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January 12, 2018

OH MY!! L.J. Shen just broke the internet with her COVER REVEAL for Midnight Blue, a NEW stand-alone romance!

I literally have 💖💖💖 and 🌟🌟🌟 in my eyes!! I can't get enough of this cover! January 21st  can NOT come soon enough❗❗


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Midnight Blue, an all-new sexy standalone from LJ Shen is coming January 21st!

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Midnight Blue
Author: LJ Shen
Release Date: January 21st
Designer: Letitia Hasser at RBA Designs.
Model: Nolan Zarlin



It should have been easy.
I needed the money. He needed a babysitter to keep him from snorting himself to death.
I was cherry-picked especially for him. Responsible. Optimistic. Warm. Innocent.
The worst part is that I should have known better.
Alex Winslow. British rock star. Serial heartbreaker. Casanova with whiskey eyes.
“Don’t get near the devil in a leather jacket. He’ll chew you up and spit you out.”
Sounds familiar? That’s because it was a headline in a tabloid the second time he got arrested.
Guess what? I didn’t listen.
I signed the contract.
World tour. Three months. Four Continents. One hundred shows.
My name is Indigo Bellamy, and I sold my soul to a tattooed god.
Problem was, my soul wasn’t enough for Alex Winslow. He ended up taking my body, too.
Then he took my heart.
Then he took my all.

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About LJ Shen:
L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat. Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets peoples’ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards. She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.
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January 11, 2018

Cover Reveal for The Off Season by Megan Green! A new Sports Romance set to release on February 1st, 2018

COVER REVEAL DAY for The Off Season by Megan Green! Check it out and sign up for her 
newsletter to get release alerts!

Release Date: February 1st



About The Off Season: He had it all… The day Ian “Tag” Taggart’s world comes crashing down around him, he’s sitting in a fast food drive-thru, waiting for an order of fries. Golden boy of the MLB and shortstop for the Washington Rampage, Tag quickly finds himself losing grip on his superstar life with the use of two awful words: sexual assault. The only problem? He’s innocent. Tag’s willing to do anything to prove to the world he’d never commit the crime he’s been accused of. So when his agent suggests taking a break from the spotlight, he listens. The quiet town on Maple Lake is everything Seattle isn’t. And Lexi Barnes is everything he wasn’t expecting to find. Running from a past she can never escape, Lexi wants nothing to do with her new neighbor. But fixing up an old house takes more work than anticipated, and the new guy in town happens to have quite the set of carpentry skills. She won’t let herself fall for him though. She has no room in her life for love. If only someone would tell her heart that. He’s funny and charming. She’s closed off and rude. Together, they’re like fire and ice. Prepare to get burned this Off-Season.

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Exclusive Excerpt:

I’ll never forget where I was the day my world came crashing down around me. I wish I had a better story. Something like, I was volunteering at a hospital, visiting sick children, when the news first hit. Or, I had just finished saving an old woman and her forty-two cats from a burning building when my agent called. But no. I was sitting in the fucking drive-through at McDonald’s, waiting for my daily fix of salty goodness, when the radio newscaster interrupted coverage of the Seahawks game to drop what would turn out to be the most defining moment of my life thus far. “Charges have been filed against MLB star Ian Taggart, better known as Tag Taggart, of the Washington Rampage. Our sources say a young woman has come forward with allegations that Taggart sexually assaulted her after their division win last season.” I didn’t hear what he said after that, my Bluetooth kicking on in my truck as I answered the call from Ray, my agent. What had started as a simple stop through a pick-up window ended up being the catalyst to the worst period of my entire life. And, now, six months and hours and hours of turmoil, frustration, and a hell of a lot of anger later, it all comes down to this moment. My career. My life. My future. Coach Peters is sitting across from me with James Shelton, the Rampage’s GM, to his left. Lucky for me, Mr. Lane couldn’t be here today. As the owner of the team, he generally tries to stay abreast of anything involving his players. He’s a little too involved, if you ask me. I’ve had far more meetings with the man in the past few months than I ever cared to have in my life. Add in the fact that he’s a class-A douche canoe, and…well, let’s just say, there are times when I’ve had to wonder if this is my punishment for the crime I didn’t even commit. Having to deal with Tyler Lane on the regular has to be worse than any prison cell could ever be. And that’s right; you heard me correctly. I know that’s the standard answer all assholes give when they’re hit with a rape charge. And I know, ninety percent of the time, they’re lying through their teeth. Being a professional athlete seems to make some guys think they’re untouchable—a fact I can attest to from the hundreds, if not thousands, of times I’ve witnessed unwanted advances, unpaid tabs, drugs, and dozens of other less than savory activities. But I digress. The fact is, I am not that guy. I love women. I respect women. Fuck, if I could build a shrine to women and worship at the altar of femininity, I would. Because, if there’s one thing in this world I love more than baseball, it’s the female body. But I would never touch a woman in any way that was unwanted or untoward. The night I met Angela Hancock was the best night of my life. We’d just won our division championship—a first in my seven years with the Rampage—and I was riding high. And I could think of no better way to celebrate than a night out with my teammates, a few bottles of Jack split between us, and a couple of willing females to keep us company. I set my sights on Angela the moment I spotted her on the dance floor, her short black skirt and low-cut red top too mouthwatering to resist. When she took a break from her friends and headed to the bar to refresh her drink, I made my move. Now, I’m not going to lie and say I had to work to get her attention. To be totally honest, I’ve never had any trouble finding a woman to warm my bed. With my muscular build, tan skin, and fucking adorable smile—you try to tell me dimples aren’t cute—I know I fit the mold of what women consider hot. And, before you start to think I’m a cocky asshole, let me stop you right there. There’s a difference between conceit and confidence. My teammate Simon Weaver is an arrogant fuckwit. Me, on the other hand? I radiate a smooth assurance that women can’t help but be attracted to. To say getting Angela back to my room was easy would be an understatement. After one quick dance—if you could even call it that—we basically just dry-humped the shit out of each other for three minutes. And, with another shot of Jack for the road, we were on our way. I might have had a few drinks, but I wasn’t drunk. And I can say with absolute certainty that everything that happened that night was completely consensual. Angela slammed the door behind us and had my shirt off and her hand down my pants faster than you could say, Do you have a condom? I’ve always been a sucker for a girl who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to take control. But, even in my lust-fueled state, I wasn’t too far gone to stop for protection and to make sure she understood what this was. “This is only for tonight. You got that, right?” Not exactly the most romantic thing in the world to hear two seconds before some dude shoves his cock inside you, but as I said, I like to make sure a woman knows exactly what she’s getting with me. She made no bones about my declaration, and the next few hours were pretty fucking amazing, if I do say so myself. In fact, the only reason I remembered who she was when Ray called me to give me the deets on the woman pressing charges was because of what a fantastic lay she had been. Normally, I’m a love-’em-and-leave-’em kinda guy—all their faces sort of blurring together into one giant blob of sexy times. Hey, I said I wasn’t a rapist. I never said I wasn’t a whore.  


Megan lives in Northern Utah with her handsome hubby, Adam. When not writing, chances are you’ll find her curled up with her Kindle. Besides reading and writing, she loves movies, animals, chocolate, and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. She loves hearing from readers, so drop her a line! You can find her here:





January 10, 2018

VI KEELAND #sneakpeak for Sex Not Love





       My relationship with Hunter Delucia started backwards. We met at a wedding—him sitting on the groom’s side, me sitting on the bride’s. Stealing glances at each other throughout the night, there was no denying an intense, mutual attraction. I caught the bouquet; he caught the garter. Hunter held me tightly while we danced and suggested we explore the chemistry sparking between us. His blunt, dirty mouth should’ve turned me off. But for some crazy reason, it had the opposite effect on me. We ended up back in my hotel room. The next morning, I headed home to New York leaving him behind in California with the wrong number. I thought about him often, but after my last relationship, I’d sworn off of charming, cocky, gorgeous-as-sin men. A year later, Hunter and I met again at the birth of our friends’ baby. Our attraction hadn't dulled one bit. After a whirlwind trip, he demanded a real phone number this time. So I left him with my mother’s—she could scare away any man with her talks of babies and marriage—and flew back home. I’d thought it was funny, until the following week when he rang the bell at Mom’s house for Sunday night dinner. The crazy, gorgeous man had won over my mother and taken an eight-week assignment in my city. He proposed we spend that time screwing each other out of our systems. Eight weeks of mind-blowing sex with no strings attached? What did I have to lose? Nothing, I thought. It’s just sex, not love. But you know what they say about the best laid plans…  



     

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      “You’re not going anywhere before you do two things.” “Two things?” “Leave your number and kiss me goodbye.” “I…I…you haven’t brushed your teeth.” Hunter chuckled. It felt like he could see through all of my bullshit. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed his phone and held it out to me before getting up. “Toothpaste in the bathroom still?” “The little one the hotel sets out.” “I’ll brush. You type.” While he was in the bathroom, I mulled over not typing anything into his phone. There was no way I was keeping in touch with a man living three-thousand miles away. A guy like him was the last thing I needed. But then I thought better of just telling him I’d put my number in. He seemed to have figured me out pretty quick. So instead, I typed my name and number, only I changed the last two digits. And it was a good thing I did, because when Hunter returned from his bathroom trip, the first thing he did was check that I’d entered something. Luckily, he didn’t attempt to call me. Satisfied, he tossed his phone on the bed and nodded. “Thank you. Now kiss me.” I could see he wasn’t going to let me leave without this. So, sacrificing to make my plane, I pushed up on my toes and delivered a quick peck to his lips. Mmm.... Nice and soft. (And minty fresh.) “Well…it was nice to meet you.” I turned to dart out the door, but Hunter grabbed my wrist yet again. “I said kiss me.” “I did!” “Kiss me the way you kissed me last night.” Before I could even attempt to let that sink in, Hunter yanked me against him. One of his large hands cupped the back of my neck, and he squeezed firmly to direct my head where he wanted it. Then, his lips crashed down on mine. The shock of feeling his mouth against mine quickly dissipated as he licked my lips, encouraging me to open for him. His tongue dipped inside, and he groaned as he tilted my head and deepened the kiss. The vibration of the sound traveled between us and sent a hum through my body. Soft and gentle went out the window after that. He grabbed a fistful of my ass, and I lifted my body up onto his, wrapping my legs around his waist. As he backed us to the wall, a sense of familiarity overcame me. I couldn’t remember the specifics of our previous kiss, but I now knew deep inside what it had felt like. My cell dropped from my hand so my fingers could tangle in his hair. Yanking on the soft strands, I couldn’t get enough. A moan from deep inside my chest moved through our connected mouths. Hunter pushed harder, his thick erection pressing into the center of my open legs. He rocked as he kissed me, causing a friction through two layers of clothing that was leading me to a place I didn’t think it was possible to go fully dressed. It felt like he wanted to swallow me whole, and in that moment, I would have let him. My breasts were crushed to his chest, and a heartbeat raged out of control—only I wasn’t sure if it was my own or his. Jesus, where does a man learn to kiss like this? I was breathless and stunned when our kiss broke. Hunter sucked on my bottom lip, tugging it before releasing my mouth. His voice was strained. “Change your flight. We’re not done here.” I swallowed, trying to gain some composure. “I can’t.” My voice was barely a whisper. It was all I could muster. “Can’t or don’t want to?”            


   Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over eighty Bestseller lists and are currently translated in nineteen languages. She lives in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.