Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Promo Post: 5 Days of Nicola Rendell - Confessed @AuthorNRendell




























Confessed.jpg





AP new - buy the book.jpg




Free on Kindle Unlimited







AP new - synopsis.jpg


Lucy Burchett is the heiress to a notoriously disastrous family, and she's left home for good. But when she runs a big, black pickup off the road, totaling it, she finds herself stuck in the middle of nowhere with the driver. He's got a body to die for and a hair-trigger temper. Vince Russo looks like a felon, but he's also pretty funny. He’s on the lam from the cops… and a psychopathic, Russian mob boss who wants to put his balls on a barbeque. Literally.

After a night of ill-advised cocktails and bathroom-wrecking sex, Vince just can't get Lucy off his mind. But he's got plans to rob her. And Lucy’s life is about to get a little bit criminal too.

But can a bad boy and a good girl really escape from their troubles together? Can they trust each other at all?

In the steady march of disasters that follow them west, they fight and they laugh. They tease and they’re tender. They’re either oil and water, or chocolate and peanut butter.

Except, they can’t run from the real world forever. And there’s a hell of a surprise in store for both of them…




He runs his hand through his thick black hair. “When I was your age, music was sexy. Seriously fuck-worthy.”He brings his lips right close to my ear. “Not like this shit playing now.”And then he pulls away. He slides his stool back from the bar and gets up. I watch him walk over to the jukebox. Even the way he stands is incredibly aggressive, masculine, and sexy. Can a stance be dripping with testosterone? Apparently.

He turns and catches me staring. The jukebox goes silent, and there’s just that one second of anticipation in the air. He hitches up his belt and gives me this predatory stare. I resist the urge to place my forehead on the bar. Mercy.

But then it happens.
Bongo drums.
Electric guitar strum.
Synthesizer.
Phil Collins.

He walks back towards me and sits down, dead freaking serious, not a glimmer of fun in his eyes. Unfortunately, deep, deep down, I feel a laugh coming up. One of those incredibly painful church-and-funeral laughs. Phil Collins?

A little honking laugh does shoot out of my nose. I can’t help it. I’m only human.

He looks wounded. “This is classic music, Peaches.”

I move my hand to his forearm and grip it. I mean it to be apologetic, but the way he feels under my hand…it gets sexy in a hurry. “I thought you were going to go for something a little more…”I look him up and down, “broody.”

He’s dead serious. Phil Collins is obviously not a joke. “This is the sexiest song in the entire fucking world,”he says. Not for one second, not even to blink, does he look away from my eyes. And then he puts his hand to my waist, gripping me tight.

He nestles his chin in close to my ear and draws my body closer, between his parted legs. With his tongue just sweeping against my earlobe, he growls, “I can feel it…in the air tonight.”

My neck slides back for him. I feel the seam of his T-shirt under my fingers. Oh, Lord.

“I've waited for this moment…”He runs his finger up my arm. I breathe him in. “…all my life.”

Oh Lord.

Eye to eye now, he brings his fingers up my neck and knots them in my hair. I feel goose bumps down my spine. He draws my head to his. The feel of his stubble is harsh and gritty against my skin, almost scraping me. The hand on my waist slides me over my bar stool. I let my legs press hard and hot against his.

His tongue makes its way up the curve of my neck.

Oh. Lord.
Oh.
Lord.
His lips are almost touching mine now. “The hurt won’t show, but the pain, it grows…”

As the drums come in, his other hand comes up and takes my cheek in his palm. I feel my body heave slowly towards him, like a surrender. I can’t help myself, and groan, “Oh, Lord.” Out loud.

The pressure of his head changes against mine, and he leans in like I’m making him weak. He nudges me with his nose again, like he did on the ground earlier. So close I can almost taste him. But not close enough.

I press my cheek to his and whisper, “Kiss me.”

I feel the smile more than I see it.

Both hands come to my face, and he pulls me in. He decides the depth of the kiss and moves his tongue all the way into my mouth.

Oh Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord.

Phil Collins hits us with the drums, announcing the obvious: This is a guy who knows what he wants and is going to take it. Who knows what he’s doing and is going to show me what he wants too. He tips my face in his hands, kissing me deeper, sweeping my tongue aside with his. I feel my grip weaken, and one of my legs slides off the stool. He wraps his huge arm around me. But then he pulls my lips from his, and I open my eyes a second later. “Why do I want you so bad, huh? Helen?”He drags his tongue along the edge of my ear.

“I don’t know,”I moan. “But I can feel it.”

He nods. “In the fucking air tonight.”

I inch my hand toward his hard-on.

He kisses me again, starting out way more tenderly than he left off. He fits his fingers between my ribs and grips me hard. I am outrageously wet and can feel the slippery wave between my thighs as I move my legs to bring him closer. I feel my wetness outside my panties even, in a cold smear on my thighs.

My fingers find their way to the back of his head to the base of his neck. I feel the muscles rippling even there. Solid columns of tension.

“I want to hear you scream,”he whispers. Phil Collins starts to fade out.

“I want you to make me scream,”I say.

“Jesus Christ.”

I let my lips just brush his ear. “Should we get out of here?”

“Room’s not ready,”he says.

His jaw nudges mine aside and then he explores my neck through a kiss. I go limp in his hands, but he keeps me right where I am. How he can be so tender and so vulgar, I don’t even know. He makes me want to do things I’ve never done before. He makes me want to set fire to all the rules of polite society. This guy here? He makes me want to get in trouble. Big trouble. “I’ve never had sex in a bathroom.”

He groans again. “Fuck you,”he says. “Get out of my head.”

He presses his mouth to my ear. His voice, it’s dark and dangerous. “Meet me there in two minutes. Don’t you dare make me wait.”And then slowly his stool screeches on the floor as he steps back from the bar.


confessed 2.jpg






AP  new -about the author.jpg

Nicola Rendell writes dirty romantic comedy. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She grew up in Taos, New Mexico; after receiving a handful of degrees from a handful of places, she now works as a professor in New England. An Amazon bestseller, her work has been featured in USA Today's Happy Ever After and the Huffington Post. She is represented by Emily Sylvan Kim at the Prospect Agency.

Author Links

Monday, September 25, 2017

Promo Post: 5 Days of Nicola Rendell - Professed @AuthorNRendell








AP new - buy the book.jpg



Free!!!!!




AP new - synopsis.jpg


At a secret masked ball at Yale, Naomi Costa is literally swept off her stiletto-blistered feet by a man with a killer jawline, a perfect body, and an even-better kiss. They bust out of an emergency exit and have axis-shaking sex. He pours whiskey in her belly button and after they run out of condoms, they have to get creative. That kind of sex.

The next day, she learns that he is none other than Dr. Benjamin Beck, a brand new member of the Yale faculty and the hottest thing to happen to academia since… well, ever. She has to take his damned junior seminar to graduate, but it gets worse. He’s also her College Master: her boss, her advisor, her everything. And he’s just moved in, right downstairs.

They can’t stay away from each other. They're either fusion or fission or both. They’re making out in libraries, hiding notes between stones, and sneaking off to nautically themed AirBnbs. Hear that sound? It’s the academic code of ethics going up in flames.

If they're found out, he’ll lose his job and his reputation. She'll lose her scholarship and be forced to return to the life of lobster fishing that she thought she’d escaped.

And they will be found out, yes they will.

So what the hell are they going to do?



The next thing that happens is a familiar smell. At first, I can’t place it. It’s chemical and yet sweet…

Marker. He’s got a marker. My whole body gives a sudden, excited shake. I think he’s going to write on me. Somewhere, something, his handwriting in ink on my skin.

God, yes, yes, yes. Is that a thing? Writing on skin? Because that’s so hot.

He’s hovering over me. I can feel the mattress depressing on either side of my body, under his knees. “What are you going to write?”

There’s an airy breath. I know he must be smiling. He smiles so much. I love that about him.

“What I want to write is mine on every inch of your skin,”he says. I feel a touch on my arm, and at first I think it’s the marker, but it’s warm and soft. His fingertip. He trails it up my forearm, lingering on the shallow depression above my elbow. “Mine, mine, mine,”he says. “All over you. A thousand times.”

I can see it in my head. Mine everywhere. Big and little. Sloppy and neat. “Please. I’d love that,”I whisper.

“I want to get a jar of ink,”he says. Now his palm is flat on my stomach. “And put my prints all over here.”When he says here, which he says slowly, he slides his fingertips down my abdomen.

All I can do is nod. I have no way to tell him how much I want that.

The mattress squeaks a little as he lowers himself down on me. His weight is heavenly on my legs. The feel of his chinos pressing into my bare skin. The agony of knowing his beautiful cock is right there, not six inches from pressing into me. It drives me right out of my mind.

“But there’s really one word that needs writing first. Before all the rest.”

The words line up in my head like flashcards. Trying to guess. But then I just let it go. Let him do it. Let him take control.

The tip of the marker is cold on my skin. It begins on my right side with a downward stroke.

I, is what I think at first, but then there’s a curve at the top. And a kick-out. R.

Another downwards stroke. I again? Nope. Three right-to-left lines. E.

Oh God, I think I know. Diagonal stroke, and a second. He makes the crossbar just over my belly button with agonizing slowness. A.

I know the word. But I just want to savor every last drop of this. Downward stroke, half circle. D.

Small check mark on my left abdomen, small downward stroke. Y. Already I’m nodding.

“Are you?”he asks.

And I tell him a long stream of Yesses straight through the squiggle and point of a ?

READY?

My hands are in tight fists, my nails pressing into my palms. Whatever he’s going to do to me, if it hurts or teases or pulls or pinches, I want him to do it. All of it. “Ready,”I whisper back.

The next thing I hear is a snapping. Rattling of markers. Another uncapping. Now he’s closer to me. I feel his forearm over the soft skin of mine. This is harder to make out, it’s on my wrist and small. “What does it say?”

He doesn’t answer at first. The little marks continue on my wrist. I hold very still, trying to get a sense of what it could be. “Ben,”I whisper, “Tell me.”

“It’ll drive you crazy not knowing, I’ll bet,”he says when he’s done. I hear him cap the marker shut.

God, yes it will. “You don’t want me distracted.”

His laugh is quiet and smug. I love it. “It says Property of Master Beck.















Wow, everything about this story sucked me in and would not let me go. From the first meeting to every single stolen moment. The romantic elements that were in each page. How deeply Ben worshipped Naomi, how fiercely to her soul that she loved him back. To believe in nothing and find that everything that was missing was found in the eyes of another. Oh Ben what a revelation. His whole world knocked off his axis. By one young but extraordinary old soul his beautiful Naomi. If I had one thing to gripe about its only the way it ended. I so badly needed more of everything but most of all more of their future. But thankfully Confessed is Lucy's story and surely I'll see Ben and Naomi there. Diving in very soon.



#SafeRead #PerfectHero #Romantic
 #AlphaAlert #Hot #OlderMan #taboo #ProfessorStudent #Kinky

View all my reviews






AP  new -about the author.jpg
Nicola Rendell writes dirty romantic comedy. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She grew up in Taos, New Mexico; after receiving a handful of degrees from a handful of places, she now works as a professor in New England. An Amazon bestseller, her work has been featured in USA Today's Happy Ever After and the Huffington Post. She is represented by Emily Sylvan Kim at the Prospect Agency.

Author Links





ArdentProse_LogoMain.jpg





Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...