It’s a short list today, but hopefully you find something good 🙂
Title: Unfolding Desires (Undone #3)
Author: Kristy Love
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 10, 2015
I’d been hurt. But then again, what girl hasn’t?
I wouldn’t let myself fall again.
I was smarter than that.
Used them before they used me—live the way I wanted.
No man was worth a broken heart.
David seemed the perfect match for me.
He scared me and thrilled me.
Tested me and saved me.
But bad habits were hard to break.
Love wasn’t worth the fall.
* * *
Roxie stormed into my life, demanded my attention.
She’d built thick walls around her heart.
I needed to demolish them and claim her.
She fought me at every turn—refused to be tamed.
I wanted her to be mine.
The course of my life changed.
I made selfish decisions.
Lost my way.
I couldn’t hold onto her.
My mistakes haunted me.
I pulled up outside of my boyfriend’s house . . . No, he was my fiancé now. I pulled up outside my fiancé’s house and looked down at the ring on my left ring finger. It was a simple yet beautiful engagement ring, but it was fitting. Our love was a simple.
Robert and I had been dating for three years, but we’d been best friends since fifth grade. He moved to our town and we just clicked. Immediately. It didn’t become romantic until the sum- mer before our junior year of high school. He kissed me and asked me if I’d go out with him. It was so sweet and unexpect- ed. I’d dated some, mostly casual dates, but Robert never dated. Anyone.
Maybe he’d always been waiting for me.
We were even more inseparable after that. He was my sup- port system when my sister, Cassie, was banished from our fam- ily. He helped me sneak out of my house when things were real- ly bad and my dad’s temper flared.
He was always there.
He was my constant.
And now he would be my husband.
Normally, Robert was super cautious; he had a one-year plan
all the way through a ten-year plan. He was attending college up in Maryland, yet he came home every other weekend to see me. I assumed if marriage was in our future, an engagement would happen nearer to when we were both done with school.
I was still deciding what to do with my life and taking class- es locally until I figured it out. My parents weren’t happy that I was in my second year of school and still going to community college. But I had no idea what I wanted.
Other than getting out of my house. That was what I wanted more than anything.
When he knelt down and proposed to me on the dock, sur- rounded by pink rose petals, I thought I’d melt. I wasn’t normal- ly the type of girl who liked romantic gestures, but romance was in Robert’s bones. He was always surprising me with flowers or chocolates. He even surprised me by taking me shopping. Most boys didn’t like shopping, but not Robert. He was as into it as I was.I loved him so much. Sometimes, though, it felt as though our love was comfortable . . . simple . . . not vivid. But then I thought of how much I loved him, how he’d always been there for me, how he picked me up after my sister left. That’d be enough.
I climbed out of the car and shut the door. I walked toward his sidewalk and paused for a second. There was a bright red hatchback in his driveway. His parents were out of town this weekend, so it wouldn’t be one of their friends. I shook off my curiosity and hurried toward the door. My parents were thrilled about our engagement and wanted to go to dinner tonight to celebrate.
Okay, my mom was excited and wanted to go to dinner. I hadn’t heard from my dad, which wasn’t unusual. I had tried to get in touch with Robert for the past couple of hours and he didn’t answer, so I decided to stop over after I was ready. I wore my red dress, which was his favorite on me. I had on black heels that made me just a little taller than him, but he didn’t mind.
I opened the front door. I’d been coming here for most of my life and Robert’s parents considered me family. I’d been just walking in forever.
“Robert?” I called, peeking my head around the door. “You here?”
I heard a deep, masculine grunt. My heart pounded, won- dering what was going on. I stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind me. A balled up shirt on the floor caught my eye. My brows furrowed as I walked over and picked up the baby blue polo—the one Robert wore earlier when he proposed. Another article of clothing at the entrance to the hallway caught my eye. A pair of jeans, faded with rips in them.
Definitely not Robert’s. He’d never wear something so trashed.
I picked those jeans up and clutched the two articles of cloth- ing to my chest as if they were a shield.
I had a feeling I’d need it.
As I picked my way down the clothing-littered hallway, I heard a rhythmic creaking. My hands shook and my heart pounded in my throat.
What the fuck was going on?
Robert’s door was cracked open and the noises were defi- nitely coming from there. My stomach turned and rolled and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to discover what was behind that door.
At the same time, I couldn’t stop my feet from propelling me forward, craning my neck to peer through the small opening, clothes still pressed to my heart.
How was it that my heart was already breaking?
“Fuck,” Robert moaned. The word grated me. Robert never swore, at least not with me. He didn’t like it. He thought it was crass. A painful lump formed in my throat.
Whatever was behind this door . . . it was going to change everything. I already felt my life collapsing around me, turning upside down. My stomach was in knots and I felt as though I was about to be sick.
I reached forward, nudging the door open inch by inch. The scene in front of me unfolded slowly.
I couldn’t stop the sob from exploding up my throat.
The thrusting and moving limbs in front of me stopped. Cold. Robert cursed under his breath and scrambled.
From the time she was old enough to form words into sentences, Kristy Love has been writing stories. She attended La Roche College and graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Professional Writing. When she’s not writing, Kristy can be found with her nose stuck in a book or spending time with her family and friends.
She lives with her husband and two girls in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Author: JA Huss
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: September 9, 2015
Fletcher Novak is Sexy.
Fletch has charm, Fletch has charisma, and Fletch has moves. He turns dreams into reality two nights a week, baring his body to lonely women, bored housewives, and bachelorettes looking for that one last good time. He’s into one-night stands, one-time things, and he never, ever gets serious.
Tiffy Preston is looking for commitment.
A billionaire’s daughter with the world at her fingertips, Tiffy’s in Lake Tahoe to take over her father’s hotel and clean up the Mountain Men Male Revue Show. She’s well-bred, polite, and hates everything Fletcher represents.
But Fletcher offers Tiffy something she can’t refuse—total satisfaction and the man of her dreams. All she has to do is… everything he tells her.
Because Sexy doesn’t sell… it’s for sale.
GET THE ENTIRE SEVEN BOOK SERIES for $4.99 (one week only)
“Have you thought about me?” I ask. “Since last night at the show? Because I’ve thought about you.”
“What did you think about me? That I’m your next victim?”
“No, actually.” I smooth down the blanket on the ground of the shed and then step towards her, taking her face in my hands and pulling her tight against my chest. “I’ve thought about your hot breath as you panted against my cock when I was standing on your chair. I thought about your upturned eyes, looking at me if I ever got the chance to get you on your knees.”
She gulps air.
“Now tell me what you’ve been thinking about. Because you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to be.”
“We’re locked in,” she whispers as my mouth moves in closer.
I kiss her softly. No tongue, just a small, tender kiss that makes girls melt. “You have a phone, Tiffy. One call to your BFF, Claudio, and you’re free.”
She stares at me.
“But even though I might be the biggest prick you ever met, you want me, don’t you.”
She swallows hard.
“And I want you. That’s why we’re here. I want you. So if you don’t feel the same way, now’s your chance to say so.”
“I want…” She stops. There was a word on her lips, but I’m almost certain it was not my name. Jealousy heats me up in a millisecond. What kind of girl has another man’s name on her tongue when she’s gazing up into my eyes?
“What?” I say sharply. “What were you gonna say?”
“I want to be irresistible. Like you.”
“What?” I have to admit, I’m surprised. And then I laugh. “Are you a virgin?”
“I’m twenty-six, asshole. I’m not a fucking virgin.”
“Then what do you mean? I’m confused.”
“You’re just…” She sighs. “So good at this stuff. Seduction, right? I’m bad at it.”
“Who do you want to seduce?” My jealous rage is back.
“No one. Not specifically. But you’re so confident. And I’m so… not. I feel like I should take notes.”
It’s my turn to sigh. “What, you want me to teach you how to seduce someone?” The irony is not lost.
“Well, look. I hate you. I really do. You had me grabbing your cock last night and then I got accused of sexually harassing you. You made me feel like an idiot in that meeting with your plans and proposals. And now I’m up in your sex den, and I’m not sure what’s happening.” She looks at me with pleading eyes. “Tell me how you get all this control. How do you do it?”
I think about this for a few seconds, and then take a calculated risk. “How many blowjobs have you given in your life, Tiffy?”
“What?” She laughs, putting her hand over her heart like the word ‘blowjob’ is an assault on her virtue.
“I’ve given… one,” she admits, and then averts her eyes.
I’m turned on again. “One? One is not enough. If you want to know how to control a man, you don’t need to look any further than your own mouth. Men are drawn to lips. Every girl they ever think about sexually starts with an image of their cock in that girl’s mouth. So if you want control, you gotta lead a guy to your mouth.”
She takes a deep breath. “Go on.”
God, why am I so annoyed that she’s asking me for pointers? I can make her do anything I want right now. I should be celebrating.
“Please,” she begs. “Tell me.”
I place a hand on her shoulder and push. “Get on your knees.”
JA Huss is the USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty romances. She likes stories about family, loyalty, and extraordinary characters who struggle with basic human emotions while dealing with bigger than life problems. JA loves writing heroes who make you swoon, heroines who makes you jealous, and the perfect Happily Ever After ending.
I’m not dead…but I wish I was.
Please go away, Daddy. Please go away.
My heart is beating fast, and my hands are shaking. I’m trying really hard not to think about what’s going to happen the minute he opens the door.
It’s so quiet now. The only sound is my heart thrumming in my ears. Nothing else. Not a whisper, not a rattle…nothing.
Maybe Daddy’s left, maybe he’s gone to the pub to have a few drinks. Maybe, just maybe, he’s left…forever.
I take a deep breath and just relax for a moment. My shoulders drop and I finally stop rocking. Slowly, I take my hands down from my ears, and I’m so happy because I can’t hear him yelling at me. I can’t hear him at all.
Gradually I begin to unscrunch my eyes from the way I’ve tightly closed them. But something’s not right. There’s light coming into the cupboard.
I don’t even get a chance to open my eyes fully when a rough hand reaches in, latches onto my ponytail and rips me out of the cupboard.
“I told you it’d be worse for you if I had to find you,” Dad says as he drags me by my hair. I’m desperately trying to hold onto my head so he doesn’t rip my hair out, while my feet try to find traction on the dirty floorboards.
“Please, Daddy. Please. You’re hurting me,” I begin sobbing, pleading with him to stop.
“Then your ugly ass should’ve come when I called you. You stupid bitch, you’re a fucking worthless, ugly idiot,” he says. But now his voice is calm as he continues to drag me toward the family room.
That’s when he’s most scary. When his voice is low and his eyes are filled with hate. He throws me against the side of the sofa and takes a step back to look at me.
I look up and can see he’s angrier than I’ve ever seen him. “You dumb, ugly piece of shit,” he says as he paces back and forth in front of me.
“Sorry, Daddy. Whatever I did, I’m so sorry.” I curl into myself, defensively trying to make myself as small as possible.
“You’re just fucking stupid, aren’t you?” he spits toward me, as he brings his hand up to scratch at his chin.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, tears falling hot and fast down my cheeks. My head hurts from where he pulled my hair but I don’t dare try and rub the spot.
“You ugly fuck.” He aims a boot at my leg. The pain is instant and my leg feels like it’s shattered.
“Please, Daddy,” I beg again as I bury my face into my hands. But ‘please’ never seems to work.
Nothing does.I’ve just got to take the beatings, because that’s what stupid, ugly twelve-year old girls do.
There’s something about the written word that is pure magic.
Possibly it’s the fact there are 26 letters in the English alphabet, and they can create something so beautiful or so empowering they’re capable to change our lives.
How important is it that we break suit and stretch our minds?
I like to think of myself as ‘unique’. My stories aren’t for everyone, and sometimes I may push what you believe to be ‘normal’.
Normal is subjective.
I prefer to be known as a person who’s never been ‘bound by custom’ but is ‘unique by choice’.
I hope you do read and enjoy my stories.
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