Promo Post/Giveaway: Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny by Cindi Madsen

Every addict has their relapse.

CONFESSIONS OF A FORMER PUCK BUNNY

Taking Shots #4

Cindi Madsen

Releasing May 8th, 2017

Entangled Embrace

Confession #1:
I used to be a puck bunny, but after a hockey player broke my heart, I gave up all things hockey. Now I’m just focused on finding a way to pass my math class so I can graduate college.

Confession #2:
Ryder “Ox” Maddox’s deep, sexy voice sends fuzzy tingles through my entire body, and I’m powerless to stop it. Which is a big problem since the hot, surprisingly funny hockey player is my new math tutor.

Confession #3:
I can’t stop thinking about how ripped Ryder is from all his hockey training, and how fun it’d be to cross lines with him.

Confession #4:
I kissed a hockey player and I liked it.

Confession #5: If I’m not careful, I might relapse and fall for Ryder, and then I’ll be totally pucked.  

Every thought turned to how strong he was. How much I’d like to see all those muscles
without a shirt in the way.

Once he’d counted off twenty-five, he stood and, as if he’d been reading my mind,
peeled off his shirt.

I stared. Not subtly, either. Nope, totally unabashed, taking in every dip and
groove of his sweat-glistened skin.

“Since we’re playing dirty,” he said, shooting his wadded shirt over to his bag. He
grabbed my hand. “Last machine. I’m not sure you can handle it, though.”

“I’m not sure you can handle it.” As far as comebacks went, not my best, but I mentioned he was shirtless and crazy ripped, right?

He sat down on the leg machine, the one where the seat reclined at a forty-five-degree angle, and then he lifted the weighted bar that rested at shin-height with his legs.

He reached for my hand, and since I’d already talked trash, I took it, even though
I was starting to think I wouldn’t be able to handle it. He pulled me toward him, and I had no choice but to run my shins into the weights or to straddle the machine. I chose straddling, but kept space between us like I had earlier.

My heart hammered against my rib cage, beating in time with his leg lifts, the steady clink of the weights filling the air. Ryder’s eyes remained locked on mine, and energy crackled in the air between us. He sat up enough to run his hands up my thighs.

A dart of heat shot through my core, and my breath lodged in my throat. Ryder’s fingertips skimmed the skin between my pants and shirt and desire danced across my nerve endings. Still our eyes remained fixed on each other, and I wasn’t sure I was taking in oxygen anymore.

A distant part of me whispered that if I didn’t stop this…whatever we were doing, I’d be in trouble. But fighting my attraction to him was exhausting and the ache that’d formed between my thighs grew more persistent, drowning out silly things like common sense.

I leaned over like I had before, my hands braced on either side of him. He lifted the weights again, and then he brushed his lips against mine. Just a quick slide of soft lips.

My throat went completely dry. I pressed my palm flat against his stomach and slowly slid it up, feeling his firm chest and the hammering of his heart, which echoed mine.

Ryder gripped my hips and pulled me down to sit on his lap, eradicating the space between us. He lifted the weights with his legs a few more times, each rep bumping me tighter to him. Friction was definitely happening, and with each lift, it became clearer and clearer how much it was affecting him as well.

The tiniest whimper escaped my lips and he raised an eyebrow that added even more
smugness to the curve of his tempting mouth.

Two could play dirty. So I sank farther into his lap and he groaned. Of course, all it did was give me dirty thoughts and turn me on that much more.

He lifted his legs two more times, the movement shaky. He slowly ran his fingertips up my arm, across my collarbone, up my neck, and then he reached back and tugged my hair free of its ponytail.

He drove his hand into my hair, cupped the back of my head, and for one torturous moment, time stopped, both of us suspended right there on edge of crossing lines.

Cindi Madsen is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance and young adult novels. She sits at her computer every chance she gets, plotting, revising, and falling in love with her characters. Sometimes it makes her a crazy person. Without it, she’d be even crazier. She has way too many shoes, but can always find a reason to buy a pretty new pair, especially if they’re sparkly, colorful, or super tall. She loves music and dancing and wishes summer lasted all year long. She lives in Colorado (where summer is most definitely NOT all year long) with her husband and three children. 

You can visit her Website, where you can sign up for her newsletter to get all the up-to-date information on her books. 

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Release Day Blitz: Nova by Rebecca Yarros

The only heart he wants is the one he already broke...

NOVA

The Renegades #2

Rebecca Yarros

Releasing February 20th, 2017

Entangled Embrace

The only heart he wants is the one he already broke...

He's Landon Rhodes.

The Renegade they call Nova.

Sinfully gorgeous, broody, tatted-up, professional snowboarder.

Four-time X Games medalist—

Full-time heartbreaker.

They say a girl broke him once—That's why he's so reckless, so driven, so careless with his conquests.

But I'm that girl.

They can call me his curse all they want.

He and I both know the truth—He's the one who destroyed me,

And I'm not the sucker who will let that happen again.

***NOVA can be read as a standalone***

“Right. I’ll be quick—you’ve got to be getting cold. My point is that what happened back then...what I did to you. It was wrong. I was wrong. I did the wrong goddamned thing for what I thought was the right reason, and I’m so damn sorry—”

The door opened, and I stepped back in shock. Maybe I should have led with the sorry in the first place.  Rachel stood there, gloriously nude, water dripping down her petal-soft skin, and it took every ounce of willpower from every man in the world to keep my eyes on her face. She openly glared at me then lifted a single eyebrow, bent to grab her clothes off the floor—holy shit, her ass could stop traffic—and walked right past me, her head held high.

My mouth actually watered with every step she took, and I snapped my lips closed to avoid drooling. I barely contained my groan, unsure of what was sexier—Rachel’s perfect body that I knew fit mine like a damn puzzle piece, or her I-don’t-give-a-fuck confidence as her hips swayed down the hall.  I should have known that a bathroom door was no match for her tenacity.

Point made.

My heart sank when I looked closer at her lower back. There was a vague, silvery mark, but no tattoo. She’d had it removed. Erased it. Erased us.

She slammed her bedroom door, and I followed until my head rested against the wood. “Fuck, you are so stubborn,” I whispered, but it came out as more of a compliment than a measure of my frustration.

Rebecca Yarros is a hopeless romantic and a lover of all things coffee, chocolate, and Paleo. She is the author of the Flight & Glory series, which includes Full Measures, the award-winning Eyes Turned Skyward, Beyond What Is Given, and Hallowed Ground. She loves military heroes and has been blissfully married to hers for fifteen years.

When she’s not writing, she’s tying hockey skates for her four sons, sneaking in some guitar time, or watching Brat Pack movies with her two daughters. She lives in Colorado with the hottest Apache pilot ever, their rambunctious gaggle of kids, and an English bulldog who is more stubborn than sweet. They recently adopted their youngest daughter from the foster system, and Rebecca is passionate about helping others do the same.

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Blog Tour Promo Post: Winging It by Ashlyn Kane & Morgan James

Gabe Martin has a simple life plan: get into the NHL and win the Stanley Cup. It doesn’t include being the first out hockey player or, worse, getting involved with one of his teammates. But things change.

Dante Baltierra is Gabe’s polar opposite—careless, reckless… shameless. But his dedication to the sport is impressive, and Gabe can overlook a lot of young-and-stupid in the name of great hockey. And Dante has a superlative ass in a sport filled with superlative asses.

Before Gabe can figure out how to deal, a tabloid throws him out of his comfortable closet into a brand-new world. Amid the emotional turmoil of invasive questions, nasty speculation, and on- and off-ice homophobia, his game suffers.

Surprisingly, it’s Dante who drags him out of it—and then drags him into something else. Nothing good can come of secretly sleeping with a teammate, especially one Gabe has feelings for. But with their captain out with an injury, a rookie in perpetual need of a hug, and the race to make the playoffs for the first time since 1995, Gabe has a lot on his plate.

He can’t be blamed for forgetting that nothing stays secret forever.

Available for purchase at 

Excerpt

Since the whole impending disaster was his idea, Baller insisted on paying for their tickets. Gabe let him, 

too overwhelmed by sunshine and happy families to do otherwise. Baller forked over the money, 

ushered Gabe through the stiles, grabbed a couple of maps, and then basically frog-marched Gabe onto 

the railroad.

“You are really excited about this,” Gabe observed with mounting trepidation.

Baller grinned manically and threw his arm over Gabe’s shoulders. “Disneyland, Gabe,” he said, as if that 

explained his completely bizarre behavior. Maybe it did, in his world. “We are going to have fun today if 

it kills us.”

Gabe thought it actually might.

They got off at the first stop, according to Baller’s extremely detailed plan of attack, and Baller just stood 

there for a moment, beaming, like he couldn’t imagine anywhere he’d rather be than Anaheim, 

California, in the middle of a losing streak. Gabe gave in to his own sentimentality and snapped a picture 

with his phone.

“Pirates,” Baller sighed happily, grabbing Gabe’s arm and herding him to the right. “Come on. Maybe 

they have some poor sucker dressed up as Will for you to ogle.”

Gabe was reasonably sure the people dressed in costumes were for the kids to interact with, but he 

decided to keep it to himself. Even if today did nothing more than deepen Gabe’s pit of ill-advised 

feelings for his teammate, Baller still deserved to have a good time.

As it turned out, Gabe did not have to worry about Baller having a good time. The line for the ride was 

surprisingly short, and Baller spent the whole ten minutes bouncing on his toes, peering around at the 

scenery and humming “A Pirate’s Life for Me” under his breath like a loser.

“Some days I forget you’re only twenty,” Gabe said with a self-deprecating smile as they reached the 

front of the line and took their seats on the ride. “Today’s not one of them.”

“Stop being so old for five minutes and relax. I’m trying to cheer us up.”

Gabe raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. You’re in charge. I’m just along for the ride. Rides.”

Once he admitted to Baller (and himself) that he was not in charge of the situation, it made for a 

pleasant afternoon. At the end of the ride, they emerged into the sunshine again and Baller made a 

beeline for a cart selling elaborate hats to match the theme. He tossed a tricorne at Gabe, then grabbed 

something in mauve with an ostrich feather plume and shoved it on his own head. “What do you think?” 

he asked, running a finger along the brim, his eyes dancing.

Gabe wanted to kiss him, but he distracted himself by trying on his own silly hat. “Well, you’re no Will 

Turner, but I suppose you’ll do.”

Baller stuck out his tongue and forked over a handful of bills for the hat.

Baller bought them Mickey Mouse-shaped ice cream for lunch, and they ate standing in the shade of a 

big tree by the Haunted Mansion.

“We going on this one too?” Gabe asked.

“Everyone knows you have to work up to Splash Mountain,” Baller said loftily. He threw his stick away 

and licked a drip of ice cream off his thumb.

It probably wasn’t purposely pornographic. Probably.

After the Indiana Jones Adventure, Baller tried to buy Gabe a fedora that looked even worse on him 

than the tricorne.

“Only douche bags wear fedoras.”

Baller smirked and took a picture with his phone. “So, no problem, then.”

Gabe made a face.

“Come on, you said I was in charge,” Baller wheedled.

“I didn’t think that meant I was going to have to cede control of my wardrobe.”

Baller rolled his eyes. “Grouch.” He tossed a headband with Mickey Mouse ears at Gabe instead. 

“Compromise?”

At least Baller hadn’t invited anyone else along to witness Gabe’s humiliation. He would definitely never 

hear the end of it if any of these pictures got out. Fifi would chirp him forever, and there’d probably be a 

whole media circus if they got caught goofing off when they couldn’t win a hockey game for love nor 

money.

Gabe sighed internally and put on the headband.

Three and a half hours later, when they stumbled out of Buzz Lightyear AstroBlasters for the fourth 

time, he was smirking. “Another rematch?”

“Screw you, no, you smug bastard.” Baller pouted, but he couldn’t hold it. His grin won out a second 

later. “Seriously, are you hiding a secret video game addiction?”

“Admit it, I just have better hand-eye coordination than you,” Gabe said, adjusting his ears as he 

preened. They were starting to hurt his head, but the deal was Baller had to wear the stupid hat as long 

as Gabe kept the ears on. Gabe wasn’t going to be the first to give in.

“That’s not what the statistics say, buddy.” Baller had pulled ahead in their points race since that game 

against the Sabres. “In fact, I—” He stopped midsentence and cocked his head at Gabe, an odd smile 

twisting his lips. He took a step closer and raised a hand to the headband. “Duck your head a little? 

You’ve got something on your…”

Gabe froze when Baller grabbed his right wrist for balance as he reached up. His hat tipped back 

precariously, but Gabe couldn’t have made a grab for it if his life depended on it. He was stuck, not 

breathing, while Baller shuffled closer until Gabe could see his pores. He brushed his fingers over Gabe’s 

mouse ears.

“I think you walked into a cobweb. You’ve got a leaf…. There.” Baller pulled his right hand away but left 

the other where it was, clasped around Gabe’s wrist. There was a papery sound as whatever he’d pulled 

from Gabe’s head hit the asphalt.

Their eyes caught.

For one eternally stupid second, Gabe thought Baller was going to kiss him.

Then the moment passed, and Baller let go and took a step back. He slapped Gabe on the arm. “Much 

better. Good thing you have me to look after you.”

Gabe forced himself to unfreeze and shake his head in mock disbelief. “Right,” he said as they started 

walking again, toward Space Mountain this time. “I’m such a handful.”

Baller snorted. “Too easy. You know better than to feed me a line like that. Come on.”

“I’ll feed you something,” Gabe promised jokingly, regaining his equilibrium.

Baller tripped over nothing on the pavement. Gabe grabbed him by the back of his shirt before he could 

take a dive. Crap. He’d gone too far.

Huffing at himself, Baller righted his hat, then poked Gabe with his elbow. “You know, I was starting to 

be afraid you were never going to make that kind of chirp again. Good to have you back.”

Sometimes I don’t understand you at all. But for once Gabe let himself be honest. “It’s good to be back.” 

Then he saw the line for Space Mountain and winced. “Good thing we have Fast Passes.” They only had 

an hour left before they had to leave the park to be back in time for team dinner.

Gabe had forgotten all about their stupid headgear by the time they returned to the hotel. When they 

walked into the lobby, Fifi looked over from the concierge desk, a gym towel slung over one of his 

shoulders, and barked out a laugh. “I guess I don’t have to ask what you got up to today.”

“We went to Disneyland!” Baller said unnecessarily. The feather on his hat flopped from one side to the 

other in time with his enthusiasm.

“No shit.” Fifi rolled his eyes and reached up to flick Gabe’s ears.

Gabe took them off.

“You’d better have plenty of energy left for the game tomorrow.”

Gabe bristled. “What? I got him home in time for curfew.”

Affecting wide-eyed, earnest innocence, Baller nodded. “Yeah, Dad. He was a total gentleman. Didn’t 

even try to steal second.”

Fifi smacked the brim of Baller’s hat down over his eyes. “Fine, fine. Hurry up and get ready for dinner or 

we’re eating without you.”

Somehow Chef snuck into his room and stole the ears while Gabe was showering, and he showed up to 

dinner wearing them, so of course he and Baller got ragged on. Gabe hoped Chef didn’t put it up on 

Twitter, but at least Gabe wouldn’t be featured wearing the ears in any pictures. The teasing only got 

worse when they begged off going out for a drink because they were both too tired to do more than flop 

on Gabe’s bed and finish watching Pirates.

“Hey, Banksy?”

“Hmm,” Gabe said. His eyes wouldn’t quite focus on the laptop screen.

“Just… thanks.”

Blinking gritty eyes, Gabe managed, “For what?”

He heard Baller answer, but the words got lost on his tired ears as he finally fell asleep.

About the Authors

 Morgan James started writing fiction before she could spell it. It was in high school that she started writing her first novel about a gay character, and she thanks the Internet for helping her realize that didn't make her crazy. Coincidentally, she also thanks the Internet for the role it plays in her long distance friendship with Ashlyn Kane. Geek, artist, archer, and fangirl, Morgan tends to while away free hours with imaginary worlds and people on pages and screens—it's an addiction. She lives in Ontario with her family and is the personal slave of three cats and a poodle (who isn't named Ringo, but who does like to poke).

You can find Morgan at 

      

Ashlyn Kane is a Canadian former expat who is now happy to be reunited with televised hockey at acceptable waking hours. She has reached the age of “twentysomething,” which she will be for at least the next fifteen years.

She has a bad habit of staying up too late, a husband who likes to go to bed early, and a baby brother called Miracle Whip. She is allergic to cleaning, unless you mean cleaning up manuscripts, in which case she gets a little obsessive. Feel free to drop her a line—she’s probably in front of her computer right now, since she’s attached to it at the eyeballs.

 You can find Ashlyn at 

            

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Presented By

Cover Reveal: Talk to Me by Clare James

Release Date: April 2014

*Caution: This story contains explicit sex scenes with an alpha hockey player...who gives an entirely new meaning to the term Body Checking. *

Finn Daley took the world by storm two years ago when he was drafted by the NHL. The young, handsome, high-scoring player quickly became a fan favorite. He had everything going for him: fame, fortune, a promising career, and his pick of women. But when he made an abrupt exit from the NHL last spring, everything changed and he’s been in hiding ever since.

Casey Scott plans to find out why.

After interning for free all summer at the top television station in the Twin Cities, Casey lands an on-air gig. Trouble is, the new role is Sports Girl—which means reporting from local bars and tailgating parties to create excitement for the hometown heroes. All while wearing tiny team jerseys that are so tight they leave little to the imagination.

But she has a plan. Uncover the biggest sports mystery of the decade, and she’ll be on her way. Question is, how far will she go to get the story?

About the Author

Clare James is the author of steamy contemporary romance and new adult novels: BEFORE YOU GO and MORE. A former dancer, Clare still loves to get her groove on—mostly to work off her beloved cupcakes and red wine.

A fan of spunky women, gorgeous guys, and super-hot romance, Clare spends most of her time lost in books. She lives in Minneapolis with her two leading men—her husband and young son—and loves to hear from her fans.

Find her at:


www.clarejamesbooks.com


@clarejamesbooks


http://www.facebook.com/clarejamesauthor

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