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Book Blitz | Flesh Into Fire-Original Sin #3

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Flesh Into Fire
J.A. Huss & Jonathan McClain
(Original Sin #3)
Publication date: April 17th 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

Payback is owed.

And Maddie Clayton is going to collect. This time Carlos and Logan have gone too far. People are dead, lives have been changed, and she’s had enough. Plus, she’s got the Devil on her side, so when an enemy turns into a friend with an idea of how to take Carlos down, she’s in.

Tyler Morgan has been fighting back his whole adult life. He’s ready for anything when it comes to payback. But endangering Maddie can’t be part of the deal. Unfortunately for him, once Maddie gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

Her debt has been paid in blood and she wants revenge.

His fight is still there, but now he’s got more at stake than himself.

The end is coming.

But even if they win against Carlos, they can still lose each other.

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EXCERPT:

TYLER

I roll our interlaced fingers over so that I can see the back of her hand. It’s strong, but delicate. Long fingers and white skin. Veins that tense with the clench of her grip. Freckles. Just a few light, faint, perfect freckles.

I have the same thought I had the other day. That I want to learn her. Her body. Every millimeter of her. I want it burned into my brain. I want to imprint her into my memory before she goes. I want to study her. I want to have a PhD in Maddie Clayton.

I let go of her hand and stand up, turn to face her and then kneel down.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I don’t say anything. She’s not wearing shoes, so I start tugging at the toes of her socks and she giggles as I work them off her legs and then hold her precious feet in my hands, examining them. I stroke the bones that run along the top, ending at the tips of her toes, and I kiss each toe one by one.

I turn them over to inspect the scar I found the other day, and I give it a kiss. Then I spread her legs and slide in between them, popping my head up to give her a kiss on the lips, before I unbutton her jeans and draw down the zipper. She leans back, propping herself on her elbows, and shimmies her hips as I pull her pants down. They’re so tight on her, so fitted, that they draw her underwear along with them as I pull, and then the pants are off her body and on the floor, and her bare calves, and knees, and thighs, and pussy are there for me to explore.

Still leaning back on her elbows, she tilts her head to the side, presses her lips together in a tight smile, and raises her eyebrows at me.

I lift one of her legs and place my face right next to it. Like an archaeologist exploring the contours of a priceless, ancient artifact.

Her smell. Her smell will be the thing that I know I will hold onto most. It’s always been that way for me. Smell is the most potent sense I have when it comes to triggering memories. When I smell cinnamon, I remember my mom. Because she was baking when she collapsed that last time after chemo. And so that’s the smell I choose to associate with my final memory of her, as opposed to the antiseptic smell of the hospital. Because that wasn’t her anymore anyway. Mom stayed in the kitchen. Only the shell of her stuck around for a couple weeks more in the hospital bed.

Anyway.

Right now, Maddie smells like freshly cut grass. She’s been packing and getting ready to leave all day, and it’s been weirdly warm of late, so she’s a little sweaty. And that smell—that pungent, dense, round smell of sweat on her skin that fills my nostrils—reminds me of summer. Which I love. Because I suppose that means that for the rest of my life, there’ll be an entire season where every day all I’ll be able to think about is her. Even though I don’t imagine needing a lot of prompts to steer my thoughts in her direction.

As I stroke my fingers along her leg, kissing as I go, and drinking in her scent with every breath, she drops down from her elbows, letting herself lie flat on her back, her legs dangling off the side of the bed. She traces her fingers up and down the line of her stomach, pushing her t-shirt up to the curve of her breasts as I continue my survey of her flesh.

I’m discovering things. Things that no one else on earth besides me will know.

Her right calf appears just infinitesimally stronger than her left. Her left knee is the teeniest bit knobbier than her right. And when I kiss her behind either of her knees, she shudders through her stomach, causing her toes to crinkle.

As I pass the bend in her knee, I draw my nose along the inside of her thigh. She wriggles a teeny bit as my beard moves along her soft skin. And then my mouth is right at the brink of her entrance. I take my thumb and run it along the pink folds and she lets out a “mmmmm.” I tilt my head, studying my fingers as they massage her tender skin, and take note of what sound each gesture evokes from her.

Kissing tenderly on her opening causes her to growl from somewhere deep inside her throat. So I do. I kiss, and I let my warm breath signal my presence, but I don’t want to penetrate her. Not this way. If she wants me to be inside her, I will happily oblige, but for now I just want to be here with her and hold her close.

And I will.

And I will hold her close in my thoughts every second that she’s gone.

But more importantly…

I will hold her in my heart.

MADDIE

Some people search their whole life looking for that one place they belong. For that one person who gets them. Who brings them into their world, lets them fall easily into the pull of their gravity, and lets them just… be. Just exist. Quietly. Naturally. Freely. This is Tyler for me. The center of my universe. The man around whom I now orbit.

Not like a satellite, either. But like… like two things meant to be one. Like long ago something crashed into us, broke us into little pieces, and left us adrift. Floating in directionless space. Spinning wildly with no tether. And now we’ve been pulled back together. And we circle each other, still spinning, but with the purpose of joining. Of becoming one thing again. Not because of tragedy, the way I’d imagined when I sent that letter. It’s not a lifeline of salvation connecting us now, but some force of nature we can’t explain, or control, or bend to our will. Some law of the universe that dictates the fate of things.

We are connected by something more powerful than shared sorrow. And every moment we’ve spent apart has been valuable. Necessary. Critical.

His mouth between my legs feels wonderful. I could close my eyes and enjoy it. Let myself reach the heights of pleasure.

But alone?

No. I’m done doing things alone. We’re connected now. And everything we do will be together.

So I whisper, “Tyler,” as I caress his head. Run my fingers through his hair. Touch his shoulders. Slide my fingertips up and down the hills and valleys of his muscular arms.

He looks up at me, his eyes smiling even though they’re half closed, even though his mouth is still working. His tongue still flicking against my pussy.

“Come up here,” I say. “And kiss my mouth.”

Now he smiles with his whole face. His hands plant on either side of my hips and he draws himself up to standing. He lifts his t-shirt over his head and undoes his jeans, letting them fall to the floor, and his nakedness reminds me that he has lived every single day of his time on this earth.

He leans onto the bed and eases forward. My legs open wider for him, welcome him between them as his cock—hard, and long, and ready—rests against my clit, making me want him.

If we stopped right now, if he just rested his chest on top of my breasts, became nothing more than heavy weight as he closed his eyes, relaxed, and fell asleep… I’d be content, happy, and satisfied.

And not because there’d be more chances to do this later. But because it’s him I want. Not the sex.

He leans down, his hands on either side of my head now. Bending the mattress the way spacetime bends around a sun. And when his lips reach mine, my eyes are closed.

And I fall again.

I fall far, and long, and easily. The same way I drifted towards him. And as I drift, weightless, we kiss. But I’m still connected to him. Always next to him. Because this is what it feels like to fall into someone, not away.

This is not me slipping down the mountain.

This is not me losing my footing.

This is me finding myself. In him. In us.

So when I reach my hand between my legs and place him right where he needs to be, he enters me. And all those broken, spinning pieces come together to once again create the thing we were always meant to become.

Our bodies move together. Perfectly synchronized. Like the dance of stars in space. His body is hot, and my body is hot, and the heat we create between us doesn’t burn like fire but rearranges us. Like the molecules of two metals mixing to form the strongest sword made of the very best steel.

Our lovemaking is slow. And perfect.

We reach the heights of pleasure together. As one. And it’s the kind of climax that only happens once in a lifetime. The kind of release that means more than the way it makes you feel. It tells you who you are, and who you’re with, and exactly where you fit in the grand scheme of things.

He says, “I love you, Madison.”

And I say it back. “I love you, Tyler.”

We mold ourselves into each other as we relax and grow sleepy. Our bodies back together. His arms around me. My back pressed against his chest.

Our hearts beating. Keeping time.

Becoming what we were always meant to be.

 

Author Bio:

Two accomplished writers come together to create unforgettable sexy romance. JA Huss is the New York Times bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today bestsellers list eighteen times. Johnathan McClain is a veteran actor and writer whose work, either performed or written, is probably airing on at least one of the channels on your television right now. You can contact them on their website www.hussmcclain.com or find them at their social links below.

STALK JULIE

FACEBOOK / TWITTER / INSTAGRAM

STALK JOHNATHAN

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Eyes of the Tiger by Patricia Rosemoor Book Blitz

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Eyes of the Tiger
Patricia Rosemoor
Publication date: April 19th 2018
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Jewelry designer Gemma Hewitt has a gift. Gems and jewelry speak to her, which inspires her designs, and also sends her on dark adventures across the globe as she seeks out historic pieces. After her mother is brutally murdered, Gemma inherits her famed jeweled collar, which she hopes will lead her to see the face of her mother’s killer and bring him to justice. Instead, she’s thrown back to 1901 India where she sees the young woman about to be married with a pendant that matches her jeweled collar. When she’s hired to find the entire bridal suite, she hopes she can use the jewels to save her family’s fortune. Can she trust the handsome, enigmatic man who promises to help her on her quest, or is he the one she should be running from?

British reporter/photographer Raj Sinclair wants the bridal suite for his own reasons. Attracted to Gemma, he senses a connection with her as if he’s known her for a very long time. When danger stalks her, he will do anything to protect her.

The treasure hunt takes them to cities from the US to Britain to France, ending in India where the bridal suite is finally rejoined… and three reincarnated souls get another chance to make things right.

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EXCERPT:

Washington, DC

Finished with breakfast at a nearby café, Raj decided to return to the suite to freshen up and decide what else he could do before Gemma made that call to meet at the museum. He was surprised to learn she had gotten back to the hotel before him.

More surprised to hear her agonized wail as he opened the suite door.

“Gemma, what’s…”

His question died on his lips as he entered the living area, swinging the door shut behind him. Gemma was in the middle of the room, not standing, but crouching, arms up, as if trying to hold onto something invisible. Sobbing as if her heart would break.

He moved to her side, softly saying, “Hey, Gemma.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. Didn’t seem to know he was there. Words tore from her between sobs. Foreign. Hindi. He recognized the language from his childhood, even if he no longer understood what she was saying.

What in the world was happening to her?

She was wearing the hathphool…

He wanted to pull her up into his arms, but he feared that might panic her. So he crouched next to her, murmuring, “It’s okay, Gemma. I’m here now. You can talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”

Somewhere in the middle of his coaxing, her sobs quieted and she seemed to regain presence. Looking at him through tear-swollen eyes, she focused and appeared a bit shocked to see him.

“Raj?”

Nodding, he stood. “C’mon, let me help you up.”

Taking the hand he offered, she wobbled to her feet but couldn’t look at him. He could almost hear her mind flying, searching for the one explanation he would believe. He led her to an upholstered chair, found a box of tissues and offered them to her. She grabbed a handful and mopped her face.

“Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

She didn’t hesitate. “No.”

“You weren’t yourself.”

She sat frozen, again not looking at him.

“You were very distressed. Not only crying but saying something that sounded like your heart was breaking.”

Finally, she asked, “What did I say?”

“Beats me. I’ve long forgotten much of the Hindi my grandfather taught me. You have no idea?”

“Not that I was speaking Hindi.”

“Tell me, Gemma. What’s going on with you?” He flicked a look at her hand. “Was it the hathphool? Does it have some mysterious power, as legend claims? Did it make you see something that upset you so?”

He didn’t think she was going to answer him. She removed the jewels from around her wrist, pulled off the ring, then looked around the room until her gaze settled on a table bearing a sandalwood box similar to the one that housed the jeweled collar. She started to pull herself from the chair, but he put a hand out to stop her.

“Let me.”

He fetched the box from the table and gave it to her. Her hands shook as she replaced the hathphool on the velvet interior before snapping it closed. Without a word, she passed it back to him. Setting it where he’d found it, Raj took the chair next to hers and reached out to cover her hand with his.

“Tell me, Gemma,” he said again. “Whatever happened to you… not good. If I’m going to protect you, I need to know from what.”

“Not this. You can’t protect me from this.”

“From what?”

Her jaw clenched and unclenched. She couldn’t avoid his question any longer. Her eyes held a mixture of fear and defiance. “The past. You can’t protect me from the past.”

Raj kept himself from visibly reacting. “What past?”

“What Shardul Nair’s magic has shown me.”

Her words made him tense.

She went on. “The life of a woman who lived during the British Raj.”

He somehow kept his voice even when he asked, “What woman?”

“A maharaja’s daughter named Mayura.”

Mayura! Raj started. He should have known. Maybe he had on some level. But he still had to process it as she opened up to him, the words pouring out of her without hesitation. Each piece of the bridal suite had warned Gemma of danger awaiting her. Yet each had let her enter Mayura’s world.

A world he lived in every time he lost himself in Harry’s journal. What the hell? Everything she told him synched with what he’d read. How was this possible without some kind of supernatural force being involved?

“I don’t know how I can keep doing this—finding the other jewels and testing them for more information—but I have to,” she said. “For my mother.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you see? It’s all coming together. It’s clear the murderer wants the jewels.” Gemma retreated as if she was seeing another reality. “The jewels keep giving me glimpses… I don’t know how to describe it… maybe into his dark soul. Madam Cybil said she saw me through the eyes of the tiger, that the jewels would help me do the same so that I would know how to use my power. I didn’t believe it at the time, but now… maybe it’s possible. And somehow, this Mayura is part of the equation. I saw her with the mangalsutra that bore the jewels of the Navagraha.”

Raj’s pulse thumped, the rhythm speeding up. The mangalsutra his grandfather had passed on to him along with Harry’s journal when he’d become obsessed with it. Should he tell her now?

“I don’t know how much more I can take.”

He took a deep breath. No, not now. When she was on a more even keel.

He couldn’t think of a way to explain without Gemma’s thinking the worst of him. He hadn’t told her up front because he’d begun the treasure hunt well before she had, and he’d been determined that nothing would stop him from seeing it through.

But then the connection with Gemma… the feeling he’d known her his whole life… had thrown him.

His goal hadn’t changed, no matter how strongly he was drawn to her. But Gemma intended to sell the collection to an entertainer! How could he resolve that? Seeing the collection put back together was not only an obsession, but a matter of family honor for him. That was his priority. Somehow, he had to make this go the way it was meant to. Hopefully, he would find a time… find a way to tell her everything.

But not now.

Later, when he was certain he could make her understand.

 

Author Bio:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling Author Patricia Rosemoor has written 100 novels for 8 publishers, has more than seven million books in print, and is fascinated with watching, reading and writing about “dangerous love.” Patricia won a Golden Heart from Romance Writers of America and two Reviewers Choice and two Career Achievement Awards from RT BOOKreviews, and in her other life, she taught Popular Fiction and Suspense-Thriller Writing, credit courses at Columbia College Chicago.

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Book Blitz|Sweet Obsession (Night Series, #4)

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Sweet Obsession
A.M. Salinger
(Night Series, #4)
Publication date: April 17th 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance

He is the one person I love more than life itself. The one person I will do my utmost to protect. The one person I can never touch — Luke

He is the only one I have ever wanted. The only man I would ever need for as long as I breathe. But he doesn’t love me. No, he hates me —Ash

Ash Colby wants nothing more than to free himself of the man who broke his heart the night he turned seventeen. But when Luke Rutherford, his former guardian and heir of Rutherford Industries, forces him to move from his quiet college life in Stanford to the other side of the world, Ash snaps and decides to confront Luke about their past.

Luke has loved Ash since he was a child and been in love with him for over half a decade. Having protected Ash from the woman who wanted to hurt the young Colby heir in the past, Luke must act swiftly in order to keep Ash safe from harm once more. But when his bold move backfires on him, Luke must face the consequences of the decision he took on the night Ash turned seventeen.

Will Ash forgive Luke when he discovers the truth behind the terrible act he witnessed five years ago? And as the walls Luke had erected to protect Ash from his lust come crumbling down around him, will he overcome his guilty conscience and finally admit his true feelings for Ash?

If you like sweet, sexy men with dark pasts and a whole lot of love to give to the ones brave enough to win their hearts, then you’ll love this novella in the hot, contemporary romance series Nights by A.M. Salinger. Note from the author: Although each book in Nights can be read as a standalone, you will enjoy this series even more if you read the books in order!

This is a novella length MM romance with a HFN. Luke and Ash’s HEA is coming in 2018!

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EXCERPT:

This asshole!

Ash Colby scowled at his watch. He took a shallow breath, uncrossed his legs, and propped his elbows on his knees. The motion brought pain surging across his temples. The migraine had been with him for the last two hours. Although he would have loved to blame it on the humidity of Singapore’s late September monsoon season, Ash knew his current circumstances had led to the headache jackhammering against his skull. The fact that he’d just gotten off a seventeen-hour flight from San Francisco wasn’t helping either.

Ash rubbed a hand across the back of his neck before glaring at the secretary seated behind the modern walnut desk to his left.

“He knows I’m waiting, right?” Ash snapped.

John Peace sighed and nudged his smart, black-rimmed specs up his nose.

“Yes, Ash. Luke is aware that you’ve been waiting a while.”

“Forty fucking minutes is not a while, John,” Ash said between gritted teeth.

“Language, Ash,” the secretary murmured.

Ash looked around the chic marble and wood waiting room overlooking a panoramic vista of the dazzling city and sun-kissed bay beyond the glass wall behind the secretary’s desk.

“There’s no one else here.”

John ignored Ash’s acerbic observation and studied him steadily.

“You look a bit peaky. Would you like some water?”

Ash scowled. He knew the secretary was only trying to be helpful, but he was past caring at this point.

“No, I don’t want fucking water, John. I want to know why my lord and master has summoned me all the way here from Stanford five days before term starts.”

Ash couldn’t help grind his teeth as he recalled the terse phone conversation from two days ago. The motion exacerbated the band of tension gripping his head and raised his ire further.

“Luke would like to see you,” John had said coolly when he’d called Ash at eight on a Sunday morning.

Ash frowned as he walked through the front door of his condo. He dropped his gym bag on a chair and headed to his bedroom.

“What’s this about, John?” he said, irritated. He sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off his shoes, and fell backward onto the sheets. “And when did he get back to San Francisco?”

John hesitated. “He isn’t in San Francisco.”

Ash blinked at the ceiling before slowly sitting up, his incredulity quickly turning to anger.

“Wait a minute. You’re telling me Luke is in Singapore and he wants me to go there to see him? Fuck no!” he growled.

John sighed. “This is important, Ash. You know Luke wouldn’t make such a request unless it was an urgent matter.”

Ash rubbed a hand across his eyes and swallowed hard. There was no denying the truth in the secretary’s words.

Luke Rutherford, Ash’s former guardian and the current custodian of his rather substantial trust fund, was not a fickle man.

Ash inhaled shakily and tried to quell his rising temper. “Can you at least tell me what this is—”

Someone took the phone from John.

Ash froze when Luke came on the line.

“A car is coming to pick you up in thirty minutes. Pack a bag and be ready. The jet’s already at the airport.”

Ash stared blindly ahead as the line suddenly went dead. He listened to the dial tone for a stunned moment before flinging the phone across the room and throwing himself back on the bed. A cry of rage left Ash’s lips as he raked his hands through his hair. Despite the fury and frustration burning in his veins at Luke’s outrageous command, Ash could not help the shudder of awareness that raced through him after hearing Luke’s voice.

It had been over a year since they last spoke.

For one insane moment, Ash considered not obeying the man who quite literally owned him, body and soul. The man he had been in love with for as long as he could remember. The man who had broken his heart and shattered his dreams five years ago, on the night of Ash’s seventeenth birthday.

The thought of the possible reprisals Luke would visit upon him if he did not get on that plane sent a quiver of apprehension through Ash. The guy was capable of anything. Just as Luke had promised, the car arrived promptly at eight thirty and Ash lifted off from San Francisco International Airport an hour later.

Ash sighed, his thoughts returning to his current predicament as he leaned back on the expensive Barcelona chair and propped his feet on the coffee table. He ignored John’s disapproving stare and indicated the walnut door opposite from where he sat with a jerk of his head.

“So, who does he have in there? Must be someone damn important if he’s ignoring me for this long.” Ash paused. “Not that the asshole doesn’t ignore me on a regular basis anyway.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t keep calling Luke an asshole, Ash. And, yes, he’s got his asset manager in with him right now. Mr. Sorvino flew in from Tokyo yesterday and is heading straight to Japan after their meeting.”

“Yippee for Mr. Sorvino,” Ash muttered. “Lucky bastard. I hope I’m back on the jet tonight as well.”

John hesitated. He opened his mouth and closed it soundlessly.

A tendril of unease shot through Ash as he stared at the secretary’s face. He narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” John murmured.

Ash was still studying him suspiciously when Luke’s door opened. A man walked out of the office.

The stranger was tall and dark, with a commanding presence that had as much to do with his handsome face and his arresting gunmetal eyes as it did with his incredibly ripped body. Had Ash not been unreservedly in love with Luke, he would have found the guy captivating.

A figure appeared behind the asset manager. Ash’s mouth went dry when Luke stepped out of the room.

At six foot two, Luke Rutherford’s hard bodied, toned frame more than matched the man beside him. With dark hair that most women would kill to sink their hands into, finely trimmed stubble that framed a strong, angular jaw, and amber eyes that had the power to silence a crowded room, Luke Rutherford was not only sinfully attractive, he was also the embodiment of a successful businessman and billionaire.

Ash swallowed.

Sexy fucker.

Author Bio:

Ava Marie Salinger is the pen name of an Amazon bestselling thriller author who has always wanted to write scorching hot contemporary and erotic romance. In 2017, she finally decided to venture to the steamy side. NIGHTS is the first of several sizzling series featuring sweet, sexy men and women with dark pasts and a whole lot of love to give to the ones brave enough to fight for their hearts. When she’s not dreaming up hotties to write about, you’ll find Ava creating kickass music playlists to write to, spying on the wildlife in her garden, drooling over gadgets, and eating Chinese.

Want to be the first to know about Ava’s new releases and get access to exclusive content, sneak previews, sales, and giveaways ? Then sign up to her Reader Group here: https://www.amsalinger.com/subscribe/

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Lone Star Blues by Delores Fossen Review & Excerpt Tour

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Wrangler’s Creek’s most eligible bad boy, Dylan Granger, has just become its most eligible single dad in this sexy new release from USA Today Bestselling Author Delores Fossen!

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About Lone Star Blues:
Title: Lone Star Blues
Author: Delores Fossen
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 17th, 2018
Publisher: HQN
Series: Wrangler’s Creek
Format: Print
Print ISBN: 9781335631992
Digital ISBN: B075JH8W58

Synopsis:

Wrangler’s Creek’s most eligible bad boy has just become its most eligible single dad.

Dylan Granger could always count on his rebellious-cowboy charm to get his way—until the day his wife, Jordan, left him and joined the military. The realization that during a wild night he got her cousin pregnant is shocking enough. But the news that Jordan has come home to Texas to help raise the baby is the last thing he expects.

Raising a baby with Dylan in Wrangler’s Creek is a life Jordan might’ve had years ago, but she doesn’t want regrets. She wants what’s best for the child—and to find out if there’s something deeper between her and her ex than blazing-hot chemistry. Getting closer means letting down her guard to Dylan again, but will he be able to accept the emotional scars on her heart?

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Excerpt:

Copyright© 2018 Lone Star Blues

Delores Fossen

Downing some more coffee, Dylan headed off the porch and toward the large detached garage for another vehicle. However, before he could even make it there, he saw something sparkly on the stone path. A silver purse that was smaller and flatter than the palm of his hand. It had some chew marks on it and was wet, possibly from dog slobber.

Since this likely belonged to the naked woman, he opened it to see if he could find her ID. And there it was—her driver’s license along with a credit card and some lipstick. There was also one of those stupid Dylan Granger Sex Bingo cards folded up inside.

Thankfully, it was blank.

He pulled out the license and looked at her birth date first. She was twenty-six. Way too young for him but at least she was legal. Then he read the name, and his stomach went to his ankles. Because it was Misty Tur­ley, the same last name as the judge who was pissed at him. And with the way his morning was going, Dylan seriously doubted that was a coincidence. No, this was likely another of his daughters. One younger than Melanie.

Maybe he could send Walter Ray a whole case of scotch.

Dylan didn’t know exactly how many daughters the judge actually had. Walter Ray had gotten divorced years ago, and when his ex-wife had moved away, the girls only visited Wrangler’s Creek every now and then. Or at least that had been the case until Melanie had moved back after she’d finished college.

He picked up the purse so he could take it back inside and add it to the pile of clothes. Since the identity of the naked woman was bad news number five, that had to mean he was good to go at least for the rest of the day.

Or not.

Dylan heard the sound of an engine right before he saw the cop car pull up in front of the house. It wasn’t the local cops, either. The cruiser had San Antonio Police on the door.

A tall, lanky man in uniform stepped out. “I’m looking for Dylan Granger,” he said, and he flashed his badge.

Hell. What now? Had Walter Ray sent someone to look for his daughter?

“I’m Dylan Granger.” He tucked the purse in his back pocket and walked toward the cop. “Is there a problem?”

The cop didn’t answer. He just motioned to someone inside the cruiser, and a moment later, a gray-haired woman stepped out. She wasn’t alone. She was gripping the hand of a little boy who couldn’t have been more than two or three years old.

Dylan silently repeated that—hell, what now?

“You need to sign for him,” the woman said. She had some papers in her left hand, and she started to­ward Dylan, pulling the little boy with her.

Dylan shook his head. “Why do I need to sign? And who is he?”

The woman smiled as if there was something to smile about. “Well, Mr. Granger, according to this paper, this precious little boy is your son.”

Delores FossenAbout Delores Fossen:

USA Today bestselling author, Delores Fossen, is an Air Force veteran who has sold over 100 novels. She’s received the Booksellers’ Best Award for romantic suspense, the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award and was a finalist for the prestigious Rita ®. Her books have been featured in Woman’s Day and Woman’s World. In addition, she’s had nearly a hundred short stories and articles published in national magazines.

Connect with Delores:  Website  |  Twitter  |  Facebook  |  Goodreads  |  Amazon  |  BookBub

 Rafflecopter for Lone Star Blues Blog Tour Giveaway::

Harlequin is offering one (1) lucky winner a $25 Amazon Gift Card and three (3) Runner-ups an eCopy of a Delores Fossen Backlist Title (Winner’s Choice)! To enter, simply fill out the Rafflecopter below:

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