Spotlight Stop. Urban Wolf : Stories by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom and Jillian Stone. 

Urban Wolf 

Wolf, Interrupted

By Jillian Stone

Wolf in the City

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: GothicScapes

Date of Publication:  June 12, 2017

ISBN: 978-0-9858714-5

Word Count:  56,000 antho total –ebook

Cover Artist: Jillian Stone

Lose yourself in Urban Wolf, two sinfully sexy paranormal shape-shifting romance novellas in one limited edition anthology.

Under a full moon in the big city, sinfully sexy urban wolves face all too human conflicts with courage and heart. Both novellas capture the danger, romantic thrills, and excitement of the red-hot shifter genre, including finding a soulmate and everlasting love. If you’re a fan of werewolf romance, you won’t want to miss this limited edition anthology.

Pre-Order Sale $1.99


Urban Wolf Facebook Group

Tagline:  Never try to deny the she-wolf inside.

Wolf, Interrupted by Jillian Stone

Elle Hathaway has spent most of her young life in fear of herself. At least the part of her that grows fangs and claws. With the help of a lycanthrope suppressant, she’s made it through puberty, university, even her first job without so much as a shift. Then one night, deep in the tunnels of the Underground, her life changes forever.

Detective Inspector Abelseth Durant is investigating the lethal mauling of an unknown victim in the Covent Garden tube station, and Ms. Elle Hathaway is a person of interest. Sensing her wolf nature, he is mystified by the lovely young woman, and when Elle is abducted by a rival pack, Abelseth realizes he is being pulled back into London’s wolfen underworld.

Shaken out of blissful denial, Elle teams up with the handsome inspector to evade the renegade pack. But as her situation grows dire, Abelseth knows the only way he can truly protect the strong-willed beauty is to convince her to shift and claim her as his mate. There’s just one little problem with his plan—the reluctant Ms. Hathaway.

Excerpt Wolf,
Interrupted by Jillian Stone:

Inspector Durant was a hottie and he knew it. What remained in his favor, she
supposed, was that he didn’t seem to pay much attention to his looks, hence the
unkemptness, nor did he appear overly impressed with himself.

He sat quietly
in front of her, consulting his smartphone.

“Looks like New
Scotland Yard has gone paperless. Rather high tech of them, wouldn’t you say?”

“I thought we
might start with your police report. You can confirm, make corrections,
elaborate—whatever comes to mind.” He glanced up at her. “If you need
clarification, feel free to ask me anything.”

Elle immediately
thought of two good questions: Have a girlfriend? Looking for one?

Tagline: Fur meets fang on the streets of L.A.

Wolf in the City by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

Deep in the heart of L.A., in an area that cops and gangs fear, lone wolf Jared James stands guard, hoping to keep others from suffering a similar fate to the one he has endured. He is on a mission to find the monster that made him what he is. Meeting Kit, a feisty vampire with a mission of her own, will either help or hinder his chances to accomplish that goal . . .  but could possibly bridge the divide between two species, and make the long nights much more interesting.

About the Authors

Jillian Stone is a national award-winning, multi-published author who has written four  Gentlemen of Scotland Yard novels published by Pocket Books, Simon & Schuster, as well as the Phaeton Black, Paranormal Detective series published by Brava, Kensington. Currently, she is writing Contemporary Romance, including Wolf, Interrupted, a novella in the anthology release Urban Wolf.

Web site:


Pocket Books:




Linda Thomas-Sundstrom is the author of paranormal romance and urban fantasy novels and novellas, both dark and light, for HarperCollins/Harlequin Nocturne and GothicScapes, with more than 30 stories that trespass into the supernatural realm.

Linda is the author of contemporary, paranormal romance, and urban fantasy books for Kensington, Amazon Montlake, GothicScapes, Harlequin Nocturne, and Harlequin Desire. She currently has 30 stories that trespass into the supernatural realm, with ton of ideas for more.

Web site:




Month in Review. May. 

This month I have been published in


Ghost City Press

Your One Phone Call

The Squawk Back

Literary Yard

Glove Lit Zine

I was interviewed by

Peeking Cat poetry magazine

Last year I was published by

A New Ulster

Potluck Magazine

Former People : A Journal of Bangs and Whimpers

I have read

And received book mail from

Thanks to Bewitching book Tours,  and Ardent PRose for working with me on book tours. 

Special mention to Linda M Crate, with this poem at Black Hand poetry.

And congratulations to Ghost City Press, who have now kicked off their 2017 micro chapbook summer series.

Look through all those gorgeous cover images. 

A subscription is free, but all money donated goes back to the writers.

Right, I’ll leave you now to enjoy all this inspirational stuff. Go get lost in a book! 

Book Review and Blog Tour. Behind the Wall. Jane Harvey-Berrick. 



Barnes & Noble


AP new - synopsis.jpg

The place where dreams fade and hope dies.
That’s what it’s meant for the five years that Garrett has been behind bars. But now hope is on the horizon and he’s daring to dream again: small dreams, small hopes.
Getting his GED would be a start. If only his prison-appointed teacher Miss Ella Newsome wasn’t so damn sexy.
As Garrett and Ella start to play a dangerous game, the price could be higher than either of them have guessed.

This story first appeared in the anthology HOT FOR TEACHER in 2016. It has since been extended with new scenes, more heartache and even more heat.

An alarm blaring jerked us apart, and Garrett peered through the window in the classroom door.
When he turned to look at me again, there was a new tension in his jaw.
“They’re going to riot,” he said sharply. “We have to get out of here. Do you trust me?”
Trust. Such a small word with such a big meaning. Could I trust a convicted felon? Could I? Dare I trust a man whose simple words stole my heart from the very first moment he’d shown me his true self? Foolish, foolish heart.
“Get ready to run, Ella.”
I took a deep breath, and then we were racing along the brightly lit corridor, the alarm even louder, almost drowning out the pounding of our footsteps.
Garrett dragged me along with him, urging me to go faster. I felt his own panic as he tried door after door, but all were locked. The sound of rioting seemed to follow us, and I thought I could smell smoke.
Then we ran out of corridor, and Garrett swore loudly, his eyes darting wildly. He dropped my hand and kicked at the nearest door, smashing it repeatedly until I was sure either the door or his leg would shatter.
Finally, as sweat poured down Garrett’s face, the door’s weak lock screeched and broke, and he fell into a large storage closet.
“In here!” he hissed, his face contorting with pain as his hand reached out to mine.
I followed him without thinking, needing him near to feel safe.
I’d imagined that hard body so many times, imagined the layer of solid muscle and silky skin that overlaid a tall, lean bone structure. My impatient fingers pushed under his prison uniform, discovering a trail of coarse hair that led from his chest to the waistband of his pants.
My impulsive fingers drifted lower, and I felt the groan in his chest as I closed my hand around his hot, heated shaft.
“Ellaaaa!” he moaned my name with reverence, a plea.

This story first appeared in the anthology HOT FOR TEACHER in 2016. It has since been extended with new scenes, more heart ache and even more heat.

AP  new -about the author.jpg

Jane is a writer of contemporary romance fiction, known for thoughtful stories, often touching on difficult subjects: disability (DANGEROUS TO KNOW & LOVE, SLAVE TO THE RHYTHM); mental illness (THE EDUCATION OF CAROLINE, SEMPER FI); life after prison (LIFERS); dyslexia (THE TRAVELING MAN, THE TRAVELING WOMAN).

She is also a campaigner for former military personnel to receive the support they need on leaving the services. She wrote the well-received play LATER, AFTER with former veteran Mike Speirs. ( )

Author Links

Web Facebook  Twitter  Amazon Page Goodreads Instagram

This is a great story on a forbidden pupil, and teacher, relationship. 

Garrett is a prisoner and, with others, has been put in a classroom to get his GED, and have a better stab at life outside of prison. Miss Newsome is his teacher. Their initial misunderstanding of each other was nicely cut, and the circumstances of which they finally get a moment leads to consequences, and misery, for the pair. 

I did believe in their chemistry. I think Garrett’s development was written better than Miss Newsome’s, and his character was a wonderful mix of attitude, and vulnerability. 

When Garrett was on parole, and living in a  half way house, he meets once more with Miss Newsome. I yelped when I thought the two might not be getting together into a romantic relationship. 

The will they, won’t they, Miss Newsome’s parents, and friends, welcome ex con Garrett as her partner was also part of the book I enjoyed, more so as well on a personal level for me. 

Behind the Wall is a cracking little story. 


Book Review. It Had to be You. Melissa Kate. 

It Had To Be You
Crystal Valley

Book Two
Melissa Kate

Genre: Contemporary Romance , RomCom

Publisher: Fire Quill Publishing

Date of Publication: 25 April 2017

ISBN:  978-0-9984714-1-9

Number of pages: 200 pages
Word Count: 50 k

Cover Artist: Amy from Q Design

Book Description:

Emma Wyatt has had enough of her ex best friend and his lady killer ways. Gone was the sweet boy of her youth and in rides the womaniser. But this time he has really gone and done it!

Oliver didn’t expect to be coupled with Emma. She was in an awkward situation and he couldn’t help the words that came out. She should be grateful, he saved her.

Now the whole town knows. And Emma is pissed! She’s going to kill him.

But a heated argument leads to a fiery moment of passion and suddenly the two are fighting an unlikely attraction that neither saw coming. But Oliver has a secret that could tear them apart…

Amazon     BN     Kobo


Emma walked into the Community
Center Grand Hall and took in the scene before her. Women of all shapes, sizes,
and generations milled around, cocktails in hand. Their hair was perfectly
coifed and their makeup impeccable. The pheromones in the air were practically

A bachelor auction.

How the hell did I get roped into this? she mused.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Her best friend, Audrey, sipped a
pink drink with a twirly straw, her eyes wide.

That’s how.

“If you call a bunch of horny women paying for a date with
an equally horny man exciting, then no, it’s not particularly thrilling.”

“Oh, stop being Old Mother Hubbard. Besides, it’s for a good

Emma knew this, of course. The Crystal Valley Homeless
Center was an up-and-coming organization that rehabilitated homeless people and
helped them get their lives back on track. It wasn’t merely a halfway house. It
was a place of refuge that offered people in need a hand up—not just a handout.
Emma tried to volunteer at the Center as much as she could, and she knew
firsthand how rewarding the experience was. The auction couldn’t have benefited
a better cause.

“You and I both know it’s not the auction that’s got your
knickers in a twist.” Audrey grinned devilishly as she tossed her dark hair
over her shoulder. “It’s that hot hunk of junk over there.”

Emma followed her friend’s gaze to Oliver Kyle—the six-foot-two,
sandy-haired Adonis… and the bane of her existence. Emma rolled her eyes, the
familiar irritation settling in. “Now why would I let anything Oliver-related
have anything to do with my panties?”

“Did I hear my name and your panties in the same sentence?”
His deep voice reverberated over her shoulder and sent an unwelcome shiver up
her spine.

“Speak of the devil and the demon appears.” She turned to
face him and nearly slammed into the rock-solid mass of his chest. When did he
get so close to her? Her eyes landed on those firm pecs and traveled up the
thick column of his neck, past the deep dimple of his left cheek and into those
smug honey-colored eyes.

She squinted at him, hackles raising like an old friend.
“Personal space much?”

He leaned in, that overpowering male musk unique to Oliver
surrounding her. “Just trying to get closer to those panties, sweetheart.”

The damn jerk had the audacity to wink at her. An actual

“You, Oliver Kyle, are a man-whore and will never get within
an inch of my panties.”

“Now, now, Emma, did you just issue a challenge? You know
that feistiness just makes me want you more? I like your attitude problem.”

“I don’t have an attitude problem. You have a problem with
my attitude. That’s not my problem.”

He gave an arrogant little chuckle.

Emma opened her mouth to unleash some choice words when
Audrey stepped between them. “Okay, children, play nice now.”

Oliver reached out and twirled a strand of Emma’s hair
around his finger, as though testing its texture. “This isn’t over, Goldilocks.
I like a challenge.”

Emma was left to ogle his broad shoulders in his Boss suit
before she could formulate a comeback. She fought the urge to stamp her foot
like a petulant child.

“Wow, the sexual tension between you two is hot.”

“The only thing hot between us is my palm getting ready to
slap his smug face.” Emma grabbed Audrey’s glass and downed her colorful drink.

“Uh huh. And denial is a river in Egypt. What happened
between you two anyway?”

“He’s a jackass. A womanizing jackass who is always trying
to make a pass at me, but I won’t become a prospect of his.”

“Oh honey, ten minutes with that man and I’m sure he would
ruin you for any other man.”

Emma swatted her as they made their way toward a seat near
the stage. The cloying smell of cheap perfume of overzealous women lingered in
the air, giving Emma an instant headache. Or maybe that was compliments of Mr.
Kyle. Audrey didn’t realize how close to home she had hit. Emma and Oliver had
been friends during their youth. They had grown up in the same neighborhood
and, despite the two-year age gap, had been practically joined at the hip. Till
one day, soon after she turned thirteen, he had morphed into someone else and
just stopped being her bestie. At first, he had pulled away and Emma had passed
it off as part of growing up, but then he stopped being a sweet boy and became
a hell-raiser.

Now, at age thirty-two, he was the quintessential bachelor.
She wondered if he was up for auction tonight. Not that she would bid on him.
No, she had her eye on that sexy fireman, Mike. Besides, she was sure half of
Crystal Valley would outbid her even if she did. He was very popular with the

The lights dimmed suddenly and a hush of anticipation filled
the auditorium as hordes of women scrambled to find vacant seats. She could
practically feel Audrey bouncing in her chair beside her and although she
wouldn’t admit it out loud, it was kind of thrilling. Emma might have a grudge
against Oliver Kyle, but she sure did appreciate some of the other fine specimens
on display.

The opening beats to Bruno Mars’ “Uptown Funk” started and
the crowd went wild as each bachelor walked on stage, decked in suits and
looking mouth-watering. The song was fitting; most of the singles were from the
police or fire department. The hotness kept coming. How did Crystal Valley have
so many hot, single men? Emma caught herself using her auction paddle to fan
herself. The men did a few steps in sync to the beat, which greatly amused the
audience, before standing single file, hands behind their backs, which only
emphasized the chiseled chests and lean hips.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s deep voice rang out.
“Give it up for the bachelors of Crystal Valleeeey!”

The applause was deafening. Emma found herself adding to the
roar. The last time she checked, she was still a warm-blooded female.

“Thank you all for coming tonight and supporting this great
cause. These gracious bachelors have volunteered their time and… um, services,
to raise funds tonight.” A smattering of nervous giggles peppered the hall. He
went on to talk more about the cause as the gents backed offstage.

“Without further ado, ladies, let’s get the ball rolling!”

An upbeat track sounded and one of Oliver’s police buddies
strolled on stage, all muscle and sex appeal.

“Ooh la la,” Audrey cooed beside her, barely audible over
the roar.

The bachelor walked down the ramp. Every woman alongside it
tried to get her hands on some part of him, and he was soaking it up. He
grinned devilishly as he swung his hips a few times before strutting back to
center stage.

“We will start the bidding at one hundred dollars.”

Dozens of paddles went up. And kept going up as the price

“Why don’t you bid on him?” Audrey nudged, her brown eyes

“He’s not my type.”

“What? Hot and delicious is everyone’s type. Plus, he has

She did have a point there. Emma was ready to raise her
paddle and place a bid when the announcer called a winner. She swung around in
her seat to face the blonde mama who was going to enjoy officer sexy pants. She
looked drunk off her ass and horny to boot. They were going to have one hell of
a night.

The next beat was the ever-popular and brain-grinding
“Gangnam Style.” Emma recognized the bachelor as one of the new kids at the
fire department. He couldn’t be more than twenty-two, but he was filling out
nicely. He slid out in nothing but his tighty-whities and a shirt. Very Tom
Cruise–like. Till he started the “Gangnam Style” dance.

Emma threw her head back and howled. His moves were perfectly
in sync and the crowd was lapping it up. Despite the ridiculousness of his act,
he sold for nearly three thousand dollars. That date was going to be
interesting, to say the least.

The strains of Nelly’s “Hot in Here” blared from the
speakers and none other than sexy fireman Mike came strolling out in his
fireproof suit—sans shirt.

“Hot tamale.” Emma swallowed. “He’s Hercules.” Mike had a
golden tan accentuated by glistening oil slathered on his bare torso. His blond
hair was messy and his blue eyes mischievous as he played right into crowd,
taking off his shoulder straps and wiggling to the beat, teasing and taunting
the ladies with overt sexuality.

Emma had to tear her eyes away when she realized that the
bidding war had begun and were already a grand up. She raised her paddle but
was immediately challenged by a brunette two rows down. Emma needed this. It
had been two years since she had a decent date, and small-town gossip had it
that Mike was a decent guy. He was stable, honest, faithful, and unbelievably
sexy to boot. Emma was a traditional girl and wasn’t comfortable making the
first move on a guy, but with the veil of the auction for charity, it was the
perfect excuse to match herself up with Mike. She needed to pick up her life
after the drama with the mayor’s son.

“We have one thousand five hundred dollars. Do we have one
thousand six hundred?”

Emma raised her paddle. And so it continued till the bidding
went up to two grand. Fireman Mike was sure noticing her now.

“Going once…”

Emma felt a grin spreading on her face. She was going to

“Going twice…”

“Three thousand dollars!” The brunette outbid her. How the

Before Emma could recover, the announcer slammed his gavel
and fireman Mike was gone, snatched from her clutches.

Audrey giggled beside her. “Well, that was entertaining.”

Emma huffed. “How embarrassing! Now everyone knows I got a
thing for the fireman god.”

“Trust me. Nobody is noticing anything except the male
hotness here tonight.”

“I hope so.” She signaled the waiter for another cocktail.
She needed a drink to overcome the mortification.

The evening passed with suitor after suitor gracing the
stage, and each time the adoration never dimmed. From scantily clad to suave,
funny to serious, the men were different in their own right. Yet none of the
others appealed to her enough to raise her paddle again.

She was about to call it a night when the emcee announced
the last bid for the night. A fun tune sounded and Emma sat up, wondering who
would be gracing the stage. She felt her jaw go slack when the thorn in her
side came out on stage, still in his Boss suit. His shirt was unbuttoned
beneath his suit jacket, and the peekaboo of his bronze torso flirted with
every woman in the auditorium. His mirrored aviators sat on the bridge of his
nose, shielding what she was sure was a sex-promised gaze. His sandy hair was
mussed up like he had run his hands through it, or more likely some woman had.
His pants curved his strong buttocks, emphasizing the muscle and strength. Emma
felt her throat go dry. The music played a sexy tune and, almost in slow
motion, Oliver put his hand in his pants pocket, moving aside his coat and
shirt and revealing an honest-to-God eight-pack.

The crowd went wild. Emma coughed. When the hell did he get
those? She didn’t even know eight-packs existed, and here he was baring those
washboard abs like he was born with them. His lips tilted in a sexy grin,
revealing that naughty dimple.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s start the bidding at one
hundred dollars!”

Paddles went up all around the room. Emma took a sweep
through at the faces that could potentially be sharing Oliver’s bed tonight.
Just about everyone bid, including the more vibrant male variety of Crystal
Valley. Emma smiled at that, knowing that would throw the smug playboy for a

The response was loud. The bidding was fast and quick, and
already up to three thousand dollars. Mr. Kyle was clearly in demand. It looked
like Malibu Barbie was going to win him after all.

“Five thousand dollars!”

The crowd was stunned into silence at the sudden bid. The
announcer called it. And looked right at Emma.


She turned to Audrey, then noticed that she had grabbed
Emma’s arm, paddle in hand, and bid. Audrey grinned widely and shrugged

Emma turned back to the stage, her face draining of color as
she stared at Oliver, who looked like the Cheshire cat.

“What have you done?” she whispered.

About the Author:

Melissa Kate is a self-confessed book-a-holic who lives in a small town along the coast in sunny South Africa. She writes contemporary romance with quirky characters and witty banter; a true romantic at heart, she loves the moment of falling in love. Her pet Beagle and maniacal lovebird keep her company while writing and often inspire senseless moments in her stories.

When she’s not furiously tapping away on her laptop, Melissa can be found laughing away with her husband (who happens to be her pre-school sweetheart… you just know there’s a story there) or scouring online stores for additions to her ever growing stiletto collection (ehm addiction).

She balances her day job and conjuring up new romantic tales with a local personal blog with arb ramblings about her life in Durban.

I was expecting a mushy love story with It had to be you, and I actually got that, but a little more too. This book offers a lot of depth for ‘just’ a mushy romance. Emma, our heroine, is smart (runs her own business) and is so funny. 

The one liners, and the sparkling banter between her, and Oliver: her ex best childhood friend turned bad boy, is enjoyable to read. It all feels natural too, and Melissa Kate is clearly a skilled comic writer. 

While I do think the middle of It had to be you lingered too long, I did think Emma was holding off because Oliver is a bad boy, and Oliver was staying away from committing to her because he’s a philander like his father, and does not want to hurt Emma. 

Instead a family secret comes to light, and is quite a shock too, which is the real reason for Oliver’s reluctance to commit. 

I finished It had to be you with a smile on my face. 

Book Review. For the Men, and the Women who Love them. Edited by Rose Caraway.

Website Twitter 


There’s a variety of sexy stories in this book, and if you do have a partner you are going to want to share these stories with them.

There’s a surprise amount of subjects: BDSM, cheats, pirates, fetish clubs, pegging, MILFs, ghosts, adult babies, and the list goes on, with an array of interesting characters. 

There is nothing tame in this book. 

Blog Tour and Book Review. The Sin Bin. Nikky Kaye. 


Lucy Solomon showed up to watch a hockey game in a luxury box wearing jeans and a hoodie, and she didn’t give a puck who I was. Now the hotter it gets between us the better my team does on the ice, and I’m getting superstitious. I’m not skating around my feelings–I want to win the playoffs, and I want Lucy. But something’s gotta give.

After being in a grad school cave for two years, it made sense that I’d be drawn to a caveman. I melted for Beckett Hallstrom’s brazen moves and boyish charm when we first met, but things exploded when I found out who he really was. Beck wants me to be his good luck charm, but the press is relentless and now my career is in jeopardy. Every competition has a loser and I’m afraid it’s going to be me losing my heart.

Someone knocked on the door. We froze, breathing heavily and entwined together like a Rodin sculpture. It was too dark for me to see the expression on Beckett’s face when he called out casually, “Yeah?”
“I have that jersey for you, Mister Hallstrom,” a man said quietly. Discreetly.
Awkwardly, Beck removed his hands from every part of my body and turned to the door. He cracked it open, the outside light and sound slicing into the tiny room but thankfully I remained out of sight.
“We’re three up now,” I heard. “End of the second.”
“Shit, three? Okay, thanks.” Beck took a plastic bag from the guy. Then he leaned back against the closed door and reached out with one arm to flick the light back on.
At my position on the counter, the light was bright above my head. I squinted reflexively. And then when I realized how I probably looked, I wanted to turn off the lights and screw my eyes shut again. Oh my god, how embarrassing.
My legs were spread, my jeans gaping open and pushed down on my hips. I was practically sitting in the sink on top of his bespoke suit jacket, but at least my butt hadn’t turned on the water. Yet. My breasts quivered over the shelf bra of my athletic tank top, the tips still wet from his mouth. I was a slutty mess.
But Beck looked at me like I was the Stanley Cup turned into a chocolate fountain.
Without taking his eyes off me, he raised his right hand to his mouth and licked his first two fingers. If he were a metaphor, there would be canary feathers sticking out of his mouth.
“I, uh, just want you to know that this is not normal behavior for me, Beckett Hallstrom,” I said shakily. Understatement of the year.
I couldn’t help it. I closed my eyes. Maybe if I couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t be there. But he was there, all right. I heard the rustle of the plastic and the stretchy snick of him ripping off the price tag. And his rough chuckle.
“It’s not exactly routine for me either, Lucy…” He trailed off as we both realized he didn’t know my last name. My embarrassment graduated to humiliation, and my eyes flew open as he pulled me off the sink. “Careful, there.”
With surprising gentleness he tucked me back in and zipped me back up, before slipping a jersey over my head. The guy he’d sent had actually found one for the opposing team, which I suspected was hard to find in the home team’s store. It was big on me, but so was Beck.
“Solomon. Lucy Solomon.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucy Solomon.”
His mouth quirked as he pulled my hair out from under the collar of the jersey, like he’d done earlier with his jacket. This time, though, he wound my hair around his wrist and tugged my head back to expose my neck. He pressed his mouth to my thumping pulse, nipping softly.
I sighed. “The pleasure was all mine.”
He stepped back, adjusting his slacks with a wince and shoving half his shirt back into his waistband. “I wish my name was on your back,” he said.
“You used to play?”
He nearly bent in half with mirth. “Oh, Jesus.” He laughed so hard and so long that I wished I knew the punch line. If he didn’t stop soon, he would be the punch line.
“Ahem?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Outside I heard the distinct sounds of another goal for the home team. Not Andy’s team. Not Beck’s team. We both looked to the door. How long had we been in here, anyhow?
I blinked at him. He reached behind me and plucked his wrinkled suit jacket out of the sink. Now that I was extra embarrassed about. “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “Casualty of war. We should…”
“Yeah, we should. I’m sure people are waiting for you.” I tugged the jersey down over my thighs. It was big enough for me to wear it as a dress. Maybe next time.
He traced my lips with his broad thumb, pressing his own lips together in an obvious effort not to laugh at me. “You’re fucking adorable, Lucy. You really don’t know who I am, do you?”
“Should I? I already told you I’m not into hockey.”
In fact, I came from the least athletic family on the planet. It was a shock to my computer programming parents that Andy was even tangentially working in sports. Frankly I was proud that I knew hockey was measured in periods and not quarters. With regards to my knowledge of the sport, the bar was pretty low.
“That is the adorable part that I’m looking forward to fucking.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
He smirked. “Let’s say, confident.”
“If you want.”
Hmmm. I did want.

Nikky Kaye is almost my real name. I’m a former Film professor who likes more than her movies to be black and white. Sadly, the world doesn’t work that way. I have worked with movie stars, Ivy League brainiacs, and the United Nations—all of which means that I’m familiar with ass-kissing, power struggles, greed and faking it. In my spare time I parent 5 year-old twin boys, serve on the board of an independent cinema, and run a medical consulting company.

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon

You always know with Nikky Kaye you are going to get a story that is naughty, with some cheeky humour.

The Sin Bin features Lucy, and Beck. They meet at a hockey match, and they don’t take too long with introductions. 

I found the beginning of the story rocky, but the characters did grow on me. I liked the setting too. It must have taken some restraint for Nikky Kaye not to use the word Puck as a pun throughout the book. 

I liked how, for a short story, I felt the Sin Bin took me through a journey with Lucy and Beck, as they figure out their relationship, and a fallout, after Beck acts like an arse, and uses Lucy as a lucky charm. Which really did become quite irritating.

An enthralling story. 

Giveaway.  Put Me Down, I’m Terrible. Katie Lewington. 

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Goodreads Book Giveaway

Put me Down, I'm Terrible. by Katie Lewington

Put me Down, I’m Terrible.

by Katie Lewington

Giveaway ends May 28, 2017.

See the giveaway details

at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

One reviewer has said there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme, or reason, for the poems in this book to be together,  and I’ve got to disagree.  I wrote many of these poems in one sitting (forty five minutes) and I think they’re,  one, the best example of how creatively crazy my mind can get (the poetry is about stray hairs, public toilets,  cold sores, lost vibrators , shirt sleeves, exams, blinking cursors, swearing, Mondays,  finding a job, and doughnuts) and, two, how poetry doesn’t have to be perfect.  If it fits in your mind, then it’s fine.  It’s your creation. Frankenstein’s Monster was never perfect.  It’s also a great look at my life two years ago. I was obviously hungry,  had writing fever,  was indulging in too much retail therapy,  and was looking to improve my lot in life. Funny how I feel I’ve aged more than the poetry in Put Me Down, I’m Terrible.  Anyway,  if you like you can download a copy for nothing here buy a physical copy here or just enter the giveaway at Goodreads. Thanks to the people who have reviewed the book. It’s had reviews ranging from one star, to five, so if you have,  or do, read Put Me Down, I’m Terrible I would be grateful for any reviews and opinions. 

Release Day. Under Her Skin. Aria  Cole. 




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Sienna Taylor walked into Mad Ink looking for a temporary escape. Instead, she found River Madden, the gorgeously talented and impossibly moody owner of the shop. One look in her big, dark eyes makes him desperate to possess her, his need to mark her untouched skin a primal distraction.

One touch of his needle sends electricity rocketing between them, and by the time he’s finished leaving his brand on her, he’s doing the unthinkable and offering her a job—and possibly losing his sense of sanity.

Finding forever is the last thing on River’s mind, but one taste of her sweet innocence has him consumed with claiming her.
She’s too innocent, too sweet, too untouchable, and far too good for him. But she has a darkness that claws at her, a crack fracturing her heart that only makes him crave her more.

Warning: From the moment his tattoo gun touches her skin, River is utterly obsessed with his girl. If over-the-top, insta-love goodness with a moody, tattooed alpha is your cup of steam, look no further! River has a talent for pushing all the right buttons. 😉



“So, my hands are in her hair, and I’m fucking close, man. I don’t know what I did to the bitch to make her pull the teeth out, but no shit, I think I almost lost my dick last night.”
The sound of a feminine someone clearing her voice turned both of our heads. Jericho shot up, hand outstretched and that weird half smile he only did for chicks he wanted to bang curling his face.
The guy was a fucking whore, and if I had to live through another one of his one-night stands rehashed, I’d throw my fist through his teeth. I’d already thought about breaking a finger, but fucker needed them if he was going to permanently lay artwork on someone’s body, and the guy had talent.
I’d hired him when he got to page three of his portfolio—a portrait of a someone’s grandpa in a war uniform inked on the client’s bicep. The fucking most beautiful tattoo I’d ever seen in my life, and I knew I had to have Jericho in my shop.
Just a goddamn shame I had to put up with him every day.
“She’s a sweet one.” Jericho turned and winked. “And she’s looking for you. Told her I had more talented fingers, but she wasn’t buying it.”
I arched an eyebrow, irritation pulsing through my gut before I stood, plastering on a blank face for my new client.
I lived for tattooing and creating art. What I didn’t love was dealing with customers. Constantly. It was hard being an artist and not being able to control exactly how you would create on a canvas, since the canvas tended to belong to another human.
I’d learned to put on a reserved face over the years—I wasn’t one of those guys who chatted your goddamned ear off. I didn’t give two fucks about your life story or why this tattoo finally meant so much. In fact, half the struggle I’d had in the two years since I’d opened Aspen Ink was tuning out the dimwits so I could focus long enough to give them what they came for—a permanent piece of art on their skin.
Jericho and Dev busted my balls about my shitty chairside personality in the beginning, but it turns out customers don’t give a shit about manners when you leave them with something they can’t get anywhere else on their arm. I had plenty of repeat customers and was usually booked out months in advance. As a result, most of the clients I already knew, so the fact that I didn’t recognize the name on my schedule today had been a little odd, though not unheard of.
I pulled out a set of clean tools, giving a last glance over my sterile work area before heading to the front counter.
A small little thing, with golden blond hair cascading down to a tiny nipped-in waist, was waiting for me at the front desk. I frowned.
“Hi, I’m River Madden.” I came around the counter, touching her elbow.
She spun, that silky mass of waves brushing across my forearm and sending zaps of fire through my skin.
“I’m Sienna.” Indigo blue eyes nailed mine.
I shifted on my feet, throat already dry before I hooked a finger over my shoulder. “Follow me.”
Red lips pursed for a second, eyes narrowing before she nodded swiftly.
I gnashed down on my teeth, figuring I knew exactly what I was in for with this one. “Let me guess, cute little elephant tattoo on your ankle?”
I held a hand out, gesturing for her to sit in my tattoo chair.
“Not quite.” She plopped down, eyes connecting with mine again.
Fuck, what was it about those eyes? Like she couldn’t keep herself from looking at me, staring into my soul or some shit. Weird as fuck and I hated every minute of it.
“Quote under your tit? That what the girls are getting these days, right?”
“I’m not a girl.” She crossed her arms. She certainly wasn’t. She might be small, but that fire burning in those ocean irises told me she wouldn’t hesitate to give a man hell. Fuck, why did that kinda make me smile?
“Well, safe to assume this is your first tattoo?” My eyes landed on her short denim cutoffs then crawled up her body to the long sleeves that covered her arms. This girl was A-1 vanilla, no doubt about it. I was good at reading people, and this one was just too sweet to have seen anything resembling a hard life.
“You know what they say about people who assume, right?” Her grin crooked to the side. “You make an ass—” she rolled up one sleeve, revealing dark slashes of purple and black ink “—out of mostly…you.”
“Impressive.” I moved closer. “I pegged you for a virgin.” I felt a shiver race through her when I cupped her arm in my palm, inspecting the work. “Where’d you go for this?”
“A few towns over. Got it a few months ago.” She pulled up her other sleeve, inked vines wrapping up her forearms to her elbow. “And this was my first, the day I turned eighteen.”
“Fair to say I am an ass, then.” I was unable to help the small smile pulling at my lips. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
She pulled the hem of her shirt above her head, luscious flesh revealed to my greedy fucking eyes.
Christ, she was beautiful. Creamy, soft, unmarred flesh. My vision swam with thoughts of inking her body, watching her squirm under my hands, sinking balls deep into the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen…
“I want to cover this.” She pulled her shirt up past her ribs, a thick white slash, about two inches long, covering her side.
The rough pads of my fingers dragged across the raised flesh, and a soft sigh pushed past her lips before our eyes met again. “What you got in mind for it?”
“A heart,” she said simply. “Shattered.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard this request, but something about the way she put those two words together sliced me open. I was wrong about her. This girl had darkness behind her pretty blue eyes.
“Got a picture?”
“Do you one better.” She slipped a folded scrap of paper from the back pocket of her shorts. “I want this.”
I unfolded the sheet, surprised to find a bloodied red heart inked faintly with the outlines of a skull. “This is pretty badass.”
“I thought so too.” She shrugged, smiling proudly before lying back on my chair. She stretched her arms above her head, the shirt riding up higher and revealing a hint of neon green bra against her creamy skin.
“Hate to ask, but I need to see an ID.”
She arched one sassy eyebrow before her lips curled up. “Does that mean you don’t think I look eighteen?”
The way she said it made my cock fucking pound behind my zipper. Whatever in the hell had brought this woman into my studio today, I owed a huge debt of gratitude. I’d been inking people in this very chair for over two years now and never gave any fucks about my canvas. Until her. Until now.
I frowned, confused by the way she sucked me in, before I grunted. “I’ll get this sketched for you. Need to see an ID when I get back.”
I shot out of the chair and stalked to the light station as far away from her as I could get.
I didn’t have time for a saucy little girl running through my shop, making my dick hard, and causing me to think all kinds of nasty thoughts. Like what it would be like to bend her over my table. Or fuck her in the piercing room.
Shit. Did she have any piercings?
I’d be a fucking dead man if she did.
Just the idea of little metal barbells piercing her nipples had a ripple of pain coursing through my balls.
I hunched over the drawing table, adjusting my cock, as I started the outline for her tattoo. I caught glimpses of her watching me work, her eyes crawling around my shop and over me as I took my time designing her tattoo.
She didn’t flip through her phone once, which surprised the fuck out of me because girls her age had it fucking glued to their palm.
That shit wasn’t good for your mind, and if I didn’t have to own a cell to stay in touch for the sake of my business, I wouldn’t own one. Worst goddamn invention on the planet, that little mini-computer sitting in everyone’s pocket.
“That looks incredible.” She breathed against my neck.
Fuck. She was too close for comfort.
“Wait, what if we add a few stitches across the crack? Just black slashes, like someone did a rushed job fixing it.”
I frowned as I thought, imagining the final piece in my head before coming around to the idea. “I think that would highlight the skeleton shaded into the background. Good call.” I added a few random stitches to the center of the heart, across the skull of the skeleton.
“I love it,” she whispered, her palms sliding down my forearms and squeezing tightly.
Her touch was like razor blades against my skin.
I wasn’t sure if I loved it or wanted to wrench my arm away.
It’d been so fucking long since I’d let anyone touch me like this. And now this girl was not only all up in my personal space, but in my head too.
“Great. Lie down on the table, and we’ll get you prepped.” I tried to keep my voice clipped and to the point, my only focus on being professional despite the raging hard dick tenting my pants.
I helped her up onto the table, avoiding the gorgeous view of her ass as she turned around. Her shorts were so fucking short I was sure I could catch a glimpse of her pussy if I looked hard enough. Why the fuck was she out in public wearing that shit? Didn’t she know what disgusting men like me thought of her?
“Got that ID?” I grinned down at her.
“Here you go, Daddy-o.” She flipped me her driver’s license, confirming she was of age. Nineteen. So, barely.
“Looks good.”
“Told you it would,” she sassed back. Goose bumps rippled across her skin when I applied the cool sanitizer to her rib cage. Then I placed the stencil I’d drawn into place, the crack in the heart matching the jagged edges of the scar slashed permanently into her flesh.
I had a mind to trace my tongue along the rough edges, listening to her shudder and come around me as I milked all the pleasure from her body.
I slipped my fingers along the edges of the transfer paper, making sure the ink outline deposited onto her skin. She shuddered when my fingertip drifted across her wrist.
Fuck, she was so sensitive.
I had visions of her spread out beneath me, my hands in her hair, my tongue licking up her silky skin. The thought of burying my head between her legs had blood rushing through my cock.
What the hell was that scent? And sweet fucking lord, did she taste that good too?
No. Better.
Probably better.
I shifted in my chair, and her eyes averted to me before the shadow of her eyelashes fell onto her cheeks. The air vacated my lungs, blood raging through my veins and making my heart pound a tattoo against my ribs. My cock throbbed, aching to push inside her, fuck her until she was breathless and begging.
Christ, what the hell was wrong with me?
Jericho had given me hell about living like a damn monk, but I’d never reacted to a woman this way. But this wasn’t just any woman; this was Sienna fucking Taylor, too young, too innocent, too good. Way too good.
“It’s bigger than I thought it would be.” She spoke up, and I nearly choked.
“Excuse me?”
Her eyes flickered up to me, a smirk turning up those succulent lips. “The tattoo, it’s big.”
“Ah, right.” I cleared my throat, peeling off the transfer paper and focusing on her eyes for the first time since she’d sat down. “I don’t think I could make it much smaller. You’d start to lose detail on the skeleton.”
“Oh, I like it. I just didn’t envision it that big, but I’m ready. I want it.” Her big, round eyes peered up at me, sweet, untouched. Heartbreakingly fucking beautiful.
I turned, opening the black ink and placing it at the table beside me. “Think you can handle the pain? This is gonna take me a while.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Bet I can handle more than you think.”
Who was this girl?

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Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.

Aria’s new release BLACK is the first in her modern fairy tale series. For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!

Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!

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