BOOK BLITZ: Opposing the Cowboy (Margo Bond Collins)

Book Title: Opposing the Cowboy 

Author: Margo Bond Collins 

Genre: Contemporary 

Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Never trust a good kisser…

Yoga teacher LeeAnn Walker has no desire to see the unspoilt beauty of her grandmother's ranch violated by a greedy oil company. But unless she finds the paperwork confirming she owns the mineral rights, that's exactly what could happen. The worst part? The guy spearheading the whole mess is none other than the hot and sexy stranger LeeAnn just kissed to make her ex jealous.

Jonah Hamilton thought his day was looking up until he found out the gorgeous blonde who kissed the hell out of him is the same stubborn woman he came to town for. And she’s not too happy to find out she might be forced to allow drilling on her land.

But Jonah has a job to do, even if LeeAnn tempts him to turn his professionalism into something much more personal…

Fifteen minutes later, armed with a brand-new pair of gardening shears, the two women stood in the alley behind the diner.

LeeAnn crouched down low and peered around the corner. Catching a glimpse of movement near the green pickup, she ducked back behind the brick wall again.

“I really think this is a bad idea,” Kylie hissed from behind her.

“No, it’s not,” LeeAnn said, trying to keep her voice to a whisper. “Those things are offensive. Seriously, what man in his right mind hangs plastic testicles off the trailer hitch of his truck?” She didn’t give Kylie a chance to respond before continuing. “I’ll tell you who. A rude, sexist, obnoxious jerk whose truck takes the place of any real masculinity he might have. That’s who.” By the time she finished her mini rant, her voice had risen to something below a shout.

Kylie slapped at her back. “Would you shut up, please? If you’re really going to do this, just go, already.”

Nodding, LeeAnn hefted the garden shears in one hand. “I still say we should have tried to find some real bolt cutters.”

“I think those might be illegal,” her friend said.

“And I think that Truck Nutz ought to be outlawed, too.” Standing up straight, LeeAnn put her back against the wall. This time, there was no movement when she looked out at the truck. “Okay,” she said. “You come with me and keep an eye out.”

The two of them scuttled out from behind the building and into the parking lot, dashing from car to car to avoid the yellow pools of light under the lampposts dotting the pavement.

When they reached the pickup, LeeAnn crouched down and grabbed Kylie’s hand, dragging the shop owner down beside her. “Look at these,” she hissed, gesturing at the dangling ornament. “They’re tacky and disgusting.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Kylie said. “I don’t want to do this. I think castrating someone else’s truck might be even more illegal than carrying bolt cutters.”

“You know he thinks they make him manlier.” LeeAnn centered the shears on the coated wire that attached the offending decoration to the hitch.

“And Cole will never let me hear the end of it if we get caught.” Kylie began chewing on her bottom lip—a nervous habit she’d had for as long as LeeAnn had known her.

“He’s. Better. Off. Without. Them.” Tiny grunts punctuated each word as LeeAnn began applying pressure to the shears, working to force them through the wire.

“We’ll end up in the tabloids again.” Clasping her hands together, Kylie rocked back and forth slightly. “I can see the headlines: Cole Grayson’s Girlfriend Arrested for Emasculating a Truck.”

“There,” LeeAnn said triumphantly. “One wire down, one to go.”

“That’s it. I’m going to jail,” Kylie whispered.

With a slight thunk, the shears severed the second wire, and the flesh-colored object fell into LeeAnn’s waiting palm. “Gross,” she said.

Margo Bond Collins writes urban fantasy, contemporary romance, and paranormal mysteries. She lives in Texas with her daughter and several spoiled pets. Although writing fiction is her first love, she also teaches college-level English courses online. She enjoys reading romance and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about heroes, monsters, cowboys, and villains, and the strong women who love them—and sometimes fight them.

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BOOK BLITZ: Pandemic Sorrow (Stevie J Cole)

Pandemic Sorrow Series on Tour
(all 3 books are available individually or in a box set)
Genre: Contemporary Romance 
by Stevie J Cole
Pandemic Sorrow are on Tour.
Oh Boy this is going to get messy!
Jag & Rush are taking the band on tour they will be sharing their sex crazed and downright dirty life with you all.
The life of a rock star is dirty but someone has to do it.
Start with Jag Steele. the lead singer and guitarist of the band Pandemic Sorrow, and he has a drug problem. 
He’s Famous, a rock star, a legend, drug addict & womanizing man-whore.
Then there is Rush, it’s his job to play music that makes girls wet, and then to screw a select few of them. 
He is a professional rocker. He’s rich, famous and one lucky son-of-a-bitch. He has everything - except control.
Come and meet the band if you are brave enough ladies in this exclusive interview:
Interview written exclusively for the Blog Tour

Stevie J. Cole on what it would be like to interview Pandemic Sorrow.

“They’ll be in a few minutes, Tiff. You ready?”

I nod and smile. “Yeah.” Shit. I’m nervous.

Todd opens the door to the conference room but stops to look back at me. “They’re a lot to handle. Just don’t….provoke them or anything.”

“Provoke them, what are they freaking rabid animals?” I laugh.

His gaze trails down to my chest, and his lips lay flat across his face. “No, that’s enough to provoke them. Might want to pull that up a little.”

I huff, and Todd walks out the door. Muffled voices filter through the other side of the door, laughter. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’ve interviewed countless rockers since starting at this magazine company, and I have never been this anxious. I mean, hell, it’s Pandemic Sorrow. Jag Steele, Stone Steele, Rush…and that drummer whose name I can’t ever remember. Jack, Travis…Pax!

The door swings open and my breathing ceases for a second.  Jag struts in. I have never in my life seen a man with so much swagger. He’s dressed in a tight black v-neck, jewelry draped all over him, and his jeans—my eyes instinctually fall to his crotch—holy shit, those pants are tight. 

I‘m so focused on how tight Jag’s pants are that I completely miss the other guys trail in and take their seats.

“It’s real, wanna touch it?” Jag chuckles and I feel my entire face redden.

“Ah, no. Nice gesture and all.”

He shrugs and yanks out his chair, turning it around as he adjusts his junk before straddling it.

I sit, staring around the room. I realize I must look like a complete idiot, and I clear my throat. “So, let’s start with a simple question for each of you. What was the driving force behind your pursuit to fame?

Jag’s lips curve in to a delicious smile. “Pussy. Lots of pussy.”

Rush laughs as he leans over the table toward me. “For me,” his eyes skim down to my low cut top, “the promise of nightly orgies.”

Oh, fuck. I am in for it. I need to divert my attention away from these two whores. Where’s that drummer? I eye Pax, who’s not even looking in my direction. His chin is slumped to his chest, and all I can see is his spikey blonde hair. I think he’s asleep.

“Uh, Pax?” He slowly raises his head. “What drove you to fame?”

“I dunno, money?

“I actually have a worthwhile answer, unlike these shitheads.” Stone taps his fingers on the table. “I wanted to do something everyone told me I couldn’t.

I can’t stop the ridiculous smile making its way over my lips. Damn, Stone is hot. Those brown eyes, those cheekbones, that hair. I’m swooning, not going to lie. “Okay, next question is for Rush. Rush, if you had to be something besides a rock star, what would it be?

“Oh, that’s easy.” He stands up, grabs the edge of the table and pelvic thrusts against it so hard it scoots an inch across the floor. “Hands down, a porn star. James Deen can go fuck himself because his measly nine inches don’t have shit on my man-cock.” He laughs as he collapses back down in his chair.

I giggle, and his face goes all serious.

“No, really. A porn star.”

Jag shoves him so hard he knocks him out of his chair. “Rush, you couldn’t be a porn star. You don’t have any fucking stamina.”

“I’ve got loads of stamina.”

“Like shit you do—”

“Hey!” I shout. They both turn to look at me, and for a moment, I’m afraid I just really pissed them off. I timidly clear my throat. “Next question. Stone, what’s it like working with your brother?”

He smirks. “I mean, when I’m not babysitting his ass, it’s tolerable.”

Jag is too busy making lewd hand motions at Rush to be offended by that, so I go on to the next question on my list. “So, guys, what’s it like to be Pandemic Sorrow? It must be incredible to be so famous?

Pax shrugs as he mumbles, “It’s cool.”

Rush tosses his hands in the air. “Fucking amazing! Are you kidding me?” He shakes his head as he grins. “I can’t even explain to you how amazing this shit is. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out I’ve been in a coma or something, and that I’m still just fucking up drive-thru orders at Burger Boy.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome.” Stone nods. “Surreal. That may be the best word. It’s surreal. It’s weird to be flipping through the radio and hear your song on there. Sometimes, I don’t even feel like I am that dude.”

I smile politely. I love all of his down to earth comments. Unlike the other perverts in this room, he seems so adorably sweet. I glance over at Jag. It seems like he has checked out momentarily. He’s staring down at his hands as he fidgets with one of the rings on his finger. “Jag, what about you. What’s it like to be so famous?”

He glances up at me, his face completely void of any emotion. “Oh, uh. It’s great. Really.” Pausing, he wipes his hands down the legs of his jeans. “You know, paparazzi following you around, so you can’t even shake your dick without it making a headline. Always a party, always a show, always fans screaming at you. Yep. Couldn’t be better.”

That didn’t seem authentic in the least. Honestly, he looks miserable. What do I say to that? Nodding, I say, “I can’t imagine. It must be tiring.”

There’s an awkward silence. I flip through my tablet and find the next question. “So, we had some fans write in with questions they wanted you guys to answer. One fan asked that each of you describe your perfect mate.” I look over at Rush. “Why don’t you go first since you want to be the porn star and all?”

His lips curl, his eyes twinkle, and then he smirks. “A girl that likes company in the bed. Kinda like—” He narrows his gaze on me as he arches a brow. “You gonna publish all the stuff I say, right?”

“Yeah, unless you ask me not to.”

“Oh, no. I want this in there more than anything else I’m gonna say.” He clears his throat, smiling proudly. “A complete freak, kinda like I imagine Jules would be. She’s our assistant manager. We all know she likes being treated like a dirty slut.”

“Uh, Rush, you probably shouldn’t—“

“Oh, no, she expects shit like this. Seriously though, I need a freak.”

Jag groans. “Yeah, sure, Tink looks like a freak. Rush, she looks like she’d be a damn lame lay.” He leans over the table as he thumbs his lip piercing. “I need a girl that would put me in my place every once and a while.”

“That’s a good answer, Jag.” I turn to Stone and my cheeks heat. “What about you?”

“Honestly, I can’t even think about that. I’m so consumed with my career, I know I would be a shitty boyfriend, but I do like short girls.”

Yep, swooning again. “Pax, what about you?”

He shrugs. God, he has no personality whatsoever. “Oh, just give me a girl that hasn’t been rammed by these three fuckers and I would be good.”

Jag flips him the bird. “Fuck off, Paxton.”

“You sick of sloppy seconds, drummer boy?” Rush asks as he shoves him.

Pax swats Rush’s hand away. “Fuck you dick dribbles, don’t get all pissy just because I didn’t want to join in for your orgy last night,” he shouts.  “I don’t like slapping dicks with you sick fucks.”

I can feel my jaw hanging open. They are arguing with each other; yelling, cursing.

The next thing I know, Stone is waving his hand in the air to get my attention. “Tiffany?” He whistles.

I glance over at him, and he is sitting there so relaxed like none of this phases him. He smiles sweetly at me. “I assure you, none of them know how to use their dicks the way I do.”

Oh, hell. Compose yourself, boo. I think I’m getting sweat stains under my arms! Oh, crap! I hear a loud bang. Jag just threw Pax on the floor, and Rush is laughing. This is a disaster. Smile, smile…

Stone stands and walks over to me. “They’ll knock each other out eventually. And while they are…” he swats a stray piece of hair from my face. “Why don’t I go knock the fuck outta you?”

I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, but this is Stone Steele. I take another quick look at the three guys rolling around on the floor, then eye the door.

“Come on, you pretty little thing.” Stone barely touches his warm lips to mine before pulling me toward the door.

I am most likely going to get fired from the magazine now, but I don’t really care. I mean, who in their right mind would turn this guy down? 

Jag (Pandemic Sorrow #1)

WARNING: This novel contains explicit language, sexual situations, and is the story of an addict. This material is intended for a mature audience. 

"My name's Jag Steele. I’m the lead singer and guitarist to the band Pandemic Sorrow, and I have a drug problem. Well, I mean it's not really a problem – unless you count the fact that I almost made my heart explode from all the blow I shoved up my nose a few weeks back..." 

That was my introduction during my first stint in rehab. I'm messed up. If you asked anybody who I am there’s a list they will go down: Famous, rock star, legend, drug addict, womanizing man-whore, but if you asked me, I wouldn't have the first idea of what to say, because I don’t know who Jag Steele is. Really, I’m living every other damn person's dream, and all I want is reality. 

Roxy Slade, that girl was my reality. My brutally flawed and beautifully broken reality. And she hated everything I stood for. To her I was just one of “those guys”, and she’d rather be buried alive with poisonous snakes than give someone like me a piece of toilet paper to wipe their ass with. Brutal. Life. Is. Brutal. And it is just a giant pain, which is why I chase after anything to make it numb, anything that can fill this void. I just want anything that can make me not feel. I just don't want to feel.

Jag (Pandemic Sorrow #1)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Ko2EWQ

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1BxtOWs
Rush (Pandemic Sorrow #2)

It’s my job to play music, to make girls wet, and then to screw a select few of them. I’m a professional rocker. I’m rich, I’m famous, I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch. I have everything - except control.

The industry owns me. And the only thing I have a minuscule grain of control with is women, but not that dominate, tie you up and gag you kind of control. No, I want to govern how I make them feel. I need them to feel like a goddess while I’m in them, and I love being able to control the fact that they’ll never really have me. Love is complicated. It is bullshit. And even if I thought I needed it, the rules of being a rocker won’t allow it. 

Sex is all I need. 

I don’t need love.

But for some reason I want her. For some reason I can’t get her out of my mind. And lately, every time I’m with any girl besides her it feels wrong.

I can practically have any woman I want, but I can’t have her. She’s off limits because she’s part of that industry that owns my ass. 

Sex was all I had.

And sometimes I thought maybe love was all I needed…with her

Rush (Pandemic Sorrow #2)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1TWqfT0

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1IqHz0t

Roxy (Pandemic Sorrow #3)

My life had been no fairy tale. Actually, growing up, it had been something more like a nightmare, which is why I ended up so hard. When you don't want to hurt having the ability to be numb is your best defense mechanism. And for a long time all I was doing was existing.

Jag Steele, the lead singer of the international rock band Pandemic Sorrow, was the epitome of everything I despised: arrogant, entitled, but the thing I hated most about him was that he was an addict. Drugs had been the demon that had ruined everything in my life, and anyone who had a love affair with them pretty much made my stomach turn. It brought up memories I wanted to stay buried. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly a fan of Jag.

Funny thing is, people aren't always who you expect them to be. Never in a million years would I have thought the night I meet Jag would have any significance on the rest of my life, but it did. 

I found out that sometimes something that screams utter destruction might actually be your saving grace.

Some people may say our story is too screwed up to be a romance, but for two broken people, we made the pieces fit together perfectly.

Roxy (Pandemic Sorrow #3)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1ImlYUR

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Ko3hQc

Pandemic Sorrow Series (Jag, Rush, & Roxy 3-in-1)

Three-in-one rocker boxset. 

Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. The life of a rocker is gritty, and for the boys of Pandemic Sorrow, it's exhausting. Their existence is one of sleepless nights, binges with drugs, and the daunting task of pleasing women...lots and lots of women. Life is one endless party, and for both Jag and Rush, it's a path of utter self-destruction. 

Warning: Jag and Rush are from a male point of view, and are very...male. They are vulgar and explicit and may have to work their way through a few fans before they find a woman who can tame these rocker's inner whore. All books contain explicit language and sexual situations. 

Box Set:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1Ko2Jd4

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1IqHqKs

Meet the Author
Stevie J. Cole is a secret rock star.  Sex, drugs and, oh wait, no, just sex.  She’s a whore for a British accent and has an unhealthy obsession with Russell Brand.  She and LP plan to elope in Vegas and breed the world’s most epic child.
Facebook
http://www.steviejcole.com/
https://twitter.com/StevieJCole

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BOOK SPOTLIGHT

Lacy Denvers has lost her job, and lost her way. All she wants to do now is get her career back on track and find some stability again, but first, she wants to mark something off her bucket list: She wants to learn to ride a horse. Her dream vacation to the Crawley Creek Cattle Ranch turns into a lesson in patience when the North Dakota winter proves unpredictable as ever. Wrapped in a cocoon of snow, Lacy finds the ranch to be a hidden treasure trove of cowboy eye candy, and her mouth is watering even as her brain is telling her to run.

After a devastating tragedy, a young Drannon Russo ended up fostering with the Crawley family, and found a home. He’s only moved away once and had to lean on family for support when his dreams were shattered. Being a cowboy on a ranch is a pretty lonely existence. When a beautiful redhead shows up looking for a fresh start he’s determined to give them both what they want.

Will this vacation into the heart of cattle country turn out to be a mistake, or will Lacy and Drannon find their future in each other?

Warning: Explicit romance

There was a couple of inches of snow drift across the front lawn, but when she turned the corner and faced west, brown grass poked through just a dusting of snow, and the wind stole her breath from her lungs. Grey clouds filled the sky and the scent of snow was on the air. Tipping her head down, she hurried across the yard to the massive barn doors, pausing only long enough to tug one open and squeeze through it.

Compared to the cold outside, the warmth of the barn was intoxicating. The smell of animals and hay filled her nose and she sneezed loudly.

“Bless you.”

The deep voice was followed by a masculine chuckle, and she jerked in surprise looking for its owner. When she didn’t immediately spot anyone she frowned.

“Thank you, um, whoever you are?”

A black cowboy hat appeared over the top of a stall next to a brown horses head. Under the hat was a strong face, with a sharp jaw and a meticulously trimmed goatee and mustache. His nose was a little large, and as she stepped closer she could see that it was also slightly crooked with a telling bump in the middle. The smile on his face was amused as he allowed her to look her fill. But his dark black eyebrow rose when she remained quietly standing several feet away from him.

Concern filled his brown eyes and he reached one long arm over the stall door opening the latch. Her vision suddenly filled with the huge sexy body of a real life cowboy and she felt her chest tighten. He was beautiful. Black curly hair peeked out from under the brim of his hat, barely curling over his ears and the collar of his heavy brown coat. His wide shoulders filled out every spare millimeter of the material, and a powerfully built chest drew her gaze further down until her eyes struck gold. Framed by perfectly cut chaps was a thick looking bulge of blue denim and zipper, and Lacy nearly groaned out loud at the many wicked images running through her brain.

“Are you all right?”

She jumped in surprise at his question and felt a hot blush creep up her cheeks. “Yes, I’m sorry. That was ridiculously rude, please excuse me.” She stepped forward with her hand out, “I’m Lacy Denvers.”

“Ah, Denvers, yes Marilyn said we were going to have a guest for a couple of weeks.” The hand that took hers was enormous, and it engulfed her grip until she could barely see her own skin. She could feel calluses on his palm and a shiver went up her spine at the touch. What would that feel like on other more sensitive parts of her body? “Pretty unusual for someone to book a vacation in North Dakota in the winter.”

She was taken aback by the comment, and frowned up at him. At five foot eight, Lacy wasn’t a short girl, but the cowboy was at least eight or nine inches taller than she was, so her head had to tip back to see his eyes. “I booked the trip last summer. I wanted to get away from the city and I wanted to learn how to ride. Is that a problem?”

“Want to learn how to ride, huh?” The teasing flirtation in his voice made her pussy clench and her breasts swell. This time it was his eyes that slowly wandered down her body taking in every bit of her before coming back up to meet her pointed gaze. “I have no doubt that you can learn how to ride like a pro here at Crawley Creek.”

She nodded sharply refusing to acknowledge the innuendo. His eyes had turned a darker color, and his pupils had grown along with the bulge behind his zipper. The attraction was clearly mutual. Her heart was racing in her chest, and she turned back to the horse he had been working with in order to give herself some breathing room.

“She’s pretty, does she have a name?”

The cowboy stepped closer to the stall. Suddenly her palms were sweating too, and she was glad she had on so many layers so that he wouldn’t be able to see the hard nubs of her nipples poking through her shirt.

“She is a he, and his name is Toto.”

Lacy snorted and then covered her mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry, you don’t mean, Toto like the dog in Oz do you?”

“Is there another Toto?”

A giggle slipped out, and then turned into a full on loud laugh. Toto snuffed in his stall and looked at her with large brown eyes. The cowboy seemed amused at her enjoyment. He stepped closer and reached his hand up to run it over Toto’s forehead. The horse nuzzled him, and bobbed its head asking for more affection.

“Here, reach up and touch him. He’s like any other male, if you stroke him right he’ll be yours.” His voice was low and deep, and his eyes were locked on Lacy while she reached up to run her hand over the soft white spot on Toto’s forehead. Toto truly did seem to appreciate the gesture, and he tipped his nose to sniff at her arm.

“He’s beautiful. This is the closest I’ve ever been to a real horse.”

“Toto is honored to be your first.”

Lacy’s eyes darted over to look at the cowboy. His flirtations weren’t subtle, and his eyes blatantly said that he would be up for a hot sweaty fling. She pondered for less than a breath before she turned to face him.

“Are all cowboys this forward?” She cocked her head to one side watching him. His eyes shuttered and the heat seemed to seep out of them instantly.

“I apologize. It’s not often a beautiful woman appears in the barn out of nowhere. I have some more work to do, but you’re welcome to look around, just make sure to stay out of the stalls without someone with you. All of the horses are gentle most of the time, but accidents happen. You’re such a wisp, one kick and you’d be done for.” While he spoke, he reached back over the wall of the stall and pulled up a bucket that must have been on a hook inside. There was a collection of unusual tools inside the bucket, but she didn’t have a chance to ask him what they were before he was headed down the walkway and out the doors.

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Cowboys don’t cry, but Roman “Romeo” Freemont certainly has enough tragic history to spend his days teary-eyed. Instead he’s turned to women and liquor in an effort to soothe his aches and pains, but when a petite brunette with a feisty temper comes crashing into his world, he realizes what he’s been missing.

Francesca “Franki” Scott has walked through fire herself. Nowadays she just isn’t a people person, and she’s definitely not interested in a wannabe playboy ranch owner either. She has a mission and it could mean life or death for someone close to her if she gets distracted.

Closing the gap between these two wounded souls could mean surviving yet another tragedy. Will their determination to hide their pain from themselves be their downfall, or will they come through this rough ride together?

Warning: Explicit Romance

Roman was concerned for Franki’s well-being. Or at least that’s what he kept repeating in his head as he climbed the stairs and walked directly to the door marked Sunflower Room. She’d looked pale when she skipped out of dinner early, and he just wanted to check on her.

Rolling his eyes as he stared at the wooden door, he scoffed silently at his own thoughts. The truth was that he wanted to see her again, and perhaps question her about what’d happened between them earlier. It was clear there was attraction on both their parts, but she didn’t seem happy about it.

Lifting his hand, he knocked softly and held his breath until the door opened. The lamp was on behind her, and it gave her a soft glow as she frowned up at him. Her beautiful hair was down again, and it curly wildly around her face and shoulders. Bare shoulders. She wore some sort of stretchy material over her breasts that left her shoulders and soft belly bare down to her hips where a pair of low rise shorts clung to her curvy hips. Seeing all that bare skin made his knees weak, and he leaned heavily against the door jamb.

“Roman?” she crossed her arms over her bare midriff and took a step backwards. “I thought you were Marilyn, is everything okay?”

When he tried to speak his voice came out as croak and he had to clear his throat, and start again. “No. I mean, yes, I mean, everything is fine. I just wanted to check on you. You ran out of dinner so quickly, and you looked a little…I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to wake you again.”

He wanted to kick his own ass for his rambling. Never in his life had a woman made him this off balance. Charm was his game, and he played it well, so why was he suddenly unsure of himself?

“I’m okay, just really tired. The road trip version of jet lag I guess. Thank you, for checking on me.” She said, giving him a small smile. She reached for the door, but then hesitated and glanced over her shoulder at the interior of the bedroom as if unsure of her next move too. The light washed over her face and he noticed the tear tracks on her cheeks and a slight puffiness to her eyes. His stomach clenched and before he could stop himself, he tugged her into his arms, delighting in the softness of her curves against him.

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** Pre-order Claiming His Cowgirl (Crawley Creek, Book 3) : Releasing August 25 **

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Best-selling author, Lori King, is also a full-time wife and mother of three boys. Although she rarely has time to just enjoy feminine pursuits; at heart she is a hopeless romantic. She spends her days dreaming up Alpha men, and her nights telling their stories. An admitted TV and book junkie, she can be found relaxing with a steamy story, or binging in an entire season of some show online. She gives her parents all the credit for her unique sense of humor and acceptance of all forms of love. There are no two loves alike, but you can love more than one with your whole heart.

With the motto: Live, Laugh, and Love like today is your only chance, she will continue to write as long as you continue to read. Thank you for taking the time to indulge in a good Happily Ever After with her.

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