Mack Daddy by Penelope Ward Excerpt Reveal

   

                                                  

From New York Times bestselling author, Penelope Ward, comes a sexy, STANDALONE second-chance romance.

They called him Mack Daddy. No, seriously, his name was Mack. Short for Mackenzie. Thus, the nickname. Perfect, right?

So was he: perfect. The perfect physical male specimen.

At the private school where I taught, Mack Morrison was the only man around in a sea of women.

Everyone wanted a piece of the hot single father of the sweet little boy.

I was riddled with jealousy, because they didn’t know that—to me—he was much more.

They didn’t know about our past.

He’d chosen my school for his son on purpose, because Mack and I, we had unfinished business.

As my friend Lorelai so eloquently put it: “Unfinished business between two people who are clearly attracted to each other is like an eternal case of blue balls.” And I was suffering in pain from my case.

I was still intensely attracted to Mack. I tried to resist him, immersing myself further into a relationship with another man just to protect my heart.

Not to mention, getting involved with a parent was strictly against school rules. But seeing Mack day in and day out was breaking me down.

And soon I might be breaking all the rules.

Author's note – Told in alternating points of view, Mack Daddy is a full-length standalone novel.

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MACK DADDY EXCERPT

Copyright © 2016 by

Penelope Ward

  It was the evening of our monthly PTO meeting. On the agenda was to designate the volunteers for several fundraisers that would take place in the spring. Setting up the refreshments and a coffee urn in the hallway outside of the classroom, I couldn’t wait to get this over with so that I could go home, get into my pajamas, and relax. It was always exhausting to have evening commitments when the workday ran so late to begin with. A deep voice from behind startled me. “A keg would be much more fun, wouldn’t it?” I turned around to find Mack standing there, holding a box of chocolate chip cookies from the supermarket. “What are you doing here?” He placed the cookies on the table. “This is the parent and teachers meeting, isn’t it?” “Yes, but…” I hesitated, not even knowing what to say. He finished my sentence. “But I’m not supposed to be included in that group?” Mack snapped his finger. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought PTO stood for ‘pissing teacher off.’ My bad.” “Well, if that were the case, you might be in the right place.” “This is the right place for me tonight.” “This meeting is for serious participants.” “I’m serious about the teacher. Does that count?” “No.” “Actually, in all seriousness, I’d also like to help. It’s the least I can do after crashing your school year. I really would like to be as involved as I can in Jonah’s education. That’s the truth, okay? Getting to spend time with you is an added benefit.” What could I say? He had just as much right to be here as anyone else. “Just be aware that this isn’t the right place to be joking around or distracting the other attendees, for that matter.” “I don’t plan on distracting anyone but you.” “Yeah, well you have quite the fan base here. We have a very strict agenda to adhere to.” He moved in closer and just stared me down for a bit. The contact caused my skin to prickle and my nipples to harden. “Don’t worry,” he said as he looked down, seeming to notice that my nipples were piercing through the fabric of my shirt. “Your points are well noted, Miss O’Hara.” He wriggled his brows. “I’ll see you inside.” I hated that he knew he was having an effect on me. If my body had this kind of response now, what would have happened if he’d actually done more? Spontaneous impregnation? Some things just never change, and my reaction to this man was an example of that. A long table sat in the middle of the spare classroom where we held the meeting. There wasn’t a single man in the room besides Mack. He was like the centerpiece. I took my seat at the end of the table. “So, shall we get started?” Looking down at my list, I said, “First on the agenda is the book fair. We need to elect someone to be in charge of it and coordinate the volunteers.” Mack raised his hand. “Yes?” I asked. “That sounds like it’s right down my alley. I’d like to volunteer to run the book fair.” “What makes you want that task? It’s a lot of responsibility.” He thought about it for a moment then said, “I write children’s books. I think I’d be a perfect fit.” “That’s a good point,” one of the women said. “He might be the perfect fit.” I’m sure you’re thinking he’d be the perfect fit, alright…in your vagina. “Okay…but I hope you know that there is a tremendous amount of work that goes into organizing that particular event. It takes place over the course of an entire weekend. You have to place orders with the bookseller, do inventory, delegate tasks, and arrange for an onsite food vendor because many people just come for the food. Ultimately, the food is the bait.” “I can bait people. I’m a master baiter.” He paused. “I mean…I can handle it. I’ll get a shitload of people to sign up.” An attending nun gave him a dirty look for his use of foul language. He cleared his throat, seeming to regret his choice of terminology. “I’ll get people to attend. Don’t worry.” “I’ll put your name down as a possibility. We’ll take a vote at the end.” “Thank you.” Looking around the room, I asked, “Is there anyone else here who is interested in taking the reigns on the book fair?” Not a single person budged. One woman said, “No, but I’ll be happy to help Mack with whatever he needs.” I’m sure you will. Mack nodded then offered a smug smile. “Thank you.” He then took a bite of his cookie and winked at me.                                                         
 Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She’s a fifteen-time New York Times bestseller of twelve novels. Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 12-year-old girl with autism and a 10-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.   Connect with Penelope Ward Facebook Fan Group | Facebook | Website |Twitter | Instagram  

Ego Maniac by Vi Keeland Excerpt Reveal

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Break Point by Rachel Blaufeld Excerpt Reveal

Excerpt

I remained still, my arms wrapped around my knees, my jean shorts digging into the space where thigh met crotch as my red hair was whipped around my face by a passing breeze. I breathed in and out, counting backward from a hundred. Taking deep breaths and closing my eyes, I allowed positive energy to burn through me and eat away at the bad.

Giggles wafted from the benches below, near the fountain, and then drifted off as the other girls made their way out of the sports complex. Reality returned. It was present day, not back then when I was helpless.

Today I was in control.

Only after the others left—not that it mattered, I was invisible to them—did the coach nod in my direction and motion for me to come down.

That simple gesture felt like something more. Like I meant more to him than was appropriate for a coach and his student. His head tilted to the side for a beat too long, his gaze rested on me more thoughtfully than it had on the others, and he squinted at me in a way I liked very, very much.

“Think you can keep up with them?” He jerked his head back toward the gymnasium, a smirk twisting his mouth.

I zoned in on his lips and became a sailboat slicing through the sea, jumping into the blue ocean that was his eyes as I made my way down the stairs.

That’s your coach, Juliette. Let it be.

“I play singles, so I’m pretty sure I’ll hold my own with or without them,” I said from the bottom step, allowing my natural confidence to make an appearance. Hello, ego, my good friend.

“Yeah, I know. I meant, think you can hold your own with that crowd? In general?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m looking forward to it,” I lied. I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with them. Not today. Not tomorrow.

Though, now that I was in the presence of Coach King—up close and personal, outside, shouting, coaching, wearing shorts—I was more excited than before. His forearms fascinated me all over again. They rippled with strength when he moved, making me wonder what they would look like braced over me.

I pulled my hair back into a messy knot at my nape, allowing the breeze to hit my heated neck. “Thanks for asking me to come and watch.”

It’s reckless and hot until one of them taps out.

Break Point by Rachel Blaufeld releases January 9th!!!

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Blurb

Juliette Smith, star tennis player, is starting over at a new university. Traumatized by hazing at her last school, all she wants is to attend classes, win tennis matches, and be left the hell alone.

She should have known her coach, Drew King, would be a problem from the moment he flexed his sexy-as-hell forearms.

What happens when you mix a pissed-off woman with a bunch of snooty teammates and a hot coach?

A heated match, complete with team politics and a forbidden game of singles with the coach.

It’s reckless and hot until one of them taps out.

Unable to admit she may be better off as a double, Jules is convinced she needs to play the game of life alone. Then life throws her a lob and she runs smack into her past.

Coach King is back, and he wants to take control of the game. But she’s not certain she wants his advice when it comes to the life she’s built.

The power struggle is on, but this time off the court.

The Boys of Verite make an appearance in Break Point.  

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Meet Rachel

Rachel Blaufeld is a bestselling author of Romantic Suspense, New Adult, Coming-of-Age Romance, and Sports Romance. A recent poll of her readers described her as insightful, generous, articulate, and spunky. Originally a social worker, Rachel creates broken yet redeeming characters. She’s been known to turn up the angst like cranking up the heat in the dead of winter.

A devout coffee drinker and doughnut eater, Rachel spends way too many hours in local coffee shops, downing the aforementioned goodies while she plots her ideas. Her tales may all come with a side of angst and naughtiness, but end as lusciously as her treats.

When she isn’t writing, she can be found courtside, tweeting about hoops as her son plays, or walking around the house wearing earplugs while her other son, the drummer, bangs away.

To connect with Rachel, she’s most active in her private reading group, The Electric Readers, where she shares insider information and intimate conversation with her readers.

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Riddick by Kathy Coopmans Excerpt Reveal

Excerpt

You realize we’ve never been on a date?”  He smirks at me, and my stomach flutters. Riddick is right, we haven’t. We couldn’t go out in public when we were younger since we were forbidden. And now we can; we can do anything we want. Go anywhere. Simply just be. It’s as if time has frozen for one split second. A conversation similar to this one pops into my mind. He said the same thing to me once. How he wished we could go out, be seen. Tell the entire town that in spite of the rumors of his father killing my parents, we were two teenagers in love; and if we could overcome it, then they as adults should as well. We were never given that chance.

“Oh. Does this mean you’re asking me out? I mean, I’ve already proven I’ll give you whatever you want, so dating is irrelevant at this point, don’t you think?” He groans, lifts me up and over him. His hardness is pressing into my stomach. I lay my hands on his chest, my eyes fluttering to render my innocence.

“Temptation got you fucked last night. Don’t tempt me, my naughty little angel. I’ll fuck you until the only choice you have to get out of this bed is to crawl. So, yes, I’m asking you out. Just me and you.”

“Okay. Where will we be going?” I agree. My insides are dancing and jiggling about as I watch him reach up and stretch his arms above his head before bringing them down to grab my ass. I sigh. I fizzle, and I may internally blow up with the detonator button being my clit.

“You’ll see,” he utters. Voice stating it’s a secret. Whatever. I’ll go wherever he wants me to go as long as we’re together.

“Tell me about these?” I coax those words out with ease as I outline the spider web tattoo around one of his nipples. He laughs. I scowl.

“I’m serious. Do any of them have a special meaning?” I ask seriously this time. “I bet I could get off just by standing in the shower watching you wash these.” I trot on seductively.

“Same goes for me with watching you arch your back, your mouth-watering tits with those pink nipples begging me to suck them as you wash your hair.” He lifts his hand, tugs my hair out of the confines of the band, and pulls so that my neck is exposed.

From USA Today Best-Selling Author

comes the first book in a series of standalones in The Saint Series.

Riddick by Kathy Coopmans releases on December 5th.

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Blurb

She told me Heaven would knock on my door one day.

That I would be swept away from the hell I lived in.

She was right about one thing and so wrong about the other.

Heaven came in the form of an angel just like she said.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

An angel.

And then.

My life became hell.

She disappeared. Vanished.

I left. Went to war. Killed. All for her.

Every face was the man who took her.

Every dream filled with her.

For twelve years I existed in hell. Breathed in the fires from down below.

Until her, the woman on the beach outside of my home.

Captivating.

Enchanting.

Mesmerizing.

It couldn't be my Cora, my angel, my heaven on earth.

She was dead.

Wasn't she?

About the Author:

Kathy Coopmans

Amazon Best Selling Author Kathy Coopmans, lives in Michigan with her husband Tony where they have two grown sons.

After raising her children she decided to publish her first book and retiring from being a hairstylist.

She now writes full time.

She's a huge sports fan with her favorite being Football and Tennis.

She's a giver and will do anything she can to help another person succeed!

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Own by K.I. Lynn and N. Isabelle Blanco Excerpt Reveal

Excerpt

Why the fuck is Kira at this party?

Stupid question.

I have no right to begrudge her this. She should be here, having fun, experiencing college to the fullest.

It just burns that she came here without telling me. That she didn’t even think of inviting me.

That she’s pushing me away while making time to sit on the grass with Austin.

If Dana hadn’t told Ryan to call me, I wouldn’t have known Kira was here.

This party is taking place in one of the student’s homes—a mansion so fucking big, it’s bordering on ridiculous.

I’m never going to find Kira here, and according to what Dana told Ryan, Kira’s shitfaced. Drunk out of her mind.

And Dana lost her.

Growling under my breath, I push past the crowd, ignoring every drunk girl who tries to grope me.

Sometimes I wonder how I ever got high off this kind of attention. How my ego fed on it. It’s annoying as fuck.

I’ve already checked the large ass kitchen. Two of the sitting rooms. The foyer. The pool room. And almost every room upstairs.

I get a text from Dana. Marilyn just spotted her going into the movie theater on the first floor. OMW there now.

Of course this place has a movie theater, too.

Fucking ridiculous, as I said.

I about-face and practically fly down the stairs. I have no idea where the hell the movie theater is, so I grab a few people as I walk and ask them.

All of them are as clueless as I am.

They look at me as if I’m crazy.

To them, I probably look like I am.

Finally, I find one person who knows. Don’t know who he is, don’t care. He points me in the right direction, and I rush away without even thanking him.

The theater is all the way in the back of the house, in an area that’s actually empty. I get there in time to see Dana opening the door and rushing in.

Man, she’s an awesome girl. I could never thank her enough for caring for Kira the way she obviously does.

I go inside and find the small theater empty, except for Dana, Marilyn . . .

And Kira.

My breath whooshes out of me at the sight of her. I’m instantly hard, aching, furious, and possessive.

We haven’t fucked in days and I’d be lying if I said my balls aren’t full to bursting. I need sex right now like I need air and she’s the only person to give it to me.

But she came here, in that tiny, dark purple dress.

I have no right to tell her how to dress--but what the fuck is she doing coming to a party dressed like that without me?

Kira’s leaning against one of the chairs all the way at the front of the theater, refusing to move despite Marilyn urging her.

It’s obvious she really is drunk as a motherfucker.

“I just want to be alone, guys,” she says, almost whining.

I refuse to be amused. Now’s not the time. I’m too pissed at her.

But, fuck me. She’s sexy, adorable, and those lips are begging for my cock.

“I know, sweetie. But it’s not good for you to be alone right now.”

Kira swats Marilyn away. “Stop your shit, woman. You’re not my mother.”

Even Dana laughs at that one.

“She’s not. But I’m your man. And I say you’re not going to be alone.”

They all turn to stare at me as I walk down the short steps toward them.

Kira’s eyes flare with resentment.

With lust.

She rakes me with a cold stare that still manages to burn my entire body with how hungry it is.

Damn. If any of these girls just happen to look down a bit, they’re going to get an eyeful of how hard my dick is.

“I don’t want you here, either.” She swats me away like an imperious little queen.

“Girls. Leave us.”

Marilyn and Dana hesitate at my tone.

I don’t have time for this shit. “Now.”

Dana snaps to action first and leads Marilyn up the stairs and out of the theater.

Kira’s still looking at me with that rebellious hunger, a lust-filled sneer on her face.

I have no qualms about reaching down and palming my dick in front of her.

Her eyes flare hungrily.

“We’re leaving, Kitty. Now.” I can’t fuck her until she sobers up considering how angry at me she is, but I’m getting her home.

Kira steps toward me and stumbles at bit.

I rush forward and catch her, pulling her up against me.

Contact. Seering, torturous contact. I have my arms wrapped around her, my hands on her ass, before I realize what I’m doing. As always, it’s an instant reaction. Absolutely zero control over my own body.

Kira pushes at my chest and that sexy small growl she gives me turns me on so much. “Don’t touch me.”

My barely leashed temper snaps free. “Like hell. You’re mine.”

She struggles against me, her body sliding along mine. “Excuse me if I don’t want to go back to fucking the dick I’ve seen inside Jennifer two too many times.”

She’s hurting. I get it. Shit, I’d be even more feral in her shoes.

But I’ll be damned if I let her pretend she doesn’t want me anymore.

Fisting her hair, I slide my other hand under her dress and roughly shove her panties to side.

Kira lets out a broken gasp at the feel of my fingers slipping inside her.

I move them around on purpose so she can hear how wet she is. “Lie to me again. Tell me you don’t want me,” I growl in her face.

Her arms wind around my neck and she slams her lips against mine. Growling at me like she  hates me and wants to eat me at the same time, she kisses me with everything she has.

Owning me.

Trying to control me.

I want nothing more than to show her who’s fucking in charge here, but she’s licking my tongue like it’s the tip of my dick, and her hips are thrusting up and down, fucking my fingers.

Using me for her pleasure.

Her body locks up, her plump pussy swelling around my fingers. A throb, a rush of liquid, and she’s squirting into my hand, her sexy moans echoing between our lips.

God damn.

I manhandle her, my mind cracking under the pressure of so much need. Spinning, I fall to my knees on the short steps and place her beneath me.

The steps are short but they’re huge. Enough to accommodate her lower body on one.

Kira leans back with her elbows on the step above her. Head thrown back, gorgeous throat exposed, she struggles to pull in air.

I lean back on my haunches and yank my belt open.

The sound makes her raise her head. By the time her eyes are on my crotch, I already have my glistening cock out in my hand.

She whispers my name like a prayer.

Finally.

This is what I need. No more distance. No more pain. Just her and her nearly demonic need to have me.

And I need this even more.

I grab her thighs and tug her toward me. Kira says my name again. Her hands land on my shoulders, fisting my shirt.

I spread her legs wide, wider than I probably should, and slide that juicy cunt right onto my dick.

Her body arches off the stairs like she’s being possessed.

She is.

If I haven’t left enough of me inside her for her to understand—for her to accept—that I own her and always will . . .

I’m going to remedy that.

And there’s nothing she can do about it.

I pull my hips back, slow, hissing at the slick feel of her pussy walls tightening. Trying to keep me in.

Kira whimpers, clenching me even harder.

Wanting to let me go and powerless to do anything but keep me.

Using all my strength, I slam back into her.

One hard, vicious thrust.

She cries out and comes all over me.

Again.

Just like that.

I crack my neck, a growl purring through my chest, and lay into her. No mercy. No thought.

I’m close. Just a few more pumps into that slick cunt.

Kira fists my hair, her moans bouncing off the walls around us. I lower myself down and brace my elbows on either side of her head.

She tries to tug me down and kiss me.

I slide one hand beneath her head, fisting that beautiful hair, and drag her up to me. “Who told you that you could come here dressed like that?”

She bites my lip hard enough to make my vision snap white. I think I taste blood. “Fuck you. You don’t own m—” She chokes on her words with my next thrust.

I can’t stop groaning, yet somehow I’m laughing in her face at the ridiculousness of her statement. “You want to keep fucking lying to yourself, Kitty?”

She hisses like the wild cat she is and leans up to lick across my bottom lip. When she pulls back, I see it.

Her lips are stained with the blood she drew from me.

I press my lips to her, our tongues dueling. We’re nothing but a mindless mass of sex, and I can feel the come rising up my shaft.

In the back of my head, it registers that I hear people speaking.

Drawing closer.

On the other side of the door.

“That bitch ruined my life!”

“First off, don’t ever call her a bitch in front of me. Got it? Secondly, you have no proof it was her that sent your parents that video. Third, back the fuck off, or I’m going to forget we were ever—”

The door opens.

I raise my head enough to look up. For a split second, the fact that we’ve been caught freezes me.

Then I see two pairs of familiar blue eyes locked on us.

Jennifer.

Austin.

Own by K.I. Lynn & N. Isabelle Blanco is the highly anticipated conclusion to the Need Series and releases on November 28th!

Pre-order your copy at:

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Blurb

Kira’s finally mine.

Mine.

And nobody and nothing is going to take her from me. I’ll fight for her, to the death. Do anything for her.

There’s no more living without her. No more holding back my feelings.

If only it was enough.

We’re surrounded every day.

Watched.

Stalked.

Judged.

Everyone knows us. Now, they suspect. The odds are stacked against us more than before.

We live in the shadows, hiding our love from the entire world.

But not for long.

I refuse to live like this anymore.

I’ll do whatever it takes to own her. I’m waging a dark war against those that stand against us.

And I will win.

That girl is going to be mine forever, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

Haven’t read this series yet?  

Now is your chance, Need & Take are now in a Box Set.

NOW ONLY $0.99!

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Meet K.I. Lynn

K.I. Lynn is the USA Today Bestselling Author from The Bend Anthology and the Amazon Bestselling Series, Breach. She spent her life in the arts, everything from music to painting and ceramics, then to writing. Characters have always run around in her head, acting out their stories, but it wasn't until later in life she would put them to pen. It would turn out to be the one thing she was really passionate about.

Since she began posting stories online, she's garnered acclaim for her diverse stories and hard hitting writing style. Two stories and characters are never the same, her brain moving through different ideas faster than she can write them down as it also plots its quest for world domination...or cheese. Whichever is easier to obtain... Usually it's cheese.

 Website | Facebook | Twitter | Join her group | Goodreads

Meet N. Isabelle Blanco

N. Isabelle Blanco was born in Queens, NY (USA). At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother’s handwriting, she began to read and write. By the time she’d reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life.

N. Isabelle Blanco spends her days working as an author, web programmer, marketer, and graphic designer. That is when she isn’t handling her “spawn”, as she calls her son, and brainstorming with him about his future career as a comic book illustrator.

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