Book Title: Perfect Ruin
Author: Nashoda Rose
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date:December 14, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
The New York Times Best Selling author Nashoda Rose is back with the much anticipated story of Kai and London in the Unyielding series.
There is nothing I care about.
Outwardly, I’m a perfect gentleman.
Until my target sees my knife.
I fear nothing, not even death.
In my world, death is considered a privilege.
But my life comes with unbreakable cruel strings and
when I met her, I should’ve walked away.
I was too selfish.
And that sealed her fate.
Because one week with me led her into the hands of ruin.
We all have unique layers that make up who we are.
What makes us vulnerable or strong.
What we fear and what excites us.
But peel back those layers and you’re left naked and exposed.
They did that to me.
Each piece was slowly stripped away then burned.
I merely existed.
But there was one layer they overlooked.
The most important of them all—the tie to one man.
The man responsible for me being this way.
The man who found me.
And the killer who would do anything to protect me.
Perfect Ruin is the dark erotic story of Kai and London.
And the continuing story of Vault.
Must be read in order:
Perfect Chaos (Unyielding, #1) Deck and Georgie
Perfect Ruin (Unyielding, #2) Kai and London
Perfect Rage (Unyielding, #3) Connor’s story
“If there was no deal, would you want me? Do you want me?” he drawled.
Did I? Yes. I wanted the man who had held me in his arms and told me he’d always come for me. I wanted him. I’d always wanted him. “Yes,” I whispered.
“Good. Then this is day one,” he murmured against the back of my neck as his lips made contact.
“Please. Tell me… I need something to make this… okay.” Nothing would make this okay. I knew that. This was a deal and I was trading my body for my father’s safety to a man who was obviously dangerous.
It was just sex. That was all.
But no matter what I told myself, I knew sex with Kai was more than the act. I felt it the second my body reacted to him and my mind fought him.
He suckled on the lobe of my ear and desire spread like wildfire. “You’re safe with me. Always.”
“And if I don’t believe you?” But the fucked-up part was that I did believe him.
He pulled back slightly, just enough so I no longer had the heat of his body against me, but still felt the closeness. “That’s up to you. But your body trusts me and if there is one thing in life you should trust, it’s your body.”
He released one of my wrists. Brushing my hair aside from my neck, he replaced the touch of his finger with his mouth. His lips trailed a path of gentle, light kisses of heat over my skin and some of the tension left my body.
“What if my body is wrong?” I closed my eyes and curled my hands into fists, unable to move. Afraid to. Wanting to.
“Your body doesn’t know how to be wrong. The only lies are the ones your mind feeds it.”
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
“I’ll make it go away, baby.”
Nashoda Rose is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Toronto with her assortment of pets. She writes contemporary romance with a splash of darkness, or maybe it’s a tidal wave.
When she isn’t writing, she can be found sitting in a field reading with her dogs at her side while her horses graze nearby. She loves interacting with her readers and chatting about her addiction—books.
Title: An Author’s Tale
Author: Ellie Keys
Publication Date: January 2016
OH! I remembered then. I was on my way to my room. In my inebriated state, I’d mixed up the numbers. I had ended up at his door trying desperately to get my key to work. I recalled hearing some kind of grumbling from the other side of the door, but hadn’t really been coherent enough to put two and two together.
I’d fallen through the door when he snatched it open. I was on the floor for a few moments giggling and I heard him curse. It had sounded like he’d said something about eager fans or desperate women. Either way, I’d laughed and told him that he was an asshole for jumping to conclusions because I wasn’t what he thought I was. I was just too drunk to realize that I was trying to get into the wrong room.
I’d tried to lift myself up and almost fell. I’d tugged on something, but didn’t know what. I didn’t know until I was on my knees in the next moment facing his slightly erect rod, which was beautiful and staring me in my face. The one-eyed monster had my full attention.
“Okay, beautiful, you got to see it. Now let go of my pants,” I’d heard him say.
My eyes never budged. I was fixated. Before I realized it, I had the head of him in between my lips. Once I had it, I wasn’t letting go. I didn’t until he’d grabbed my bun and tugged. He lifted all of my size- fourteen, five-foot-four, one-hundred-seventy-plus ass up off the floor and hand me spread eagle in the air perched just above his completely erect pelvis a moment later.
“You want this?” was his question.
I was so flabbergasted and turned on by how easily he lifted me that my response was automatic, “Yes. God, yes!”
He quickly slid the only thing hindering his entry to the side and tested my willingness with his fingers. His probing had my head falling back. My panties had to have been soaked through because I had been more than ready. He was deep within me after just a few slight strokes. I lost count over the course of the night just how many times I fell into the lap of ecstasy. I just recalled being in a constant state of bliss. I remembered feeling exhausted and drifting off to sleep with the cheesiest grin. His hand in my dampened honey blonde tresses helped lull me to sleep.
I know I woke up in the middle of the night and felt really hot. I’d rocked back and felt him behind me. I was in that in-between state where you can’t tell dream from reality. So, I just went with it. I woke him enough to have my wicked way with him.
“Oh my … I can’t believe I did this,” I groaned into the pillow.
“Yeah, you did and quite well I might add. I’ll admit that I’ve never been with a … a, um, African American girl and definitely not a plus size one but damn … ” he said as he moved around behind me.
I inwardly groaned again then was pissed and irritated with myself. I was most definitely the dumbest woman to walk the face of the earth. Ever so slowly, I sat up and began to stand my naked body on my shaky legs.
“Whoa there, ba … ,” he began, but I cut him off.
“Do not finish that statement. I’m not your baby. As a matter of fact, if I remember correctly, when I fell into your room last night or this morning, whenever, you thought I was some ‘desperate fan’. I wasn’t then and I’m not now. I’m going to get my bearings and my damn clothes so I can leave. I need to get ready for the event today. Ugh, my head … and my stomach. I’m going to use your bathroom first,” I informed him as I moved very slowly toward my gown, which was in the direct path of the bathroom. Didn’t I have on pants before? Oh yeah, I had them on under the gown.
“Wait. Did I say something wrong?”
I just ignored him and concentrated on getting to my garment then to the bathroom. I’d just made it to the gown when I heard the bed move.
Ellie Keys is a Mystery/Thriller and Romance author. The more diabolical the read the better. One of her pet peeves is being able to guess the ending before she gets there. She also enjoys reading all things romance, whether it’s paranormal, mythological, mystery or contemporary doesn’t matter. Her favorite things to do are mostly centered around books. Other pastimes are going to the movies, playing around on social media and she’s addicted to word games: Scrabble, Text Twist, Wheel of Fortune. Cookie Jam and Bubble Witch have commandeered her free time lately.
Ellie Keys is from Michigan and a graduate of Central Michigan University with a degree in psychology. This degree allows her acknowledge that she may be a little bit off because of all of the talk about hearing voices that don’t allow her to sleep. The good thing about that is she is in good company. She was happy to learn that she wasn’t alone when she talked to other authors.
Her time is over.
Things are looking up.
She’s dirty and ugly.
He’s wicked but handsome.
Six months to toy with her.
Six months of vacation and a ton of money.
I’ll hurt her beyond repair.
I’ve been through much worse.
She’s difficult to control and doesn’t obey.
I’m done submitting to anyone or anything in this life.
I should hate her.
I should hate him.
The game has changed.
I will win.
Dirty Ugly Toy is a novel that blurs the lines of right and wrong, deals with abuse, contains dubious consent, and adult subject matter. If you are sensitive to violent sexual situations, the book may not be suitable for you. Some parts of this book are not easy to read and are not intended for everyone. However, those that keep an open mind and stick with it will not be disappointed.
K Webster is the author of dozens romance books in many different genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. When not spending time with her husband of twelve years and two adorable children, she’s active on social media connecting with her readers.
Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen.
You can easily find K Webster on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads!
Witnessing the murder of New York mobster, Johnny Denato, is only the beginning of the terror closing in on nightclub dancer Tory Robinson. Kidnapped and spirited off to an isolated upstate New York sanatorium, she’s held captive by a sadistic doctor who drugs her and insists she’s there for psychiatric treatment. But his focus is on getting information about Denato.
Enter werewolf Brand Marshall, out hunting in the deep woods when he discovers Tory’s dire predicament. Getting her out alive will take all of his courage and cunning, but Brand’s ultimate challenge is convincing Tory that she is his destined mate.
The last thing Tory Robinson expected to hear was the sound of gunshots.
She’d been sitting on the comfortable couch in Johnny Denato’s luxury Central Park South condo. When he’d excused himself to take a business call, she’d walked to the outsized living room windows to enjoy the ten million dollar view of the park.
Behind her, a door opened, and she heard Denato’s voice change abruptly. Someone must have come in, and he was demanding to know what they wanted. As the voices grew louder, she whirled around in time to hear a series of popping noises and catch a quick view of men with guns running past the living room door.
Fear threatened to turn her body to stone. But she knew that if she stayed where she was, she was a dead woman. Dropping to the floor behind the sofa, she crawled toward the heavy drapes that pooled at either side of the window and worked her way behind the nearest panel. Praying that the gunmen were still in the back of the apartment, she eased to a standing position and pressed against the wall, the cold plaster raising goose bumps on her arms.
Her mind’s eye flashed to the coffee table in front of the sofa where she and Denato had been sitting. He had left a glass of bourbon on the glass top, but she’d told him she didn’t want a drink. So an extra glass wouldn’t give her away. And thank God she’d taken her purse with her. The men wouldn’t see that two people had been in the room—unless they noticed two depressions in the back sofa cushions.
Voices conferred in low tones, the words like the roaring of surf in her ears. When heavy footsteps approached the window, the blood froze in her veins, and she braced to feel rough hands shove the drapes aside and yank her out like a rabbit plucked from its burrow.
An eternity ticked by before she heard a sarcastic voice say, “High class view.”
“It won’t do him no good now,” another man answered.
“We better get the hell out of here, in case somebody heard the action.”
As footsteps receded from the window, Tory closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, taking deep breaths as she ordered herself not to faint. For long seconds after the front door closed, she stayed where she was, imagining that the gunmen could be waiting to see if someone crept out of hiding.
But finally she knew she couldn’t stay where she was.
Cautiously, she eased one edge of the drapes aside and looked out. The apartment was just as she remembered it—until she saw a pair of black-trouser-clad legs lying on the marble floor of the foyer.
She recognized Johnny’s dress pants—and his Italian designer shoes.
“Johnny?” she whispered, hurrying toward him, stopping short when she saw the red circle in the middle of his forehead and the pool of blood that had spread around his head like an evil halo against the pale floor. There was nothing she could do for him now.
Haven’t started the series yet or need to catch up?
The Decorah Security Series
A New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly best-selling and award-winning author, Rebecca has written over 145 books and novellas. In 2011 she became the dozenth author to receive the Romance Writers of America Centennial Award for having written 100 romantic novels. Her Killing Moon was a launch title for Berkley’s Sensation imprint in June 2003. Five more books in the series have followed.
Rebecca has authored or co-authored over 65 romantic thrillers, many for Harlequin Intrigue’s very popular 43 Light Street series, set in Baltimore, and many with paranormal elements.
Her many awards include two Rita finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times: for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. And her Peregrine Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense Series.
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