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Enter The Lucky Leprechaun #Giveaway & Win!

This Hop Is Sponsored by Mary At Bookhounds

Welcome to the Lucky Leprechaun Hop hosted by Bookhounds. Be sure to scroll down and check out the linky on the bottom to follow the hop to win other great prizes!

For my prize for The Lucky Leprechaun Giveaway - I am giving away two YA books. Everything Grows by AimeeHerman and Confessions of a Teenage Leper by Ashley Little.

**ATTENTION: Please be sure to read our giveaway policy before you enter my giveaway or any of the following giveaways. When you enter our giveaways keep in mind they are US only giveaways sponsored by us **



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Runaway by Peter J. Thompson #Book Tour #Giveaway @pthompsonbooks







Thriller
Publish Date: 01/31/2019

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A corrupt corporation. Ruthless assassins. Will the family that runs together… die together?

Zach Monaghan just became a target. Under witness protection from his father’s whistleblowing, his reckless desire to win back a normal life compels him to run away. But escaping his new identity won’t last long if two contract killers catch up to him…

Richard “Birdman” Byrd has worked hand-in-hand with his tormentor Gorski for years. Siphoning away money and sending assassins to hunt down the Monaghans could be his only way out of the crooked partnership. But if Birdman doesn’t watch himself, the verbal abuse he’s received for years could turn deadly.

As the ruthless killer draws closer to Zach, surviving the greedy corporate plot may force the whole family to get their hands bloody…

The Runaway is a fast-paced thriller with dizzying twists and turns. If you like non-stop action, high-stakes tension, and large casts of compelling characters, then you’ll love Peter Thompson’s gripping novel.

Buy The Runaway to join a thrilling race against time today!


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 photo peterthompsonfull2_zpsmfuhvvxl.jpgPeter Thompson grew up on the east side of Chicago, in the shadow of the steel mills where the air was sooty and smelled of sulfur. His life wasn't always so gritty, but the grit and realism find its way into his thrillers. He has always loved stories of every kind, and one of his joys is finding a way to get inside character's heads, seeing the world as they see it and feeling their triumphs, pain, and fear. He visualizes his characters when he writes, and they are larger than life in the big screen of his imagination.

Before pursuing his passion and becoming a full-time author, he tried his hand at everything from factory work, breaking cement in a construction crew, running his own pizza shop, and he was a well-regarded presence in the mortgage industry for nearly thirty years. When he isn't writing, Peter loves, spicy food, live music, and exciting and thought-provoking books and movies. He is a fitness buff who loves to spend time with his grown sons and is looking forward to traveling the world and seeking adventures with his lovely partner.

To get in touch, find out more about future projects, please stop by authorpeterthompson.com. Sign up for his reading list to find out about new releases and receive free perks.


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Climbing The Walls by Sacha T. Y. Fortuné #Blitz #Giveaway


Climbing The Walls
Sacha T. Y. Fortuné
(Hart & Cole, #1)
Publication date: July 28th 2018

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
***Real emotion. Real life. Real love. This is NOT a glossy love story. But if you’re looking for a romance read that will rattle you… characters that will change you… and love that will last in your mind long after you’re finished… THIS IS THE ONE FOR YOU.***

Kris fell, head over heels over hormones, for the damaged b*tch who became his power-woman sex-goddess wife.
All Nicole wants is to be a better mother, and a wife more worthy of the husband she loves with every fibre of her body, but she is constantly yanked away by her job and her overbearing boss Darren Hart.
But Darren has marital problems of his own – and, when he confides in her, Nicole realises just how easily a happy marriage can crumble.
…Can she keep her own from doing the same?
Told from both points of view, “Climbing The Walls” explores the fibres that hold a marriage together – love, trust, forgiveness… and of course, the earth-shattering sex that will not be denied.

More books in the series


EXCERPT
(KRIS)



Silence engulfs the room. I lie on the bed, hands behind my head, bareback, thinking. She sits there beside the damp towel, looking at me. 
It’s the middle of the afternoon on the longest day of both our lives, and the rest of the day looms ahead. Frighteningly. Each of us waiting for the 
other to make the first move. The first move to determine where our marriage and the rest of our lives are going.

“I missed you,” she says quietly, breaking the silence. She slides down into position beside me on the bed, pulling her feet onto the bed.

I close my eyes slowly, knowing what’s coming next. Knowing it and dreading it, and craving it simultaneously. She leans over me and 
pushes my hair back from my face to clear my forehead and kiss it. Her lips are soft and wary; it may be days before they return full force to their usual 
passion. Ah, yes. Too well, I remember my thoughts from the morning of last time we used the rose. 

Too well.

She abandons my forehead and moves south, tracing her lips over my nose and settling on my lips. She pulls away gently, waits a split second 
and dips back in again. And pulls back, waiting. Waiting. Eyes closed, I can feel the electricity swallowing me whole, pulling me toward her. It’s what she wants. 
What she needs. She needs me to need her. She needs to be absolutely irresistible, she needs to be my kryptonite. 

My reluctance dwindles, pitifully. I have so little resistance. I’ve missed her so much, her lithe body pressing against my side… her eyes moistening 
and soaking me up, pulling me into her world, her hair draped so tantalisingly over my bare chest, her legs barely touching my skin yet sending out such steady 
and compelling heat – such warmth, oh God such warmth, her warm fingers pressing ever-so-gently into my cheek, a control mechanism to direct my lips—

Dammit dammit dammit dammit.

So little resistance. 

My eyes still closed in utter and absolute bliss, I feel her leg cross over my stomach so that she’s straddling me, rolling onto my body and dragging her fingers 
through my hair and kissing me hard on the lips, pulling back every few seconds till my helpless body succumbs to her spell and leans forward of its own 
accord, seeking solace in the soft warmth of her thick and all-powerful lips. Her tongue snakes into my mouth at the same time that she places her right hand 
in between our stomachs, arching her body back slightly from mine. Teasing me. Good Lord, teasing me. So unfair. So damn unfair. After the last few days I’ve had, 
after the torture I’ve been through. She’s always had all the control, she loves separating us with that sole hand, her torso muscles tensed and taut and teasing.

Oh Good Lord. God Almighty. Stop teasing me. Stop taunting me. Stop tearing me apart. Stop… good God, STOP. Please, for the love of God, STOP. 

“STOP!” The vehemence of my own words jars me, and she pulls back abruptly, jaw ajar and eyes exhibiting awe. 

I wriggle out from under her until I’m standing on two shaky feet on the carpeted floor beside my marital bed. “I can’t—I can’t do this. I won’t.” 




Author Bio
Sacha T. Y. Fortuné hails from the twin islands of Trinidad and Tobago in the Caribbean, and she considers herself a “citizen of the world” [Read her “30 Day Truth Challenge” here – go to Day 16].
Her passion for writing began in her early childhood, when she channeled her active imagination into writing short stories, poems and full-length novels for her friends.
The winner of several writing awards during her childhood, she became the President of the Writers’ Guild at Lancaster University in Lancaster, UK, where she contributed some poems and short stories to Lancaster University’s Writers’ Guild Anthologies during 2005-2007.
With her BA in Media & Cultural Studies under her belt, she went on to complete her MA in International Journalism at the University of Westminster in London, UK.



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Running From Demons by M.K. Theodoratus #Book Tour


Title: RUNNING FROM DEMONS
Author: M.K. Theodoratus
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 279
Genre: Paranormal/Fantasy




SYNOPSIS
Pillar Beccon travels across Andor to discover her mother's mysterious past. But danger is never
far away as a demon seeks to destroy her. 

An orphaned null without a hint of magic, Pillar can't remember ever belonging anywhere, especially

not in the Freemage commune where she grew up. After she graduates from high school, she jumps at
the chance to learn why her mother ran away from her family. 

During an accidental encounter, Grylerrque, a surviving commander from The Demon Wars, recognizes

what Pillar is and decides to feed the girl's life force to her clutch. The demon sends her minions to
capture the girl. Pillar escapes with a help of an unexpected allay, only to learn she was pulled out of
the frying pan and thrown into the fire. 







EXCERPT

Pillar Beccon stood before the open doors of the Taddledon bus station, steeling her nerves. She was alone with no one at her back, not even her running buds from school. Though, now that "Te Tres Amigas" had graduated, she'd have to get used to being alone again. Pillar's jaw clenched as she braced herself against the coming stares.

The teen didn’t mind the double takes as she walked along a
street. They seldom pierced the walls she’d built around herself. Inside the Taddledon Station, she’d be the pale-skinned, weird-eared weirdo caught in a sea of tan people sneaking glances at her angular, mismatched face, wispy blond hair, and super tall height. People always gawked at her. She felt lucky when they didn’t drool when their
mouths hung open. Pillar begged the Powers for strength, not that they ever helped nulls or mages.


Get a grip. At least they won’t tease you like the kids at school. They
don't know you're a nothing null. Pillar refused to admit she was neither human nor mage, fsh nor fowl. Besides, odds are the people waiting're only human and aren't aware.


The hair on the back of her neck prickled. When she scanned
the station, nothing around her felt threatening. You're over-reacting.
You're safe. Pillar sighed with relief. I didn’t let Delia down. I made the
test trip on my own. No glitches.

The teen had survived the day trip to the Taddledon museum
and gardens in spite of her foster mother's worries. Pillar didn't need
babysitting by the Freemage commune that had taken her in when
her mother died. Not that her mother was a born member. Mages
thought the mountain communes the only safe place for their young
since their teens made the perfect prey for demon-kind—if her yapping trainers weren't just blowing hot air. She stood taller, and her
shoulders relaxed.
Satisfaction flooded through her. I made it.
The bumblebee drone of the milling travelers bounced off the
high ceilings and washed over her. Here and there, children’s shrieks
drew scowls as they spiked above the noise. All seemed to ignore
the announcement that a bus had just arrived at the platforms. The
prickles grew sharper, and she paused.
After a glance around the lobby, Pillar guessed most were locals
returning to their surrounding small towns after shopping trips to
the big city. Te few roamers, marked by their grubby clothes and
backpacks, might be mages or might not be. Communes and towns
tended to throw out their misfits after they graduated from high
school if they didn't get admitted to colleges or tech schools.
A man near the outside door sat, slumped back on a bench and
eyes closed, with his hands resting on his ample belly. He opened one
eye and jerked. His gaze darted away from Pillar’s icy, challenging
stare, made all the colder by her pale blue eyes. A flush rushed over
his face as he ducked his head.
It’s not like I’m a total freak. All mages have long faces.
Pillar hunched her shoulders again but decided not to get pissed
off or feel sorry for herself. Both reactions were a waste of energy. Pillar ignored thousands of memories of being told nobody wanted a
null, not even the Kingscourt, unless the null was brilliant enough
to become a useful functionary. Nulls were kicked out of mage communes to fend for themselves in the slums of the cities.



ABOUT THE AUTHOR


A Northern California gal, M. K. Theodoratus has been intrigued by fantasy since she discovered
comic books and the land of Oz. Some of her early favorites were A. Merritt, Andre Norton,
Catherine L. Moore, and Fritz Lieber.

She has traveled through many fantasy worlds since then. Now she enjoys reading Lee Child, Patricia Briggs, Sharyn McCrumb, Neil Gaiman, and Carol O'Connell among others.

When she's not disappearing into other writer's worlds, she's creating her own alternative worlds -- that of Andor where demons prey and that of the Far Isle Half-Elven where she explores the social and political implications of genetic drift on a hybrid elf/human people. Magic and mayhem are her favorite topics.
She now lives in Colorado with her old man and two lap cats.



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Media Contact:


Dorothy Thompson
Pump Up Your Book
P.O. Box 643
Chincoteague Island, Virginia 23336






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The Virgin Club by Kayley Wood #Blitz #Giveaway


The Virgin Club
Kayley Wood
Publication date: March 19th 2019

Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance
Challenge: Lose my virginity before my 24th birthday

Time Left: 23 days
Appletinis, a semi-meltdown, and a ‘Lose My Virginity Challenge’ post. That’s all it took for my little blog to go viral.
The realization that I’m the lone virgin left from my club’s original pact ignited my not-so-genius idea. But what else could I do? With my two best friends happily un-single (and having plenty of sex), I’ve become an outcast—the anti-Hester Prynne, walking the streets with a giant V attached to my chest.
I’m going to be fine. I’m anonymous. I can just delete the post and pretend it never happened. No big deal, right?
Wrong!
My co-worker crush, Logan—gorgeous, yummy and out of my league—found out about my secret deadline-driven cherry popping quest.
Humiliated would be an understatement.
Fortunately, my besties come to the rescue with a brilliant plan that involves my trending blog. If all went smoothly, I’d not only win over the untouchable Logan but also live my dream of becoming a full-time writer.
The plan isn’t just brilliant, it’s perfect… until my new boss, Alexander Freeman comes into the picture with his Brooks Brothers suit and Tom Ford briefcase.
So what if the Stiff is hot? I will not ruin my one chance with Logan or my dream career.

But I’m in more trouble than I originally thought.
Turns out Alex has a few intentions of his own and a huge secret I’m totally unprepared for.


Author Interview: Kayley Wood

What inspired you to write The Virgin Club?

It’s funny, but it seems romance has this stigma that it’s all about “heaving bosoms and throbbing penises”. From the many I have read, romance is so much more than that. Books are about telling you what a character feels, both physically and emotionally. If a penis happens to throb at some point, that’s real. It happens. The only thing I found some romance lacked was genuine women relationships. My ultimate goal with The Club Series was to write swoon-worthy romantic comedies with a dose of girl power.

What do you mean by girl power’?


I had one rule while writing my Club Series: Every female main character had to have at least one solid, kick-ass woman in their lives. Bestie, sister, mom, grandmother... whatever relationship represents the incredible bonds women can have.


If you could compare your story to a book or movie, which would you choose?


Bridget Jones’s Diary


Why?


Bridget Jones’s Diary was really a Fool Triumphant story (check out Save the Cat Writes a Novel for more detail), meaning she realizes that she is just fine the way she is and doesn’t need to change to be loved.  Emma is the modern-day Bridget Jones. She gets herself into comedic trouble. Falls for the wrong man at first, but then finds true love with the one she is meant to be with, and he loves her the way she is—without needing to change.


What makes your book different from Bridget Jones Diary?


It’s definitely more modern, involving the repercussions of the social media age. Her true love also has a huge secret and an interesting… problem… that even Mr. Darcy in Bridget Jones’s Diary would be shocked to learn.


You mentioned solid, kick-ass women in your character’s lives. Who are those women for you?


I’m very lucky to have quite a few… some not with us anymore, but the incredible women in my life were/are huge contributors to the woman that I’ve become. The one most near and dear to my heart is my grandmother. I miss her very much and wish she was here to read my book. I believe she has, though, in spirit. I love you, grandma


Emma and her love interest have a family full of quoters. Which life quote do you love best?


Emma’s mom thought up a quote: You made a mistake. Nothing wrong with mistakes. It’s what you choose to do after you make them that defines who you are. I love that quote.


Why?


I think people in general feel the need to be perfect their first go around. You can prep and plan until you’re face turns blue, but in life mistakes are inevitable. Sometimes we do things we regret. Don’t beat yourself up. Pick yourself up and see it as a learning experience. If you mess up, do your best to make it right the next time around. Apologize. Swallow your pride if you did something you regret.
Another great quote I loved was from Emma’s Great Grams: Forgiveness isn’t always a two-way street. It belongs to the one who is ready to pull the shift into drive and move on. If someone can’t forgive you for your mistake, let it go. If you’ve done everything you can to make it right and they won’t budge, move on. No sense in trying to change things you can’t control… but you can control how you choose to react to situations.


If anything, what would you like readers to take away from your story?


We’re all flawed and imperfect, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful and loved just as you are.






Author Bio
Kayley has three simple rules in life:

1. Surround yourself with some incredible, kick-ass women you call friends.

2. Don’t worry about failure or mistakes. It’s how you respond to them that makes all the difference.

3. An appletini is never complete without two cherries.

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Immerse by Tobie Easton #Blitz #Giveaway


Immerse
Tobie Easton
(Mer Chronicles, #3)
Published by: Month9Books
Publication date: March 19th 2019
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Immerse is the spellbinding and breathless final installment of the Mer Chronicles series where descendants of the Little Mermaid must face deadly magic, shifting alliances, and the dangers of forbidden love.
Lia can’t wait for her parents’ coronation. Now living in the sparkling palace beneath the waves, she sneaks off to Malibu whenever possible to see Clay. Tucked away in an abandoned seaside mansion, Lia and Clay devise a plan to ensure they can stay together forever.
But when an old enemy resurfaces and Lia is restricted to the palace for the safety of all Merkind, she and Clay are ripped apart once more.
She fears not only for Clay, but for her best friend Caspian, who seems to be swimming down a dangerous path. He has invited the conniving Melusine to the coronation ball, convinced she’s capable of change. And no matter how hard Lia fights it, showing up on Caspian’s arm is just the start of Melusine’s insidious return to her life.
With threats Below growing more ominous by the day and a powerful ancient ritual looming, soon the two girls can’t escape each other. As their fates grow increasingly intertwined, Melusine might be the only one who can help Lia find the answers she desperately needs to save everyone she loves and to achieve her happily ever after. But can Lia trust her?

Previous books in the series:



EXCERPT

The library doors are my favorite in the castle. Unlike all the other doors, made of sculpted sea glass in colors ranging from pastels to deep jewel tones, the doors to the varellska (Mermese for library) are made of the coated wood of a sunken Victorian ship. Mounted to the frame between the double doors is a handcrafted mermaid from the ship’s prow, her wooden hair blowing around her in carved curls, her face proud. She puts a smile on my own face as I open one of the doors and swim into the room that may hold the answer I need among its secrets.
Shelves stretch up the walls high above my head, each lined with shells of every conceivable size and pattern, from short volumes of poetry in tiny sundial shells to hours-long research tomes in giant diadema shells. Between the shells stand various treasures for decoration: an antique spyglass, a bronze-rimmed compass, an old brass lantern. I inhale the scent of shell polish and whalebone styluses.
I’ve come on the librarian’s day off and have the whole place to myself. I swim up to the highest shelves, where there rests a large, gilded starfish, the symbol of balanced justice. What’s happened to Clay at the hands and fins of Merkind has been anything but just. I’m hoping that means justice is on our side throughout our quest to make him a Merman. I rub the starfish for luck. “Help me find a way,” I murmur into the varellska’s quiet stillness.



https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14097819.Tobie_EastonAuthor Bio
Award-winning author Tobie Easton was born and raised in Los Angeles, California, where she's grown from a little girl who dreamed about magic to a twenty-something who writes about it. Her debut novel, Emerge, is a Gold Medal Winner (Young Adult - Sci-Fi/Fantasy) of the Moonbeam Children's Book Awards and is Book 1 in the acclaimed Mer Chronicles series. The trilogy follows the descendants of the Little Mermaid and offers fans a peek into a world where Mermaids aren't just real, but live secretly among us on land.
She and her very kissable husband enjoy traveling the globe and fostering packs of rescue puppies. Tobie loves chocolate chip cookies and Oxford commas. A summa cum laude graduate of the University of Southern California, Tobie splits her time between Los Angeles and Boston. Learn more about Tobie and her upcoming books on www.TobieEaston.com.

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Faithful by Frankie Love #Cover Reveal


Faithful
Frankie Love
(The Mountain Man’s Babies, #10)
Publication date: April 18th 2019

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
The moment I saw her I knew.
Knew that we would have a future, a family, a forever.
Her father says she’s too young, too naive, too innocent.
But she is more than he knows.
She’s the love of my goddamn life.
And nothing will get in our way.
Then a tragic accident rewrites our love story.
She is gone in the blink of an eye.
But this mountain was made for miracles, and I’m fighting for ours.
I have faith in the impossible.
Faith in us.
And nothing will stop me from being the man she needs.



 

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤



Author Bio
Frankie Love writes filthy-sweet stories about bad boys and mountain men. As a thirty-something mom who is ridiculously in love with her own bearded hottie, she believes in

love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters. She also believes in the power of a quickie.

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Just Like Animals by Hettie Ivers #Blitz #Giveaway


Just Like Animals
Hettie Ivers
(Werelock Evolution #5)
Publication date: August 28th 2018

Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance
“Hot, humorous, and dirty in the best possible way. Amazingly well written. Highly recommend!!!” —Anna Zaires, New York Times bestselling author
For ten long years, I stayed away to protect her.
I thought I’d successfully subverted my wolf’s instincts where Bethany was concerned.
But when I saw her on that dance floor, my inner beast took over.
I told myself it would be just one dance. One dance and I’d let her go.
I didn’t mean to bite her.
Or f*ck her in the middle of a crowded dance club.
Or kidnap her… again.
NOTE:Just Like Animals is a fast-paced dirty ride” (to quote a reviewer). The romance between the main couple is written to work as a standalone for readers new to the Werelock Evolution world. However, please note that this is book number 5 within the Werelock Evolution series, so it also continues elements of the overarching storyline for the world. 90k word, full-length novel. HEA with NO cheating.



EXCERPT

“Sir, car’s out front.”
I nodded in acknowledgement, but my feet were rooted to the cement floor of the club, my eyes transfixed by the gyrating blonde, as I tried to determine if I was seeing things.
Nope. It was definitely her. And she was drunk off her ass. Of that there was little doubt. Yet she still displayed an enviable natural rhythm out on the dance floor—with that barely clothed, to-die-for body that I had found myself jerking off to in memory on more than one occasion over the past ten years. More times than was probably healthy given the fact she was strictly off-limits.
More than off-limits. She might as well have been taboo. Maybe that’s what made her so attractive? Or maybe I was just a masochist.
Her girlfriends appeared equally inebriated. Men surrounded her like vultures. Two of them were putting their hands on her. I took a step closer without thinking. Then another.
“Sir?”
I rationalized that I just wanted to confirm it was really her, to see her up close … make certain she was okay and that she had a safe ride home. I told myself I had only pure intentions this time.
I’d checked up on her over the years and knew that she’d completed medical school and was now finishing her residency at UCSF Hospital. And that she was engaged. A fact that came back to me in a blinding flash when she flung her arm up in the air and the enormous rock on her finger caught the flare of the strobe light.
She was engaged to some big-deal society schmuck. Silicon Valley trust fund baby trash. I’d seen their cheesy engagement photo spread all over social media six months ago and had pegged the guy a class A douchebag at first sight.
She’d looked radiant in the photos. Better than I’d even remembered. And happy. So fucking happy. A fact I’d had conflicting feelings about at the time.
She didn’t look happy now, though. And once again, I felt conflicted over this observation.
Sure, she was grinning as if having the time of her life, throwing flirty bedroom eyes at the men dancing with her as if she hadn’t a care in the world. As if she wasn’t engaged to be married. But those eyes were red-rimmed and puffy beneath their well-applied makeup, and lined by dark circles. They looked more green than blue. She’d been crying hours earlier. I was sure of it.
My inner animal took over. Before I knew it, I’d nudged the guy at her back out of my way, my hands had encircled her tiny waist, and I was yanking her lush, round ass into the swiftly growing ache in my groin. Definitely a masochist. I delivered a mental push accompanied by a flash of yellow eyes to the asshole in front of her when he looked up to glare at me in protest. He did a double take and nearly tripped over his own feet trying to back away as quickly as possible.
I felt her body stiffen against me, a trickle of alarm tightening her muscles, a sliver of fear tainting her perfect scent. It only made her smell more edible. I groaned as my jean-encased cock swelled and lengthened against her ass, along with my canines. She attempted to pull away from me. And though it irritated me, at the same time I was quietly pleased. Impressed that even drunk she possessed strong survival instincts.
When I failed to release her, she tried to crane her head back to see who had taken hold of her and had scared off her dance partners, but I hauled her little body tighter in against mine to prevent it, my forearm crossing her chest, my palm caging her throat. I didn’t want her to recognize me.
Not yet. I wanted a moment between us where there was no history to get in the way. Where we could be two strangers dancing in a club, and I could pretend that I had a chance with her.
“Relax.” My thumb stroked back and forth over the rapid pulse beating in her neck. “One dance and I’ll let you go. Promise.”
I’d weighted my words with Alpha energy, and yet they sounded half-command, half-plea to my own ears. Regardless, they seemed to reassure her enough that the tension in her body dissipated. And soon that delicious body all but melted into mine as our hips began to move as one and my roaming hands took liberties they shouldn’t have. I couldn’t stop though. Not when I scented what it was doing to her. How wet she was getting beneath the scrap of material she was wearing.
She had one of those flimsy, strappy dresses on that looked and felt more like a form-fitting slip. Silvery pale grey in color and barely long enough to hit her upper thighs. My hands slid over the silky smooth material like they had every right to, feeling every hard ridge of muscle and soft mound of flesh that lay beneath. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the temptation to explore her breasts—to feel those diamond-hard nipples through the thin fabric of her dress right there on the dance floor—was more than I had strength of will to resist in the moment. Not when all the blood in my brain had already rushed to my cock.
She was tall for a woman. Lean and fit but still curvy where it mattered most. And my God, those fuck-me legs! I remembered the first time I’d really noticed them. She had been fifteen and wearing a cheerleading uniform. And I’d never been able to look at her the same way since.
Those lean, muscular limbs looked about a mile long now in six-inch designer heels that she wore as comfortably as if she’d strutted out of the womb wearing them. I wanted to lick the length of those legs. I wanted to feel those toned thighs locked around my waist.
Clenching around my face.
Christ, I was a liar. There was no way I was letting her go after one dance.
She’d begun making those beautiful moan-y, breathy, I-need-to-come noises that only a woman can make, and I was close to losing my shit, debating whether to teleport us to privacy or sink my dick into her right there on the dance floor and worry about erasing the minds of onlookers later.
I looked down and saw that one of my hands was rubbing her upper thigh.
And it was wet.
Her thigh. Was. Wet.
I told myself it was only sweat from all of the dancing she’d done. And if I’d been human and unable to smell the difference, I might’ve convinced myself. But my other hand had wandered up under her dress from behind and was rhythmically squeezing and exploring the flesh of her thong-clad ass cheek, rubbing its way toward her hot, needy center—where she was dripping wet.
Fuck me, I needed to stop.
We needed to stop.
But instead, I brushed her hair aside with my chin until my mouth found her neck, kissing and sucking her perfect skin. She moaned and arched into me, and then she rubbed her ass up and down along the length of my erection.
Once.
Twice.
I’d been so wrong before. The girl possessed no survival instincts whatsoever.
None at all.
Because she drew my hand that was on the front of her thigh straight up under her dress to her soaked pussy, and she came against my fingers before I had time to register what was even happening.
My mind blanked, retreating to a dark, desperate, possessive place where there was only the sound of her erratic, panting breaths, her frantic heartbeat, and the sensation of her fluttering, wet clit pressed against my fingers, her cum soaking my palm as I sank my canines into her neck.





❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Author Bio 
Hettie Ivers is an accidental romance author who likes to escape the stress of her workweek with a good dirty book--preferably one that's also funny.


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