"Someone Like You" (Lauren Layne) SALE BLITZ!!

A man who’s living a lie—until his dream woman takes away the pain.

SOMEONE LIKE YOU

Oxford #3

Lauren Layne

Loveswept

Lauren Layne’s bestselling Oxford Series continues with the poignant, heartwarming story of New York’s most eligible bachelor, Lincoln Mathis, a man who’s living a lie—until his dream woman takes away the pain.
 
Lincoln Mathis doesn’t hide his reputation as Manhattan’s ultimate playboy. In fact, he cultivates it. But behind every flirtatious smile, each provocative quip, there’s a secret that Lincoln’s hiding from even his closest friends—a tragedy from his past that holds his heart quietly captive. Lincoln knows what he wants: someone like Daisy Sinclair, the sassy, off-limits bridesmaid he can’t take his eyes off at his best friend’s wedding. He also knows that she’s everything he can never have.
 
After a devastating divorce, Daisy doesn’t need anyone to warn her off the charming best man at her sister’s wedding. One look at the breathtakingly hot Lincoln Mathis and she knows that he’s exactly the type of man she should avoid. But when Daisy stumbles upon Lincoln’s secret, she realizes there’s more to the charming playboy than meets the eye. And suddenly Daisy and Lincoln find their lives helplessly entwined in a journey that will either heal their damaged souls . . . or destroy them forever.

Praise for Someone Like You

“Fun and flirty, sassy and steamy, with a deep emotional pull that will keep you turning the pages.”—Kelly Jamieson, author of Top Shelf

“An unsung hero with a story that touched my heart. Emotional and gripping. A top favorite of 2016 for me.”—New York Times bestselling author Melanie Moreland

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EXCERPT

“Lincoln, you know that I love you like a brother, but if you make a move on my sister, I will end you.”

Lincoln Mathis took a slow sip of his cocktail as he studied the fierce bride-to-be. “I hope Cassidy knows how lucky he is. You’re so delicate and gentle.”

Emma Sinclair, soon to be Emma Cassidy as of this time tomorrow, lifted one elegantly manicured fingernail and flicked his chest. “Promise, Lincoln. No hitting on Daisy.”

“I don’t hit on women.”

Emma gave him a look.

He held up his free hand in surrender. “I don’t. They come to me. I’m like the stamen.”

Emma stared at him with wide, slightly accusatory brown eyes. “The what?”

“The stamen. The pollen-producing part of a flower, Sinclair. Don’t you watch the Discovery Channel? Animal Planet? I just saw a fascinating documentary on bees. See, when the bees land on a flower, their little feet pick up pollen from the stamen— “

“Mathis. Are you talking to my fiancée about semen?” Alex Cassidy asked, coming up beside Emma and setting a possessive hand on her waist.

“Stamen,” Lincoln clarified. “Not semen. Honestly, is sex all you people think about?”

“Yes.” This came from Riley Compton, a brunette bombshell whose status as New York’s foremost “sexpert” meant she had zero qualms about discussing sex at her best friend’s rehearsal dinner. “And you know, actually, the stamen is rather sexual. I saw that bee documentary too, because these are the sort of things you do when you’re nursing a never-satisfied baby, by the way, and the stamen is a flower’s male reproductive organ. Sexy, right?”

Emma inserted the arm not holding her champagne flute between the two of them. “Guys, it’s my wedding weekend. Can we not talk about flower boners?”

“Fair enough, Bride,” Lincoln said. “What do you want to talk about? Cassidy’s boner?”

Alex Cassidy choked into his champagne.

“There will be no boner discussion,” Emma said. “Lincoln and I were just having a chat about how Lincoln will be maintaining his distance from my sister.”

“Speaking of flowers, where is Daisy?” Riley asked, scanning the room.

“Running late. Knowing my sister, her dress had a slight crease from the suitcase, and she won’t make an appearance until every wrinkle’s banished, every hair’s in place, and there’s not a speck of lint anywhere.”

“Gosh, however will I keep my hands to myself?” Lincoln muttered.

“Lincoln, I swear to God—”

“He’s messing with you, Em,” Cassidy said, carefully tugging his fiancée away from Lincoln. “Don’t let him press your buttons. And Lincoln, man, what is with that drink?”

Lincoln glanced down. “It’s called a Jasmine. Gin, lemon, some Campari—”

“It’s pink,” Cassidy observed.

“Right? You want one?”

Cassidy rolled his eyes. “I’ll stick with wine, thanks. Ah shit, there’s my grandma waving us over. Emma, you up for talk about the state of your uterus?”

Emma groaned. “Oh no. I thought she’d agreed to wait until after the wedding to talk about my eggs.”

“I’ll go with you,” Riley said. “As the only one in our little group of friends who’s ever pushed a human skull out my—”

“Okay, I’m going to expand my taboo list,” Emma said. “No talking about boners, flowers, or vaginas.”

“Fine,” Riley said, as she entwined her arm in Emma’s and started leading her toward Cassidy’s grandma. “But if Grams starts talking about fertility, just follow my lead . . . ”

Lincoln smiled as he watched his friends walk away. He could follow, certainly, help run interference, but new mom Riley was a far better choice for this particular bridal-party duty.

Besides, as best man, Lincoln had enough to worry about. The ring, reconfirming transportation to the church tomorrow, the speech that he was going to slay tomorrow, the—

Lincoln’s best man to-do list scattered as his eyes landed on a woman standing in the doorway to the private event room. He did a double take. When had Emma found time to change? Generally speaking, he didn't consider himself particularly in tune with his friends' clothes. Especially the women, because, well . . .  he didn’t really give a crap. But he was pretty damn sure Emma had been wearing a white dress just ten seconds ago.

Now she was wearing a short yellow dress, with fussy, flowy sleeves, high-necked and a bit demure—

No, not demure, Lincoln amended as she turned. Hot. The dress was backless, showing a smooth expanse of lightly tanned skin from the small of her back all the way up to long dark blond hair.

. . . Blond hair.

Emma had shoulder-length brown hair. A wardrobe swap, he might be able to buy, but the hair?

You idiot.

He was looking at none other than Daisy Sinclair, the forbidden fruit, in the flesh.

He’d forgotten that Daisy wasn’t just Emma’s sister—she was Emma’s identical twin.

Other than the fact that she was, apparently, not to be hit on, Lincoln didn’t know much about her.

Well, he supposed  he now knew that she dyed her hair blond.

Or maybe Emma dyed hers brown?

Whatever. Girl stuff he didn’t care about one way or the other.

And yet he didn’t look away, captivated somehow. He racked his brain for everything he’d heard about Daisy Sinclair.

He knew that she and Emma had grown up in North Carolina. But Emma left for New York City shortly after college, and Daisy had stayed. He thought he remembered talk of a recent divorce, although he didn’t recall the details.

Didn’t need to, really. Lincoln knew better than anyone that not all relationships had happy endings.

Lincoln watched as Daisy hesitated just inside the doorway, unnoticed yet by the rest of the bridal party and out-of-town guests.

Making people comfortable was a particular skill of his. Normally he’d be over there in a heartbeat with a glass of wine and some of his best banter until her shoulders relaxed and he’d coaxed a smile from her pretty face.

But he wasn’t entirely convinced Emma wouldn’t make good on her castration threats, so instead Lincoln merely studied Daisy. The woman was beautiful. No surprise there, since Emma was gorgeous. Yet, though their features were identical, they were attractive in entirely different ways.

Emma was all polished confidence, stunning in an untouchable sort of way.

Daisy was softer somehow. Gentler. She seemed . . . touchable.

Lincoln’s cocktail froze on its way to his mouth as the forbidden rocked him back on his heels. Daisy Sinclair was not for him to touch for reasons that had nothing to do with Emma’s threats.

As though sensing a man’s brooding thoughts on her, Daisy turned slightly, her eyes locking on his. Eyes that he’d known would be dark brown like Emma’s, and yet eye contact with Emma had never felt like this.

Lincoln felt something akin to panic, because for a heart-stopping moment, it felt like Daisy Sinclair was seeing him. Not seeing the Lincoln he wanted everyone to see.

The real him.

He gave himself a little mental shake. Get it together, Mathis. The woman doesn’t even know you.

None of them did.

Not really.

He saw the moment of answering shock in her own gaze, sensed that for a split second, she considered turning and running. From him, from the party, all of it.

Then he saw something else. Something familiar, because he’d done it a thousand times himself. She squared her shoulders, and he watched as a mask slid into place.

He knew even before she approached that Daisy was exactly like him—good at being around people only because she chose to be. Knew that perhaps once it had been second nature, and now it was nothing but a deliberate attempt to make sure everyone thought she was okay.

Daisy began making her way toward him, and he tensed for reasons he couldn’t identify before ordering himself to chill out.

It was just his friend’s sister. The maid of honor to his best man.

She stopped in front of him, and he caught just the faintest whiff of her perfume, a surprisingly elegant scent for someone named Daisy, before she extended her hand.

“You must be Lincoln Mathis, The Manwhore of Whom I Should Beware?”

Her voice was a surprise. It had the same low huskiness as her sister’s, but years in New York had all but erased the Southern from Emma’s whiskey-raspy voice. Daisy’s drawl was very much intact—a mint julep on a hot day.

He grinned and took her smaller hand in his. “Which would make you Daisy Sinclair, Delicate Flower to Whom I’m Not to Speak.”

She grinned. “Nailed it.” 

Lauren Layne is the USA Today bestselling author of more than a dozen romantic comedies. She lives in New York City with her husband (who was her high school sweetheart--cute, right?!) and plus-sized Pomeranian.

In 2011, she ditched her corporate career in Seattle to pursue a full-time writing career in Manhattan, and never looked back.

In her ideal world, every stiletto-wearing, Kate Spade wielding woman would carry a Kindle stocked with Lauren Layne books.

For a list of all her works, please be sure to check out her official website!

Meet ALL the Men of Oxford

"Pull Me Close" (Sidney Halston) SALE BLITZ!!

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PULL ME CLOSE

Panic #1

Sidney Halston

Loveswept

Welcome to Panic, a sultry Miami nightclub where bodies and hearts move to a beat that doesn’t stop at sunrise—the setting for an emotionally charged series from the bestselling author of the Worth the Fight novels.

When Katherine Wilson passes out in the arms of the hottest man she’s ever seen, it’s not because of the lights, the pulsating music, or the crowded dance floor. It’s because she can’t enjoy a night out like a normal person, not with her debilitating anxieties. These panic attacks are going to destroy her life unless she takes control—or gets a helping hand. So after the club’s bad-boy owner personally escorts her home, Katherine feels something urgent and primal awaken inside of her.

Nick Moreno doesn’t need a headache like Katherine. A drug bust has put his father behind bars and forced Nick to take over the daily business of his family’s South Beach nightclub. His head tells him to walk away—but his body has other ideas. Katherine’s vulnerability, her grace and courage, compel him to reach out. And when they kiss, Nick is overcome by desire: to pull her close, and promise that his embrace will always be the safest place on earth.

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EXCERPT

“Do one thing that scares you every day,” I say to myself as I walk to the elevator.

I keep thinking that if I can get in that stupid elevator, I can go to my sister’s wedding. Because nothing can be worse than being in a tiny steel box held up by a cable. If it malfunctions, either I’ll plummet to my demise or I’ll be stuck inside, helpless and in the dark.

For weeks now I’ve walked over to it every day, pressed the button, and then run back to my apartment when it dings open, like it’s a monster coming to get me. I know that I’m working myself up. I know what reality is, and I understand the extremely low statistical likelihood that any of the things I envision will actually happen. I’m not completely insane. But I also can’t help the fear that bubbles up inside me and distorts my logic.

Today, however, I woke up with a new sense of bravery and determination and I’m going to take advantage of it.

I know that the cable is made of steel and it will not break.

I know that the elevator is in working order.

I know that it takes only 22.9 seconds from the time it closes on the fifth floor to the time it opens in the lobby.

Still, I’m nervous. Less so then previous days, though.

I dial Nico because even with everything that I know, I need someone with me.

“My sweet Katherine,” he says over the music in the background.

“I need you.”

I notice the change in him, even over the phone. “Wait, what? I’ll be right there.”

The fact that he is so quick to rush to my rescue is heartwarming, but I don’t need him physically here, so I clarify quickly. “No, no, no. Stay there. That’s not what I meant. I need you to stay on the line with me.”

“Okay. Hold on a second—I need quiet. I can barely hear you.” I hear the music become quieter and quieter. “All right. What’s going on?”

“If I say the safe word and tell you to call the police or firemen or whatever, just do it, no questions asked, okay?”

“What?” He sounds alarmed. “What the hell is going on, Katherine?”

“I’m getting on the elevator and I’m going to the lobby. If it gets stuck, I need you to call for help.”

“For fuck’s sake, Katherine, you scared the hell out of me.” He lets out a breath. “Okay, I’ll wait on the phone. Or do you want to wait for me to come over? I can be there in ten minutes and do this with you,” he says while I press the button.

“No. I need to do this alone. Also, what good would it do me if you’re stuck in there with me?”

“It’s not going to get stuck,” he says with a chuckle, and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

“So how’s the club tonight?”

“I heard the ding, baby. Stop procrastinating and get inside.”

I look at the open door. The elevator car looks so ominous, and now I don’t know if I can do it.

“Get that cute little ass in the elevator.”

“Never mind—I changed my mind.”

“No. You’ve never called me for this before. You’re obviously feeling good about it. I’m proud of you for doing this.”

As the door starts to close I press the button again, and the closing doors reopen.

“So get inside. You can do this.”

“Nico, I don’t—”

“Yes, you can. Don’t finish that sentence. You’ve done more in the last few weeks than you’ve done in a long time. You can absolutely do this. I know you can. Don’t you want to be free?”

I do. Damn it, I do. I take a step and then another one. My feet feel heavy and my heart is beating a mile a minute. I can hear that he’s breathless too.

“Corazón, just roll with it. Get inside,” he says softly.

Pre-Order the next Panic Series Romance

MAKE ME STAY

releasing June 27, 2017

USA Today bestselling author, Sidney Halston lives her life with one simple rule: "Just Do It"--Nike. And that's exactly what she did.

After working hard as an attorney, Sidney picked up a pen for the first time at thirty years old to begin her dream of writing. Having never written anything other than very exciting legal briefs, she found an outlet for her imaginative, romantic side and wrote Seeing Red. That first pen stroke sealed the deal, and she fell in love with writing. Sidney lives in South Florida with her husband and children. She loves her family above all else, and reading follows a close second. When she's not writing, you can find her reading and reading and reading. She's a reader first and a writer second. When she's not writing or reading, her life is complete and utter chaos, trying to balance family life with work and writing (and reading). But she wouldn't have it any other way.

"In A Ranger's Arms" (Donna Michaels) SALE BLITZ!!

No amount of training could’ve prepared him for her.

IN A RANGER'S ARMS

The Men of At Ease Ranch #1

Donna Michaels

Entangled Lovestruck

No amount of training could’ve prepared him for her.

Former Army Ranger Stone Mitchum doesn’t have time for relationships, let alone a one-night stand. He’s too busy running a ranch that helps transition veterans back into society. But when his curvy new tenant falls into his arms, his libido snaps to attention.

Jovy Larson has four weeks to prove she’s worthy of taking over the family business. She’s up for whatever ridiculous task they throw at her, but selling vegan food to a bunch of cowboys in cattle country, Texas? Not half as tough as fighting her attraction to her sexy, surly landlord.

Good thing she’s stubborn. Then again, so is he…

EXCERPT

When Jovy Larson’s grandfather had sent her to the middle of cattle country USA to open a gluten-free, vegan café in a contest to test her business skills against her cousin, she knew she would have to deal with some tough, and often unexpected, situations. Becoming a hit-and-moo victim of a rampaging cow had never made the list. Bovines weren’t exactly a common fixture in the City of Brotherly Love, despite the fact that Pennsylvania was one of the top five U.S. dairy farm states with over eight thousand farms. She’d never seen one up close. The clanging of the bell grew louder.

That was about to change. And fast. Mad-cow-charging fast.

With a startled gasp, she tried to scramble down the ladder, but it teetered under her feet and her hands ended up windmilling instead. Jovy’s last thought as she flew backward toward the large plate-glass storefront window was if she didn’t die, her cranky landlord was going to kill her.

Fully expecting to smash through the glass, she was shocked to hear a deep, sexy, panty-melting baritone claim, “I’ve got you,” a second before a tall cowboy appeared out of thin air to catch her with his rock-hard body. Two strong, muscular arms clamped around her before the momentum knocked them both to the ground.

Her mind was processing the fact that she was uncut and still alive, sprawled over the sexiest man she’d ever seen, when the stranger rolled them over to shield her from the falling ladder. The impact vibrated through his stiff frame.

Holy cow. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Warm breath rushed over her neck and shoulders as he drew back to stare down at her. During the tussle, his hat fell off to reveal short black hair that didn’t quite reach his collar. “What about you? Are you all right?” Gray eyes, the color of a child’s prized marble, blinked at her in a worried frown.

Increasingly aware that she was now underneath the tall, sexy stranger, whose big, warm, firm hand was cupping her ass—and she liked it—Jovy cleared her throat. “Define ‘all right.’”

“Are you hurt?” He removed his palm from inside her shorts, the warm, tingling feeling dissipated along with his touch, until he shoved the ladder aside, sat up, and began to run both hands efficiently over the rest of her body.

Her sorely neglected body. A body doing an all hail Mr. Gray Eyes tremor. Lord have mercy, her good parts hadn’t been in contact with a male like this in over a year. Not since…

“Hey, miss? Answer me. Are you hurt?”

Hurt? She stifled a hysterical giggle. “No.”

Aroused? Oh, yeah. Big-time. And completely embarrassed by her reaction to the total stranger. She could explain away the tremors racking her body as shock, but not the beaded nipples plainly visible through her bra and tank top.

If he noticed them, he didn’t let on as his hands skimmed over her chest, neck, and shoulders.

She gritted her teeth, enjoying the scrape of his callus-roughened hands on her skin, doing her damnedest not to embarrass herself further by moaning.

Dumb body.

“You feel okay to me.”

Sitting up, she snickered. “Thanks, but…shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?” The stupid words were out of her mouth before she had the chance to swallow them down.

He stilled and met her gaze for a beat, then his head tipped back and a bark of laughter echoed down the covered walkway. The deep, sexy sound did nothing to lessen her arousal, but the sight of the cow, pushing her way past the fallen ladder to moo in his startled face, sparked her amusement.

Jovy giggled. “Looks like you have yourself an admirer there, cowboy.”

“Nah.” He shrugged, lifting a hand to stroke the cow’s neck. “Lula Belle is just a little overzealous.”

And bold, or maybe not. Jovy didn’t possess a wealth of bovine knowledge. But she did know it was plumb dangerous for livestock to be roaming free in town. “You should probably keep your cow at home.”

A smile tugged his mouth. “She’s not my cow.”

At this, Lula Belle bent down to lick his face.

Jovy quirked a brow. “Does the cow know that?”

Donna Michaels is an award winning, New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of Romaginative fiction. Her hot, humorous, and heartwarming stories include cowboys, men in uniform, and some sexy, primal alphas. With a husband in the military fulltime, and a household of nine, she never runs out of material to write, and has rightfully earned the nickname Lucy…and sometimes Ethel. From short to epic, her books entertain readers across a variety of sub-genres, and one has even being hand drawn into a Japanese translation. Now, if only she could read it.

"Let Me" (Cecy Robson) GET IT TODAY - ONLY .99 CENTS!

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LET ME

The O'Brien Family Series Book Two

Cecy Robson

Released April 19th, 2016

Once he was broken beyond repair. Now this MMA contender is fighting to be a better man—for her. RT Book Reviews proclaims that the O’Brien Family series from award-winning author Cecy Robson “has the hottest brothers ever!” And in Let Me, it is Finn’s turn to discover how love can heal the deepest wounds.

A mixed martial arts star on the rise, Finn O’Brien dismantles his opponents with brutal precision. And yet beneath his fierce persona, Finn is raw from a trauma he’s buried for years . . . until the day his deep-rooted rage erupts and lands him in court-mandated therapy. Finn’s not one to bare his soul, but if talking it out means meeting beautiful women like Sol Marieles, he’ll give it a shot.

Sol is working toward her master’s degree in psychology, and already she feels like she’s in over her head. With an important internship on the line and a scary family situation demanding her attention, the last thing Sol needs is Finn around to distract her. The man is ripped and seriously sexy yet it’s his troubled side that warns her to keep her distance. But their attraction is intense, and he clearly has the heat to see how far and fast their passion takes them.

Alone, Finn and Sol have been fighting to find happiness in their lives. Together, there’s no stopping them as they face their greatest challenges—not in the ring, but in their hearts. 

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EXCERPT

The heavy door to the lobby opens with a loud smack, drawing attention to those waiting to be seen. The counseling center is private and held in high regard. The majority of our clients come from money, but a few of our therapists work pro bono, counseling those from working class backgrounds similar to mine. Some are like Loretta, suffering from eating disorders and mild anxiety issues. But the majority are severely damaged individuals with suicidal tendencies. I catch sight of one of our more heartbreaking cases sitting in the corner beside his father. Poor kid, he can’t be more than fifteen. And there he waits with his wrists bandaged down to his elbows.

I want to walk over and give him and his dad a hug. Both look like they could use one. Those people on the street who offer free hugs to strangers? I’m one of them. I always have been.

Today though, I refrain, staying focused on Loretta. “Good job,” I tell her, knowing how hard she’s trying. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Sol?”

I turn my head. I know that voice. Loretta doesn’t bother with a goodbye, leaving me instead with a “Mm, yummy” when she sees who called to me.

“Yummy”. Yes, that about sums up Finn.

Finn O’Brien, damn. You know those cute guys . . . those really hot kind of cute guys? Finn blows them away. I’m not typically attracted to redheads, but I make the exception for Finn. Oh, and Jamie from Outlander.

Finn has the whole bad boy thing going on, tats crawling along his muscular arms, hair buzzed on the sides and short on top. A modern Mohawk, it think that’s what it’s called. Oh, and don’t get me started on that dimple on his right cheek that appears when he grins, just like he’s doing now.

“Hi, Finn,” I say. His brother is with him, the one that looks the most like him. He’s older by a few years, handsome, polished, perfect. Well, if you like that sort of thing. Me? Did I mention how sexy Finn is?

His light blue eyes sparkle as I pass Zorina, the poor girl trapped in her own world following a brutal assault on the train. She pretends to play instruments that aren’t there, reality slipping so far from her grasp, it’s almost out of her reach.

I tilt my head in the direction of Finn’s brother because by now it’s obvious I’m gawking at Finn. “You’re Seamus, right?” I ask.

“No, I’m Declan,” he answers in a deep voice.

Oh, right. The district attorney. “Sorry. I know that Finn has a few brothers,” I offer. I should be impressed seeing how Declan has made quite a name for himself in the political arena, and I am. But Finn is who lures my attention and keeps it, despite my best efforts to appear more relaxed. “What are you doing here?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Waiting for you.”

Declan sighs, moving away from us and reaching for his phone. I grin even though I’m sure Finn is feeding me a line. The last time I saw him was at my cousin Sofia’s wedding. I’d brought my friend Alex as my date and Finn, well, he showed up with some girl with big breasts and very little clothes. And funny enough, I still had a hard time keeping my eyes off him.

“Really?” I ask.

“Yeah. Really,” he answers, leaning back on his heels and making a show of checking me out. “Don’t forget, you still owe me a kiss.”

Cecy Robson is a new adult and contemporary author of the Shattered Past series, the O’Brien Family novels and upcoming Carolina Beach novels, as well as the award-winning author of the Weird Girls urban fantasy romance series. A 2016 double nominated RITA^®finalist for Once Pure and Once Kissed, Cecy is a recovering Jersey girl living in the South who enjoys carbs way too much, and exercise way too little. Gifted and cursed with an overactive imagination, you can typically find her on her laptop silencing the yappy characters in her head by telling their stories.

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