The Art of the Gameby Kayt Miller Publication Date: September 28, 2018 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Read for FREE in KindleUnlimited: AmazonMeet Carter Corcoran: The hottest defensive end in the NFL. He’s big and brawny and has the best sack percentage in the league. Sure, he’s a force on the field but off the field? Let’s just say he’s got a secret. One only his family knows about. Meet Vivien “Reggie” Reginald: The hottest mess that ever graduated from the Chicago Art Institute. Well, maybe that’s a little harsh. Her best friend, Kai, would probably just say that Reggie was misunderstood. Sure, she’s got issues but nothing that can’t be solved by working hard and making art. Am I right? What happens when they meet? When Carter meets Reggie, he discovers a link between his job playing football and his real passion. He also realizes something’s been missing in his life. Something curvy. Something real. When Vivien meets Carter, she discovers not all men leave and some even love her just the way she is. Due to coarse language and sexual content this book is intended for readers 18+. It is a stand-alone with a sexy hero with no cheating and an HEA. (And here’s a heads up for those of you who are following the Flynn Family series. Carter Corcoran is Kennedy Corcoran-Flynn’s brother.;)
About Kayt MillerKayt Miller is not my real name. It’s my alias, my nom de plume. It allows me to write all my romantic and sexy thoughts down without my students discovering my secret. It’s sort of exciting. It’s exhilarating to lead a double life. There are times when the author and the real me are the same people. Like the fact we live in the midwest where it’s cold in the winter and hot in the summer. If it weren’t for the other two seasons, I’d move to warmer climes. But since of my family and friends all live nearby, it’s hard to think of living anywhere else. Truth be told, my degrees from Iowa State didn’t lead me to write. Reading did that. I was searching for a book. One about a certain type of woman and a specific kind of man and I couldn’t find it so, I wrote it. I called it Game Changer and it couldn’t have been a more appropriate title. It changed my life in many ways. While my real job is teaching young people, my fun job is conjuring up characters and situations to write about. I’ve also learned a few things along the way. Like the fact that hiring an editor is a must, albeit an expensive must. I’ve learned so much from that process and hope that shows with each new book. Another thing I’ve learned is that reviews matter. A good review will make my day while a bad review will bum me out for a day (or a week) but I always learn from them. So, leave me your reviews. I read them. Your opinion matters to those of us who write and who want to get better. Don’t be too mean, though. I’m just a woman who likes to write about love.
Sparkles In Love
Grab your copy today for only 99¢!
Grab your copy for free!
Make sure you stop by Vera’s YouTube Channel where you will find fun videos of panels including the TAG Fan Discussion Panel where she announces the film option and explains the process of how a book gets optioned for film by Hollywood!
Dawson’s arm lashed out and backhanded the kid. The boy flew back and crashed to the gravel, hands covering his face. Dawson advanced on the crumpled figure, and Jake jammed his foot against the gas pedal.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Just gotta take care of something. I’ll call you back.”
He tossed the phone to the passenger seat as he maneuvered the truck toward the fork in the road. The heat crawled up his neck, flushing his face in a crimson hue, feeling the sting of the strike on his face as if Dawson struck him. Jake’s father was the master of the backhand slap, and Jake the recipient of it many times. The perfect balance of speed and stealth—you never saw it coming. As Jake wrung the life from the steering wheel and spun right at the fork in the road, he had to get his shit under control or it would be Dawson’s neck beneath his hands. That wouldn’t end well for anyone.
By the time Jake roared up the driveway, a woman made a feeble attempt to stand between Dawson and the boy. Another quick lash from Dawson’s hand sent her sprawling on the ground beside the kid. Jake slid to a stop in a cloud of dust and grabbed his pistol under the seat. Dawson jerked his head at the disturbance, a snarl rising on his stubbled face. Jake drew a deep breath of sanity through his nose and out his mouth, releasing the gun. It would be a horrible idea to bring it, and he wouldn’t need it anyway. If he couldn’t take care of a drunk wife beater, then he might as well give it all up and go work as a janitor somewhere.
Jake stomped from the truck, noting the blood trickling from the boy’s nose. Old, purple and yellow bruises lined the woman’s arm like a bad tattoo. The familiar scent of whiskey wafted from Dawson as Jake drew close, hurling him back to the house in Warsaw when he would lay on the floor after a beat down from his father, his mother shielding him from further blows.
Because You’re the Love of My Life
“Good evening, what can I do for you?” The pharmacist greeted me at the counter.
“I . . . um . . . need a laxative,” I said embarrassed. I would’ve preferred to pick one on my own, but I didn’t have a clue which was best, so I went straight to the pharmacist.
“How long have you been constipated?” she asked, unfazed.
“About three days.”
She nodded. “Are you drinking enough fluids? Do you exercise and eat a healthy diet?”
“Yes,” my voice was becoming stiff, “normally my digestion works just fine.” Couldn’t she just go and get the stuff? I didn’t feel like discussing my bowel movements with her. This was downright humiliating.
“Well, for acute constipation, the drugs for that should only be taken over a short—”
“Just give me something that’ll help me go to the bathroom by tomorrow morning.”
“Fine,” the pharmacist answered and went off to get my laxative. At that moment, I heard a strange clicking sound. I turned around. It was Holden, on crutches, and he had a big white cast on his left leg.
“Hi,” he said with a big smile. At least he seemed happy to see me.
“Hi,” I forced a smile. “How’s your leg? It looked pretty bad during the game last Saturday.”
“Clean break,” he said, gesturing toward his leg. “The good news is,” he continued with a sly grin while pulling a crumpled-up prescription from his jeans pocket, “my doctor prescribed the works for my pain.”
Just then the pharmacist returned with a box of Dulcolax in her hand.
“Have you used this before?”
Oh no . . .
“Yes,” I answered quickly, hoping she’d shut her damn trap and let me pay before Holden saw what I was buying. My wish was not granted.
“Just take one tablet this evening. That’ll soften your stool overnight. After six to eight hours, the constipation will have loosened up.”
Oh God! Take me now!
While I blushed beet red, I could see Holden looking at me from the corner of my eye—with the broadest grin you could imagine.
I’m gonna die!
“If this is a particularly bad case of constipation,” the pharmacist continued mercilessly, “you can take two tablets. Don’t take more or you’ll have diarrhea.”
What the fuck was wrong with this woman? She wasn’t a doctor, and this wasn’t a goddamn doctor’s appointment!
She packed the little box into a small plastic bag. I dared to hope it was finally over—but, no, she started right up again. “Your intestines will void completely after intake, so don’t expect another bowel movement for two to three days.”
What have I done to deserve this?
Since I couldn’t think of anything to say in the face of this humiliation—especially in front of him—I just nodded silently while my ears were burning.
The pharmacist rang me up and handed me the bag with a cheery “Have a good evening.” Then she turned to Holden. “What can I do for you?”
I didn’t dare look at him. I mumbled a goodbye, squeezed by him as quickly as I could, and headed for the door.
“Bye, we’ll get together sometime,” he replied, while clearly trying to suppress a grin. “Oh, Annie,” he called after me before I could complete my escape from this hell.
I stopped on the spot but didn’t turn around. “Yes?” my voice was trembling with shame. I shut my eyes.
A Morris Brick Thriller #4
by Jacob Stone
Genre: Thriller, Suspense
“Rarely is an author so skilled at portraying such unremitting evil and the poignant, human side of his characters in a single tale.”
“Jacob Stone is equal parts Thomas Harris, Michael Connelly, Jo Nesbo, and Stephen King. CRUEL will leave you shaking . . . with fear, excitement, and the uncontrollable compulsion to keep on reading.”
--Lee Goldberg, #1 New York Times bestselling author of True Fiction
“17.” L.A. detective Morris Brick knows the number all too well. It was the gruesome signature the Nightmare Man left next to his victims’ bodies. Brick’s father was the first to investigate the killings. Five women were butchered before the perpetrator vanished. Seventeen years later he resurfaced—to kill again in the same depraved ways. Now another seventeen years have passed. Brick knows in his gut that it’s time for the Nightmare Man to reawaken. But even Brick can’t imagine the madman’s true agenda. Or just how terrifying the sleepless nights are going to get in the City of Angels . . .
Jacob Stone is the pseudonym for award-winning author Dave Zeltserman. Dave's crime and horror novels have been picked by NPR, the Washington Post, American Library Association, Booklist, and WBUR as best novels of the year, and his short mystery fiction has won a Shamus, Derringer and two Ellery Queen Readers Choice awards.
Dave's crime noir novel, SMALL CRIMES, has been made into a major motion picture starring Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, Molly Parker, Gary Cole, Robert Forster, and Jacki Weaver, and will be premiering April 28th on Netflix. Several of his other books are currently in film development.
Morris Brick thriller novels written as Jacob Stone: DERANGED, CRAZED, MALICIOUS, TWISTED.
Follow the tour HERE for exclusive content and a giveaway!
Danny folds his arms across his chest. Defiant.
But Alec is already pushing me through the open apartment door. “Don’t worry. He’ll follow. It’s his fokken apartment, isn’t it?”
My eyes are still locked with Danny’s when I disappear inside.
Alec kicks the door closed, pushes me up against the wall, places both hands on my cheeks, and kisses me on the mouth.
I sink into him.
The door slams open, hitting the wall so hard I know there’s a hole in the sheetrock. “Get your fuckin’ hands off her,” Danny says, pulling me away.
I spin into him. Bounce against the hard muscles of his chest. And an instant later his arms are wrapped around me, replacing the heat of Alec with the heat of him.
Sinking is something I could get used to. Because I do it again.
“Now you’re getting the idea,” Alec says.
“Oh, I’ve got ideas,” Danny says. “I’ve lots of ideas. And all of them involve me cracking that pretty face of yours into pieces.”
“Promises,” Alec huffs, taking a step forward.
“Back the fuck up, van den Berg. Now.”
“Sorry, bru. But she doesn’t belong to you.” He pauses, his eyes focused on Danny. And without dropping that challenging stare he says, “Tell him, Christine. Tell him why we’re here.”
Shit. Why are we here? Did I miss something? Are there still gaps in my memory?
“She’s here because you’re selfish,” Danny answers for me. “She’s here because once again, you got her wrapped up in some illegal bullshit.”
“Why don’t you ask her what she wants for once? Eh? I mean, I get it.” He takes another step closer. I’m in the middle now. Alec in front and Danny behind me. I can feel the heat of both men and they are on fire. “You had her first. Your claim is older. But you let her get away, Danny. You let her walk out and face the cold, hard world alone. And I never did. That should count for something.” He places his hand back on my cheek. Lets his gaze fall to me—“Right, luv?”—then rise back up to Danny.
Danny holds me tighter, the zippers of his leather jacket cold and biting against my back where my t-shirt has ridden up. God. Yes. “It counts,” I say, betraying Danny in the same moment I pledge allegiance to Alec.
And then I turn to face Danny.
He wants to be angry. He wants to glare at Alec. Probably kick his ass. But that turn changes everything. Because he forgets about Alec and only sees me.
I slowly rise up on my tiptoes. My hands slip underneath his jacket and slide along the cut muscles of his waist. He closes his eyes for half a moment, sighing inside as we fall into each other. My lips gently caressing as my tongue probes against his hard mouth.
He gives in.
The ringing of a bell interrupted her thoughts, and when she realized it was coming from directly below the open door, she rose and crossed the room. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, with a light now shining in the stairwell, was Jaden, dressed in a pair of black slacks she hadn’t seen before—split at the knee to accommodate the cast—a white button-down shirt, and no expression on his face whatsoever.
The bell kept ringing.
“I take it you need something?” She rested her shoulder against the doorframe and shot him a sarcastic look.
“Is that so?” She highly doubted it. She made a show of angling her head in both directions as if checking to see that nothing looked out of place. “You don’t look to be in pain of any sort.”
He rang the bell harder, but his lack of expression didn’t change.
“Jaden,” she finally yelled out, and his hand quit moving. “I’m busy up here.” She thought about the website and had the idea to show it to him. Would that help him to see that she wasn’t just a flake?
Did she really care what he thought about her?
And for some reason, the idea of showing it to him excited her.
The bell started up again, before she could make up her mind to grab the laptop and take it down to him, and as the noise clanged louder, Jaden’s expression went from nonexistent to one of mulish intent. He clearly intended to keep ringing the blasted thing until she went down there.
“Stop ringing that bell!” Though she hadn’t heard the noise in days, he’d rung it enough the first couple of weeks to make her regret ever giving it to him. And at the moment, she regretted forgetting to take it away.
“Then come down here and see what I want,” he yelled back.
“You don’t need anything!”
The noise stopped so abruptly that she weaved in place, suddenly off balance. “But I do,” he told her, and this time his tone was sincere.
The Billionaire Shifter’s Curvy Match
EXCERPT (book 1):