wrong.

Dancing around their mutual attraction, one day he and DeeDee find themselves face-to-face and body-to-body, but will they be able to set aside their past pain and focus on the future they could make together? Can he make her reconsider her relationship fears and trust him?

Jase is on a mission to show her what they have together is worth fighting for, to convince her to take a chance on him. His attempts will bring him squarely into the path of a motorcycle club, earning him the attention of Mason, president of the Rebel Wayfarers MC.

Jase says, “Bring it on.”

You miss 100% of the shots you never take. – Wayne Gretzky
Copyright MariaLisa deMora 2015
From chapter 10, Broken things
“DeeDee, wait,” he called as he ran to catch up with her, settling into a fast walk beside her as they moved across the lot towards fan parking in the front. “Wait,” he said again, reaching out a hand to touch her arm. She stopped so suddenly he stumbled and had to turn around, having passed her with his long, hurried strides.
“Hey,” he said softly. Looking into her face, he saw the glint of tears on her lashes and his heart clenched. Blinking furiously, she swallowed and lifted her chin, meeting his gaze straight on.
“Hi, Jase,” she said cheerfully, as if she hadn’t just been about to cry.
He took a long look, drinking his fill of her. He hadn’t seen her in six weeks. Six long weeks, and Jase saw she had lost back the little bit of weight she gained when they were together. He thought she looked too skinny again, beginning to lose the soft curves he loved. Arms crossed over her chest, she had her fingers tightly wrapped around her biceps, the tension in her hands giving lie to the smile on her face. He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek and she stepped back, out of reach, her reaction twisting his heart in his chest again. What? She can’t even stand my hands on her now?
“You came to the game?” He didn’t know what else to say, what to ask. He knew what he wanted: he wanted her to come home with him, let him wrap her up…let him love her. His mouth was full of those words, his tongue frozen with fear. God, just having her this close was good, and he didn’t want to do anything to send her running again.
“Yeah, the radio station gave me some tickets for advertising the club.” Smiling politely, she took another step back and to the side, trying to shift around him but he moved with her.
“Oh, promo tickets. Nice. Were they decent seats?” Doesn’t she know I’d get her tickets to every game if she wanted? He should do that anyway, have them at the ticket office for every home game. That way he would know by looking if she was in the arena.
“Yeah, on the glass behind home net. You played a lot.” The first hint of a real smile crossed her face. “You look good.”
“The team seems to suit me,” he agreed. “You look good too, baby.” Crap, he thought when he saw her flinch as if slapped when the endearment slipped out. Don’t do that again, man.
“It’s good to see you, Jase,” she said, stepping back again. Clearly preparing to leave, she shifted further around him and he turned to track her movements.
“DeeDee,” he was frantic now to keep her talking, keep her here…keep her. Casting around for a topic, he latched onto the most recent thing he knew had happened in her life. “How’s Ruby?” There, look at that; her real smile is back. He relaxed minutely. I picked a good topic.
“She’s good. Seems recovered from everything. Things could have gone a different way, so we’re all glad she’s better.” Her gaze dipped then rose again, “Slate loves her.”
“Yeah, he does, eh?” He smiled, thinking about how crazy Slate was for Ruby. “It’s still a good thing between them, eh?”
She laughed, and his breath caught in his throat at the sound, bright, clear, and mirthful, so…her. “Well, Ruby’s happy, and that’s all I care about. I love seeing her smile again. You don’t know what she was like before the accident, but this is as close to that as she’s been for years.” She looked wistful, and Jase was thrown off balance that he hadn’t been with her to see all of this as it happened. He would love to be there every day. His heart twisted again and he frowned, thinking, I do still love her. I love her.
“So, how’s work?” Yeah, you’re officially floundering for conversation starters now. Next would be the weather. He groaned silently.
“Work is about the same.” She flashed him a grin. “Mercy asks about you sometimes. Said you were the shyest guy she had ever seen in a strip club. I have a new girl auditioning in a couple of weeks; she’s coming up from Florida. It’s nice. Really nice, because, for a change, everything is running smoothly, which kinda makes me want to find some wood to knock on so I don’t jinx myself.”
“Mercy’s a jackass,” he grumbled, grinning. Leaning over, he offered his head. “Here’s my thick head; you can knock on that. It’s as good as wooden.” He held the pose, looking down to watch her legs and feet, and he saw them angle as she leaned forward a second before her hand settled on his head. Her fingers delicately threaded through his hair to the back of his neck, tracing the skin there softly. Then he lost the heat of her hand as she made a fist and gently rapped her knuckles on top of his head.
Straightening slowly, he caught a look of pain on her face before she smoothed it away, plastering that damn fake smile back on. “There you go,” he said softly. “Crisis averted. You are officially un-jinxed.” Her smile faded, and an uncertain look took its place, making her look open and vulnerable. She opened her mouth to say something, when the loud clicking of heels came from across the lot behind him. Her eyes darted over his shoulder, and with a slam he could almost hear, the shutters drew across her features again.

“I have to go. It was good to see you, Jase.” She turned on her heel and walked away.
Raised in the south, MariaLisa learned about the magic of books at an early age. Every summer, she would spend hours in the local library, devouring books of every genre. Self-described as a book-a-holic, she says “I’ve always loved to read, but then I discovered writing, and found I adored that, too. For reading … if nothing else is available, I’ve been known to read the back of the cereal box.” She still reads voraciously, and always has a few books going in paperback, hardback, on devices, on napkins! 

Oatmeal is her comfort food. She hates gardening but loves flowers; not cut arrangements, but in the wild, outside. She has a deep and abiding respect for our military. Her dad was career Air Force, and flew during the Cuban Missile Crisis, Korean Conflict and Vietnam War. Parades make her cry. Walking Dead is about the only TV she watches anymore, don’t bother her on Walking Dead night, when she’s been known to shout, “Go Team Darryl!” Yes, she’s still sad about Firefly.

She’s a hockey fan, like … a serious hockey fan. She’s loyal to the Edmonton Oilers, but asks that we don’t judge her about that. She also likes the Nashville Predators and Ottawa Senators. The local ECHL team, the Fort Wayne Komets, are a fav of hers, and she has season tickets. She’ll also generally try to hit the road games within a hundred-mile radius.

She’s a wanna-be hiker, working on a “bucket list” of hikes like Knobstone (completed in four days mid-April 2014 – whoooo!), sectioning parts of the AT (51 miles in Georgia in early-May 2014), and now and then looking west towards PCT.

She embraces her inner geek; MariaLisa has been working in the tech field for a couple decades. A sometime PC gamer, she still plays EverQuest after all these years. She says, “What can I say, I’m loyal (see above, I’m an Oilers fan LOL). Yes, I’ve heard of WoW, and have a coupla toons there, too.”

On music, she says, “I love music of nearly any kind—jazz, country, rock, alt rock, metal, classical, bluegrass, rap, gangstergrass, hip hop—you name the type, I probably listen to it. I can often be seen dancing through the house in the early mornings. But what I really, REALLY love is live music. My favorite way to experience live music is seeing bands in small, dive bars [read: small, intimate venues]. If said bar [venue] has a good selection of premium tequila, then that’s a definite plus!”




 

RELEASE DAY BLITZ - The Dating Misfortunes of Paige Turner by Aubrey Kendall




Title: The Dating Misfortunes of Paige Turner
Series: Circle of Friends #1
Author: Aubrey Kendall
 Release Date: May 5, 2015


Synopsis


Is it possible for a princess to meet her Prince Charming for the first time and fall in love? Are the princesses we read about kidding themselves, or do they just settle? Happily ever after is something all women dream of as children, but how does someone meet that one exquisite man then run off and marry him? Rubbish! 

The men Paige Turner has met have had something terribly wrong with them or just aren't charming at all. 

Paige has only ever felt love from a boy long ago, and is finally ready to settle down. The few potentials, however, are colleagues and she has a strict rule in dating men she works with. Holding a job as a paralegal and owning her own home, Paige has made her decision to get serious in her dating efforts. 

After several attempts to find the guy of her dreams, Paige begins to see a not-so-bright future. Just as she thinks she found the one, he turns out to be something she is not. Luckily for Paige, a few of her friends help her along the way.

Will Paige ever find her Prince Charming? Or is she destined to be a maiden forever?

Each book in the Circle of Friends series is a standalone

Links to Buy

99c

AMAZON US / UK






Author Bio

S.M. Knowles wanted to keep her S.M. name separate for her YA Books. Aubrey Kendall is for anything that is not YA or not meant for children to read. She graduated with her Master’s degree in Adult Education and Training in 2012 and is now looking at pursuing her doctoral program. She has been writing since the age of nine, but didn’t pursue publishing until 2013. She lives in Phoenix Arizona with her two daughters and husband.



Author Links

RE-RELEASE BLITZ - Vegas Miracle by Liz Crowe




Title: Vegas Miracle
Author: Liz Crowe
Genre: MMF Ménage Romance
 Re-release Date: May 5, 2015


Blurb

Ryan and Grace Sullivan have all the outward indications of a happy life: money, success, an undeniable physical attraction that quickly evolved from whirlwind relationship to marriage. But lately, Ryan's become moody and distant. As their relationship starts to crumble, Ryan discovers something about himself he can't admit just as Grace realizes the young man she encounters at an invitation only party, Henri Christophe, a celebrity chef with the most successful restaurant in Las Vegas, is her husband's lover. But Henri holds a secret himself. He wants to be more to both of them. 

As they attempt to make their unconventional arrangement work, Ryan's deep-seated fear of relationship failure continues to thwart everyone's happiness. When he finally walks away instead of confronting the emotional connection the trio shares, he returns to find their lives flipped inside out. A sought after hotel and resort consultant, Ryan has yet to meet a problem he couldn't solve. But when it comes to his own heart, he may be too late.






Links to Buy

AMAZON US / UK






Author Bio


Amazon best-selling author, beer blogger, brewery marketing expert, mom of three, and soccer fan, Liz Crowe is a Kentucky native and graduate of the University of Louisville currently living in Ann Arbor. She has decades of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse.

Her early forays into the publishing world led to a groundbreaking fiction subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” which has gained thousands of fans and followers interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”). More recently she is garnering even more fans across genres with her latest novels, which are more character-driven fiction, while remaining very much “real life.”

With stories set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch, in successful real estate offices and at times in exotic locales like Istanbul, Turkey, her books are unique and told with a fresh voice. The Liz Crowe backlist has something for any reader seeking complex storylines with humor and complete casts of characters that will delight, frustrate and linger in the imagination long after the book is finished.

Don’t ever ask her for anything “like a Budweiser” or risk bodily injury.



Author Links

Escaping Reality Sales Blitz



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ESCAPING REALITY is book one in The Secret Life of Amy Bensen series and it is now ON SALE for just $1.99 (reg. $7.99)

Get your copy of this sexy, thrilling mystery at the following retailers:

Paperback (5/5/15) - http://amzn.to/1GDFbwt










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Blurb

About the series: At the young age of eighteen, tragedy and a dark secret force Lara to flee all she has known and loved to start a new life. Now years later, with a new identity as Amy, she’s finally dared to believe she is forgotten—even if she cannot forget. But just when she lets her guard down, the ghosts of her past are quick to punish her, forcing her back on the run.

On a plane, struggling to face the devastation of losing everything again and starting over, Amy meets Liam Stone, a darkly entrancing recluse billionaire, who is also a brilliant, and famous, prodigy architect. A man who knows what he wants and goes after it. And what he wants is Amy. Refusing to take “no” as an answer, he sweeps her into a passionate affair, pushing her to her erotic limits. He wants to possess her. He makes her want to be possessed. Liam demands everything from her, accepting nothing less. But what if she is too devastated by tragedy to know when he wants more than she should give?


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Excerpt: Chapter One

Amy…
My name is all that is written on the plain white envelope taped to the mirror.
I step out of the stall inside the bathroom of Manhattan’s Metropolitan Museum, and the laughter and joy of the evening’s charity event I’ve been enjoying fades away. Fear and dread slam into me, shooting adrenaline through my body. No. No. No. This cannot be happening and yet it is. It is, and I know what it means. Suddenly, the room begins to shift and everything goes gray. I fight the flashback I haven’t had in years, but I am already right there in it, in the middle of a nightmare. The scent of smoke burns my nose. The sound of blistering screams shreds my nerves. There is pain and heartache, and the loss of all I once had and will never know again. Fighting a certain meltdown, I swallow hard and shove away the gut-wrenching memories. I can’t let this happen. Not here, not in a public place. Not when I’m quite certain danger is knocking on my door.
On wobbly knees and four-inch black strappy heels that had made me feel sexy only minutes before and clumsy now, I step forward and press my palms to the counter. I can’t seem to make myself reach for the envelope and my gaze goes to my image in the mirror, to my long white-blond hair I’ve worn draped around my shoulders tonight rather than tied at my nape, and done so as a proud reflection of the heritage of my Swedish mother I’m tired of denying. Gone too are the dark-rimmed glasses I’ve often used to hide the pale blue eyes both of my parents had shared, making it too easy for me to see the empty shell of a person I’ve become. If this is what I am at twenty-four years old, what I will be like at thirty-four?
Voices sound outside the doorway and I yank the envelope from the mirror and rush into the stall, sealing myself inside. Still chatting, two females enter the bathroom, and I tune out their gossip about some man they’d admired at the party. I suddenly need to confirm my fate. Leaning against the wall, I open the sealed envelope to remove a plain white note card and a key drops to the floor that looks like it goes to a locker. Cursing my shaking hand, I bend down and scoop it up. For a moment, I can’t seem to stand up. I want to be strong. I have to be strong. I shove to my feet and blink away the burning sensation in my eyes to read the few short sentences typed on the card.
I’ve found you and so can they. Go to JFK Airport directly. Do not go home. Do not linger. Locker 111 will have everything you need.
My heart thunders in my chest as I take in the signature that is nothing more than a triangle with some writing inside of it. It’s the tattoo that had been worn on the arm of the stranger who I’d met only once before. He’d saved my life and helped me restart my life, and he’d made sure I knew that symbol meant that I am in danger and I have to run.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting a wave of emotions. Once again, my life is about to be turned upside down. Once again I will lose everything, and while everything is so much less than before, it’s all I have. I crumble the note in my hand, desperate to make it, and this hell that is my reality, go away. After six years of hiding, I’d dared to believe I could find “normal”, but that was a mistake. Deep down, I’ve known that since two months ago when I’d left my job at the central library as a research assistant, to work at the museum. Being here is treading water too close to the bridge.
I straighten and listen as the women’s voices fade before the room goes silent. Anger erupts inside me at the idea that my life is about to be stolen from me again and I tear the note in tiny pieces, flush them down the toilet and shove the envelope into the trash. I want to throw away the key too, but some part of me won’t let that happen. Probably the smart, unemotional part of me that I hate right now.
Unzipping the small black purse I have strapped across my chest and over my pale blue blazer, that despite my tight budget, I’d splurged on for this new job, I drop the key inside, sealing it away. I’m going to finish my party. Maybe I’m going to finish my life right here in New York City. The note didn’t say I’d been found. It only warned I could be found. I don’t want to run again. I don’t. I need time to think, to process, and that is going to have to wait until after the party.
Decision made, I exit the stall, cutting my eyes away from the mirror and heading for the door. I do not want anyone to see me right now when I have no idea who me is or will be tomorrow. In a zone, that numb place I’ve used as a survival tool almost as many times as I’ve tried to find the meaning of that symbol on the note, I follow the soft hum of orchestra music from well-placed speakers, entering a room with a high oval ceiling decorated with magnificent artwork. I tell myself to get lost in the crush of patrons in business attire, while waiters toting trays offer champagne and finger foods, but I don’t. I simply stand there, mourning the new life I’ve just begun, and I know is now gone. My “zone” has failed me.
“Where have you been?”
The question comes as Chloe Monroe, the only person I’ve let myself consider a friend in years, steps in front of me, a frown on her heart-shaped face. From her dark brown curls bouncing around her shoulders to her outgoing personality and fun, flirty attitude, she is my polar opposite and I love that about her. She is everything I am not and hoped I would become. Now I will lose her. Now I will lose me again.
“Well,” she prods when I don’t reply quickly enough, shoving her hands onto her hips, “where have you been?”
“Bathroom,” I say. “There was a line.” I sound awkward. I feel awkward. I hate how easily the lie comes to me, how it defines me. A lie is all that I am.
Chloe’s brow puckers. “Hmmm. There wasn’t one when I was there. I guess I got lucky.” She waves off the thought. “Sabrina is freaking out over some donation paperwork she can’t find and says she needs you. I thought you were doing research When did you start handling donor paperwork?”
“Last week, when she got overwhelmed,” I say, and perk up at the idea that my new boss needs me. I don’t need to leave. I need to be needed even if it’s just for tonight. “Where is she?”
“By the front desk.” She laces her arm through mine. “And I’m tagging along with you. I have a sixty-year-old admirer who’s bordering on stalker. I need to hide before he hunts me down.”
She tugs me forward, and I let her, too distracted by her words to stop her. She’s worried about being hunted but I am the one being hunted. I thought I wasn’t anymore. I thought I was safe, but I am never safe, and neither is anyone around me. I’ve lived that first hand. I felt that heartache of loss, and while being alone sucks, losing someone you care about is far worse.
My selfishness overwhelms me and I stop dead in my tracks to pull Chloe around to face me. “Tell Sabrina I’m grabbing the forms and will be right there.”

“Oh. Yes okay.” Chloe lets go of my arm, and for a moment I fight the urge to hug her, but that would make her seem important to me, and someone could be watching. I turn away from her and rush for a door, and I feel sick to my stomach knowing that I will never see her again.
I finally exit the side of the building into the muggy August evening, and head for a line of cabs, but I do not rush or look around me. I’ve learned ways to avoid attention, and going to work for a place that has a direct link to the world I’d left behind hadn’t been one of them. It had simply been a luxury I’m now paying for.
“JFK Airport,” I pant as I slide into the back of a cab, and rub the back of my neck at a familiar prickling sensation. A feeling I’d had often my first year on my own, when I’d been certain danger waited for me around every corner. Hunted. I’m being hunted. All the denial I own won’t change my reality.
* * * * *
The ride to the airport is thirty minutes and it takes me another fifteen to find locker 111 once I’m inside the building. I pull it open and there is a carry-on-sized roller suitcase and a smaller brown leather shoulder bag with a large yellow envelope sticking up from inside the open zipper. I have no desire to be watched while I explore what’s been left for me. I remove the locker’s contents, and follow the sign that indicates a bathroom.
Once again in a stall, I pull down the baby changer and check the contents of the envelope on top. There is file folder, a bank card, a cell phone, a passport, a notecard, and another small sealed envelope. I reach for the note first.
There is cash in the bank account and the code is 1850. I’ll add more as you need it and until you get fully settled. You’ll find a new social security card, driver’s license, and passport as well. You have a complete history to memorize and a résumé and job history that will check out if looked into. Throw out your cell phone. The new one is registered under your new name and address. There’s a plane ticket and the keys to an apartment along with a location. Toss all identification and don’t use your bank account or credit cards. Be smart. Don’t link yourself to your past. Stay away from museums this time.
A new name. That’s what stands out to me. I’m getting another new name. No. No. No. My heart races at the idea. I don’t want another new name. Even more than I don’t want to be back on the run, I don’t want another new name. I feel like a girl having her hair chopped off. I’m losing part of myself. After living a lie for years, I’m losing the only part of my fake identity I’d ever really accepted as me.
I grab the passport and flip it open and my hand trembles at the sight of a photo that is a present-day me. How did this stranger I met only one time in my life get a picture of me this recent? It doesn’t matter I’d once considered him my Guardian Angel. I’m freaked out by this. Has he been watching me all this time? I shiver at the idea, and my only comfort is my new name. I’m now Amy Bensen rather than Amy Reynolds. I’m still Amy. It is the one piece of good news in all of this and I cling to it, using it to stave off the meltdown I feel coming. I just have to hold it together until I get on the plane. Then I can sink into my seat and think myself into my “zone” that I can’t seem to fully find.
Flipping open the folder, I find an airline ticket. I’m going to Denver and I leave in an hour. I’ve never been anywhere but Texas and New York. All I know about Denver is it’s big, cold, and the next place I will pretend is home when I have no home. The thought makes my chest pinch, but fear of what might await me if I don’t run pushes me past it.
I turn off my cell phone so it won’t ping and stuff it, with everything but my new ID and plane ticket, back into the envelope. I have my own money in the bank and I’m not about to get rid of my identification and access to that resource. Besides, the idea of using a bank card that allows me to be tracked bothers me. I’ll be visiting the bank tomorrow and removing any cash I can get my hands on. When I’d been eighteen, naive and alone, I’d blindly trusted a stranger I’d called my Guardian Angel. I might have to trust him now too, but it won’t be blindly.
Making my way to check in, I fumble through using the ticket machine and my new identification and then track a path to security. A few minutes later, I’m on the other side of the metal detectors and I stop at a store to buy random things I might need. All is going well until I arrive at the ticket counter.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Bensen,” the forty-something woman begins. “We had an administrative error and seats were double-booked. We—”
“I have to be on this flight,” I say in a hissed whispered with my heart in my throat. “I have to be on this flight.”
“I can get you a voucher and the first flight tomorrow.”
“No. No. Tonight. Give someone a bigger voucher to get me a seat.”
“I—”
“Talk to a supervisor,” I insist, because while avoiding attention means I am not a pushy person, and despite my initial denial of my circumstances that might suggest otherwise, I have no death wish. I am alive and plan to stay that way.
She purses her lips and looks like she might argue, but finally she turns away and makes a path toward a man in uniform. Their heads dip low and he glances at me before the woman returns. “We have you on standby and we’ll try to get you on.”
“How likely is it you’ll get me on?”
“We’re going to try.”
“Try how hard?”
Her lips purse again. “Very.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. And I’m sorry. I have a…crisis of sorts. I really have to get to my destination.” There is a thread of desperation to my voice I do not contain well.
Her expression softens and I know she heard it. “I understand and I am sorry this happened,” she assures me. “We are trying to make this right and so you don’t panic please know that we have to get everyone boarded before we make any passenger changes. You’ll likely be the last on the plane.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling awkward. “I’ll just go sit.” Definitely flustered, I turn away from the counter. Ignoring the few vacant seats, I head to the window and settle my bags on the floor beside me. Leaning against the steel handrail on the glass, I position myself to see everyone around me to be sure I’m prepared for any problem before it’s on me. And that’s when the room falls away, when my gaze collides withhis.
He is sitting in a seat that faces me, one row between us, his features handsomely carved, his dark hair a thick, rumpled finger temptation. He’s dressed in faded jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, but he could just as easily be wearing a finely fitted suit and tie. He is older than me, maybe thirty, but there is a worldliness, a sense of control and confidence, about him that reaches beyond years. He is money, power, and sex, and while I cannot make out the color of his eyes, I don’t need to. All that matters is that he is one hundred percent focused on me, and me on him. A moment ago I was alone in a crowd and suddenly, I’m with him. As if the space between us is nothing. I tell myself to look away, that everyone is a potential threat, but I just…can’t.
His eyes narrow the tiniest bit, and then his lips curve ever so slightly and I am certain I see satisfaction slide over his face. He knows I cannot look away. I’ve become his newest conquest, of which I am certain he has many, and I’ve embarrassingly done so without one single moan of pleasure in the process.
“Inviting our first-class guests to board now,” a female voice says over the intercom.
I blink and my new, hmmm, whatever he is, pushes to his feet and slides a duffle onto his shoulder. His eyes hold mine, a hint of something in them I can’t quite make out. Challenge, I think. Challenge? What kind of challenge? I don’t have time to figure it out. He turns away, and just like that I’m alone again.
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SERIES READING ORDER & SALE LINKS

The Secret Life of Amy Bensen series page - http://goo.gl/eal6KO

Escaping Reality #1
Paperback (5/5/15) - http://amzn.to/1GDFbwt
Audio (3/3/15) - http://goo.gl/Z6f1qt

Infinite Possibilities #2 (Available NOW!)
Paperback (7/7/15) - http://amzn.to/1zAQNmY

PRE-ORDER BOOKS 3 & 4 NOW!
Forsaken #3 (8/18/15)

Unbroken #4 (9/7/15)






About the Author:
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New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT SERIES, and is now in development by Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland) for cable TV. In addition, her Tall, Dark and Deadly series and The Secret Life of Amy Bensen series, both spent several months on a combination of the NY Times and USA Today lists.

Watch the video on casting for the INSIDE TV Show HERE

Since beginning her publishing career in 2007, Lisa has published more than 40 books translated around the world. Booklist says that Jones suspense truly sizzles with an energy similar to FBI tales with a paranormal twist by Julie Garwood or Suzanne Brockmann.

Prior to publishing, Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by Dallas Women Magazine. In 1998 LRJ was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at on her website and she is active on twitter and facebook daily.