SWEET AS SUGAR
The Celebration Township, book 5
by Stacy Eaton


Award Winning Author, Tish Thawer, writes paranormal romances for all ages. From her first paranormal cartoon, Isis, to the Twilight phenomenon, myth, magic, and superpowers have always held a special place in her heart.Tish is known for her detailed world-building and magic-laced stories. Her work has been compared to Nora Roberts, Sam Cheever, and Charlaine Harris. She has received nominations for a RONE Award (Reward of Novel Excellence), and Author of the Year (Fantasy, Dystopian, Mystery), as well as nominations and wins for Best Cover, and a Reader’s Choice Award.

Title: Breaking the Seventh
Author: Allie Gail
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: March 8, 2017
Blurb
He’s hot, blue-eyed and butt naked.
Did I mention he’s naked? And I’ve never seen the guy before in my life! So why is he doing the backstroke in my neighbor’s pool?
Myles Bellamy may be a walking wet dream, but turns out he’s got the temperament of a bull shark. And yet every time I clash with the new next-door Neanderthal, I find myself fantasizing about all the dirty things he could do to me. Really dumb on my part, considering the timing…
She’s certifiably nuts.
I’m not kidding. That chick is wonkier than Willy’s chocolate factory. Between her head-banging music, smoke alarms going off during séances and the dog I’m pretty sure she trained to crap on my lawn, I’m about ready to give Leah Whitfield a piece of my mind. Or better yet, a piece of me. Because every time I catch her sunbathing in that barely-there bikini, my resolve turns to dust.
And her excuse for turning me down? Her birthday’s coming up. According to Leah’s weird and warped logic, that day is supposedly cursed.
See what I mean? I can’t even…
Excerpt
Without taking my eyes off the V between her thighs, I squeeze some more sunscreen into my hand and start on the other leg.
“You’re wasting your time, you know,” she murmurs.
“How so?”
“You aren’t getting into my pants, Mr. Bellamy.”
“You aren’t wearing any pants, buttercup.”
“Well, then. I was right, wasn’t I?”
Sometimes this girl is really hard to interpret.
No. Scratch sometimes. I can never figure out what she’s trying to say!
“Speaking of which – did you happen to bring over my clothes?”
“No.” My fingers wander dangerously close to the tempting hollow between her inner thigh and the edge of her swimsuit. “I left them in the dryer.”
“The dryer? What, you washed them?”
“Yes.”
“Oka-ay…that was nice of you, but you really didn’t have to do that. I had just put them on. They weren’t dirty.”
“They were when I got done with them.”
It’s all I can do to keep a straight face when her lips part in astonishment. “Come again?”
“And again,” I confess softly, a devious smile unfurling across my face.
Pushing the sunglasses up, she stares at me wide-eyed. “You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
“Myles.” She gives me a slight shake of her head, as if trying to determine whether or not I’m putting her on. “What…um, exactly what did you do?”
“Well, let’s see now. There are a number of subtle illustrations I could use to describe what transpired last night. Sanding wood…debugging the hard drive…applying the hand brakes…taking a load off…”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Liquidating the inventory…”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Straining the main vein…”
“Myles!” She’s laughing now, but somehow I manage to maintain a straight face. I’ll leave it to her to decide whether or not I’m joking.
I’m not, of course.
And I’m not the least bit repentant of the fact that after she waltzed her bare ass off my property last night, I took those lacy red panties inside, wrapped them around the hard-on she produced and jacked off all over them.
I’ve decided I may just keep them.
“Did you really?” She gazes at me speculatively, and I detect a distinct flicker of interest in her eyes.
I merely smile while sliding an erroneous finger along her bikini line. By now her thighs are well oiled and I am aching – fucking aching – to slip my hand inside the swimsuit and make sure every inch of her is covered in a sheen of Hawaiian Tropic.
She tries to keep her voice neutral, but I can hear the slight catch in it when she tells me, “You’re pushing your luck there, Sparky.”
Maybe so, but I notice she hasn’t made a move to push my hand away.
“Are you gonna try and tell me you don’t hitchhike to heaven every now and then?” I prod her teasingly.
“Quite the wordsmith of pocket pinball, aren’t you?”
“I have my moments.”
“So do I. And if you really must know, I had quite the moment last night.”
“Is that right?”
“Twice, actually.”
“You don’t say.” I continue massaging her thigh, letting my index finger run along the perimeter of her bikini bottom. Almost, almost sliding underneath the fabric. Close, but not quite. “Something in particular get you all hot and bothered?”
The look she gives me is one of dewy-eyed innocence. “No more than usual. I hitchhike to heaven, as you put it, on a pretty regular basis.”
I am never going to make it to Pensacola on time.
“Dealing with a little sexual frustration, are we?” I may as well include myself in this. After all, the thought of what she would look like in the throes of a self-imposed orgasm is bringing about the most agonizing case of blue balls I’ve ever experienced.
Unable to resist, I allow my errant hand to test her boundaries a little further.
Wandering just beneath the edge of her swimsuit, I brush a fingertip lightly against the soft, delicate folds hidden beneath. Her breath hitches, eyelashes fluttering for the briefest of moments. It’s probably a good thing I’m wearing constrictive jeans – otherwise I’d be pitching one hell of an impressive tent right about now.
“You tell me. I’m not the one with the raging boner, am I?” Her gaze drops to the obvious bulge in my pants before sweeping back up to eye me with a smirk.
“Maybe not…” Leaning in closer to her, I lower my voice to a whisper. “…but I’d bet the whole fucking farm that if I moved my fingers just a fraction of an inch, they’d find one very wet and willing feline.”
Smiling sweetly, she whispers back, “As far as I know, you don’t own a farm. So if you want to keep those fingers attached to your hand, then I would suggest you take them out of my bathing suit right now, Mr. Bellamy.”
Enter to Win!
https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js
About the Author
Born and raised in rural Alabama, Allie Gail currently resides in the panhandle of Florida with her schmexy blue-eyed hubby, where they are currently being held hostage by a crabby gray entity disguised as a cat. (If you’re reading this – send help! Oh, and tuna. Send lots of tuna.) Always an obsessive reader, she took to her keyboard on a whim back in 2012 and hasn’t stopped pecking away since. Romance is her genre of choice, though she does harbor a soft spot for paranormal.
When she isn’t busy obsessing over the lexicon of her latest project, Allie can usually be found snuggled up to her hubby watching cheesy B-movie horror, helping out with the family business or playing online RPG games while indulging her hopeless addiction to Tootsie Rolls.
In other words, she’s a total nerd.
Don’t fault her that, though. Her paladin will someday save the world. Or at the very least, have an awesome set of matching plate armor.
Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Spurned by Lyz Kelley
Release Date: 7th March 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance
#SpurnedTour

/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:””;
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-ansi-language:EN-US;}
Buy The Novella Today for Just 99c
A healing love is at the heart of her book series. Creating wounded yet amazing characters—discovering what drives them, frightens them, heals them, makes them laugh—is what gives her joy. Lyz is pleased to share that joy through her masterfully written stories.
To keep tabs on her award-winning novels, connect with Lyz by signing up for her newsletter at LyzKelley.com. Also visit LyzKelleysHeroes.com to join Kelley’s Heroes, Lyz’s VIP club. Members receive an exclusive copy of A Soldier’s Wife, learn about thoughtful giveaways, and get a sneak peek at upcoming releases. Members may even get the opportunity to receive advanced reader copies. Check out LyzKelley.com for more information.
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:””;
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-ansi-language:EN-US;}
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:””;
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-ansi-language:EN-US;}
Leslie Wilder grew up in a small town in West Tennessee. A country girl at heart, she’s always thought that life is too short, but she had no idea how short it really was until her brother passed away in 2014. She’s always been an avid reader, loving the escape only a great book can give, and wondered if she had what it took to write one of the wild romances she’d come to adore. With the support of her family and friends, she published Inferno: A Devil Chaser’s MC, one year after her brother’s death. With him in mind, she fulfilled her lifetime dream of writing. Since then, she’s completed the Devil Chaser’s Series and continued on with the Satan’s Fury MC Series. She has so many stories in her head, and can’t wait to share each and every one.“Yet another perfectly, in-depth, emotionally charged novel by KE Osborn that had me completely captured.” – Bloggers from Down Under
“I really loved the rocky road this couple traveled.” – Goodreads Review
“I liked Pick, but I really loved Plucker. I loved the characters, mainly Tillie and Lunar.
I could feel their emotions in the words.” – Goodreads Review
https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js
Australian author K E Osborn was born and raised in Adelaide, South Australia. With a background in graphic design and a flair for all things creative, she felt compelled to write the story brewing in her mind.


Dawn L. Chiletz is the author of The Contest, Waiting to Lose, Enough, Can’t You See, and The Fabulist. She currently resides in Illinois with her husband, two boys, and three dogs. In the summer of 2014, armed with a dream from the night before, she sat at her kitchen table while her boys played on their computers and began the first words of “The Contest.” She’s been writing and drinking large amounts of coffee ever since.
Finished.
Kaput.
Whatever you want to call it, the bride-to-be won’t be at the church on time.
Walking away from her fiancé was the hardest thing Ava has ever done. After all, the sexy and charming Mateo is everything she’s ever wanted—and more. But she needs to protect herself—and her heart—before it’s shattered once and for all.
Mateo has no choice but to let her go. His woman needs space, and he loves her enough to give it to her—no matter how much he hates it. The only thing keeping him sane is the certainty that their separation will be short-lived.
Ava thinks it’s over, but she’s about to find out that Mateo will stop at nothing to turn her “I Don’t” into an “I Do.”

“It’s Mr. Gretchen isn’t it?”
“Um, no,” Ben answered, “This is most definitely not Mr. Gretchen.”
“Okayyy,” I drawled. “You’re acting weird, so I have to assume it’s someone unusual. Is it the President? George Clooney? Oh, wait. I know. It’s Channing Tatum. If I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a dozen times not to call me at work—”
“Not even close. This man—he says he’s your fiancé.”
My heart stopped beating for several seconds. When it started up again, I assured myself I was asleep. Yep, that had to be it. I was having a nightmare. With my free hand, I pinched my thigh, wincing at the twinge of pain. Dammit, I was awake.
No, no, no, I chanted inwardly as I started to panic. I was nowhere near ready to deal with him. Surely he wouldn’t have tracked me down at work. With me gone, he should be living the bachelor life to the fullest, so busy dealing with his social calendar that thinking of me was impossible. I prayed that there was some kind of mistake or that whoever was on the phone wasn’t him. Maybe it was someone calling for another Ava. That could happen, right?
“His voice,” I whispered. “Does he sound—”
“Spanish?” Ben supplied. “Yeah.”
I’d been about to ask if he sounded like a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, but Spanish told me what I needed to know.

Ella Fox is the USA Today Bestselling Author of Consequences of Deception, The Hart Family series & many other sexy and exciting books.
You must be logged in to post a comment.