Release Day Launch + Excerpt & Giveaway: Mr. Beautiful by R.K. Lilley

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Happy Release Day to R.K. Lilley! MR. BEAUTIFUL is LIVE!

Mr. Beautiful by R.K. Lilley

Mr. Beautiful by R.K. Lilley
Series: Up in the Air #4 (full reading order below)
Release Date: October 15th 2014
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I’ve been remade four times in my life.

It is a distinct feeling. Impossible to mistake. The very marked sensation of being unraveled and reknit into a new thing, a new person. It can be good or bad, helpful or harmful, but above all, it is unstoppable.

I was remade when my parents died, went from a happy childhood, into navigating a very dark world, with endless responsibilities, surrounded by enemies, and despairingly alone.

It happened again at the hands of a cowardly predator. I’d become angrier with that one, more cynical, and it undoubtedly turned me into the kinky f**k I was today.

The third happened swiftly. One day I looked up into a pair of pale blue eyes and saw the other half of my soul. Checkmate. I went from a completely controlled existence, a life where I made every decision with cold calculation, to a man overcome with feelings and emotions that were foreign but somehow wonderful.

And all too soon after that cataclysmic change was this fourth one, this one where I begged a God I’d never entertained to spare the life of a woman that I could not live without.

Follow all of the characters from the Up in the Air universe in the years after the trilogy, with POVs from James, Stephan, Frankie, Tristan, and Akira.

This book is intended for readers 18 and up.

Purchase:
AmazonAmazon UK • iBooks

Now here’s an excerpt from Mr. Beautiful! ❤

excerpt

JAMES

MY RAVENOUS SELF

It was some endless span of time later, after the shooting.

Weeks that felt like ages. Time I’d spent agonizing and worrying.

I’d adjusted almost completely to working from home, as I wouldn’t even consider leaving her side while she recovered. My businesses suffered through some minor hiccups for this, but nothing catastrophic. All of it had become rather relative, besides.

So what if a few other people helped me run things, and I lost control over some of the minute details that used to consume me? I couldn’t even recall why it was so important to manage it all myself anymore.

What was the worst that could be happen? I’d become slightly less filthy rich?

We were dining privately, and Bianca was being very quiet. Too quiet. She was up in her own head again, though her worries were always the polar opposite of mine.

She worried about me. My stress levels, my lack of sleep, my unmet needs.

It was a difficult thing to grow accustomed to, as I couldn’t remember the last time, pre-Bianca, that someone fretted over me.

Not since my mother, I supposed.

She cleared her throat and brought her level stare to meet my troubled one.

“I heard you talking on the phone earlier, to your Detroit manager. It sounded as though the situation would best be handled if you went there in person. I think you should do it. You can’t stay home with me forever. I’m perfectly self-sufficient now, and even if I wasn’t, I have Stephan and Javier next door, not to mention all of the staff.”

I didn’t even consider it. She may have been ready for that, but I was not.

“Maybe in a week or two,” I told her, not meaning it, but using it as a subject ender.

I went back to my food, feeling her presence acutely to my left. I was a focused man, but I could not be in a room with Bianca without at least half of my attention on her at all times.

Her presence was a great gaping void in my concentration—my ultimate distraction.

I caught her sigh out of the corner of my eye and turned my attention on her fully.

She set down her utensils, sitting back in her chair.

“Was it not to your liking?” I asked her, eyeing up her barely touched dinner. She’d finished only about a third of her filet and less than half of her vegetables.

“It was very good. I just wasn’t that hungry. I think you actually need to expend energy to work up an appetite.”

The words hungry and appetite coming out of her succulent mouth with that soft voice of hers was enough to make me hard, though it was a fact that it didn’t take much these days.

I looked at her, keeping my eyes squarely on her face.

I’d taken one look at the little dress she was wearing earlier and decided wisely not to look at it again.

My control was hanging on by the thinnest thread, and that dress, or more specifically, the body it revealed more than clothed, was more provocative than I could stand.

It was overkill, really.

Inflammatory, when I was already on fire.

Still, if I let my mind wander for even a second, I could picture it perfectly—her body in that dress.

It was palest peach, a lovely color on her, feminine and loose, with ruffles at the neck and hem, and so minuscule that it could have been a shirt. I had to force my mind away from any thoughts about her long, bare legs in it.

It also exposed nearly her entire back, just one T shaped strap all that covered her from her shoulder to the little dimples above her ass, which was torment for all kinds of reasons, one being that her back drove me mindless, the other being that it meant she was braless, and that drove me from mindless to madness incarnate.

The neckline was decent enough, but the sides of the dress were cut severely, on account of the back, leaving the sides of both breasts exposed, so much so that the wrong movement could slip her clean out of it.

I took a few deep, grounding breaths for control.

I allowed myself one brief glance at her bare neck. Her choker was locked away, since the injury.

The sight of her neck without it always made my fingers twitch restlessly.

This also brought my mind to other things she’d lost during her long hospital stay.

Like both of her nipple piercings, which brought my mind to her breasts, the absolute last place it needed to go.

In spite of myself, I glanced at the white skin of one rounded tit where it nearly spilled out of the side of that damned dress.

And felt myself begin to shake.

I looked away, setting down my fork and knife, attempting to hide the fine tremor that ran through the entire length of me, and seemed to be most apparent in my hands.

“James,” she said, voice quiet and solemn, almost chiding, like she knew what afflicted me.

Like she held the cure if only I’d reach for it.

She did, of course, but I wouldn’t let myself reach. Not yet.

It was too soon.

She’d nearly died and needed time to recover, time unsullied by my selfish, unquenchable need.

I didn’t look at her directly, but needless to say, I was still hyper aware of it when she stood and moved to stand at my side.

I took in a deep breath, then let it out, calming myself and taking her in all at once.

She touched the top of my head lightly with her elegant fingers. “Oh, James,” she sighed, tone gentle enough to make me ache.

She stroked her hand into my hair, gripped it lightly, and started to pull.

She leaned forward, pressing my tense head to her soft bosom.

I shut my eyes tight.

The image of me putting my ravenous self on her wounded self was a crystal clear picture in my head.

Obsessively, repetitively, day and night, asleep or awake, I pictured this.

It was very nearly too much to bear; this voracious, prodigious need of mine.

I’d not gone through a celibate stage like this since I’d become sexually active, back in my teens. In the beginning of our relationship, when Bianca had left me, I’d come close, but this spell had since outlasted that one.

It was an ordeal.

I jerked off at least five times a day, to cope with the readjustment, but it was about as satisfactory as eating cardboard instead of steak.

My traitorous hands moved to grip the bare backs of her thighs, keeping her leaning against me.

After one inflamed, torturous moment, I tore myself away.

She let me go, moving back to her seat.

I looked at her, making my gaze go to the bandaged side of her face, which I usually avoided, but not now, because I needed that reminder of why I had to put her needs before my own.

Her injury was still dressed from the latest round of reconstructive surgery, covering one side of her face from cheekbone to jaw.

It was a sobering sight, not because it was grisly, in fact I couldn’t even see the actual wound, it was covered so thoroughly, but because it was a stark and clear reminder of what had almost happened.

That reminder was dampening, which was what I needed at the moment.

I finished eating, and Bianca quietly excused herself.

I knew where she was going, and I forced myself to move in the opposite direction.

If I followed her to her painting studio, watched her work on and around a canvas in that fucking dress, I’d surely snap, and lose all restraint.

She was not recovered enough for my unrestrained self.

I tried not to follow her, to hover, as that was not what she wanted, but it was a constant struggle against myself not to check in on her.

Instead, I took up residence in my home office and attempted to work.

That lasted all of thirty seconds.

That fast and my mind was wandering back to her, and back to the image of my ravenous self on her recovering self, and I recalled rather urgently that I was do for another jerk off session.

I had just pulled my erection from the oppressive confines of my pants when my office door opened with no preamble.

This was unusual. Bianca never came to my office.

She stepped inside, then shut the door behind her, not looking even slightly surprised at what I’d been up to, while I found myself flushing in embarrassment.

Her eyes were unflinching on mine as she approached.

I’d pushed my chair back from the desk in preparation for my after dinner jerk session. There was enough space between for her to fit.

She did, facing me and leaning back until her ass was perched right on the edge.

I raised my desperate eyes to her devastating ones.

Our gazes never wavered as, at the bottom of my vision, she lifted her wispy little dress up to bare herself.

With a sigh of defeat, I let myself look, but only for the briefest moment.

No panties, as I’d suspected.

My eyes, as they returned to hers, were pleading now.

I couldn’t fight her and myself.

Myself was bad enough, but I’d never been any match for her.

Not for one lovesick second since the first time I’d set eyes on her.

“You need more recovery time, Love,” I told her, voice desperate, heart pounding.

“Shh,” she soothed, holding her arms out for me, her skirt falling back down to barely cover the essentials.

With a shudder, I moved into her, sliding my chair close between her legs. I rested my cheek on her soft, bare thigh and attempted and failed to hold onto any vague shred of my once dependable control.

She stroked her fingers through my hair.

It wasn’t long before I raised my head to take her in again. “Grip the edge of the desk with your hands,” I told her roughly, unsteady hands lifting her skirt, letting myself look my fill at last.

“I’m off the painkillers,” she told me.

My eyes jerked to hers, nostrils flaring as I caught what she meant me to. We both knew I wouldn’t touch her impaired.

“Why?” I asked, just to be sure.

“I don’t like them, and the pain is manageable.”

“You can’t do that. You can’t make yourself suffer on my account.”

“Don’t put this on yourself. This is how I’ve always been. I never could stand to take pain medication, no matter the reason, so as soon as it becomes bearable, I stop.”

I shut my eyes tight and took a deep breath, so torn I was doubting myself.

“Please, Mr. Cavendish,” she breathed.

She was ruthless.

I was lost.

I turned my head, burrowing my face between her legs, tasting her.

My moan was almost loud enough to drown out hers.

A taste turned into a feast and I lapped at her, one hand pinching the tip of my cock to hold off on coming as my other hand delved between her thighs to finger her.

She came undone fast, thank God, as I jammed two fingers into her and pushed my tongue repeatedly against the swollen nub of her clit.

I pulled my face away to look at her as my hands went still, stopping her on the brink.

I didn’t have to tell her. She knew what to do.

She begged.

Reading Order: Up in the Air series

In Flight by R.K. Lilley Mile High by R.K. Lilley Grounded by R.K. Lilley Mr. Beautiful by R.K. Lilley

#1 ~ In Flight: EbookPaperbackGoodreads
#2 ~ Mile High: EbookPaperbackGoodreads
#3 ~ Grounded: EbookPaperbackGoodreads
#4 ~ Mr. Beautiful: Ebook • Goodreads

about the author

R.K. LilleyR.K. Lilley lives in Colorado with her husband and their two beautiful sons. She’s had a lot of interesting jobs, from being a first class flight attendant, to being a stablehand, but swears she never knew what hard work was until she had children. She’s been addicted to both reading and writing fiction since she can remember. She loves to travel, read, hike, paint, game, watch anime, and make the most of every single day. She is the author of the erotic romance novels In Flight, Mile High, Grounded, and the novella, Lana.

Website • Facebook • Twitter • Goodreads

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SIGNED set of the Up in the Air Series

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Review: The Wild Side by R.K. Lilley

The Wild Side by R.K. Lilley

The Wild Side by R.K. Lilley
Series: The Wild Side #1 (full reading order below)
Publication Date: May 20th 2014
Purchase: Ebook

ARE YOU READY TO TAKE A WALK?

Alasdair Masters is in a rut. He just hit forty, has been nearly celibate for the past year, and his life has turned into a daily sequence of lonely patterns that revolve around avoiding human contact.

His tidy life is turned on its head when a hot young blonde at the gym that’s been pseudo-stalking him decides to rock his world. A very young blonde. Way, way too young for him. The problem is, he can’t seem to tell her no, and she just keeps coming back for more.

It doesn’t help that he’s ninety percent sure she’s a criminal, and still, he can’t seem to turn her down. What is a dull introvert to do when a chaotic cyclone that oozes sexuality comes twisting into his life?

At first, he thinks she’ll give him a heart attack, but after his twenty-year marriage ended a year ago, he’s been a little lost, and when she comes crashing into his life, he realizes that he’s never felt more alive.

Is a walk on the wild side just what he needs to get his on track or a disaster in the making? Is it possible for someone that much younger to be just what he needs, or is she a fortune hunter, as everyone keeps telling him? Is it his hormones telling him that the mysterious younger woman is the one, or could it be more?

I’m not the biggest fan of serials, but every once in a while I’ll try them out. They’re usually a hit or miss for me, but fortunately, I enjoyed The Wild Side so freaking much!! It was funny, it was sexy, and it was outrageously scandalous! I don’t think I’ve read a book that made me blush so much!

This raunchy book is definitely not for the faint of heart. It’s erotica to the max. It’s hot and wild and sensual and all-around one of the sexiest books I’ve ever read (but it’s not the sexiest book–the top spot for that belongs to Double Time). So sex is like, the main ingredient in The Wild Side–it’s what brings together 40-year-old Alasdair and 24-year-old Iris, after all. The age gap was honestly the thing that drew me into this book in the first place. An older man and a much younger woman? Uh, yeah, I definitely had to check this book out.

Alasdair, or Dair, is a… different sort of hero. Iris is a different sort of heroine as well, and it was refreshing to read about characters who were like nothing I’ve read before. Dair is a successful author who was recently divorced. He’s the type of guy who doesn’t go looking for trouble, but trouble certainly finds him at his gym in the form of a gorgeous 24-year-old woman.

She was young.
I was old.
She was wild.
I was tame.

I really liked Dair for most of the book. I didn’t expect this, but Dair is so funny! The book is told solely in Dair’s POV, and his narration is fantastic. He’s got this sarcastic, blunt, sort of resigned way of thinking, and I loved it. He made me laugh quite a bit, because he’s so utterly baffled by the fact that Iris wants him. He thinks of himself as an old, slightly creepy man for wanting someone so out of his league.

She sat beside me, our hips touching. She patted my knee and went to town on the Popsicle like she was giving me the show of my life.
“Jesus,” I muttered as it disappeared completely into her mouth.
I was so outclassed here.

But the body wants what the body wants, and Dair and Iris embark on a sexual relationship, despite the fact that Dair honestly knows absolutely nothing about Iris. Her character is mysterious, and everything about her is hidden. We don’t know who she is, what she does, or if she genuinely wants to be with Dair (though I got the feeling she genuinely did want to be with him). She doesn’t open up, no matter what Dair does. I was okay with not knowing much about Iris, because all in good time, right? So as a serial, the pacing of this first part of the story is good, but I definitely need some answers in the next book.

The best part about Dair, what drew me to his character, a 40-year-old man who I normally wouldn’t be able to connect with, was his need of a connection. Ever since his divorce, he’s been quiet and reclusive. He doesn’t really have a purpose in life anymore–all he does is do stuff as an author and go to the gym. It’s not a very glamorous life. But Iris is able to wake Dair up–awaken his life and his sexuality.

The point was that this beautiful woman would let me take her every way I could think of, and I relished that.
Loved it. Needed it.
She made me feel so desirable, when I’d felt so unwanted for so long.

So all in all, this was a mind boggling book (with tons of hot sex). I expected some answers and only got more questions (which I’m hoping will be answered soon!!). I had expectations after reading the blurb, and The Wild Side certainly didn’t disappoint. It’s a fast read with never a dull moment–I did mention how ridiculously sexy this book is, right? The song Drunk in Love by Beyoncé ft. Jay Z is featured a few times throughout the book, and the song is pretty much a perfect match with the story. This book had me hooked and fascinated from the first page, and I could never predict what would happen next. So if you’re planning on reading The Wild Side (which you should!), be prepared for a wild ride.

4 hearts!

4-hearts

lacey

Reading Order: The Wild Side series

The Wild Side by R.K. Lilley Iris by R.K. Lilley Dair by R.K. Lilley

#1 ~ The Wild Side: Ebook • Goodreads
#2 ~ Iris: Ebook • Goodreads
#3 ~ Dair: Ebook • Goodreads

Release Day Blitz + Excerpt & Giveaway: Iris by R.K. Lilley

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Iris by R.K. Lilley


Title: IRIS
Series:
The Wild Side #2 (full reading order below)
Author: R.K. LILLEY
Hosted by: The Book Avenue
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ARE YOU READY FOR A TWIST? 

Who is Iris? Where did she come from? Where has she gone?

Alasdair Masters has more questions than answers about his new, too young obsession, and when he finds out she’s been lying to him, from their first meeting to their last one, he’s more confused than ever about her feelings, her intentions.

And what’s just as confusing are his own feelings. Has he turned something purely physical into something emotional in his own head? Is any of it mutual?

The only thing he doesn’t question is whether he’ll keep going back for more.

DAIR

Me, I was simple. I was order. A very neat, efficient machine that ran on nothing but air.

Me plus anyone else, well, that was another matter. And me plus Iris, that was a monster of a machine, with all gears going at different speeds, some spinning off their hinges, just going mad, but it was a wonderful madness, at full throttle, misfiring in all directions.

It felt wonderful and dreadful.

I was breaking down, and it felt amazing.

And terrifying.

This book is intended for readers 18 and up

Purchase:
Amazon US • Amazon UK • Amazon CA • Amazon AU

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Iris teaser

excerpt

DAIR

TWO MONTHS AFTER THE FALLING OUT

I had a bit of a nervous breakdown after Iris left without a trace.

It was the strangest thing, but I suddenly didn’t like my own company so much.

In fact, I began to hate it, even at home.

I still went to the gym at the exact same time, every single day, in the small hope that she’d show again.  She didn’t, but I kept going, because I wanted to see her again.

She hadn’t been in my life for long, but I missed her.

Being that I couldn’t stand my own company, I began to reconnect with old friends, people I hadn’t talked to since the divorce, the friends I’d chalked up to losses in the breakup; Tammy’s assets when we’d been chopping our combined life in half.

For some reason, they all seemed very happy to hear from me.  I felt like a jerk for going into full hermit mode and attempted to have something of a social life again.

I’d often meet up with another writer friend for coffee or lunch after my workout, telling myself that if I just kept working at it—being a normal person, with normal social habits—it wouldn’t feel so forced.

And it was true.  Two months post Iris, and I was looking forward to having coffee with my friend, Benji.

He was already sitting at a table as I entered the café a few shops down from my gym.

I waved at him, saw he had an extra coffee for me, and bypassed the line to go directly to him.

He slid me the cup as I sat down.

“You make your deadline?” I asked him.  Like me, he was a neurotic, work obsessed writer, and so we always had something to talk about.  It was good.  Distractions were good.  The more the better.  The more plates spinning the better, these days.

He nodded with a grin, pushing his thick glasses up high on his nose, and sweeping his light brown hair away from his face.  He was a good seven years my junior, with a lean, nerdy look that I thought suited him.  He wore it well.  “How about you?  I know you were early on your publisher’s deadline, but how is your indie project coming along?”

“Good.  Good.  My word count is flowing faster than ever.  I should be done in about four weeks.”

He whistled.  “Will you sell it to the publisher, if they decide they like it and make you a good offer?”

I shrugged.  “I doubt it.  This whole project is an experiment for me.  It won’t be much fun if I don’t get to at least see how making seventy percent compares to making, yanno, eight.”

He shook his head, smiling wryly.  “You’re forgetting your advance.  You can’t tell me they don’t give you plenty up front.”

I shrugged again.  “Like I said, this one is an experiment.  I doubt even my publisher can sway me, and it’s not exactly written in the genre I’m known for, so they wouldn’t write me a big check for it, anyway.”

“You’re probably right.”  He sighed.  “I envy you the flexibility to do what you want.  Some of us are still writing just to pay the bills.”

We sipped coffee and talked shop for a bit.  We were just getting ready to leave when he suddenly trailed off mid-sentence, looking at something behind me.

I turned to see what it was, and an electric fire went off in my brain at the sight that met my eyes.

Setting my jaw hard, I turned carefully away.

So the back of that blonde woman in line resembled Iris, so what?

This wasn’t the first time my brain had tricked me into thinking she was somewhere close.

But it was never her.  I’d see some young blonde thing out of the corner of my eye and turn to stare until I met a stranger’s blank stare.

Not today.  Today I was going to ignore the urge to obsess.  It wasn’t her, just some young woman with a great body.  She wasn’t even dressed correctly, wearing a pleated skirt and a belted, collared blouse.

Iris wouldn’t be caught dead in business attire.

“Holy fucking shit, man.  Did you see that chick?” Benji asked, his tone reverent.

My mouth quirked up in a rueful smile.  Even the most civilized men turned into mouth-breathers if a hot enough woman walked into the room.

“I did.”  I took a long sip of coffee, watching Benji, who just kept watching the woman in line, forcing myself, with great effort, to stifle the urge to turn around again.  “Nice ass,” I noted.

“Yes.  But you need to turn around and check out the rest of her.  Huge titties, man.”

I rolled my eyes.  There was a bit of a generation gap between us.  My generation thought shit like that, but then we kept it to ourselves, like grown-ups.

“Big soft tits,” he continued, “in a semi-sheer white blouse.  Fuuuck.  She’s got a tan.  How many articles you think I need to write to bang a chick that out of my league?”

“A lot,” I mused, still staying firmly with my back to the woman in question.

“Like how many is a lot?”

“What do you make?  Like five hundred an article?  I’d say about two thousand of those, minimum.  If she’s as hot as she looked from the back, though, you’d need to be well into the millionaire club before she’d give you the time of day, so more like five thousand articles, realistically.”

His eyes were wide as he finally looked away from the hot chick and back to me.  “Really?  That is fucking depressing, dude.”

I shrugged.  “Yeah.  But the really sad part is you’d have to spend a good chunk of that cash on her, if you wanted her to stay around for any length of time.”

He shook his head.  “I think you’ve gone cynical, after Tammy.”

I couldn’t dispute that.  Not a bit.  “You may be right.  What can I say?  Divorce messes with your head.”  I didn’t bring up Iris.  I hadn’t told him about her.  “Why don’t you go ask her out, if you’re so certain I’m wrong?”

He laughed.  “I didn’t say you were wrong, I said you were cynical, and so am I.  That chick is out of my league, period.  I need more money to bag a woman like that.  Or at the very least, better looks and a bigger dick.  And look at that, fuck, she’s already leaving.  I was hoping she’d sit down to drink her coffee, and let me look at her for a few more minutes.”

“Maybe you were creeping her out.  You’ve barely taken your eyes off her since she walked in the door.”

He didn’t even seem to hear me.  “Oh, no, wait, she’s only going to the bathroom.  I thought it was weird she was leaving without her order.  Did you see her shoes, man?  Those are some ‘fuck-me’ stilettos.  And her hair is in this tight bun, and she’s wearing sexy librarian glasses.  Will you please turn and look when she comes back out?  I will drop the subject if you will just get a better view of her and agree with me that she’s a ten.”

“Nope.  Not doing it.  That poor girl does not need us both creeping out on her.  I’ll take your word for it.”

That seemed to settle the matter.  He dropped it.

His phone rang; he checked the screen and started cursing.  “I’ve got to run.  Same time next week?”

I nodded, and he left.  I didn’t move and still didn’t turn around.  I had that feeling, a tingle on my neck, like I was being watched from behind, and I was again talking myself out of obsessing about Iris.

But burned in my brain was the image of the back of that woman, and in spite of myself, I was comparing.

And a small part of me was enjoying the torture of imagining it could be her, that she would find me again.

Finally, I cracked, turning to look, thinking that the woman must have left, so I should just get it over with, like pulling off a Band-Aid.

And there she was.

There was Iris, standing only feet away, holding a cup of coffee and watching me, her expression very blank.  She was wearing sexy librarian glasses, her hair in a tight bun, just like Benji had said.

And it really was her, in the flesh.

She wore white, and her clothes were fitted enough to show off every lush curve.  Her mouthwatering breasts were clearly outlined, the buttons of her blouse open enough to show an extravagant amount of cleavage.

How had I forgotten just how stunning she was?  How captivating?

Her large breasts were even more exceptional than I remembered, as though I’d dreamt her up as a comic book version of herself.

Iris squared.

The moment our eyes met, she began to move, walking with easy grace to sit across from me.

She looked cold, so icy blonde and beautiful, like some mix of Marilyn Monroe and Grace Kelly.

Terrible and beautiful.

It felt like fatal voltage to my chest just to look at her like that.

It was Iris, but Iris as a stranger.  No, it was worse than that.  It was like she was a curious, wild, imaginary creature, with the pieces of her just now put together, invented for my eyes, not how I remembered at all, because even when she’d been angry, she had never been cold.

Then she smiled, and it was her again, all traces of the cold stranger gone.

Which one was the real Iris?

“Hello, Dair.”

I swallowed hard and saw her eyes dart to my throat.

“Hello, Iris.”

“God, I missed the sound of your voice.”

“The sound of my voice?” My voice caught on the question awkwardly, breaking slightly on the last word.

She had such a talent for catching me off guard.

“Yes.  You have the best voice, like a stern school teacher.”

My brain short-circuited for a bit before I could respond.  “You say the most outrageous things.”

She laughed, and its tinkling sound felt like velvet across the back of my neck.  “Is that all you have to say to me, after all this time?” she asked quietly.

“I’m sorry for all the things—”

“I don’t want you to take those things back, if you still believe them, and besides, that’s not what I meant.  Don’t you have anything else to say to me?”

I took a few deep breaths.  “Where have you been?  And why are you back now?”

“That’s not what I meant, either.  And I don’t want to talk about that.  Didn’t you miss me?”

She reached a hand across the table, and I found one of mine grasping it, lacing our fingers tightly together.

My eyes squeezed shut.  It felt very good to touch her again, even just her hand.  “Yes, Iris, I missed you very much.”

“There you go.  Was that so hard?  I missed you, too.  You look good.”  She tugged her hand away, and my eyes opened to follow its retreat.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

She looked like she was trying not to smile.  “Like what?”

“Like a professional.  Why are you wearing glasses?  What are you doing?  Where did you go?  Where have you been?”

She glanced around, and the way she did it struck me as more than a little paranoid.  “Want to go for a walk?”

My heart started pounding hard.

I didn’t hesitate.

“Of course I do,” I said, absolutely no thought required.

I’d take a walk with her anytime, anywhere.

She smiled, taking off those sexy glasses.  “Well, then, let’s get out of here.”

Reading Order: The Wild Side series

The Wild Side by R.K. Lilley Iris by R.K. Lilley

#1 ~ The Wild Side: Ebook • Goodreads
#2 ~ Iris: Ebook • Goodreads
#3 ~ Dair: Ebook • Goodreads

about the author

R.K. LilleyR.K. Lilley lives in Colorado with her husband and their two beautiful sons. She’s had a lot of interesting jobs, from being a first class flight attendant, to being a stablehand, but swears she never knew what hard work was until she had children. She’s been addicted to both reading and writing fiction since she can remember. She loves to travel, read, hike, paint, game, watch anime, and make the most of every single day. She is the author of the erotic romance novels In Flight, Mile High, Grounded, and the novella, Lana.

Website • Facebook • Twitter • Goodreads

Other books by R.K. Lilley:

Reading Order: Tristan & Danika series

Bad Things by R.K. Lilley Rock Bottom by R.K. Lilley Lovely Trigger by R.K. Lilley

#1 ~ Bad Things: Ebook • Paperback • Goodreads
# 2 ~ Rock Bottom: Ebook • Paperback • Goodreads
#3 ~ Lovely Trigger: Ebook • Paperback • Goodread

Reading Order: Up in the Air series

In Flight by R.K. Lilley Mile High by R.K. Lilley Grounded by R.K. Lilley Mr. Beautiful by R.K. Lilley

#1 ~ In Flight: EbookPaperbackGoodreads
#2 ~ Mile High: EbookPaperbackGoodreads
#3 ~ Grounded: EbookPaperbackGoodreads
#4 ~ Mr. Beautiful: Goodreads (Oct. 15, 2014)

Lana (novella)

Lana by R.K. Lilley

Ebook • Paperback • Goodreads

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Release Day Blitz + Excerpt & Giveaway: The Wild Side by R.K. Lilley

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The Wild Side by R.K. Lilley

Title: THE WILD SIDE
Author: R.K. LILLEY
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Alasdair Masters is in a rut. He just hit forty, has been nearly celibate for the past year, and his life has turned into a daily sequence of lonely patterns that revolve around avoiding human contact.

His tidy life is turned on its head when a hot young blonde at the gym that’s been pseudo-stalking him decides to rock his world. A very young blonde. Way, way too young for him. The problem is, he can’t seem to tell her no, and she just keeps coming back for more.

It doesn’t help that he’s ninety percent sure she’s a criminal, and still, he can’t seem to turn her down.  What is a dull introvert to do when a chaotic cyclone that oozes sexuality comes twisting into his life?

At first, he thinks she’ll give him a heart attack, but after his twenty-year marriage ended a year ago, he’s been a little lost, and when she comes crashing into his life, he realizes that he’s never felt more alive.

Is a walk on the wild side just what he needs to get his on track or a disaster in the making? Is it possible for someone that much younger to be just what he needs, or is she a fortune hunter, as everyone keeps telling him? Is it his hormones telling him that the mysterious younger woman is the one, or could it be more?

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excerpt

Chapter Three

She acted very impressed that I’d designed the place.  She had a lot of questions, curious about every inch of the property and how it pertained to me.

It seemed to me that she was always trying to connect pieces of a puzzle.

One thing I noticed right away was that I never had to dumb my explanations down for her, which was something that stood out to me, because the dumbing down was such a common occurrence for me, that I wouldn’t have taken a note of it, if I’d been doing the opposite.  She understood my references, big and small picture.  It was astounding, the more I thought about it, because she was just so young.

“Why aren’t you in school?” I asked her.

Her eyes twinkled at me.  It was too adorable and highly dangerous.  “What, you don’t think I’m reaching my full potential?”

I tried to backtrack.  I had a tendency to put my foot in my mouth.  Socially awkward was really a kind way to describe me.  “I-I didn’t say that, I’m just…”

She took pity on me, waving it off with a laugh, and we went on with the tour.

I had several guest rooms, but I showed her to the biggest one, with the nicest bathroom.

“You can use this one while I make us that kale drink.”

She shook her head.

I blinked at her.

“I’ll use the shower connected to your bedroom.”

“This one is just as nice.  I made sure at least one of the guest suites was built like a master.”

“Which one do you use?”

“The master.”

“I’ll use that one.  No need to dirty this one up just for me.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“I think I can remember the way.  I’ll be down in a sec.”

I watched her walk away, having to restrain myself from following her.

What would she do if I got in the shower with her?

Would she let me fuck her?

I got the distinct feeling that she would, but somehow I made myself walk away.

I had half the ingredients out of the fridge for my shake when I remembered her bag.

I nearly ran as I grabbed it and brought it up to her.  The shower was running, I could hear it from the bedroom, and like a pervert, I just opened the door.

The shower was too steamy to make out her figure, thank God, but my eye was caught by a tiny scrap of neon yellow cloth as I set her duffle on the counter.

I picked it up gingerly with two fingers.  If I wasn’t mistaken, it was the tiniest thong I’d ever seen in my life, made up of just a few stretchy strings and an itty-bitty piece of mesh.

I dropped it like it was on fire and backed out of the room, keeping my eyes on the floor.

I shut the door very quietly behind me.

I was nearly back to the kitchen when I veered off into the half bath that connected to the living room.

Her borrowed towel was still on my shoulder, and I buried my face in it.

I licked my palm, yanked my shorts down, and started jerking hard on my cock.

I needed to get a handle on this.

I didn’t even think about her body.  That was overkill.  My mind stayed firmly on that tiny yellow scrap of cloth as I groaned and shot my load into the bathroom sink.

I washed up.

I was still panting as I opened the door.

Iris stood there, dressed in another pair of her tiny Lycra shorts, these ones a pale peach color that emphasized her tan, and a white sports bra (the front zipper halfway down).

Of course she was smiling.

She touched the twice-used towel on my shoulder.  “Maybe I want to keep this thing.  Does it smell like you now?”

I shook my head, then moved past her, heading resolutely to familiar ground.

She sat on the counter while I worked, right smack in the middle of everything, so I had to constantly move by her.  She was perched back on her hands, her thighs spread just wide enough to make my brain stop functioning completely.

“So what do you do for a living to afford this place?”

“I write books.  Mostly crime dramas.”

“Wait, what’s your last name?”

I sighed.  She’d likely heard of me.  I had a fairly popular series that had gotten a lot of attention, and some big screen love, over the last decade.  “Masters.”

“Alasdair Masters.  I’ve heard of you.  How did I never hear that you were smoking hot, Alasdair?”

I gave her a rueful smile.  “You’re buttering me up.  Why?”

She winked at me.  “Not at all.  I call ‘em like I see ‘em.  So do you use your real name as your pen name, or are you giving me a fake name?”

“That is actually my name.  Not smart, I know, but I got into the business before I knew better.  I graduated college when I was eighteen, and started writing books a few years before that, and I was too egotistical as a kid to use a fake name.”

“A prodigy.”

“Not quite.  Just a few years ahead.  And my father worked in the business, so I had some very helpful connections.”

“And you’re humble, to boot.  Tell me what happened between you and your ex-wife.  How did it all go south after twenty years?”

“You really want me to talk about this?  I was in such a good mood.”

“Were you?  What put you in such a good mood?”  I couldn’t see her, but I could hear the smile in her voice.  “Does that good mood have something to do with all the grunting and slapping noises I heard you making in the bathroom earlier?”

I couldn’t touch that one, couldn’t respond to it.  I ignored it (though I could feel the hot blush on my cheeks) like she’d never said it.

It was too much for me, otherwise.

“Well, to be honest, I suppose there were always troubles.  I just didn’t understand them or even see them.  I tried to be a good husband, as I understood it, tried to make her happy.  One day I came home to find her on her knees, giving some man I’d never seen before a blow job, in my entryway.  Everything went real south after that.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.  It didn’t help that she hadn’t given me a bj for, hell, I don’t know, years.  It was a hard thing to see.  I could have used a blow job, or fuck, a smile, and there she was, deep throating some stranger.”

“That’s terrible.  She sounds just awful.”

“Well, I guess it was love, because I hear she’s marrying the guy, who is way younger than her, by the way.  Apparently, I was just the husband that was holding her back.  Of course, she took every penny she could in the divorce, so at least she doesn’t mind my money.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Never even thought of a pre-nup.  I was twenty and assumed I was getting married forever.”

“How old was she when you got married?”

“Twenty-three.  Which was the last time I dated someone your age.  But enough about me, let’s talk about you.  Are you in college?”  I’d already surmised that she wasn’t, but I was trying my best to be polite.

“Nope.”

“Where do you work?”

“Here and there.  I was working as a cigarette girl at a casino, but it was a temporary gig.  Now I’m in between.  I got a job offer at Hooters that I’m considering.”

I shot a glance at her chest.  “They’d eat you up, wouldn’t they?”

She giggled.  “What about you, Dair?  Would you eat me up?”

I nearly cut my fingers off.

I took a moment to compose myself as I shoved the kale, carrots, white tea, cucumber, strawberries, ginger, and spinach into my Vitamix, filling it to the top.  I blended it until it was smooth liquid.

I poured two glasses, sliding one to her.  I took my own to the table in the breakfast nook.

She joined me, taking a long drink.  “Not bad.  Not good, but it obviously works.  Keeps you fit enough, eh?”

I drank mine in a few big chugs.

She finished hers slowly.  I knew she was teasing me when she licked the rim of her empty cup.

The girl got a kick out of driving me wild.

She rolled the empty glass between her exposed cleavage, giving me very solid eye contact.  “What now?”

I took a few deep, steadying breaths.  “I can take you wherever you want.  Just say the word.”

She beamed.  “Let’s watch some TV.”

I was incapable of telling her no, and she insisted on the theatre room, but she wanted to watch cable.  Bad cable.

She sat on the bench seat, and I sat a safe two feet away from her.  She picked something god-awful to watch, some reality show about Gypsies living in the states.

It didn’t matter.  I couldn’t have paid attention to that screen if my life had depended on it just then.

She kept inching closer to me.

She laughed at something on the show, then said, “Can you turn the lights up?  How bright can you make it in here?”

I showed her.

“Can we watch this in your bedroom?” she asked, and I could feel her looking at me.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“How about a room with some natural light?  And what do you have to snack on?”

I showed her to the living room, which did have a TV hidden behind a painting, and an abundance of natural light.

I turned her awful show back on.  “What kind of snack do you want?”

“I’ll go look and see what you have.  Do you mind if I just make myself at home?”

I shook my head, but I did mind.

I was ready to tear my hair out; I wanted so badly to touch her.

She came back with a strawberry Popsicle.  She’d chopped it in half, so it was just one long stick that bobbed in and out of her mouth.

I was about to lose my shit, and the grin on her face told me she knew it.

“Want me to grab you one?  Or you want to share?”

I shook my head, looking back at the TV, pretending to watch it.

She laughed at something on the show, some woman with orange skin and black curly hair saying, “More.  It can’t be sparkly enough.”

She moved in front of me, her barely covered ass nearly in my face.

I clenched my fists.

She sat beside me, our hips touching.  She patted my knee and went to town on the Popsicle like she was giving me the show of my life.

“Jesus,” I muttered as it disappeared completely into her mouth.

I was so outclassed here.

She sent me a sideways smile that made my heart beat into my throat.

She pulled it completely out, smacking her red lips.  “You said your ex-wife hadn’t sucked you off for years before you caught her with that other guy.  So how many years has it been since you’ve gotten a blow job?”

I ran my fingers through my hair, cursing.  “I don’t know.  Fuck.  Five years?  Maybe more.”

She stood up, moving in front of me again.  Very slowly, like she was testing the waters, she sat on my lap.

She held her Popsicle to my lips, and what could I do?  I licked it, then started sucking it as she pushed it in and out of my mouth, her head laid back on my shoulder, my hard-on digging like a poker into her ass.

“Show me how you like it, baby,” she whispered.

I sucked hard on it, the noise loud, even compared to the TV.

“Jesus, do you think I’m a vacuum?” she asked, sounding perturbed.

I stopped abruptly, and she dissolved into laugher, standing up.  She disappeared, then came back, sans popsicle.

“So, tell me, am I too young even to kiss?” she asked, standing directly in front of me, this time facing me.

I couldn’t answer her.  My opinion was in direct opposition with my need.

about the author

R.K. LilleyR.K. Lilley lives in Colorado with her husband and their two beautiful sons. She’s had a lot of interesting jobs, from being a first class flight attendant, to being a stablehand, but swears she never knew what hard work was until she had children. She’s been addicted to both reading and writing fiction since she can remember. She loves to travel, read, hike, paint, game, watch anime, and make the most of every single day. She is the author of the erotic romance novels In Flight, Mile High, Grounded, and the novella, Lana.

Website • Facebook • Twitter • Goodreads

Other books by R.K. Lilley:

Tristan & Danika series

Bad Things by R.K. Lilley Rock Bottom by R.K. Lilley Lovely Trigger by R.K. Lilley

#1 ~ Bad Things: Ebook • Paperback • Goodreads
# 2 ~ Rock Bottom: Ebook • Paperback • Goodreads
#3 ~ Lovely Trigger: Ebook • Paperback • Goodread

Up in the Air series

In Flight by R.K. Lilley Mile High by R.K. Lilley Grounded by R.K. Lilley Mr. Beautiful by R.K. Lilley

#1 ~ In Flight: EbookPaperbackGoodreads
#2 ~ Mile High: EbookPaperbackGoodreads
#3 ~ Grounded: EbookPaperbackGoodreads
#4 ~ Mr. Beautiful: Goodreads (Oct. 15, 2014)

Lana (novella)

Lana by R.K. Lilley

Ebook • Paperback • Goodreads

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(1) $25 Amazon GC, 5 R.K. Lilley signed paperback of your choice

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Promo Tour + Excerpt & Giveaway: Lovely Trigger by R.K. Lilley

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Lovely Trigger by R.K. Lilley

Lovely Trigger by R.K. Lilley
Series: Tristan & Danika #3 (full reading order below)
Release Date: March 10th 2014
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THE IMPACT

Tristan hit rock bottom, and no one felt the impact harder than Danika. She was forced to see, in the most brutal of ways, that love does not conquer all. Bruised, bloody, and broken she had to walk away.

THE AFTERMATH

Picking up the pieces of your life after a tragedy is a daunting prospect, and that’s considering you still own all of the pieces. But what if you don’t? What if someone else owns those pieces, and those pieces are a part of your soul?

You dig deep and work with what you’ve got.

That’s what Danika told herself and believed, every single day, for years.

Tristan and Danika’s love had failed every test that life had thrown at them. She couldn’t forget that, not for one second. And if those tests had been overly harsh, well, she wasn’t one to wallow in self-pity. The failure was the thing she had to focus on. The failure was the lesson. She had no intention of working so hard to make it out of hell without learning that lesson well.

THE REUNION

Over six years after the night that changed everything, Danika finds herself forced to spend the weekend constantly in Tristan’s company, as they attend the wedding of two of their dearest friends. It’s been long enough that she feels they can be friendly again without it destroying her peace of mind, but just a small amount of time in his presence has her remembering something she had forced herself to forget: There’d been a reason she’d gone through hell with this man, for this man, some true good to precede the bad.

She shocks herself by quickly giving in to a hunger that she never imagined could still consume her.

Even the best intentioned denial has a breaking point.

THE HARSH REALITY

After everything that’s happened, the rise and the fall, the pain and the aftermath, can these two navigate the waters of acute regret, survive the trials of coming face to face with all that they have lost, and find the strength to try again?

This book is intended for readers 18 and up.

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SIX YEARS AFTER THE ACCIDENT


DANIKA


I was beyond flattered to be asked by Bianca to be a bridesmaid. I agreed instantly. I hugged her when she told me, and embarrassingly, even teared up.

Her friendship had been very good for me. We’d particularly bonded after the shooting. I’d visited her whenever I could as she was healing.

She managed in that quiet way of hers to talk me into posing for a series of paintings for her while she recovered.

I was terribly flattered, and excited, because she’d promised me a painting for my time.

She was extremely generous with her art, offering several times to give me pieces I was taken with in the past, but I’d always put her off, insisting on paying for the two small paintings that I did end up buying from her collection. This though, the exchange of inspiration for art, didn’t feel like taking advantage, and so I accepted her offer of taking my pick from her next collection, after we’d finished with the sessions.

One painting turned into another, until I became her favorite subject, second only to James.

The hours turned to days, hell, to weeks, and her next show, which premiered a mere of eight months after her first, had so many paintings of me in it that I couldn’t keep track. I became a bonafide part of the show. It was a strange experience, to say the least, but a good one.

We’d opened up to a each other as I’d sat and she’d painted, even talking to some extent about our rough childhoods. As far as nightmares went, I thought hers took the cake, but it was good to have a friend that could relate to having and surviving a troubled past. To climbing out of a pile of rubble and leaving it behind.

It was hard, but I made a promise to myself, for the sake of two people I adored who were getting the dream wedding they deserved, to just be nice to Tristan for the whole affair.

Not just civil. Not just less hostile. But nice.
I could do this, I told myself, many times.
And when push came to shove, it was frightening just how easy it was to fall back into the old rapport.
Not just easy. Natural.
I had this moment every time I went to visit Bev and Jerry at their house. I’d walk in the door, and everyone in the place would just stop what they were doing and rush at me. The kids, no matter how big they got, would wrap themselves around me. The dogs, sans Mango now, but with an extra puppy in the mix, would come and crowd me until I sat down somewhere, and let them all converge on me. Bev would come and kiss me on the forehead, even while Jerry did a drive by all the chaos to pat me on the head affectionately.

I was squeezed so tight that the air left my lungs, licked on every part of skin that wasn’t covered, and it usually lasted for several minutes. That many kids, and people, and dogs should not have existed comfortably into one space, but it didn’t just feel comfortable, it felt right. Like I was coming home.

Every single time.
 That’s how this felt.
 Tristan and I were entering a new and unfamiliar chapter, only it didn’t feel that way. It felt like no time had passed at all.
It was terrifying. And comforting, because it hadn’t all just been some dream, there’d been a reason I’d gone through hell with this man, for this man, some true good to precede the bad. Over the years, I’d half-convinced myself that I’d imagined most of the good. It was just easier that way.

We were partnered up in the wedding party, which meant that we walked together, and, at all of the parties, we sat together.
 I usually took care with my appearance, but I went to great lengths that weekend, spending extra time on my hair and makeup, and shopping for days to put my best foot forward.

I don’t care how things stand, every girl wants to feel beautiful when they see ‘that ex’ again. You know the one I’m talking about. The one you never quite got over. The one that had claimed enough of you that some of it had been lost in the parting.

I wore a gold lace sleeveless mod sheath to the rehearsal dinner, going heavy with gold shadow, and big hoop earrings. I wore my hair straight and parted down the middle. I kept it down, since I’d have a complicated up do the next day.

I was in dress to impress mode. I’d already seen Tristan several times since the festivities began, and each time I’d decked myself out with special care.

Vanity at its most perverse.

On the up side, we’d been getting along well, both of us cautious enough to go out of our way to give no offense.

“By the way, where’s that guy?” Tristan asked, sometime during the third course at dinner, his mouth making a mockery out of the words with just a hint of an unhappy smile.

His hair was longer. It looked good on him. Grippable. I gave myself a mental slap for even thinking it.

“Andrew,” I clarified, something in his voice troubling me, and unwillingly, intriguing me.

We’d kept things light thus far, and it had seemed to be working. This was a new turn, or the potential for one.

“You think I don’t remember his name? How likely do you think that is?”

“Where’s that girl?” I asked, immediately wanting to take it back. We did not need to do this to each other.

I looked down, up, shifted uncomfortably, but his eyes stayed glued to my face, his intense regard strong enough that it felt like a physical touch.

“What girl?” he finally asked.

I made a dismissive motion with my hand. I knew her name, but I already regretted even asking. “No one. It was a very silly question.”

“No, tell me. What girl?”

“That blonde one you’re always with. Your girlfriend.”

“That’s not my girlfriend. It’s weird to bring a girl that’s not your girlfriend to a wedding. Your turn. Where’s that guy?” 
He had this perfectly even scruff on his jaw. It was distracting. 
“Andrew couldn’t make it.” That was a lie. He’d wanted to come, but we were on a break, a very long break, due to the fact that he’d proposed several months ago, and I’d put him off again, and to say he’d been unhappy about it was a gross understatement. These days we were strictly friends, but Tristan did not need an update on my love life, or lack thereof.

“Oh, well that’s too bad.” His statement was so unconvincing that I had to make an effort not to laugh.

“Not an Andrew fan?”

He gave me a rueful smile, his brown eyes so endearing. I could tell he was about to say something funny. I just knew him that well. “That’s like asking if I’m a fan of cancer. I fucking hate it, but do I know how to get rid of it? Not fucking likely.”

That surprised one small giggle out of me. “Oh my God. Stop it. You’re impossible.”

His focus shifted to something behind me, and I turned to look. In an almost comical manner, everyone seemed to be staring in our direction, all gone quiet. No one was used to seeing us interact with each other like normal human beings.

“We should really blow their minds and start making out,” he whispered.

I laughed again, and had to check the urge to give his arm a playful punch. “You’re an ass. Shut up,” I told him.

His smile grew, and his eyes shone in pleasure, like I’d just given him a gift.

Reading Order: Tristan & Danika series

Bad Things by R.K. Lilley Rock Bottom by R.K. Lilley Lovely Trigger by R.K. Lilley

#1 ~ Bad Things: Ebook • Paperback • Goodreads
# 2 ~ Rock Bottom: Ebook • Paperback • Goodreads
#3 ~ Lovely Trigger: Ebook • Paperback • Goodreads

about the author

R.K. LilleyR.K. Lilley lives in Colorado with her husband and their two beautiful sons. She’s had a lot of interesting jobs, from being a first class flight attendant, to being a stablehand, but swears she never knew what hard work was until she had children. She’s been addicted to both reading and writing fiction since she can remember. She loves to travel, read, hike, paint, game, watch anime, and make the most of every single day. She is the author of the erotic romance novels In Flight, Mile High, Grounded, and the novella, Lana.

Website • Facebook • Twitter • Goodreads

giveaway

$50 Amazon GC and signed copies of Tristan and Danika

a Rafflecopter giveaway