Thursday, March 2, 2017

Blurb Blitz w/Giveaway: Wilde Thing by Jannine Gallant



WILDE THING
by Jannine Gallant
GENRE: Contemporary Romance

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A digital copy of the featured book. Please visit GoddessFish.com to follow the tour, remember the more you comment better your chances on winning.

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BLURB:

The Wilde brothers are addicted to the rush of adventure. But one of them is about to learn no matter how often you look for danger, you don’t want danger finding you.

For extreme skier Tripp Wilde, pushing the limits is what he lives for. Unfortunately, the inherent risk takes a toll on his body. After an injury sidelines him, he ends up in the care of his little sister’s best friend, physical therapist Hannah Ryder—who has grown up in all the right ways since they last met.

Hannah doesn’t mix business with pleasure, even though she harbored a maddening crush on the irresistible Tripp years before. So, while Tripp tries every slick maneuver he knows to bed her, Hannah uses her own moves to keep the hotshot skier cooled off while trying to control her own growing desire for him.

After the pair witness what they think may be a murder on the slopes, along with the men responsible, no one believes their story. But when a series of unlikely accidents suggests they are being targeted, the two will have to trust in each other like never before if they are going to survive.

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EXCERPT:

When the door to his hospital room opened, Tripp didn’t bother to glance up from the text he was trying to send one-handed. He fumbled the phone and swore then tossed it down on the bed. “Damn it. This sucks. I feel like a freaking invalid.”
“Problem?”

His chin came up as his gaze shot toward the doorway. Not Jake, who’d left to get something to eat and promised to come back later to drive him home. Hannah Ryder. His little sister’s old college roommate. Once in a while, when he was actually home and not to the far corners of the world, he caught sight of Hannah around town, but they’d never been anything but casual acquaintances at best. From the way her golden eyes narrowed on him, Tripp got the feeling she could take him or leave him…and would prefer the latter.
“I guess I wasn’t imagining you were on the hill this morning when they hauled me out of the avalanche.”
“No, you weren’t.” She advanced into the room and stopped a yard short of his bed. Hands tucked into the pockets of her down jacket, she regarded him steadily. “How’re you feeling?”
Strong was the word that sprang to mind as he studied Hannah. Those golden eyes reflected intelligence in their depths along with a mental toughness. Model tall but without scrawny angles, this woman looked capable of taking down any man stupid enough to mess with her without permission. Not that he’d ever try.
Tripp let out a breath. “Uh, I’m feeling okay. A little loopy from the pain meds. I imagine my shoulder will hurt like hell when they wear off.”
“Probably, but they’ll give you more drugs to manage any discomfort. I ran into a friend on the nursing staff out in the hall and got the basic facts. No fractures. That’s great.”
He scowled. “The dislocated shoulder is bad enough.”
“And only a mild concussion. You were extremely lucky. You could easily have been killed.”
He rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you Miss Glass Half-full. Lucky would have been not getting caught in the avalanche. Really lucky would have been finishing my run before the cornice broke free.”
Her golden cat eyes darkened to the color of her tawny-brown hair as she tucked a stray lock behind one ear. “I’ll report back to Eden that you’re not going to drop dead anytime soon…unless one of the nurses gets fed up with your bad mood and kills you.”


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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Write what you know. Jannine Gallant has taken this advice to heart, creating characters from small towns and plots that unfold in the great outdoors. She grew up in a tiny Northern California town and currently lives in beautiful Lake Tahoe with her husband and two daughters. When she isn’t busy writing or being a full time mom, Jannine hikes or snowshoes in the woods around her home. Whether she’s writing contemporary, historical or romantic suspense, Jannine brings the beauty of nature to her stories.

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Blog Tour w/Giveaway: Still You by Amy K. McClung


Title: Still You (Trade Me Collection)
Genre: Gay Romance
Release Date: February 11, 2017
Publisher: Hot Tree Publishing
Cover Artist: Soxsational Cover Art
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For Eden, life revolves around making sure his sister and niece are taken care of while building his landscaping business. Love certainly hasn’t been a priority. From the moment he meets his new client, his outlook on what’s important changes.

For Adam, the last two years have been spent helping his best friend, Maggie, grieve for her late husband while helping take care of her kids. Between his work at the hospital, and supporting his friend, finding time for himself has not been his priority. When Eden knocks on his door one summer morning, he knows life will never be the same.

Mistakes and misunderstandings are always difficult to navigate. Can Adam convince Eden he’s still the only man for him before it’s too late?


Hot Tree Publishing Exclusive M/M Romance Collection

Trade Me is a new genre-linked collection of 30,000 - 50,000 word novellas. With so many sexy trades to pant over, Trade Me stories offer heat, swoon-worthy men, and HEAs that will leave M/M romance lovers completely satisfied.


Strolling back into the kitchen, I stopped in my tracks as the sexy gardener stood in front of the window with his tank top raised enough to give a glimpse of his rock-hard abs. Fuck. The man was losing all the water in his body, and all I wanted to do was watch him wash the grime off and see water cascade over those taut fucking abs.

I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, then opened the back door and whistled to get Eden’s attention. “Want some water, man? You look like you’ve lost yours.” Eden cocked his eyebrow at my rather lame joke. It made me wonder for a moment what his full name was. And I needed to tone back the immaturity a bit with him. Maggie and I acted like kids when we were together, but I didn’t want to look like a complete tool around this man.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I usually keep a cooler in my truck, but I was running late this morning and forgot it.” He raised the bottle, and I watched with awe as he wrapped his beautiful pink lips around the opening, mesmerized as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he drank. Adam’s apple? Fuck yeah, I could totally claim him right now and devour him like a sweet, succulent apple. Damn. It’d been too long since I’d had sex.

Taking a look around at the work he’d done, I was amazed at how different the yard looked in comparison to the last time I tried to fix it up for Maggie. “I’m positive Mags is going to want you back. It looks amazing out here. Did you do that?” I pointed toward a birdbath in the yard, previously covered in filth with weeds grown all around it, now gleaming in the sun with fresh water and surrounded by tiny purple flowers.





Amy McClung was born in Nashville, TN. She is the second oldest of four girls and occasionally suffers from middle-child syndrome. She met the love of her life online in August of 2004, on his birthday of all days, and married him in September 2005.

Currently they have no human children, only the room full of colourful robots that transform into vehicles and the large headed Pop Funkos who represent their favorite characters. Collecting movies, shot glasses, Pop Funkos, and dust bunnies are some of her favourite pastimes.

Amy began writing in September of 2011 and independently published her first YA novel, Cascades of Moonlight, Book one of the Parker Harris series the following May. Her first book was a means of therapy for her, enabling her to escape reality for a while during a difficult transition in her life.



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Excerpt Reveal: What I Need by J. Daniels

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From New York Times bestselling author, J. Daniels, comes a sexy new STANDALONE novel. Riley Tennyson has made a huge mistake. At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself. Showing up to her brother’s wedding pissed off and newly single, Riley seeks comfort in solitude and an open bar, until the gorgeous and irresistibly charming CJ Tully makes her a better offer―a wild night with the master of smooth-talking where nothing is off limits. Riley does what any single woman would do, and a connection is made. One neither one of them can ignore. But when she comes home to the boyfriend she no longer thought she had, Riley buries her secret and begs CJ to do the same. Forget about each other. It was a mistake. That’s all it was… right? Desires are hidden. Distance is kept. Until one night CJ makes the ultimate sacrifice, and Riley can no longer avoid the man she can’t stop thinking about. Not with him sleeping down the hall…    

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“You Tully?” I jerk my chin at the guy standing at the security booth after he speaks, then throw a look of appreciation at the bouncer who led me over here before he steps away. “Name’s Mark. I’m running things tonight. It’s good to have you,” the guy says. We shake hands. “Yeah. Don’t mention it,” I reply. He looks around the venue and gestures. “Packed joint tonight. Shouldn’t get too crazy with this band and the crowd it’s bringing out, but we never wanna risk it. It’s good having backup.” “How many of us you got?” I ask him over the music when the band starts playing, leaning closer to hear his response. “You and another guy who’s already here. He’s hanging out up by the stage. Plus a bunch of our guys.” He hooks his thumb at the floor to ceiling windows along the front of the building, adding, “I got some uniforms on the street keeping that shit under control in case people get tossed out.” I nod, liking what I’m hearing. The Red Door isn’t the biggest venue I’ve worked security on, but it’s big enough. Managing this shit alone can present a challenge. And by the looks of it, it’s a sold out show. More eyes we got on the crowd, the better. “You run into any problems yet?” I ask. The guy shakes his head. “Nah. Just normal shit. People trying to sneak in their own booze,” he replies, glancing at the door where everyone is filing in. “Confiscated it. No issues. Everything else seems to be running smooth.” “Good,” I say when I meet his eyes. “I’ll keep near the back since the other guy’s covering the front. I’ll come to you if I run into any problems.” “Sounds good, man.” We exchange another hand shake, then I step away and move through the crowd. I stop near the center of the room and stay to the back like I said so I can have full view of the floor that’s packed with bodies, some keeping position and others moving away from me, pushing to get closer to the stage. Bringing my arms across my chest, I stand tall and do a sweep of the place. I’ve been here before so I know the layout. There’s a bar to the right of where I’m standing, stretching the length of the wall. Restrooms are behind me. Other than the hallway leading to the rooms behind the stage where bands hang out, there’s isn’t much that isn’t visible. Plus, it’s one level, standing room only, so I don’t gotta worry about another floor I need to cover. Should be an easy gig. I do shit like this on the side for the extra cash. Venues hosting concerts are always looking for cops who are willing to come out and beef up security. We stay in civilian clothes so we blend in, and unless I’m having to act on something, I typically get out without anyone knowing I’m a cop. Easy money. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. I look back to the dance floor. The lights are dimmed. Red and blue strobe lights positioned on the ceiling illuminate the crowd, along with the bright, white lights shining from the stage. Visibility is good. Another plus. I worked a few of these where it wasn’t and that only presented problems. But here, I can see faces. Can see other shit going on too if someone’s dumb enough to try something too. I anticipate it. Events like this always bring out some of the stupidest motherfuckers. Which is exactly why they like having us work these things. Security can only do so much. I’m three songs into the set when the beat picks up. The bass vibrates along the floor. I feel it pulsing in my feet. The faster rhythm stirs the crowd and shifts them around. More bodies gather and move closer to the stage, jumping up with their fists in the air and belting out lyrics, drawing people away from the bar. Others stay toward the back where there’s room to dance. That’s where I’m looking, and that’s where I see her. Blonde. I blink. My eyes refocus. Then I stare at waves the color of sand flowing down the back of a tiny thing swaying to the music. Shirt tied off at the waist. Lower back showing. Hips shaking in some tight as shit black jeans. Ass looking fucking incredible. Damn. She reaches above her, bends her elbows and rakes her fingers through her hair, lifting it off her neck as her body keeps moving in ways I feel straight in my cock, then after letting her arms drop, she looks toward the bar with eyes searching, giving me full view of her profile. My chest grows motherfucking tight. I blink again, thinking I’m seeing things. Riley Tennyson wets her lips. Fuck. I’m not seeing things. Jesus Christ. This is just what I need. Working this shit, needing to stay focused and eyes alert to all bodies in this room and now I know for damn sure that’s not gonna be happening, meaning this gig just went from easy to really fucking complicated. There’s only one body I’m interested in keeping eyes on and it’s the one making my dick hard. Motherfucker. Riley Tennyson is gonna fucking kill me. I pull in a deep breath, watching that sweet face get ripped out of view when Riley looks toward the stage again. She keeps dancing. Keeps shaking that perfect ass and swaying those perfect hips, fingers curling in and lifting those long waves again, also perfect. Every part of her. Every fucking inch. Perfection. And I’m not even considering what she’s got going on in the front. Shouldn’t even be considering it—we’re friends, she’s taken, and I’m not a fucking asshole—but that didn’t stop me all day when I couldn’t keep those spectacular tits off my mind, even going a step further into crazy when I shared that with her through a text. I need to quit now. Stop this shit. I can avoid it. I got options. Switch with the guy hanging up by the stage, hoping Riley keeps her location. Or fuck it. Just pull out of this gig all together. Make up some excuse. I don’t need the cash. I don’t need to be staring. I sure as fuck don’t need to be getting hard right now. I got options. Just need to pick one. Simple. Yeah… Real fucking simple. I breathe in deep again, letting it out slowly. And I do this staring at her. Only at her. And the more staring I do the more I start to notice, like how she seems to be out there dancing alone, not with another person or a group of friends she came with. People around her are keeping to themselves or appearing to be together, throwing their arms around each other or sharing looks. Acting friendly. Just not with her. Riley isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes. She’s not trying to talk to anyone. She’s in her own little world. She’s here alone. He made her come to this shit alone. Anger fills me. My jaw flexes while the muscles in my arms and shoulders start locking up. My choice of options just grew by one. Instead of charging through the crowd which, no lie, is exactly what I want to be doing right now, I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out my phone. I shoot out a quick text. Me: Tell me he’s here. Lifting my eyes, I watch as Riley pauses mid ass-shake, slaps her back pocket, tugs out her phone and brings it in front of her. Her head tilts down, then a second later it’s lifting and she’s searching all around where she’s standing, peering around people and standing taller. She finds me when she finally twists around, head first and then body following. Her lips part. Her blue eyes go round, flames burning me up like they always do. Riley starts moving my way and my eyes lower, first to her mouth, watching the slow smile twist across it and take shape. She looks happy to see me. I shouldn’t put stock into that but I do. It’s what I want. Then my eyes keep dropping and I get full view of her tits. Her full, heavy, perfect fucking tits. Sitting high behind her tight white shirt and bouncing with her steps. Jesus Christ. My new friend has tits like that. And by the looks of it, she didn’t bother putting on a bra either. What the fuck did I do in a previous life to deserve this kind of torture? “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming to this,” Riley says all sweet sounding when she reaches me, stopping close and offering me a smile. Sweat gathers on her brow and in the hollow dip in her throat. She shoves her phone away and questions, “Why are you standing all the way back here? Don’t you wanna get closer so you can see the band?” “Working,” I tell her, lifting my eyes before I punch a hole through my jeans. I tuck my phone into my back pocket, adding, “Trust me. I can see plenty from where I’m standing.” Ain’t that the fucking truth. Riley blinks, then looks to my chest. “You’re not wearing your uniform,” she observes. I squint at her mouth. I got what she said, but I can barely hear her over the music. I don’t like that. I want to hear her. “Come on.” Grabbing her elbow, I pull Riley with me to the back corner of the room, stopping beside the hallway that leads to the restrooms and crowding the wall. It’s as far from the speakers as I can get her unless I take her outside, and I’m not sure I want to do that. Only `cause I know I’ll want to leave with her. Meaning I absolutely want to do that. Shoulder pressing to the wall, I release her elbow after tugging Riley close. I pull my arms across my chest. “Not typically something I wanna advertise when I’m staying undercover,” I say in response to her observation. “Oh.” She looks up at me, smiling and lifting her shoulders with a jerk. “Cool,” she says. I can see Riley better where we’re standing now. The hallway light is shining on her, making her skin glow. I look her over. She wearing more makeup than I’ve ever seen her in. Black lines her eyes and her lashes are darker. Thicker too. I like that. Her cheeks are flushed from the dancing she was doing. That combined with the whatever she’s got on her face is hiding her freckles from me. I don’t like that. But I don’t tell Riley. I keep looking. Red lips, full and shiny. Cock sucking lips. I know that from experience. Shit. Don’t go there. I focus on her eyes again. Blue and black, fading out to grey. Like a storm coming… “You totally still look like a cop,” Riley shares, jarring my focus. The corner of her mouth twitches. “You’re not fooling anyone, CJ Tully.” My brows raise. “Yeah?” She nods, laughing. “You look scary and pissed off. Smile a little.” I don’t smile. Not even when she amps hers up and gives it to me, pairing it with another soft giggle. I get straight to the point with her because getting off point with Riley is gonna lead to this shit getting even more complicated, and fuck, I’ve looked enough tonight to run the risk of major fucking complications. Plus, she’s laughing. Smiling. Looking like she’s thinking the same things I’m thinking. Get to the fucking point, Tully. “You gonna answer my question?” I ask. Her brow furrows. “What question?” “I asked you if he was here,” I remind her. “Oh.” Nodding, Riley looks behind her in the direction of the bar, then meets my eyes again. “Yeah, he went to get a drink. He doesn’t really want to be here. I kinda dragged him out.” “Why?” “Why what?” “Why’d you need to drag him out?” Riley tilts her head. “Because… he doesn’t really want to be here?” she repeats slowly, looking puzzled. “I just told you. He doesn’t like The Killers.” “So?” “So?” “Yeah, babe. So.” She straightens her head, but her eyes narrow as if she’s thinking hard. “You’ve lost me,” she shares. “Forget it,” I mumble, looking away, knowing I got no business getting up in her shit the way I’m doing. I need to back off. “No. What? Tell me.” Riley reaches out and places her hand on my forearm. I look down and watch her black painted fingers wrap around and curl under. I feel them squeeze. Our eyes lock. “Tell me,” she pleads, looking close to begging for this. My blood starts running hot. Scorching. Hot. Fuck it. I’m getting up in her shit. “I’m here because I’m working for extra cash, not because I’m digging the music,” I share, staring into her eyes and seeing hers staring back, like what I’m revealing is something she needs to hear, not just something she’s curious about. “Don’t hate it. I listen to stuff like this on occasion but it ain’t something I’d pay money to see. That being said, my woman wants to come to a show like this, crowd this size, booze flowing, other shit possibly going on, she ain’t coming alone. No discussion needed. I could hate this music to the point it makes my fucking ears bleed and I’m still going with her.” “Why?” Riley asks. “To protect her?” “That.” I jerk my chin. “And `cause she’s mine and a real man can deal with shitty music for a few hours if it means putting in time with his woman.” Riley drags her teeth along her bottom lip. Her chest starts working harder, moving stricter with her breaths. I should stop now. The way she’s looking at me… I should stop. I don’t. “Saw you dancing and thought you were here alone,” I add, smirking. “Already hate that motherfucker for what he gets to touch every night. I thought I was gonna have to kill him.” Riley stares up at me. She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. “Babe,” I probe. “You shouldn’t say that,” she says, face serious. Her hand squeezes tighter. She’s anxious now, maybe. Or pissed. I don’t know. I decide to ease her mind if it’s nerves getting to her. “I wouldn’t really kill him.” My smirk grows into a smile. “Mess him up though.” “No. Not that.” She shakes her head. “The other thing. What he gets to touch. You shouldn’t say that.” “It’s true.” “Even so. We’re friends. You shouldn’t say it.” I bend to get closer. “You might wanna take your hand off me if we’re friends, darlin’.”
 
I-don't-give-a-damn_torn     logo-rectangle-1-2400-x-1025J.Daniels is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Sweet Addiction series, the Alabama Summer series, and the Dirty Deeds series. She would rather bake than cook, she listens to music entirely too loud, and loves writing stories her children will never read. Her husband and children are her greatest loves, with cupcakes coming in at a close second. J grew up in Baltimore and resides in Maryland with her family. Sign up to receive her newsletter and get special offers and exclusive release info: http://authorjdaniels.com/newsletter/ Twitter | Instagram | Website | Facebook | Amazon Author Page |Goodreads | Reader’s Group    

Blog Tour w/Giveaway: Jordan Reclaimed by Scarlett Cole


 

Dear Reader,

I know how much you loved the couples at Second Circle Tattoos. So for my next series, I wanted to give you more of the characters you have already come to care about. Welcome to Preload. For those who have read The Purest Hook, Preload is hero Dred Zanders' band. And yes, for all of you who wrote to me asking for the band members to each get their own stories after reading The Purest Hook, here they are. Jordan is up first and will be followed by Elliott, Nikan, and Lennon. I can't wait for you to get to know and fall in love with these men who grew up in a group home together and the women who bring them to their knees.

And for those who haven't read The Purest Hook, it doesn't matter because these stories are all completely stand-alone.

Love, Scarlett



Title: Jordan Reclaimed
Author: Scarlett Cole
Series: Preload #1
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Pub. Date: February 28, 2017


Synopsis:

Jordan Steele’s life began when he was ten. When he was taken from his parents and a house that was never a home. When he met his brothers, the other lost and abandoned boys in his group home. When he learned what friendship and family and love looked like.

Now he’s made good, touring the world with the band he and his brothers formed in that crowded group home. No one but his found family really knows the man under the fame and fortune, the scars he hides behind the rockstar lifestyle. Until he sees her through the windows of the National Ballet, dancing, and suddenly the world doesn’t seem so dark.

Aleksandra Artemov ticks all the ballet boxes. Father a legendary Kirov dancer. Check. Prepping since birth for classical ballet. Check. Compulsive control over the food she eats. Check. Principal dancer at The National Ballet of Canada. Check. But what she craves is freedom.

She craves Jordan.
Everything about him should terrify her. His size, his tattoos, his edge. But he doesn’t. He stirs her very soul. Jordan has nothing but himself to offer her, and he's never been good enough for anyone. Can he figure out how to face his own demons before he loses his light for good?


Find out more at: Goodreads | Amazon | Amazon UK | B&N | iBooks







Excerpt from JORDAN RECLAIMED:

Copyright © 2017 by Scarlett Cole

He got it.
He finally got it.
He got why John Lennon left the Beatles for Yoko.
He got why Dred wrote a love song for Pixie.
From the moment Jordan’s lips touched Lexi’s, he couldn’t imagine anything else feeling and tasting quite so perfect for the rest of his life.
He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips and she groaned, opening for him. He thrust his hands further into her hair as their tongues touched. She tasted of wine and sweetness, and he couldn’t get enough.
While her eyes were closed, his were open, unwilling to miss a single moment of what was happening between them. He angled her head, and she rose up on her toes to meet him. He thought he was going to faint as the blood rushed from his brain to his cock, which ached for contact.
Lexi’s arms wound their way around his waist, her hands finding the way under his leather jacket and sweater to rest upon his back. Skin on skin. How he wanted them to be. Naked. Exposed. Nothing between them as he made love to her in a huge bed that they could stay in for days.
Except he didn’t have a huge bed. And he didn’t have the kind of room she deserved to stay in. He had an attic. And a box under his bed that held his most treasured possessions that nobody else would understand. A secondhand copy of Scales, Chords & Arpeggios, and the first birthday card he ever received from Maisey and Ellen. Random shit nobody else would care about.
Jordan pulled away slowly and looked carefully at Lexi. Her lips were pink and plump, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide.
“Jordan,” she whispered.
“I gotta go. Bye, Lexi,” he said. He needed to get home and then drink enough to forget about her. Banish the stupid idea swirling around in his mind that they could have any kind of relationship. He should never have kissed her. It was hard enough to walk away before, but now that he had a clearer idea of what it was he was actually walking away from, it hurt all the more.
“Wait,” Lexi said as she grabbed his arm.
The small voice in his brain told him to keep walking, but he couldn’t. Instead, he turned to see what she wanted.
Lexi grabbed a pen from her purse, the one she had given him to sign the napkin in the restaurant. She reached for his hand and turned it over so his palm was facing up and quickly scribbled something on it. When she was done, she stood on her tiptoes again and kissed his cheek.
Weakness was a new sensation, but he felt it down to his boots as, against his better judgment, he leaned his cheek ever so slightly toward her lips.
“Good night, Jordan,” she said and bounced up the porch, grabbing her hat from the chair where Jordan had tossed it.
She paused in the doorway to wave good-bye and then closed the door silently shut.
Only when he was certain that she was definitely gone did he allow himself the luxury of seeing what she had written on his hand. It was a phone number. Despite himself, he felt a murmur of excitement that she found him worthy of a second date.
Jordan turned toward home. As snow began to fall again, he hurriedly made the short hike across the Don Valley river and ravine to his neighborhood, trying to halt the avalanche of emotions because of ten hand-scribed digits.






About SCARLETT COLE

Scarlett Cole is a writer of contemporary romance and a two-time RITA finalist. Her debut, THE STRONGEST STEEL, has already become an Amazon best seller in romantic suspense, was a Best Debut Goodreads Author Finalist 2015, and Authors On The Air Global Radio Network Contemporary Romance Pick of 2015.

When Scarlett isn't writing, she spends her time reading, hoarding mason jars, and working out to off-set an epic sour candy habit. She likes hot men, cold beer, and expensive shoes.

Having travelled the world for work and fun, Scarlett is a citizen of both Britain and Canada. A true city-dweller, she considers Toronto and Manchester home and likes to set her books in vibrant locations such as Miami and Toronto.
Rep'd by Beth Phelan at The Bent Agency, and published by St. Martin's Press.
She'd love to hear from you on via social media.
Connect with Scarlett: Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | Newsletter