EROTIC ROMANCE STORYBUNDLE INCLUDES:
Temptation by Selena Kitt - The innocent 1950s - a perfect backdrop for this "new adult" historical romance saga. What happens when you fall in love with your best friend's father?
Angry Sex by Sommer Marsden - When life turns stressful a girl needs release. Someone to help her work her issues out. Someone hot. Angry Sex...like therapy...but naked.
Torn Asunder by Kiki Howell - Fraught with scenes of explicit intimacy, romantic spells and mystical shapeshifting, Torn Asunder is a unique blending of the age of manners with sexual magic.
The ESP Affair by Alison Tyler - A dream lover fulfills Connie's erotic desires in The ESP Affair. Confronted with proof of her infidelity, she embarks on a psychic journey.
On the Way Home by Skye Warren - Explore the dark side with this suspenseful new adult romance... It’s a simple trade—the passenger in seat 34B for my sister. But the sexy soldier is more than I can handle in all the best ways.
BONUS BOOKS
Modern Wicked Fairy Tales by Selena Kitt (The Complete Collection) - Do you love fairy tales? Then don't miss these happily ever afters! Get ALL EIGHT modern retellings of fairy tale classics--Alice, Beauty, Briar Rose, Goldilocks, Gretel, Rapunzel, Red, and Wendy
Bittersweet by Sommer Marsden (Novella) - Deacon James is more sinful than the candy he sells. Testing Rayka's every limit. Mentally, creatively, emotionally and yes--sexually.
Rituals by Kiki Howell (Novella) – When a Wiccan ritual opens her eyes to an old friend, Maddie’s first week with Ryan is a blur of knots and ropes until Maddie’s controlling ex-husband returns hell-bent on taking her back.
Alison on Top by Alison Tyler (Anthology) - Super hot, incredibly sexy and wonderfully delicious," Alison on Top fulfills your craving for smart femdom fiction with a romantic twist.
On The Way Home by Skye Warren
I could be
comfortable strapped into a Chinook, with full body armor and another
hundred fifty pounds of equipment on top of that. I could HALO down
to a cross-fire insertion, no problem. But flying coach on a standard
commercial airline was killer.
Everything seemed
tiny, as if I’d walked onto a display version of a real airplane.
Due to the design of the plane, the rows on this side only had two
seats. My buddy James had taken the window seat, but the aisle didn’t
give me room to stretch. My legs were folded like a pretzel to fit
into the small amount of legroom. My head cleared the headrest by
almost a foot. My body jutted into the aisle, but there was nothing
to do about that without pushing into James beside me.
The pretty
stewardess walked by, her hip brushing my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,”
she murmured.
Della, her
name tag read. She was slender and careful, but that didn’t matter
when I was taking up half the aisle with my shoulder.
“My fault,” I
managed to say. It came out more like a rumble.
The lightest whisper
of cloth, her blue uniform against my fatigues. A wisp of heat and a
faint smell of peaches. It was too much. As if I were goddamned
Sleeping Beauty, my dick woke the hell up.
She smiled then, and
it was way too late to pretend I wasn’t getting hot at the sight of
her.
Jesus, those lips.
And the little upturned smile, the one that said she knew exactly
what I was thinking.
Well, maybe not
exactly. No way were her thoughts as desperate as mine. Eight months
away from the States had taken its toll, with not even enough time or
energy to beat off with regularity.
No privacy, either,
but then we didn’t care about that. You couldn’t be fastidious in
a godforsaken jungle. They send a bunch of eighteen-year-old
testosterone junkies into the wild, what else is gonna happen?
There’d been a time we’d all go into a firefight, walk out with
no bullet holes, then head back to our bunks and jack off like we
were synchronized swimming.
Not this time,
though.
After our first two
tours in Afghanistan, James and I got picked up to work as part of a
joint task force. Guess we impressed somebody. We couldn’t even
drink back then—at least, not legally—but we were handed some of
the most lethal weapons and secretive recording equipment in use.
Since then we had
continued to fight, but not on any sanctioned battlefield. Our ops
were secretive and lethal and mostly not even acknowledged by the US
government. We lived and worked in the darkest parts of the world,
then came home on leave so we could remember why we did it.
My twenty-third
birthday had come and gone, spent with some of the most disgusting
human beings I’d ever met and had to pretend like I was their new
best friend. I shuddered just remembering some of the things I’d
witnessed, unable to do anything without blowing my cover. I’d seen
some bad shit in my life, but nothing compared to those sights. When
I closed my eyes, I could still see those young girls. Way too young.
I wanted to wash myself off just for being around that, even if we
had taken it down in the end.
Mission
accomplished. Go home.
So it was a real
fucking surprise when my body was suddenly interested in the
sweet-smelling, hot-as-hell stewardess.
“Can I get you
something?” she asked. “Water? A soda?”
Suddenly my mouth
was dry. “No, thanks.”
She smiled again.
God, she really needed to stop that. “I think I can rustle up some
pretzels if you ask nicely?”
Nope, wasn’t doing
that.
“I could use some
pretzels,” James said from beside me.
Really? “Nah,
we’re good. Don’t worry about us.”
“All right. You
boys let me know.” She sauntered off, leaving both James and I
staring. Man, that skirt hugged her so nicely…
“What the hell was
that for?” James said. “She would’ve come back.”
“And then what,
asshole? You’ve got Rachel.”
“And you’ve got…
what’s her name? Chelsea.”
“Yeah,” I lied.
I’d been lying for a few weeks now, ever since I’d landed at the
base in Germany where I could check my messages. Dear Clint, I’m
sorry to tell you like this but… A Dear John text message. A
remote control breakup. It had happened to enough of our friends that
I knew what the reaction would be if I told people. Pity, from the
guys who could still look at me. Avoidance from everyone else, as if
the condition of being dumped was contagious.
So I hadn’t told
anyone, not even James. And hell, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Me
and Chels had a good thing going. Maybe not good, but it wasn’t bad
either. And separation was always hard. For all I knew, we’d patch
things up right away and then I’d be glad I never told James, who
would’ve given her a hard time after that.
She was probably
going to pick me up at the airport, just like we’d planned, and
here I was checking out another woman. The eight months had done a
number on both of us, that was all. We’d work it out.
I glanced down the
aisle at the stewardess—Della—who had bent to speak to
another passenger. “The point is, she’s doing her job. She
doesn’t need us bothering her.”
“Hey, you were the
one groping her.”
“With my
shoulder?”
“And flirting,”
James added.
“I was not
flirting.” I would have known if I’d been flirting, right? And I
definitely hadn’t done that. She was working. The last thing she
needed was two horndogs using up her time or ogling her. “And stop
staring at her.”
Although that meant
I had to stop too.
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Autographed Print Book:
Selena Kitt’s Blood of Angels
Autographed Print Book:
Sommer Marsden’s The Mighty Quinn
Autographed Print Book:
Skye Warren’s Wanderlust
Autographed Print Books:
Kiki Howell’s War in the Willows Trilogy
(this giveaway is set and managed by authors, not Xpresso Book Tours):
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