Friday 30 December 2016














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Markus Reeves is sucking. Big-time. Toiling away on a minor-league hockey team hundreds of miles away from home, he's watching his dreams of an NHL career fade away. Add in the lingering guilt he has over the dramatic demise of his relationship with college girlfriend, Mekena, and he's a mess on and off the ice.

But the family of his heart, the Sinclairs, won't let Markus suffer any longer. When he arrives himself back in Nashville for a trial run on the Assassins, it feels like his life may be making a turn for the better. If only he could get Mekena to forgive him...

Mekena Preston has been hurting since fleeing Nashville following the horror of Markus's betrayal with her sister. Now a professional photographer, Mekena finds herself in the same place at the same time with Markus to celebrate Lucy and Benji Paxton's wedding. Neither of them has been able to move on—and they're starting to wonder if they really want to.

They're headed for a face-off at the altar unless they can confront their past and unearth the truth about what really happened on that fateful night.








“You are, by far, the most patient man I know.”
Baylor grimaced as she took Dawson from Markus’s outstretched hands. He smiled as Dawson looked at him innocently. He knew the little guy didn’t mean to puke all over him and he wasn’t upset, but he was trying to figure out a way to get to the house and shower before he had to talk to Mekena. He highly doubted that baby puke would be an aphrodisiac. Maybe it would be? Huh.
He wasn’t going to try, though.  
As Baylor cuddled Dawson against her, Markus waved her off. “It’s no big deal. He’s a baby.”
She smiled shyly. “Yes, but Ashlyn pooped on you too.”
He grinned as he shrugged, trying not to laugh. It was a tough rehearsal for Dawson, Ashlyn, and Markus. Puke and poop were big-time stars during the hour of watching the Sinclairs and Grace Justice try to put together a wedding. He wasn’t sure what was funnier, Jace glaring as Jordie walked with Avery, or Ashlyn farting and then realizing she had just shit all over him. It was a toss-up, but then Dawson decided to puke down the front of his shirt, and he figured he was now a substitute for a baby rag. “I volunteered.”
“Still, we’re really sorry,” Avery said, holding Ashlyn close as she rocked her back and forth. “I understand if you don’t want to watch her ever again.”
“Nonsense,” he said, laughing as he tucked his hands into his pockets and looked around. He spotted Mekena at the front of the altar, taking pictures of random things. He wasn’t sure if she was done, but maybe he could slip away. “How much longer until y’all are done?”
“We’re done, but Lucy and Benji have some pre-wedding pictures they’re having done with Angie.”
“So Mekena isn’t done?”
Avery smiled. “Nope, she’s got a bit.”
“Can you pass a message for me?”
“Sure.”
“Let her know that I went back to the cabin to shower and clean up?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll tell Jace to tell her since I’m taking Ashlyn to bed.”
“Cool, thanks,” he said, kissing her cheek and then Baylor’s, before rubbing Dawson’s head. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
Before he could get far, though, Baylor smiled. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime. I mean that.”
Avery smiled. “Thanks.”
“Also, good luck,” Baylor added.
Flashing them both a big grin, he nodded. “I need it.”
Heading out the back, he made it back to the cabin quickly. When he entered, though, Mr. Right was sitting on the windowsill howling. “Whoa, man. What’s up?”
Meoooooowwwwwwww, he wailed, with his mouth wide open as his hair stood on end.
“Bro, I don’t know what to say. I don’t speak your language. Are you singing? Do you want me to sing too? Meoooowwwwww,” he said, and Mr. Right looked back at him, almost with a glare. “We should add some beat to that and make a remix,” Markus joked as the cat wailed. Deciding that was a good idea, he pulled out his phone and started to beatbox as the cat wailed, recording it on his SnapChat. The cat must have realized what he was doing because he looked back, scowling, and Markus hid his phone. He didn’t want to admit it, but Mr. Right kind of freaked him out.

























My name is Toni Aleo and I’m a total dork.
I am a wife, mother of two and a bulldog, and also a hopeless romantic.
I am the biggest Shea Weber fan ever, and can be found during hockey season with my nose pressed against the Bridgestone Arena’s glass, watching my Nashville Predators play!
When my nose isn’t pressed against the glass, I enjoy going to my husband and son’s hockey games, my daughter’s dance competition, hanging with my best friends, taking pictures, scrapbooking, and reading the latest romance novel.
I have a slight Disney and Harry Potter obsession, I love things that sparkle, I love the color pink, I might have been a Disney Princess in a past life… probably Belle.
… and did I mention I love hockey?


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THIS NOVELLA WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE HOT FOR TEACHER ANTHOLOGY AS RIDING THROUGH.


I’d come to accept the predictable routine of my life until I saw her ass in those riding pants. Constance Montgomery…damn, with her legs spread on the leather of the saddle has my mouth watering and things inside me shift. Seems my program is about to change. All the years of indifference to any female form all come tumbling down. My hard rule to never get involved with a student is about to be broken. With her.

Reed Sawyer is at the top of his game. An elite equestrian trainer with looks to kill and he’s staring straight at me. Only, he’s not my trainer because my parents make all those decisions. I’m tired of being under my parent’s thumb. Maybe it’s time I pushed the envelope a little. And Reed Sawyer looks like just the right wall to start pushing on.

A naïve, sheltered girl. A brooding, perfectionist with years of pent up need. The sparks fly. The walls come down. Hot lessons are learned.


Author’s Note: A hot instructor, a riding crop and that old phrase about a guy being hung like a…Well you get the idea. Jump on for a ride that will have you reaching for a cool Mint Julip and a fresh pair of panties. It’s scorching hot, sweet and filthy romance with instant everything.













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I’m supposed to be here to help her, but I can’t help what happens next.  She squeezed my fingers. A gentle tug was all it took.
My mouth nearly crushes hers as I take our first kiss.

Her lips taste innocent as they open, my tongue lighting up with the first flavor of her.  Something rumbles out of me like a pained groan, because it hurts.  This kind of intensity hurts in a spectacular way.

Her tongue answers me with its movement, her own sweet, tiny sounds that make my dick shatter the ceiling of the space available in my pants.  He’s curling in half as he grows, and I hope she doesn’t notice.

If I had my way, I’d hear that tiny moan every second of every day for the rest of my life.  It’s more than beautiful; it calls to me.

It’s lips and soft moans and the soft click of teeth meeting teeth before I break away, my hand grasping possessively around the side of her face.  My thumb rasping back and forth in an attempt to feel as much of her soft skin as it can.  My fingertips digging harder than they should into the back of her neck, bringing my forehead to rest on hers.

“I’m sorry.”  My face is flushed, I’m shaking.  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

My head is throbbing, along with my balls.  They are tight against my body and something inside me is born.  Something that wants her in a way that frightens me.  An obsession explodes and I’m not sure I can tame it enough to keep from hurting her.  I want my cum dripping from her; I want to feel her flesh to flesh from the inside.  I need her vulnerable, available, spread for me to enjoy and make filthy with me.  Never before has a woman ignited this kind of lust, these kinds of thoughts, and frankly I’m scared shitless.

“I’m not sorry,” she murmurs as I desperately try to regain control of the animal she’s created in me.

The air in the room seems to disappear.  My lungs ache but inside my head, I think, who needs oxygen?  I have only one need and she is the only way to satiate that need.

The idea that this innocent beauty and I are sharing similar thoughts is enough to make me nearly cum in my pants.  Drops of liquid are already soaking through the fabric below my waist, and I think I would need another ten layers to hide her effect on me.

The sight of her cheeks rising pink, the way her nipples greet my gaze from under the faded hospital gown, make me want to tear the offending fabric into shreds and have her never be clothed around me again.  Who is this dominant beast?  I’m the ever reserved, commanding, cool leader.  Always in control.

Not now.  If I had my way, I’d slam the furniture against the door of this room and take her right here.  A single word thrums in my head.  It won’t stop as much as I try to push it away.

Mine.  Mine.  Mine.

I fight the urge to crawl on top of her and make her filthy in ways I never imagined before her. But with the taste of her lips, thoughts of my cum inside her are fighting with the civilized parts of me to maintain some control.

I imagine slicing my tongue between her dripping cunt lips for the first time.  It’s one of many things I’ve never done before.  My words growling into her body, saying every filthy word I can think of as I breathe her in and swallow her flavor.

I imagine the subtle differences in the texture of her skin on my tongue, the ripples and folds, the hard nub where I want to draw her between my lips and consume the very essence of her.  I want to make love to her with my mouth for hours.

























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Dani Wyatt loves her alpha men; make them military, cowboys, MMA -- any uber alpha with a wicked possessive streak and an insatiable libido. Receive a free exclusive unpublished title when you join Dani's private readers group for updates, free chapters and discounts.

She's a 40 something regular lady who just happens to love badass alpha males who pull your hair and love their women with a lethal passion.

When she's not writing (which is not often) she is probably laughing about some irony (like A-1 Steak Sauce is vegan), riding her horse, wondering why The Walking Dead can't have a new episode every night, or looking cross-eyed at some piece of technology sent to ruin her day.
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Wednesday 28 December 2016

Title: How To Date A Douchebag: The Failing Hours
Author: Sara Ney
Genre: New Adult, Sports Romance, College Romance
Release Date: January 31, 2017
Zeke Daniels isn't just a douchebag; he's an asshole. 
A total and complete jerk, Zeke keeps people at a distance. He has no interest in relationships—most assholes don’t. 
Dating? Being part of a couple? Nope. Not for him.
He's never given any thought to what he wants in a girlfriend, because he's never had any intention of having one. 
Shit, he barely has a relationship with his family, and they're related; his own friends don’t even like him. 
So why does he keep thinking about Violet DeLuca? 
Sweet, quiet Violet—his opposite in every sense of the word.
The light to his dark, even her damn name sounds like rays of sunshine and happiness and shit.
And that pisses him off, too.

 
Purveyor of all things witty & romantic, I love: iced latte's, traveling, and bright, bold colors. On any given day, you can find me in my office, lovingly gazing at my bookshelf or shuffling my Bic felt-tip pen collection. I love hand writing letters, and sarcasm. 

I live in the midwest, but "Will Write for Travel," and believe everyone should follow their dreams, no matter how big or small. My favorite authors include Cindy Miles, S Walden, Suzanne Enoch, Tessa Dare (to name a few). I am a glutton for Historical, RomCom, Sports and MC romance.
One husband. Two daughters. Plenty of chaos.

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