Sunday, December 10, 2017

Today we have the blog tour for
AFTER THE FALL by Katy Ames!

Check it out and grab your copy today!
Title: After the Fall
Author: Katy Ames
Genre: Contemporary Romance
About After the Fall:
If there was one man in the world Grace Fitzgerald never wanted to see again, it was Mark Donovan.
Sinfully handsome and notoriously cocky, as a guest at her luxury hotel, Mark was impossible. As the new owner, he’s become a nightmare. The kind that wakes Grace in the middle of the night wishing she could forget how right his lips felt against her own, or how tempting his fingers were on her skin.
But despite all the challenges Mark and Grace face working together, it’s impossible to ignore the attraction that flares every time they fight for control. Or the secrets that refuse to stay hidden in the luxury of the Seven Winds Resort.
They’re engaged in a battle of wills. But the real war begins when Mark and Grace realize just how much they have to lose. When mistakes from their pasts threaten everything they’re working for, they have to decide: admit defeat or join forces to save the hotel and each other.
A steamy, enemies-to-lovers standalone romance from Katy Ames, author of After the Island.
Grab your Copy Now!
Catch Up on the Series!

For a moment Grace and Mark studied each other, nothing but a few inches of air and progressively shallower breaths separating them. Grace could feel the warmth of his body through the fine fabric of her shirt, the soft weave of his dress pants a whisper against her thighs. It would take the smallest movement, the simplest slip, to touch him, to brush her fingers against the golden skin of his wrist exposed by the turned-up cuff, to angle her head just right so that she’d dip into the curve of his neck and feel the satisfying abrasion of his stubble against the smoothness of her cheek.

She was falling.

Grace could feel it, her body giving way to the pull of his. Despite the words and battles and omissions and high-handedness, Grace could still feel the pressure of Mark’s legs beneath her, the tremble of his fingers against her shirt, the pleading in his eyes when he demanded so many months ago she take it off.

Grace was falling and she had to stop.

“Three.” It came out choked, only a half-word, the first syllable swallowed by the dryness in Grace’s throat. Coughing, she stepped back and tried again. “The third condition. Whatever happened that day I found you on the floor.” Grace waited for the haze to clear from Mark’s face, for his head to bob slowly, telling her he was listening. “It doesn’t happen again. We’re colleagues, working to achieve the same thing. There’s no room for anything else between us. Agreed?”

She stared at Mark. He needed to agree. She really needed him to agree.


“You’ll keep your hands to yourself.”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself....” Mark’s voice drifted off as he ran a greedy look down her body, flames licking across Grace’s skin as he progressed ever so slowly from neck to knee, breasts to hips, waist to toes. When his eyes returned to hers they were hard and dark, the blue as intense and alluring as the pre-dawn sky. With one step, Mark swallowed the space between them, and Grace was sure she could feel his voice in her own chest when he spoke. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, if you do the same.”

Grace wanted to baulk, to scoff and push him back and tell him he was being ridiculous. He was the one she needed to be careful of. Not the other way around. But her remaining sliver of sanity told her if she dared touch any part of this man neither of them would survive unscathed.

“Deal,” Grace whispered back.

Any other time she would’ve been embarrassed by the shallowness of her voice, but at that moment her only concern was escaping. Escaping the villa, escaping Mark, and escaping the heady haze of lust and longing and lunacy surrounding them.

“Go, Grace.” Mark’s voice was so quiet she barely made it out over the pounding in her ears. But Grace didn’t need to hear what he said; his face, angular and beautiful, open and exposed, said everything she needed to know. “Go, before....”

Grace didn’t wait for him to finish. Without giving Mark a second look, she turned on her heel and practically ran from the villa, holding her breath until the golf cart cranked to life beneath her and she knew that when she inhaled the only things she would taste were the sun and the salt and the flowers drugging the air.


About Katy Ames:
Katy Ames has spent most of her life on the East Coast and hopes to spend more of it in the UK. In part, so she can indulge in her serious plaid obsession. There isn’t a teenage drama on the CW or a period British TV show she hasn’t binge-watched at least twice. And she can be persuaded to do most things with the promise of bourbon, coffee, chocolate, or a nap, not necessarily in that order. Katy is mom to a small human who has an obscene amount of energy and a blissful ability to ignore swear words, and wife to a man whose reading habits are far too serious. Katy and her family reside in Washington, D.C., a city she where never planned to live and loves so much she’d be happy to talk about for hours. Just ask.
Katy writes contemporary romances that feature heroes who are strong but not so silent, heroines who aren’t afraid to kick ass, and stories that get a little messy before they end happily ever after.
Connect with Katy:
Enter Katy’s Giveaway:

Check out Katy’s fun new romance in her newsletter!
#ChooseYourOwnRomance, by Katy Ames
When I joined this wonderful and wild world of romance, I fell in love instantly - with the readers. You guys are enthusiastic, supportive, and passionate. And some of the loveliest people I’ve every had the pleasure to chat with, either in person or online.
I created #ChooseYourOwnRomance not just to thank you for being so awesome, but to bring readers into the heart of the story. Literally. By answering a few “this or that” questions, my followers on Instagram selected the trope, the location, the hero, and the heroine for the romance I’m currently writing.
Every week, I post a chapter on Instagram and readers get to decide how the story continues. Do they kiss? Does he stay? Does she go? Is there a love triangle? Do they have sex...?
And every Thursday, around 8 PM EST, I post the next installment, based on the winning votes from the previous week. It’s like an old-school Choose Your Own Adventure book, but for romance. (gasp!) (and, yes, I dated myself just then)
The current story focuses on Eden and Jude, childhood friends from a small town who haven’t spoken in years. The silence and distance have turned these once-friends into enemies. But a tragedy brings Eden home and Jude is doing everything possible to make her stay. And, maybe, if readers are kind, to show her that he’s never thought of her as anything but the love of his life.
Readers can catch up on Eden and Jude’s story at:
And if you want to get in on some hot and heavy decision making, please join me every Thursday on Instagram (at) katyamesbooks and/or search for #ChooseYourOwnRomance.
Hope to see you there. You’re the best. Romance rocks.
Lots of love,

Friday, December 8, 2017

Exp1re (Book 1)

They complete me.
Nothing makes sense without them, the building blocks of logic.
A math teacher by day, a statistics doctorate student at night, my obsession to solve problems is constantly fed.
I'm exactly where I want to be in life, no unknown variables or unsolved formulas.
Until I meet her.
The woman beyond the numbers.
How can I stay away, when everything about her draws me in?
But how can I fall in love, when she won't promise me eternity?

“Annie, wait,” I blurt, holding my hand up in the air. “We haven’t had a minute alone since I got home. I told you I needed to talk to you tonight.”
She ignores my protests and buries her face into my lower abdomen, trailing her freshly glossed lips down the thin line of hair that travels from my belly button and disappears beneath the flannel cotton of my pajama pants. “We have the rest of our lives to talk. I haven’t had you inside me in way too long, and I’m not waiting any longer.” Her teeth clasp around the waistband and she drags the pants down far enough to reveal my goods. She frowns at the sight of my flaccid, clearly unaroused shaft, and then glances up at me, her brow wrinkled with confusion. “You didn’t miss your fiancĂ©e?”
The way she says that word—the same way she’s said it all evening long, at every chance she could get—grates on my nerves for a reason I’m not even sure of. She hasn’t done anything wrong exactly, but she expects me to be the same man I was when I left here a couple of weeks ago—the man who was comfortable and content in his life and relationship, happy even.
I’m no longer that man. Not even close.
Meeting Lyra changed everything; my life’s formula completely flipped around. She’s the answer I didn’t know I was searching for. And now I’ve come home to a huge mess. But I couldn’t bear to devastate my mom. Not again.
And as far as Annie… I am enough of a gentleman not to embarrass her in front of all our friends, coworkers, and family members. I may have realized I don’t love her like I thought I did, and I know telling her that is going to cause enough pain; she surely doesn’t deserve to be humiliated on top of that.
“I did miss you,” I insist as I reach down and yank my pajamas back up over my hips, prompting the crease in her forehead to deepen, “but we need to talk. I have things I have to tell you about my trip.”
I pause to wet my cracking lips with a nervous swipe of my tongue. The movement draws her worried gaze away from mine and down to my mouth, and then she quickly crawls up the length of my body and kisses me. Her tongue plunges deep and determined, her chest pressed flush against mine. She smells like desperation and tastes like regret.
“Whatever happened while you were there,” she whispers against my lips in between kisses, “it’s okay. I understand. Just leave it there, in the past. We can focus on the future. With each other. Your wild oats have now been sown.”
Her mouth returns to mine as her hand wedges between our bodies and slips inside my waistband, fingers stroking my shaft feverishly, frantic for a reaction. My cock, the Judas bastard, responds despite my brain’s opposition. And that’s when I know what I have to do.

About Erin Noelle USA Today Bestselling Author

Erin Noelle is a Texas native, where she lives with her husband and two
young daughters. While earning her degree in History, she rediscovered her love for reading  that was first instilled by her grandmother when she was a young child. A lover of happily-ever-afters, both historical and current,Erin is an avid reader of all romance novels.

Most nights you can find her cuddled up in bed with her husband, her Kindle in hand and a sporting event of some sorts on television.

Title: This Love / Not About Love Author: Hilaria Alexander
Genre: Romance
Release Date: Available Now

Music brought them together, but it just might tear them apart.

Running off to Amsterdam is the best decision Ella ever made in her life. In just a few months, she’s been able to put her past behind and has found a new family and friends. She can almost ignore the voices in her head telling her this idyllic scenario is temporary. 

When Lou Rivers shows up in Amsterdam, he’s the constant reminder of the life she led and the mistakes she made. As the two of them embark on an emotional and musical journey across Europe, Ella will have to face her own insecurities and make a decision that might break them apart forever.

We were both stubborn and independent.

So wrong for each other, not that that was an issue for us. 
Because Boyd Rivers had one rule: ONE NIGHT ONLY.
And that was fine by me.
We didn’t even live in the same country.
So it's not like we saw each other often.
But when we did see each other it always ended the same bed.
And the world around us would disappear.
Nothing mattered.
Not the fighting. 
Not the chaos.
Not the distance.
When we were together, it was easy to believe we were made for each other.
But we weren’t. This wasn't about love.
It was just no-strings-attached sex. 
Or so I thought. 
But sometimes, fate has other plans…can it really be not about love?

- This Love -
“Come on. You want it. This isn’t the time to second guess yourself. Sit,” he said, motioning me to sit on the piano bench.
I sat absent-mindedly, took my jacket off and placed it on top of the piano.
I cracked my fingers, and I placed them on the keys.
I lifted my eyes to meet his.
“What do you want to hear?” I asked.
“Anything you want to play,” he replied.
I took a deep breath trying to shake off the nervousness. 
He leaned down, moved my hair behind my shoulder and looked into my eyes.
“No one is here to judge you,” he said in a low voice, his face inches away from mine.
I looked into his eyes and told him “I’m ready.”
I finally settled on a piece, and I placed my fingers on the keys. I couldn’t look at him while I played, but I was all too aware of his eyes fixed on me. I could feel his eyes look at my hands, and go up to my face, probably focusing on my lips and my purposely closed eyelids. Knowing he was looking at me sent shivers down my spine. Since my circumstances had changed over the last few months, playing the piece I had chosen felt completely different. I got giddier note after note. The sound coming from the piano vibrated through me and it felt liberating. A small smile spread on my face and I heard Lou chuckle. He was standing to my left, facing me, and I knew if I looked up for just a moment, I would have gotten lost in his eyes and lost my focus. I felt completely ecstatic playing Liszt’s piano concerto No. 1 in e-flat major s. 124, and toward the end, I couldn’t hold back my smile anymore. I bit my lip, incredulous, trying to remember the last time I had so much fun playing classical music. I must have been a child. 
When I was done, I finally looked up and met Lou’s eyes. He gave me a soft smile at first, but when he read the expression on my face and saw how giddy I was, his smile stretched into a huge grin. We both laughed, half surprised, half ecstatic.
“Are you done?” He asked, the smirk still on his face.
“That was it,” I said smugly, biting my lip.
He looked like he wanted to say something, but we just kept staring at each other. Then, a few seconds later, he leaned on his elbows on a corner of the piano and started speaking.
“Do you want to know what I think?” he asked.
“Duh! Of course I do!” I replied.
“You probably already know what I think… I’m trying to come up with the right words to say, because I don’t want to scare you…I don’t want to pressure you.”
“You aren’t,” I reassured him, smiling. 
I don’t know how much longer I was going to deny I was head over heels in love with him. He reached for my hands and took them in his.
“You know you are far too talented to not play. I’m not saying you should go back to doing what your parents wanted you to do and what they wanted you to be. You should play what you want, but you should definitely play. Throwing this kind of talent away…it’s stupid, really.”
I struggled to find the right words to say to him. I was surprised and a little astonished by the fact that someone that had known me for such a short amount of time would be so supportive, so encouraging. His words made me feel like I was being lifted up on a cloud, like I could do and accomplish anything I’d set my mind to.
“So you might not be good enough to be a concert pianist,” he added, “who cares? There are a million other things you could be doing. Didn’t you say you tried writing songs before?” he asked.
I smiled at him and tried to say something, all while getting up from the bench, but he had other ideas in mind. Just as I was standing up, he leaned down to kiss me. I don’t know how we didn’t slam into each other, because his kiss surprised me. I was trying to reciprocate it, but I lost my balance, falling backwards. I tried to hold on to him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and ending up making him fall on top of me. My head hit the floor, and the legs of the bench screeched loudly as I fell and involuntarily pushed it aside.
And now I was lying on the floor of a closed music store, in the middle of the night, with Lou Rivers plastered on top of me. 
Hysteria took the place of embarrassment, and I started laughing uncontrollably, my laughter vibrating through our bodies. Lou eased himself up on top of me, but didn’t get up; he merely adjusted his weight so he wouldn’t be pressing on me as much.
“Shhhh,” he fought a smile, “Ian is going to kick us out. Keep it quiet. Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, trying to caress the back of my head to see if I was hurt. 
“Leave it to me to do something like that,” I said, the laughter finally subsiding. I exhaled deeply and looked at his face. “Pretty sure Ian will not let us do this again anytime soon,” I laughed.
“Probably not,” he whispered, “but we are here now,” he added, and the southern drawl made an appearance once again. I loved when that happened. It made it impossible to resist him. 
We were almost in complete darkness, but there was some light from a back window coming in. It made Lou’s eyes look gray instead of green. I never made love by lantern shine, I thought, singing in my head the song he played for me earlier that day.
“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to kiss anymore,” I whispered.
“That was your decision. How’s that working out for you, by the way?” he asked with a smile, staring at my lips, grinding his hips ever so gently against me. He knew how to tempt me. Nerves fired up in my belly and suddenly I couldn’t think. He stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“It was…working out okay.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m not so sure anymore.”
He lowered his head and kissed me, this time taking it slowly, using the position to his advantage. He placed soft kisses on my mouth, and when my lips parted, he wrapped his tongue around mine, cradling my jaw, bringing it up to him. His kisses were deep and hungry, nipping at my bottom lip from time to time. They left me breathless, and when he looked at me as if asking for permission to continue, my heart felt like it was going to explode. He was beautiful, but it was more than that. It was something more between us. I felt like he was the only one who understood me, like he and I were in our own world even when we were in a room full of people. Most times, it seemed he knew how I felt, with just a look. The way his kisses branded my skin, had me realizing it was much more than purely physical pleasure. I had never felt like this with anyone before. Was this love? Fuck, I was falling in love with him. Oh, what a stupid, stupid notion. You’re going to get hurt, I told myself, and surprisingly, I didn’t care anymore. Getting hurt was going to be worth all of this. 
Suddenly, it seemed like my hands had a mind of their own. They started exploring his body, everywhere, squeezing his butt, running up his back, and making their way down to his erection, large and arousing. My mouth couldn’t get enough of him either, kissing every inch of his face and neck. The low growl coming out of his mouth told me he quite enjoyed handsy Ella. His hand made its way under my sweater, caressing my skin, before traveling south of my navel, inside my yoga pants. My back arched, and a moan escaped me at the touch of his long, skilled fingers. He moved slightly to my side, giving me room to part my legs and grant him better access. In between choked moans and heavy breathing, our eyes locked. He seemed as focused as ever on the task at hand. His thumb pressed and circled and teased my clit while his index and middle finger made their way in and out of me. I hadn’t forgotten about him, and I wanted to go further than rubbing my hand on him through his jeans, but he stopped me when I tried to undo his belt, pointing at the ceiling and telling me to be quiet. His fingers were working me faster and faster, and I rocked against his hand, chasing the crescendo that would tip me over the edge. He urged me to be quiet, but there was only so much I could do to contain the strangled cry of pleasure coming out of my mouth. He kissed my lips softly, encouraging me to let go. The orgasm unraveled through me like waves, my pounding heart loud in my ears. When I opened my eyes again, he was watching me, a soft and amused look in his eyes. Still panting, I pulled him down to me to kiss him stupid, but he ended up bumping into the piano bench. It made the same screeching noise again, and I barely had time to press my lips to his before we were both laughing, unable to keep quiet any longer. A noise from upstairs startled us, and we quickly disentangled, got up and straightened our clothes.

We left the store running like thieves, laughing and kissing all the way home.

- Not About Love -
“Boyd, I can’t fucking believe you!” Ally yelled. “How could you be so careless?” she asked in disbelief. 
“I was drunk!” I said, trying to excuse myself. I knew it wasn’t a good enough excuse. I was guilty. She had every right to yell at me.
“That’s no excuse! I was drunk, too, but if you had told me you weren’t wrapping it up, I would have done it myself!”
“Oh, please! You didn’t even realize I didn’t have one on. That’s how far gone you were, too!” She scowled, and I shrugged as she let out an exasperated growl. The fact that I was trying to downplay it made her even more mad. 
“If it makes you feel any better, it felt wonderful. You felt wonderful. If I could go back…I’d probably do it again.” She raised her eyebrows, and her eyes widened in disbelief. 
“How I felt? So you go from having total amnesia to remembering details of that night? Do you want to know how I’ve really felt in the last few weeks? This whole time I thought it had been my fault! I thought I had done something wrong.” She raised her hands up in the air and gave me a pointed look. The woman did know how to be dramatic, but I had to hand it to her…she wore it well. I didn’t hate the scowl on her face, especially if it meant I’d have to work my way back in. I loved to chase her. I’d chase her to a bedroom for the rest of my life.
“You thought it was your fault? And, enlighten me…what could you have possibly done wrong? Made my condom disappear with one of those magic moves of yours?”
“Haha, very funny. I should be even more pissed at you now, especially after all those weeks of not hearing from you at all. You just signed your death sentence, buddy,” she said with a sly smile, her index finger pressed to my chest.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s kiss and make up. That’s all behind us. I’m here, with you. Let’s hug it out. I’ll make it worth your while.” I opened my arms to embrace her, but she shoved me away. She was about to slap me, but I raised both my hands to cover myself. I did it to tease her more than for self-defense, and it worked. She tried to keep a straight face, but the tight line of her lips turned into a smile, and she started laughing.
I laughed with her, thinking this was the first time in a long time I’d felt truly happy. Our eyes locked. This time, when I went in for a hug, she let me embrace her.
I kissed her on the lips.
“It was meant to be, Red. It only happened once, and you and I both know we had sex dozens of times. Just once, and yet, my little sperm made it all the way to your egg and scored a big, fat touchdown. What are the odds, huh?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. I tipped her chin up with my finger.
“Look at me,” I told her. She did as I asked. Our eyes locked, and after a few seconds, the angry glare changed into a softer look.
“Meant to be, you say.” 
I smiled. “Mmm.” I nuzzled her neck, trailing kisses on her skin, and she sighed.
“You think I have magic moves?” she asked in a low, breathy voice. I stopped and looked at her. I smiled, the fire in her eyes rendering me powerless. Was I ever going to stop wanting this woman? Seal the deal, a voice inside me said. I pushed the thought away and focused on her lips, then my eyes traveled to her gorgeous breasts. They had gotten even bigger since she’d gotten pregnant, and I couldn’t say I didn’t love that. Now that she was a few months in, her curves were even softer, her belly slowly shaping up as our son or daughter kept growing. She was beautiful, all around.
“You do have magic moves. Those hips of yours don’t lie.” My hands grabbed her hips, and I rocked myself against her. She let out a sigh.

“One thing is for sure,” she murmured. “We’re really, really good at this.”

Hilaria Alexander was born and raised in the south of Italy, where her family still lives. She was bit by the travel bug early on and lived in Tokyo and Orlando for a while before settling down in Oklahoma City with her husband and kids. 
She loves books - obviously - as well as movies and TV, and is addicted to award shows. She can't play an instrument to save her life, but she loves music, which is one of her biggest inspirations when plotting new stories. If you have questions about her or her books, ask her on Facebook and Twitter, or email her at