Absolution Road by Rachel Blaufeld is ***LIVE!

GET YOUR COPY HERE: AMAZON US AMAZON UK iBooks Nook Kobo   Excerpt    Leaning my chair back on its two rear legs, I couldn’t help but laugh again before trying to contain myself. This chick and her soft demeanor were all business. Of course, she would be. Who else would work on Christmas Eve? I was pretty certain she could have made me wait until the day after Christmas to post bond, but here she was defending the public on the most holy night of the year. Add a big heart to the brain, tits, and long legs I’d already noted in her plus column. Maybe I didn’t want to bang her, but rather cherish this sweet thing? The reality of that seemed slim, seeing as the smart, good girls didn’t go for me. Nor did I expect them to. I was the bad boy, and I had the guilty conscience to back that notion right the fuck up. “Of course, Ms. Road. It’s Jake, by the way. Just J-A-K-E. Full name is J-A-S-O-N, but I haven’t been called that in twenty years.” I mocked her spelling with my very own rendition, teasing the schoolgirl, looking for a reaction like I was in the third grade. “So, let’s get down to brass tacks and get my ass outta here so you can head home to your . . . husband? Boyfriend? He must be waiting for a gem like you to come home to start the holiday, right?” No harm in trying. As I spoke, she narrowed her eyes and glared daggers at me. “Are you done with probing into my personal life, interrogating me? I’m pretty sure I’m not the one in jail.” Obviously annoyed, she followed that volley with another few leg switches. Left over right, right over left. I wanted to grab her knees and spread her limbs and dive in, let my tongue dig deep into her folds, make her let go of all that stuck-up bullshit she had going on while screaming my name. She probably tasted like sweet honey.

Book Summary For Jake Wrigley, the future is bleak. Some people are survivors, but he’s getting by on his bad-boy looks and charming smile. He owns a gym, gets into bar fights, and wrestles his demons with rough workouts—both in and out of the bedroom. For Alyson Road, the future is bright. Life can only improve from where she grew up. She graduated at the top of her law class, cares for her ailing mom, and in her job, she defends those who can’t afford anyone else. Her work is thankless but honest. Jake’s twin brother has been covering his ass for as long as they’ve been alive, but that all changes when Jake finds himself in front of the fiery public defender, his future in her hands. For the first time ever, he doesn’t want to involve his brother, finally realizing he needs to stand alone, be his own man. Even if Jake’s never absolved of his past wrongdoings or his heart is never scrubbed of the blackness that resides there, he can do one good deed—protect the beautiful lawyer who touched his soul—until helping her nearly becomes his own undoing.

**AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT** Alessandra Torre & Whats Next...

Alessandra Torre is an award-winning New York Times bestselling author of ten novels. Her books focus on romance and suspense, all with a strong undercurrent of sexuality. Torre has been featured in such publications as Elle and Elle UK, co-hosted Dirty Sexy Funny with Jenny McCarthy, as well as guest blogged for the Huffington Post and RT Book Reviews. She is also the Bedroom Blogger for Cosmopolitan.com.

You can learn more about Alessandra on her website at www.alessandratorre.com, or you can find her on Twitter (@ReadAlessandra) or Facebook.

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Cole Masten. Abandoned by his superstar wife, Hollywood’s Perfect Husband is now Hollywood’s Sexiest Bachelor: partying hard and screwing even harder. Watch out Los Angeles, there's a new bad boy in town. Summer Jenkins. That’s me, a small town girl stuck in Quincy, Georgia. I cook some mean chicken and dumplins, can bluff a grown man out of his savings in poker, and was voted Most Friendly my senior year. We were from different worlds. Our lives shouldn’t have collided. But then Cole Masten read a book about my small town. And six months later, his jet landed on our dusty airstrip, and he brought Hollywood with him. From the start, I knew he was trouble. For our town. And for me. Sometimes, opposites just aren’t meant to attract..

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═══ COMING NOVEMBER 10th ═══

Equal parts Dexter and 50 Shades, this is the eagerly awaited new novel from A. R. Torre, author of the award winning erotic thriller, The Girl in 6E.

The rules are the same. I can’t open the door. I can’t leave. I can’t kill anyone.

The only difference is, I don’t set the rules anymore. Guards in grey uniforms do. It is everything I never wanted and everything I always deserved. I write to you now, from a prison cell. My home for the next twenty to thirty years.

That’s the going term for murder.

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*** Spoiler Free *** 

 “Where were you last night, Ms. Madden?” I brought my eyes up from the water bottle and into the woman’s eyes. 

“I was here. In my apartment.” The woman’s eyes darted, from left to right, like a pong paddle. 

“All night?”

“Yes.” 

“Can anyone verify that?” When she spoke, her eyebrows pinched together in a sharp V of distrust. I watched their narrow exclamations and wondered what they have on me. Anything? Was this a fishing expedition or a sharpening of the nails that would seal my coffin? 

“Umm… yes. My next-door neighbor. Simon.” I tried to push into last night’s vault, but found nothing. Strange. 

“He was with you?” I felt the upward curl of my lip. 

“No. But he locked me into the apartment. From nine till sometime this morning.” That surprised them. I felt the shift of air, the rigid tilt of the woman as she fought against turning her head to the man. 

He leaned in a little and spoke, “I don’t understand.” 

 I sighed, an action that bought me a moment to deliberate the wisdom of information sharing. “Simon lives a few doors down. He locks my door at night. So he can verify that he locked me inside last night, and I was here all night until he unlocked me.”

“Your door locks from the outside?” EyelinerCop found this very interesting. I watched the tip of her pen, the increased tremor of it as it scratched against the page of her notebook. 

“Yes.” I lifted my eyes from the pen. 

“What evidence do you have against me?” Her mouth widened into a grin, a stretch of raw lips that looked painful. I didn’t like that grin, that tell that I’d just stepped into a pile of shit. 

“Why, Ms. Madden, what an interesting question. An innocent person would be more interested in finding out what crime was committed.” 

 “Who said I was an innocent person?” The response slipped out, snarky and unnecessary. I’d wanted to shut the cop up, to wipe that smug grin off her face. The question was much more passive than what I wanted to do. 

To spring across the table and claw at her throat. Yank at her belt and palm her service revolver. Celebrate the gun’s weight in my hand in the moment before I pointed the gun at her temple and pulled the trigger. 

Take that, bulletproof vest. Compared to that scenario, my egotistic response was tame. Tame and stupid. The pair of detectives all but high-fived each other with their eye contact. I settled back in my chair and waited. Counted to ten and swore to behave. The woman composed herself and spoke. 

“What are you guilty of, Ms. Madden?” I wondered why she was in charge of this interaction. If it was her rank or if it was because they thought I’d associate with a woman more. Thought I would buddy up and confess away, all because a penis didn’t hang between her legs. I tapped my fingers against the arm of the chair. 

“I’d like you both to leave now. Unless you have something to charge me with.” They had to have something. Surely they didn’t show up at my apartment on a whim. I must have slipped up somewhere, forgotten something. Left a gaping hole big enough for them to stick an arrest warrant through. 

The man spoke. 

“Let’s get back to the neighbor. You said he locks you inside? Why would you let him do that?” This was wrong, bad. I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be talking to them. I had asked them to leave, didn’t that mean they had to? I took a sip of my water and looked away from the man, making accidental eye contact with the woman. She leaned forward and pointed, her finger one long arrow of invasion. 

“What happened to your nose, Ms. Madden?” 

“My nose?” I reached up and touched it. Felt the caked blood, the split across my bridge. I fought the urge to follow suit with my second hand to fully explore the damage. Focused on my pain and suddenly realized how much it throbbed. 

“It looks broken.” She looked concerned, but she wasn’t. She was giddy, would probably have reached out and gripped my nose herself if she could have. It looks broken. It felt broken. I pushed on the tip and got lightheaded. Pulled my hand away before I fainted. I stared at a strand of the woman’s hair that had escaped her ponytail. Focused on it until the spots cleared from my vision. 

“Ms. Madden?” the man prodded. 

“What?” 

“What happened to your nose?” Good question. I looked away from the strand of hair and into the man’s eyes.

“I’m not sure.” 

“You forgot?” 

The seed of unease was growing in my stomach. Why was I talking to them? Why were they here? Why was I offering information when I wasn’t getting any? I stood up and watched for a reaction. A reach for a paper, for evidence to wave in my face, but they did nothing, just stayed in place and watched me. 

“I’d like to be alone.” I walked to the door and waited, the pair slow in their stand, step, then pass through the open door. I was almost free, about to shut it, when the woman’s hand settled on my arm, a firm and hard grip that tightened against the sleeve of my Marilyn Monroe sweatshirt. I turned, raising my brows at her in question. 

“Why did you kill him?” the cop whispered, her eyes glued on me. I didn’t answer her. I held her eye contact while I reached down and pulled back on her index finger until she released my arm. 

Then I dropped my hand, stepped back, and shut the door, the slam of the steel against the frame loud and unfamiliar. I didn’t not answer to be smart or mysterious. 

The main reason I didn’t answer was because I wasn’t sure how to answer. 

I wasn’t sure which death she was asking about. 

To be honest, I was starting to lose track.

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October 3rd, 2015 from 12 - 4 p.m.

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Billionaire With a Twist Part Two by Lila Monroe - Release Blitz

Title: Billionaire With a Twist Part Two

Series: Billionaire With a Twist #2

Author: Lila Monroe

 Release Date: September 16, 2015

Blurb

He’s dirty – no chaser.

Billionaire Hunter Knox hired me to save his family bourbon business: I’ve won the big pitch, but now trouble is only just beginning. I’m on a tightrope trying to keep my career from crashing out like a coed after a dozen jaeger shots, and I’ve made it clear to Hunter, our sexy one-night fling can't be repeated.

So what does the guy do? Turns around and starts dating my sister.

 

Pour me a double.

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Excerpt

My finger hovered over the button as I considered what to send him next.

I briefly considered a topless pic before discarding that idea; if someone from work ever found our dirty texts, I could claim someone else had sent them from my phone, but how that hypothetical someone had got their hands on a topless shot of me would be much harder to explain away.

I filed that idea away for a day in the future when I worked at a company where my colleagues weren’t untrustworthy sexist shitheads, and sent ‘miss u’ instead.

I immediately regretted it.

Not because it wasn’t true, but because it wasn’t sexy. And since our night together, Hunter and I had been keeping our conversations strictly sexy, and far, far away from feelings territory.

The phone rang.

Shit, had that been too much? Was he calling to say I should back off? Had he rethought things completely?

Calm the fuck down, I told myself sternly. You sent him a two word text, not a dozen roses. It’s not a big deal.

I answered the phone. “Hey.”

“Hey, Ally.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s good to actually talk to you. I’ve missed you too.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“So, how’s it going over there?”

“Oh, you know, a complete madhouse. So, the usual.”

“Oh yeah?”

“My boss is calling every fifteen minutes, the editing team can’t find any of the stable footage, Sandra keeps having to ice her hand to stop it cramping up…” I trailed off, and then laughed. “How do you do that?”

He sounded confused. “Do what?”

“Make it all seem so manageable. So okay. Just by listening.”

“One of my secret ninja powers,” he informed me, deadpan.

I raised an eyebrow. “Got any others you’d care to show me?”

“Oh, I’ve shown them to you,” he drawled, and even though it was only his voice over a phone line, I blushed fire-engine red. “And you’ve shown me a few as well.”

I eyed the door, toying with an idea. I couldn’t hear anyone rushing my way with an urgent development…I rose swiftly and locked it. “Care to see if those powers work over the phone?”

I knew exactly the face he would be making right now, that slow-spreading sweet honey grin as he took in the meaning of my words. “I surely would.”

Author Bio

Amazon bestselling author, queen of the short-reads, and expert at playdough, Lila Monroe loves to read and write tales of sexy Billionaires. Combining her love of writing, sex and well-fitted suits, Lila Monroe wrote her first serial, The Billionaire Bargain. Lila enjoys writing, as it gives her a flexible schedule to spend time with her kids and a wonderful excuse to avoid them. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, who strips out of his well-fitted suits nightly.

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