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Friday, 24 March 2017

The Perfect Catch by Alix Nichols RELEASE BLITZ




Title: The Perfect Catch
Series: The Darcy Brothers #3
Author: Alix Nichols
Genre: Sports Romance
Release Date: March 24, 2017



Blurb

NOAH 

As a goalkeeper, I am trained to catch the ball, not a spirited bombshell called Sophie.

This year is about righting the wrong Papa did to Maman.
It’s also about proving my worth to Coach and helping my team win gold at the French Water Polo Championship.
With an unruly mutt for company and a part-time gig to pay rent, I’m one hundred percent focused on my objectives.
That is, until I catch an intruder poking around my kitchen.
Sophie Bander turns my world upside down.
My new landlord’s daughter isn’t just the hottest woman alive—she’s the stuff of dreams, the object of my deepest, wildest fantasies. But no matter. Nothing—not even Sophie—can make me abandon my goals.
Except… I want her to distraction.
And that’s the understatement of the century. 


SOPHIE 

As a realtor, my job is to let properties to tenants, not let one into my heart.

This year is about proving to Dad I can be a first-class realtor and a worthy associate.
That’s why I’m in Paris, learning the ropes at a large agency. When I’m done, I’ll go back to Key West, join the family business, and then marry the man of Dad’s dreams.
I don’t need to be attracted to the guy—I’m incapable of sexual attraction, anyway.
That is, until a hunk of a tenant mistakes me for a thief and presses me against the wall in his kitchen.
Noah Masson turns my life into a mess.
He makes me blush and laugh, and fantasize about him all the damn time. He awakens my body. And yet, not even dreamboat Noah can get me sidetracked from my goals.
Or can he?

THE PERFECT CATCH is a full-length standalone sports romance filled with humor and heat. Guaranteed HEA, no cliffhanger, intended for adult audiences.





Purchase Links

99c for release day only

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited





Excerpt

If I were a true gentleman, noble in my heart and not just on paper, I’d let her off the hook at this point. I’d make suggestions and ask her to respond with a yes or no. But I’m too keen on hearing her talk dirty.

“Come on, Sophie,” I encourage her. “You can do it.”

She grimaces. “Do I really have to spell it out?”

“I’m afraid you do.”

“Oral sex,” she mutters under her breath.

I cup my ear. “Beg your pardon? Did you say something?”

She chews on her lower lip, looking utterly miserable.

I can’t believe how much fun it is to tease her.

“Oral sex,” she repeats louder. “I’d like some oral sex, please. If that’s OK with you.”




Author Bio

Alix Nichols is an unapologetic caffeine addict and a longtime fan of Mr. Darcy, especially in his Colin Firth incarnation. She is a Kindle Scout and Dante Rossetti Award winning author of critically acclaimed romantic comedies.

At the age of six, she released her first rom com. It featured highly creative spelling on a dozen pages stitched together and bound in velvet paper. Decades later, she still loves the romance genre. Her spelling has improved (somewhat), and her books have topped the Amazon charts around the world. She lives in France with her family and their almost-human dog.


Author Links

Peacock by Esther E. Schmidt RELEASE BLITZ

LIVE NOW!!
PEACOCK (The Faults Of Our Sins)
By Esther E. Schmidt.
Hosted by Jo&Isalovebooks Blog.





Cover Design: Esther E. Schmidt


Release: March 24th 2017
#MafiaRomance

SYNOPSIS


Going in blind is a rookie mistake. With my years of experience, you would think I should know better by now. I'm always the capable one that can handle anything that's thrown my way, until Karma throws me off my game.
My Karma comes in the form of a woman and she has to be payback for all the shitty things I’ve done in my life. Not just any woman but one who is determined to self-destruct. This woman is clearly going to be my downfall. Leaving me to find myself not only losing my heart, but risking my life in the process.
There’s no other option than to claw our way through dilemmas that might leave the both of us wondering if our next breath could be our last. We relish in the fact that we’ve got nothing to lose, because let’s face it… The faults of our sins will catch up with us in the end.
**This steamy, dark and twisted, standalone romance is not for the faint of heart. You’ve been warned.**



AVALABLE ON:
iBooks/Kobo/B&N/Amazon

https://books2read.com/Peacock

SPECIAL RELEASE PRICE
$1.99!!
(RRP. $2.99)


TEASERS




EXCERPT
Karma...I need to grab her and behead the metaphoric bitch. Some might say I had it coming. Me? I’ve looked over my fucking shoulder at every turn. So yeah, I guess my time was up.

“Proud of yourself, Karma?” It’s also the nickname I gave the woman who was thrown into my life. She fucking earned it on the very first day we met, because she has to be some form of payback for all the shitty things I’ve done in my life.
I pin the woman with my deadliest glare and all she does is smirk. She takes her time to glance over the room. "Pretty much, yes."
A few minutes ago, I almost had a heart attack. And it’s her fault. I was standing in the shower when I heard a gun go off. A whole fucking clip. Empty. Now I'm standing in my shot to fuck bedroom, naked, with water dripping down my body. My chest is still fucking pounding and I feel like an idiot.

Did I mention that this is only her second day here? I'm the fucking head of a large gang. Sometimes I lead a meeting where a bunch of gangs get together to discuss problems that involve all of us. Some may call it a syndicate, but I call it a group meeting. A few weeks ago, we had a problem with an out of town gang that was making waves. An uprising if you will. We’re talking snuff movies type of shit. We had to handle that situation quickly, that meant we needed intel.
The only way to get that kind of information was to work with a guy who works for favors. You can guess what’s coming next, right? Yeah, that fucking favor just emptied my gun inside my fucking bedroom.
@ Esther E. Schmidt - Peacock (The Faults Of Our Sins)


Other Books by the Author
 
Areion Fury MC Series 
#1 FREE!! https://books2read.com/Zack
#2 https://books2read.com/Dams
#3 https://books2read.com/Tyler
#4 Pokey coming 2017
#5 Sico coming soon
#6 Calix coming soon

Broken Deeds MC Series
#1 https://books2read.com/Deeds
#2 https://books2read.com/Broke
#3 https://books2read.com/Depay 2/14
#4 Ramrod coming soon
#5 Lochlan coming soon

Ford The Dudnik Circle #1
#1 https://books2read.com/Ford
#2 Yegor coming 2017

"Frederick"
https://books2read.com/Frederick

"Peacock" coming 2017

"Marlon" Neon Marksman MC coming soon

Swamp Heads Series
#1 FREE https://books2read.com/Cyrus
#2 99c https://books2read.com/Elsie
Novella, Romance, Standalone, INSTAlove


Free Reads 
(Not Standalone)
Areion Fury
ZACK
MC SERIES #1





CYRUS
Swamp Heads Series #1



ABOUT AUTHOR


Esther E. Schmidt, author of Areion Fury MC, Broken Deeds MC, The Dudnik Circle series, and The Swamp Heads series. She’s a graphic designer that also loves to write. She released her first series “Areion Fury MC” in October 2015. Esther lives in The Netherlands with her family, three daughters, a crazy bulldog and four rats. She loves to write erotic Romance about bad boy Alphas with a heart for only one woman. To make it a bit interesting, that woman needs to be a badass herself. She loves to work out and most of her story lines come from doing cardio.

Connect with Esther..

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE 

Signup for Esther’s newsletter:

Join The Swamp Heads group on Facebook:
Join Esther’s fan group on Facebook:

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Defiant Temptation by Lynn Stookes RELEASE BLITZ


Title: Defiant Temptation
Series: Harden #3
Author: Lynn Stookes
Genre: Adult, Suspense Romance
Published: March 24, 2017
Harper Andrews hasn't had it easy; abandoned by her mother, dated a scheming boyfriend, and fought for her father’s life against cancer. But she's always prevailed, until now when her world seems to be falling apart.

Tristan Page never loses control; not at the death and reemergence of his sister’s cheating husband, the attack on her life, or even when his company seems to be failing. He's always in command of his actions until one woman threatens to make his world spiral.

Tristan plays on Harper’s last nerve.

Harper tries Tristan’s patience and self-control.

Forced together, in a search for her mother, they battle their attraction for one another. Harper wants him. Tristan wants what he can't have.

Can they defy temptation or will their explosive chemistry set them on a path for self-destruction?


Defiant Temptation Excerpt © Lynn Stookes 2017

 “What ya’ doing man?” Blake questions.
“Working on a case,” I fib. I am working on a case, but he doesn’t need to know it involves waiting outside Harper’s campus while she finishes her classes.
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah,” I pause. What does he know? “Why? What’s up?”
“Oh, you know, nothing,” he chuckles. “Mrs. Nelson stopped by the station today.”
“Yeah? Everything okay with her?”
“She’s perfectly fine,” his voice cracks with a laugh.
Sawyer’s voice booms over the line, “Is that Tristan?”
“Yes.” I hear shuffling in the background.
“You asking about Mrs. Nelson?”
“I’m trying to if you would shut your mouth,” Blake retorts.
“Put it on speaker,” Sawyer demands.
“Such a demanding little shit,” Blake mumbles.
“But you love me anyway.”
“If you didn’t make Dani happy, I’d probably find a dark hole for you.”
I chuckle at the banter between two of my best friends. We’ve always had an easy friendship, even though our lives couldn’t be more different. Blake has a large loving family; I just have Kylie, and now Dani; Sawyer has an alcoholic father he doesn’t see much. Such different upbringings, but we’ve always been close. Even after years away, it was easy to pick up where we left off.
“Hey, Tristan,” Sawyer says into the phone.
“What the hell do you want?” I counter, dreading what they have to say. If it has to do with Mrs. Nelson, it’s nothing good.
“Like I was saying, we had a visit from Mrs. Nelson today,” Blake explains.
“Yeah, so?”
Sawyer chuckles, “She had a story to tell us.” Another laugh bursts from him. “She wanted us to talk to you.”
“About?”
“About your discretion.” Blake joins in the laughter.
“Discretion?” Confusion runs through me. I have no clue what the old bird is talking about.
“She saw you and Harper pull out of Harry’s place early this morning,” Blake explains.
“Too early for anything pure,” Sawyer snorts. “And your devious ways will get Ms. Innocent Harper into trouble. You better make an honest woman of her.”
That damn old woman. What the hell is she doing? Watching my every move? I remain quiet, hoping they’ll move on, but knowing better.
“Is it true?” Blake asks, trying to contain his amusement.
“What?”
“Are your devious ways corrupting the innocent Harper?” Sawyer questions.
“No!” I shout, frustration rushing through my veins.
“Banks wasn’t happy when he heard the news from Mrs. Nelson,” Blake comments.
“Apparently, it wasn’t the first time she caught you in a compromising position with Harper,” Sawyer adds.
“Something about you leaving her apartment after an afternoon nookie session.”
They’re ganging up on me. I’m never going to hear the end of this unless I shut them down.
“For the last fucking time, there’s nothing happening with Harper. I got suckered into giving her a ride this morning by Harry,” I say, and to make sure my point is made, I add, “Why would I waste my time with a girl like her? She probably doesn’t even know what to do with a dick. Have you looked at her? She has virgin written all over her face.” The words make my stomach curl, but I need them to drop it. “Besides, she’s not even that cute. I like my woman with curves. Harper is a walking stick. It’d be like fucking a board.”
The small gasp behind me has me instantly regretting my words.
“Gotta go,” I say into the phone and put it in my pocket without waiting for a response. Slowly, I turn.
Harper stands before me, a flaming beauty, seething with anger. Her gorgeous red hair is in a tight ponytail, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Fuck.
“Harper,” I whisper, reaching for her.
She takes a step back, holding her books close to her chest.
“I…uh…” I stutter, trying to think of an excuse. “I never meant for you to hear that.”
I definitely said the wrong thing because a notebook barrels towards my head. I quickly duck, avoiding it, but not quick enough to dodge a textbook hitting me in the eye.
“Fuck!”
I reach up, grabbing my eye as the book hits the ground, breaking the seam, pages flying away. She threw books at me. Hard. I look at Harper with my good eye. Her hand is on her chest, shock on her face.
“Are you happy now, Harper?”
“I didn’t…” she begins.
“Didn’t plan on throwing a book at my fucking face?” I growl. “Didn’t plan on acting like a child?”
I take a menacing step towards her, and she quickly retreats, a hand keeping distance between us.
“What, Harper? Don’t tell me you’re scared because you heard something you didn’t want to hear. The truth.”
If I’m going to be a dick, might as well go all in, right?
Harper hisses. “Screw you, Tristan Page! You’re nothing but a chauvinistic dick. I don’t know why I ever wanted you!” She pokes my chest, emphasizing each word. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you are…you are…”
“Come on, little girl,” I egg on. “Spit it out. What am I?”
Her amber eyes meet mine, dancing like they’re on fire. Fuck if her pissed off isn’t hotter than shit. I seriously screwed up. Her breathing is heavy and ragged, pushing her small but perfect breasts towards me, barely brushing my chest.
“You are,” she pauses, “Nothing. You’re absolutely nothing, Tristan Page.”
She tries to walk away, but I pull her arm, forcing her between me and the truck.
“Nothing?” I question, her words hitting too close to home. “Really?”
Her breath hitches, arousal dancing in her eyes. Before I can stop myself, my mouth is on hers, brutally taking what I want. I nip at her lips, begging her to let me in. I move my hand from her hip, tracing her skin until I brush the swell of her breast. She gasps, allowing me the entrance I crave. I sweep in, devouring her sweet taste, knowing I could easily get addicted.
Harper whimpers when I push her against the hood. My body is so rigid that I literally ache. My erection rubs against her stomach, and I lift her, wanting our bodies to match up. Her leg wraps around my waist. I rock into her, but distant whistles and cat calls filter through my lust induced haze.
Harper must hear them, too, because she pulls back, breaking the best fucking kiss of my life. Avoiding her eyes, I look around at an audience. People even have their fucking phones out, taking pictures and videos.
“Shit.”



Lynn Stookes was born and raised in the amazing state of Texas, where she currently resides with her husband of five years. They have one rambunctious four year old son and three furry children, who create the chaos she couldn’t live without.

One day, Lynn took her passion (maybe obsession is more apt) for romance books and mystery shows and wrote her first romantic suspense novel, Fatal Obsession, Book 1 in the Harden Series.

When Lynn isn’t writing or working her day job, you can find her reading on her Kindle, spending time with her family and friends, or playing on Facebook. She loves running, coffee, and country music in no particular order.
Hosted By: 
 

Just Like That by Nicola Rendell CHAPTER REVEAL






Coming April 10th


Pre-order exclusively via
iBooks HERE


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"I bet I can untangle you."

At an airport baggage claim, Penny Darling looks up from her knotted mess of ear buds to find the sexiest hunk of man she's ever seen. He's got a military haircut, a scar through his eyebrow, and he's rocking a pastel pink dress shirt like only a real man can. But Penny is on a man-free diet so she leaves the airport without succumbing to his delicious double-entendres...or his dreamy dimples.

PI Russ Macklin can't take his eyes off Penny. As she sashays out of the airport with hips swaying and curls bouncing, he suspects they may share more than just sweltering chemistry. That suitcase she's rolling along behind her? It looks a lot like his.

Because it is.

When he tracks her down, he holds her bag hostage in exchange for a date. Their night begins with margaritas and ends in urgent care, and Russ proves that Cosmo's theory about a very particular type of orgasm was oh-so-wrong.

In Penny, Russ finds a small-town sweetheart with a very naughty side. For the first time ever, he’s thinking about picket fences. Penny finds in Russ a loving, caring man who understands the power of massaging showerheads.

But Russ is only in Port Flamingo for a week. They agree it'll be a fling and nothing more. Because really, they can't fall ass-over-teakettle in love just like that...

Can they?

99k words. HEA. Dual POV. No cheating.
Featuring a big drooly dog named Guppy.





1
Russ


I step off the escalator, and there she is. She’s looking down, doing something with her phone. Air conditioning blows on her from above, making the hem of her purple dress flutter against her leg. And fuck, look at those legs. Look at that body. Look at that woman. Underneath the dress, instead of a bra she’s wearing the top half of a pink bikini, tied at the nape of her neck in a bow.
​Welcome to Florida. God bless the Sunshine State.
​The place is dismal, except for her. On the walls are 1980s tourism posters, rippling with the humidity. All the guys have Magnum, P.I. mustaches, and all the women look like extras from Baywatch. She’s a vision in the middle of all of it, an oasis at the goddamned baggage claim. I circle the clumps of old people bumping into each other with walkers, like slow-motion bumper cars. As I get closer, I see her face. Her freckles, her slightly shiny pink lips. Her breasts, which are fucking beautiful. But her expression, it isn’t beautiful. It’s seriously pissed. Nostrils flared, teeth set, jaw clenched.
​In her hands is a whole big tangle of ear buds, and maybe a phone charger. A big knot of cords, like a wad of cold pasta.
​I get closer. Not too close, because I don’t want to be that guy, but close enough to see the small starfish necklace dangling from her neck, and close enough to smell something warm, and sweet. Familiar. Vanilla, maybe. Whatever it is, it’s fucking delicious.
​On the wall behind her is a big banner. It’s got a faded old cartoon flamingo, flapping his wings and grinning. Underneath is the caption:
WELCOME TO PORT FLAMINGO! HOME OF THE FIRST AIR CONDITIONER!
​No shit. Because it’s hot, and I don’t mean like ordinary summertime hot. I mean hot like the time the sauna malfunctioned at my gym and turned all the drywall in the locker room into oatmeal. She doesn’t look hot at all though. She looks cool, and soft, and beautiful. Just the thing I need. Like a vodka soda after a long fucking day.
​I set my shoulder bag at my feet and take off my suit jacket. Her braid comes down over one shoulder, the curl at the bottom nestling into her cleavage. I roll up my sleeves. “I bet I can untangle you.”
​She looks up at me. Her eyes are deep blue and sparkling. A smile starts to pinch her cheeks. The end of the charger swings between us. “I’m okay. Got myself into this mess, got to get myself out of it.”
​“Sometimes two is better than one.”
​She smacks her lips at the cords. “Sometimes.” She pulls hard on the plug end, making the wires tighten even more. “You’d think I’d learn to keep that little plastic box that comes with these, but oh no, every—” She tugs. “—single.” Tugs again. “—time.”
Granted, she’s not exactly in need of rescue from a burning building, but no way am I going to stand here and watch her struggle, no fucking way. Without another word, I start undoing the end of the tangle that’s nearest me, and I watch that smile of hers get bigger. She doesn’t look at me, but I see a dimple, and she bites her lip.
Still focused on the knot, she says, “Let me guess. You’re not from around here, are you?”​
Can’t imagine what gave me away. Maybe the fact that I’m the only guy in the building wearing slacks and actual shoes. “Here on business.”
She looks me up and down. “What kind of business? FBI?”
Fuck. Not the first conversation I want to have, definitely not. Also, I don’t know a single fed who wears pants this nice. “Private business.”
“Hmmm.” She eyes me more mischievously. “Tall, dark, and a military haircut. Something tells me you’re not here to do some competitive bass fishing. “
Oh man. Cute. Really cute. “No, I’m not.”
Slowly, the tangle comes undone, until we’re in the middle together. Reminds me of that scene in Lady and the Tramp.
But before I can say anything more—like, for instance, I’m down for 20 questions, as long as it’s over a drink—the buzzer on the carousel roars to life, as loud as a tornado siren. The crush of people starts to tighten around the conveyor. She winds the three sets of ear buds and the cord around her palm. From the pocket of my bag, I take out the plastic case that came with my ear buds and hand it over. “There.”
She laughs through her nose. “I’ll be okay.”
“I insist.” I press it into her hand, and her eyes meet mine.
“I’ll bet you do.” She looks away as a blush covers her cheeks.
The bags start to rumble off the conveyor. For one long second, she watches me, smiling. Sizing me up. The little curls around her face tremble in the air conditioning, and I’m about to say You, me, a pitcher of margaritas, tonight when she looks away and hoists her purse up on her shoulder.
“That’s my bag,” she says. “I should get going. Thanks for…untangling me.”
She steps away and threads her way between a handful of old ladies in walkers. I know I should help her, I know I should grab her bag, but holy fuck look at that body.
​She grabs her bag herself and flips up the handle.
“Give me your number. Let me take you out for dinner.”
​Her smile dissolves into a scowl. “You married?”
I shake my head slowly. “I’m a lot of things, but married definitely isn’t one of them.”
“Separated?”
Shake my head again. “Nope.”
She takes her starfish charm between thumb and forefinger and loops the chain over her lip. “Under any restraining orders? Involved in a complicated love triangle that your Match.com profile describes as an open marriage? Divorced five times and counting? Polyamorous?”
Whoa. This girl’s got to find a new dating pool, stat. “Promise. I’m Russ, and what you see is what you get.”
Zip-zip-zip goes her necklace.
“Just a drink.” I lift my hands out between us, to say C’mon. “Maybe dinner, if I make the cut.”
She blinks hard a few times and she drops her necklace charm. “I’m sorry. You’re sweet, but I can’t.”
Well, fuck it. The first time I try to get back in the saddle in ages and the goddamn thing slides right down onto the ground again. I respect it though. I don’t want to overdo this, so I give her a final nod and clear my throat. “Had to try.”
She swallows hard. “I’m glad you did.”
Fuck.
And she’s gone. As she goes, her hips sway with her dress. She works that sashay, as my aunt says, like a fucking pro. She looks back over her shoulder, only once, as she walks through the sliding doors. I give her a wink.
And she fucking winks back.
Jesus Christ.
She takes a left out of the door, which means she isn’t gone yet. Not by a long shot. The architecture does me a favor, and I get to watch her sashay right past the floor-to-ceiling windows. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, not even if I wanted to. She smiles at the sidewalk without looking up, and laughs a little. Like she knows I’m watching her and is feeling pretty good about it.
​God, what a cutie. And what a bummer. She was fucking sexy, she seemed sweet, and there was something about her that was up to no good. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it was somewhere between the bikini top and I’m glad you did. But the spark wasn’t all we had in common. I realize, as she finally disappears from view, she also has a bag that looks just like mine.
Medium-sized black Samsonite. Sensible, dependable. Number One Amazon Bestseller in Luggage.
​But that couldn’t be my bag, I think to myself as I turn back toward the conveyor. Couldn’t be.


***

​It was. Twenty minutes later, I’m the only guy standing by the carousel, and there’s a single black bag going around and around in front of me. It’s exactly the same as mine, except it’s overstuffed and has a pink puff of yarn tied to the handle. Same color as her bikini top and literally hanging by a thread.
​It slides to a stop, and the yarn ball swings off the side of the carousel. Tick-tock, tick-tock.
​A rattle from the center of the conveyor sounds promising—I was early connecting through Atlanta, so my bag had to be the first one on—but no dice. What comes off the conveyor isn’t a bag at all, but instead one of the baggage guys in big set of protective earphones and a reflective vest. He crawls up through the flap and pokes his head out. He wipes his forehead on his bare leathery shoulder and then looks from me to the bag and back again. “Nice pom-pom, man,” he says and backtracks down the hole.
​I glance around for some airport help on this, but all I see is a handwritten sign at the baggage claim desk. Will Return On Monday!
​It’s Saturday.
​Christ.
​As I take hold of the bag, I notice it’s got not one but three “LIFT WITH CAUTION” tags: the first one new, the second one beat up, and the third one halfway shredded, all together the way people keep lift tickets from ski areas. I give it a hoist. The thing is so heavy it makes me grunt like I’m doing a dead lift. With a two-handed lug, I yank it off the conveyor and set it on the ground, wheels down.
​Squeezing the roller handle, I pull it up…and it snaps off right in my hand. The arms stick up from the suitcase like the tines of a fork.
​I clench my eyes shut and think back to “the most helpful critical review” from Amazon. “Looks like every other bag on the planet. Sh**ty handle.”
​Touché. But it is what it is. Which is her bag, hopefully.
​I wheel it along to a bank of benches, by some old beat-up phone booths, lining the far wall. I open up the ID pouch and read:

PENELOPE DARLING
125 E. BEACH POINT DRIVE
PORT FLAMINGO, FL 34102

I bite down on my gum and groan. How cute is that name? Jesus Christ, come on. Penny Darling. What’s more, it’s not a business card or typed up like mine, but written by hand. Her writing is sweet, pretty, and feminine, with big plump letters written in bright pink marker that’s bled into the plastic cover, so they’ve got a haze around them like neon lights. And there, at the bottom.
​Her number.
​Jackpot.
​It might not be my smoothest move, but I’ll take it. I pull my phone from my pocket and give her a call. As I wait for the ringtone, I decide to hell with suave and understated. I want her, and I need her to know it.
​But then in my ear I hear, “Mobile Network Temporarily Unavailable.”
​Goddamned Verizon, jamming up my plans. So I try to text her instead.

This is Russ.
From the airport.
I've got your bag and I think you’ve got mine.
How about that drink?

​I hit send, and I’m answered immediately with a row of red exclamation points and four repetitions of NOT DELIVERED. What. The. Fuck.
​Then I noticed my cell service flips over from 1 bar, to Roaming, to Searching for service…
​ I pull my hot pack of gum from my sweaty pocket and take out a second piece. The gum is weirdly melted even before I put it in my mouth.
​The options now are pretty simple: I could touch base with the guy who hired me to come down here to the land that Verizon forgot or…
​I think about those tan lines, the curve of her hips. That bikini. The glisten on her rosy lips. The way she wrinkled her nose when she smiled.
​Why is this even a goddamned question? It’s four o’clock on a Saturday. A beautiful woman is on East Beach Point Drive with all my stuff. And somewhere in this town, I’ll bet there’s a beachside bar with a pitcher of margaritas with our names on it.



AP  new -about the author.jpg

Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.


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