SYNOPSIS & CHAPTER 1 REVEAL: Enforce (Eagle Elite #1.5) by Rachel Van Dyken

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SYNOPSIS

There’s two sides to every story…

And ours? Isn’t pretty…

Then again, what’s pretty about the mafia?

Trace Rooks, that’s what.

But she only wants one of us, and I’ll kill him before I let him have her.

The only problem?

We’re cousins.

And she may just be our long lost enemy.

Whoever said college was hard, clearly didn’t attend Eagle Elite University.

Welcome to hell also known as the Mafia where blood is thicker than life, and to keep yours? Well, keep your friends close, and your enemies?

Even closer…

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EXCERPT

CHAPTER 1:

Nixon

I watched as the parade of cars made their way through the black iron gates, as if somehow those gates would protect them if the country went to war. Funny, they had no clue that the war—Lucifer himself, was already parading around inside, safe from the police- the feds- anyone who would be a threat.

Safe from everyone but me.

My eyes flickered to Phoenix on my right, he grinned as a new girl walked up to him and gave him a flirty wave.

I elbowed him hard in the ribs.

His grin turned sour as he glared at the girl and flipped her off.

Remember your place.

I’d said it once, twice, a million times to the guys, and they were still struggling with the idea that they weren’t here to go to school, they weren’t here to make friends. We weren’t at peace. We were in a freaking war zone.

And Phoenix’s family was our only key to redemption.

“That seems to be the last of them.” Chase’s cool gaze surveyed the main road that led into campus. It was easier on security to have one road in and one road out. Too bad life wasn’t that convenient.

If someone didn’t belong—it would take us minutes, scratch that, seconds to eliminate them, their family, all while making it look like a very unfortunate accident.

“Wait,” Tex squinted towards the iron gates, “I think there’s one more car.”

“The hell there is.” I muttered, “I counted the cars, I’ve looked at the lists, we aren’t missing anyone.”

Chase yanked the list out of my hand and started reading through the names of all the freshman enrollees. His grin made me about lose my shit as he lifted his head and handed back the paper.

“I hear Wyoming’s beautiful this time of year.”

“What?” I jerked the list away and started greedily reading through the names.

One stood out.

Trace Rooks, Female, 18, Casper, Wyoming.

“Great.” I dropped the list onto the ground and smirked, “A girl who probably smells like cow shit. What’s her background?”

Nobody answered.

I said it louder, this time grinding my teeth together.

Tex was the first to answer, “We couldn’t really find any.”

“Couldn’t. Really. Find. Any.” I repeated. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Look,” Tex shook his head, “We have Sergio on it, but the girl doesn’t really have a lot of information about her. Parents dead, Grandma dead, Grandpa her only living relative and somehow her social as well as her birth certificate were both lost.”

“Lost.” I licked my lips. I told my head not to go there, told my heart to stay in my damn chest and stop hoping as images flooded my mind. Dark hair, dark eyes, “Nixon, I’ll save you.”

“Dude, you okay?” Chase elbowed me.

“Let’s go welcome her to Eagle Elite.”

Nobody moved.

“I said,” I started marching towards the girls dorms, “Let’s go welcome her.”

“Why do I have a feeling this is a really bad idea?” Tex said under his breath.

“For once, Tex, keep your mouth shut and stay in the background, paste a shit eating grin on your face and let me and Chase deal with this. Do you think you can do that? Hmm?”

“Take a Xanax.” Phoenix grumbled.

I sent a seething glare in his direction.

He mumbled a curse and walked off with Tex to wait by the tree while we continued the next few feet to the girls dorms.

The car was a rental.

The grandpa was ancient.

The girl was…young.

And she had shit as belongings. Her suitcase was covered with stickers, her grandpa handed her a small box, and I could have sworn I saw a tear escape her eye and roll down her smooth cheek.

“Hell no.” I grumbled, “She’ll be destroyed here.”

“Won’t last five minutes.” Chase agreed.

“Tears.” I wiped my face with my hands, “Tell me I’m not seeing tears.”

“Girls don’t cry here.”

“They don’t.” I agreed.

“She isn’t like them.”

“No.”

“We need Mo.”

I laughed at that, “We need a miracle.” With a curse, I quickly dialed the number for orientation and made arrangements for the New Girl to be moved to the United States room. Mo was supposed to be on that same floor. I figured she needed all the help she could get. No way would little Wyoming survive the year with anyone else, not that I was happy about it. I mean in hindsight that was probably my first mistake.

I’d officially invited her into my life—by way of my sister.

“New girls here.” I said loud enough for Tracey to turn around and gape. So squeaky clean and innocent. Like a little lamb, right, Chase?” I tilted my head and offered her a smirk.

The old man reached in his jacket. It was a move I knew well. Another clue. He wasn’t what he said he was. He wasn’t who he said he was. As if noticing my calculating glare, he removed his hand and offered a forced smile, “A welcoming committee? This place sure is nice.”

I had to respect his control. The way he protectively stood in front of Tracey as if he was the only thing standing in the way of my devouring her.

“Is there a problem?” He scratched his head, causing his shirt sleeve to fall, revealing a small tattoo. One I’d seen as a child but couldn’t place.

“Do I know you?” I blurted.

He laughed, “Know any farmers out in Wyoming?”

It was his tone that convinced me, the way his shook his head slightly, waiting for my challenge. It was the same look my Uncle gave me when he wanted me to stop pushing.

It was the look that my dad taught me when I was ten and witnessed my first torture.

The girl was still staring at us. Easy target. I’d leave the old man alone, he reminded me too much of mine. And I didn’t need that reminder, not now.

I lifted my arms and stretched lazily.

The girls eyes went wide as she stared at my body.

Chase hit me in the stomach.

I sauntered forward and tilted her chin towards me, closing her mouth in the process. “Much better,” I licked my lips and fought the urge to kiss her. Yeah, I was losing my shit. “We’d hate for our charity case to choke on an insect on her first day.” Her lips trembled as she looked from me to her Grandpa. I released her before she could do anything, and walked past, with Chase in tow.

I needed to talk to the girl at registration anyways. We disappeared behind the building, but I’d be back. I just needed the Grandpa to leave.

Within seconds the rental car was driving away. And the girl as all mine. My heart thudded against my chest, and for a second, I regretted what I was about to do.

But every possible outcome ended with either her death, or her in danger. And for some reason, I didn’t want someone like her at Eagle Elite. She didn’t belong in my world.

She deserved a picket fence.

A husband.

A good college experience without classmates who’d rather see her commit suicide then survive the next four years.

They would destroy her.

And she would make it so damn easy to do so.

The only way—was to beat them to it. To be the first, marking her as our target, our play-thing.

Nobody messed with what was mine.

And in the end, nobody would mess with her. They’d allow me to entertain them with her innocence. I’d dangle her in front of them like a carrot, and at the end of the day, she’d be untouchable.

I sighed as she looked up at the building gaping like someone who’d been homeschooled and never seen a sky scraper before.

She was too skinny.

I made a mental note to get her one of my access cards—she didn’t need to know how much they cost—or that every single student at EE would kill to have one. Mo would take care of the rest.

She’d eat with us.

She’d want for nothing.

It was the least I could do after what I was about to make her endure.

Licking my lips I approached her again, this time, damning myself to hell with each step I took. “Are you lost?”

“Nope.” She grinned, damn it made her prettier. “Apparently I live in the United States.” With a shrug she tried and failed to lift her heavy suitcase and nearly toppled over onto her cute ass.

I muffled a laugh, knowing that Chase was doing the exact same thing. Being mean to her would be like kicking a puppy. But the world was ugly. I just hated that I would be her tutor in the ways of reality—her prince of darkness.

Damn, I would have done anything to be the hero.

“I’m Nixon.” I stood directly in front of her, shifting my eyes from her poorly fitting clothes to her ugly shoes.

“Tracey, but everyone calls me Trace.” She held out her hand.

I itched to touch it.

To touch her skin.

Instead, I scowled, shook her hand, then wiped that same hand on my jeans as if she was diseased.

“Rules.”

“What?” She took a step back.

Chase moved past me, “He’s right. As cute as you are, Farm Girl, someone needs to tell you the rules.”

Her gaze narrowed, “Can it be fast?”

Yeah, again, I almost lost my mind. Chase was probably ready to shit his pants. The last person that talked back to him was Phoenix and that ended with a few broken bones and a trip to the dentist.

“You hear that Chase?” I said amused, “She likes it fast.”

“Pity,” Chase took a step closer, nearly touching her with his body, “I’d like to give it to her slow.” His eyes raked her in, as if she was the first girl he’d ever seen in his entire existence. Jealousy surged through me. What he hell? She wasn’t’ his. Not that she was mine, but still. He was standing too close, too close.

“The rules.” He stepped back. My heart beat returned to normal, “No speaking to the Elect, unless you’ve been asked to speak to them.” He circled around her staring a little long at her ass before he continued.

“Who are the–“

“—Nope. You’ve already broken a rule. I’m speaking New Girl.” Chase smirked. “Geez, Nixon, this one’s going to be hard to break in.”

“They always are.” I said without taking my eyes from her, “But I think I’ll enjoy this one.” The first true thing I’d said. I would enjoy it too much. I’d enjoy her too much, because she reminded me of someone I used to know. Someone who offered to save me, when I was already past saving, someone who wiped my tears, and cried as if they were her own.

Chase continued with the rules. Making me sicker as her face continued to fall.

Finally she asked, “Is that all?”

“No.” Raw desire pulsed through me as I approached her, needing to touch her, needing to make sure she was real even though I knew I was acting like a complete and utter lunatic. Chase and I would have words later. He knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. I was going too far, pushing myself, pushing him.

My hand caressed her face, then moved down her smooth neck to her shoulder. I wanted to claim her, to possess her, to make her scream—but not with fear, with utter ecstasy. I had no idea who she was, but she made me want. And that was the problem.

For the first time in years. I wanted.

I wasn’t allowed to want.

I had to die to myself.

Because in the grand scheme of things? It wasn’t about me. It was about blood, family, protection. Blood in, blood out.

Her eyes dilated. Furious that she’d reacted so easily, upset with myself for making my own body suffer, I snapped.

“You feel this? Memorize it now, because as of this moment, you can’t touch us. We are untouchable. If you as much as sneeze in our direction, if you as much breathe the same air in my atmosphere. I will make your life hell. This touch, what you feel against your skin, will be the only time you feel another human being as powerful as me near you. So like I said, feel it, remember it, and maybe one day, your brain will do you the supreme favor of forgetting what it felt like to have someone like me touching you. Then, and only then, will you be able to be happy with some mediocre boyfriend and pathetic life.” Away from me. Away from it all. Safe.

A few more tears escaped down her cheek.

And I knew in that moment. It was the beginning of the end.

My end.

My downfall.

My demise.

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AUTHOR

RachelAuthorheadshotRachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com

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BLOG BLITZ: The Stark Affair Book One: Heat by Skylar Cross

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SYNOPSIS

Book 1 of the 4-book series THE STARK AFFAIR by Skylar Cross

Colton Stark is filthy rich. A billionaire playboy who drives fast and plays hard, he enjoys an endless stream of party girls… at his mansion, on his yacht, and in his private jet.

He’s also top of Miami-Dade Police Department’s list of suspected narcotics traffickers.

Tough girl cop Sofia grew up on the mean streets of Miami, unafraid to kick anyone’s ass. When asked to investigate Colton, she doesn’t even consider it a challenge.

Until she comes face-to-face with Colton Stark’s penetrating blue eyes.

After a steamy meeting at his South Beach club, Sofia finds herself playing a dangerous but sexy game with her own principles. As evidence mounts of Colton Stark’s dirty dealings, together they spark a bonfire of passionate heat.

Mature content. 18+ only.

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EXCERPT

Ladies meet Colton Stark. (1)

I see him.

I gasp.

Our eyes meet.

Damn! Colton Stark is looking right at me.

And I’m looking right at him.

Fuck.

Wait, that’s good. That’s what I want. That’s what I’m doing here, right?

Just didn’t think it would happen so fast.

I can’t help but look at him for longer than I should. He’s wearing a dark shirt and pants with a navy blazer. His clothes seem to glisten, or maybe it’s the lights.

The stubble is in place. His hair is messed up without being messed up, if that makes any sense.

His eyes are deep. His posture is commanding. Much taller than the pictures suggest. 6’3” I’d guess. Maybe 6’4”.

Zing!

No, Sofia, not here!

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AUTHOR

I love dark, mysterious, and deviant. Powerful dominant alpha males with troubled pasts who find strong but unfulfilled submissive women. Both need to escape the “rules” of society (just like me… haha.) Together they make hot steamy delight and fill in each other’s damaged parts. This is me. This is what I write. Hope you like it.

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COVER REVEAL: Hands Off! The 100 Day Agreement by Candy J. Starr

 

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SYNOPSIS

One hundred days without sex? Is that even possible?

When I got offered an exchange year to the Italian art school of my dreams, I nearly cried. I could barely afford college expenses at home let alone in a foreign country. I had to decline but my rich, uptight grandmother called with her screwed up offer.

If I agreed to her conditions, she’d foot the bill. So I agreed. I figured she didn’t really care about my sex life, she just wanted me to keep my partying off the radar of her fancy friends.

I was so wrong.

The sexy but annoying Chad moved into my apartment to keep me under surveillance. He’s impervious to my charms and for some damn reason, dead set on making sure I lose this deal.

One hundred days is a helluva long time to avoid temptation – even longer when Chad becomes the temptation.

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AUTHOR

CandyCandy J. Starr used to be a band manager until she realised that the band she managed was so lacking in charisma that they actually sucked the charisma out of any room they played. “Screw you,” she said, leaving them to wallow in obscurity – totally forgetting that they owed her big bucks for video equipment hire.

Candy has filmed and interviewed some big names in the rock business, and a lot of small ones. She’s seen the dirty little secrets that go on in the back rooms of band venues. She’s seen the ugly side of rock and the very pretty one.

But, of course, everything she writes is fiction.

She is currently working on Rock Star vs Millionaire – the sequel to Bad Boy Rock Star. Want to know about new releases and secret fan only offers? Join her mailing list – http://bit.ly/160V44m

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COVER REVEAL: Heartsick by Caitlin Sinead

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SYNOPSIS

Quinn is looking forward to her senior year. She has big plans to hang out with her best friend, Mandy, flirt with cute boy-genius Rashid, party at her favorite dive bar, and figure out what she’s going to do after graduation with her not-so-useful art major degree.

But that is before she meets Luke, a hot townie who moves back home to help take care of his dying sister. And it is before the weird epidemic that starts sweeping campus in which people’s eyes mysteriously turn purple.

Is it an odd side effect from a new party drug? Is it a rogue bacteria that was developed in a campus lab? Whatever it is, tensions are heating up as the town starts blaming the university, and the student religious group is convinced that it’s the mark of the devil.

Quinn and Luke are caught in the middle, especially when Quinn learns that Luke isn’t just a happy-go-lucky, redneck boy-next-door—he is a detective—a fact that triggers Quinn’s phobia of guns and memories of her deceased uncle. In spite of herself and her desire to remain unattached and independent, Quinn finds herself falling for him.

But when town and gown relations heat up even further, and Quinn’s friend Danny mysteriously falls to his death, Quinn vows to discover the truth behind the epidemic. As she searches for the people responsible, she realizes that sometimes to gain your independence, you have to be willing to give a little bit of it up.

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EXCERPT

“Did you go to college?”

His jaw is tight. “Yes.”

“Do you think I could guess your major?” I ask.

“Probably not,” he says.

I don’t like that I don’t even get a hint at what he did before or what he studied. I shrug, start on my second hotdog and then lean back, really aiming for a glint in my eye, if that’s possible to control. I’ll make this a game. “Well, do you think you can guess mine?”

He smiles. “Do I get something if I guess right?”

I hop up onto a stool and let the tip of my toe brush against his knee. When I make contact, he starts, before leaning in. “What do you want?”

“I want a lot of things…” He stares at me. “But for now, I’d settle for a second date.”

“Okay, if you can guess my major, on the first try—” I emphasize that bit with a pointed finger, “—then I’ll reluctantly agree to go out with you again.”

“I don’t like the reluctant part, but I’ll take what I can get. Now, let’s see…” He rubs his chin as though he’s an old-timey detective. He’s ready to pace back and forth across the room with a pipe and a deerstalker hat. “You like photography.”

Shit, he does know that. I start to hum the Jeopardy! theme song. Maybe if time is running out he’ll be more likely to guess quickly and get it wrong? Do I want him to get it wrong?

“Okay, I got it.” He rubs his hands together. “You’re an art major.” His cheeks swell with the weight of his smile.

“You got that just because I take pictures?” I rub my forehead.

“I know more than that.”

“Someone told you,” I say. “If this bet was rigged, it doesn’t count.”

He jerks back and shakes his head, frowning. “No, I wouldn’t do that,” he says. “I noticed you had some pottery on your coffee table, with initials on it, a Q. B.?”

I nod. He’s talking about the bowl I made last year. Initials usually go on the bottom, but I painted them big and proud in the middle. And the bowl is empty. Mandy and I haven’t decided what to put in it. We narrowed it down to fake fruit (lame), M&M’S (which we would devour) or Micro Machines. Clearly, we’re leaning toward Micro Machines.

Luke takes my hand. I think he’s trying to convey his earnestness, his respectability and seriousness of not tricking me into a bet. The pads of my fingers brush against his rough palms and I suppress a sigh. His thumb runs along my pointer finger, sliding to the fingernail. “You also have paint under your nails.” His victorious, smug smile is in full bloom.

I pull my hand away, embarrassed. “Yeah, it’s hard to get all the paint off.”

“I’m sure,” he says.

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AUTHOR

Caitlin Sinead SocialCaitlin Sinead is represented by Andrea Somberg at Harvey Klinger, Inc. and her debut novel, Heartsick, will be published by Carina Press in 2015. Her writing has earned accolades from Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Glimmer Train, and Writers & Artists, and her stories have appeared in multiple publications, including The AlarmistThe BinnacleCrunchableJersey Devil Pressand Northern Virginia Magazine. She earned a master’s degree in writing from Johns Hopkins University.

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RELEASE DAY LAUNCH: The Mistress Experiment (Mistress #1) by Elizabeth Otto

 

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SYNOPSIS

“A gentleman would get to know you patiently, intimately, before demanding anything of your body. Tonight,I’m not going to be a gentleman.”

For wealthy British surgeon Isaac Kimball, being the good guy comes naturally. Caring for Chicago’s poorest fills his days and keeps his other side—the dark one that craves sensuality and control—at bay. When Isaac is prevented from saving a charity he loves, an acquaintance offers him a proposition: transform a woman from the streets into a sophisticated mistress who can pass in London high society, in exchange for the charity’s salvation. A ridiculous suggestion until he realizes he knows the perfect woman—one with an understated sexuality and sharp wit that continually tempt his control.

Mila DePardo counts the days until she can get off the streets and put her criminal past behind her. When Dr. Kimball offers her a ticket out of hell and into the glitter of London society, lying about her identity is easy. Until the chemistry between them starts to crack her no-sex rule, and the pleasure of Isaac’s touch changes everything she thought she wanted.

When the truth starts to unravel and Isaac’s own secrets come to play, Mila’s will and belief in herself is put to the test. She might win the mistress experiment, but can she survive him?

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EXCERPT

“In my office. It’s right there.” He nodded to the door down the hall, already moving that way, but she didn’t move.

“There’s nothing to say.”

Oh, there was plenty.

Isaac slid her glasses off her face with one finger as adrenaline and heat pumped through him. Her chin tipped up, and he knew he was being an ass. But he had questions, things to say, and she had answers and she was going to listen no matter if she wanted to or not. If he didn’t get things off his chest, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the day.

“In. My. Office.”

Mila glared at him for several seconds before doing as he asked. He followed, slipping out of his lab coat as he shut the door behind them.

“Let me guess. You want to backpedal over the crap you said to me at DeJava, right? Cover your ass? Well, don’t worry about it. I’m forgetting it ever happened.” She held a hand out for her glasses.

He gave them over. That’s what he wanted, too, right? To put the bet behind him, laugh it off and move on? He had other things to talk about, like Luis and the mark on her arm. Anything but the bet right now.

But impulse was a blasted thing and his brain had other ideas. “I’m not forgetting anything.”  Once he’d said it, he knew where he was headed. Where he had to be headed, because beyond her hunger the other day, someone had hurt her.

“It’s a legitimate experiment, one we’d both benefit from winning. Not us, actually, but the children. Considering how much Luis means to you, I’m sure you agree that it’s worth a shot.”

She huffed a breath.

He was playing dirty but Isaac couldn’t bring himself to be sorry. “It’s true what I said. I’m offering you the chance to be someone else for a while, Mila, whatever that might mean to you. It’s yours.”

She shuddered hard, her palm going to her forehead. “You’re asking me to be your… I won’t be your hooker.”

“I told you that intimacy isn’t involved in this, and I meant it. There’s no attraction between us anyway.” That sounded wrong even as he said it because there was something that caused a thrum in his blood each time she was near. Probably just a case of reining himself in too long.

She pressed her knuckles to her lips. Surprised by her lack of ninja-tendencies, considering he’d all but forced her in here, Isaac had to smile. She was contemplating, just as he was, letting it roll around in her head like it was rolling around in his.

“Right. You’re right. There isn’t anything sexual between us.” Her shrug was less than convincing.

“No.” Not completely true.

“But…” She was waffling, and the more the yes-no flickered across her face, the more a dark agitation grew in him.

Isaac grabbed her sleeve and yanked her gently forward, causing her to press into him with a soft grunt.

“Do you need proof?” he asked.

Her chest stalled, her hands balling in fists against his chest. “Do you?”

Mila’s shuddering breath was the last sound he registered as he brought his lips to hers, demanding, harder than he’d intended. Her taste engulfed him, unfamiliar sweetness flaming his blood. Her soft lips parted but not nearly enough; her body stiffened before she leaned into him, giving but not giving completely.

“Open your mouth for me, Mila.”

Her arms came up around his neck, pulling him down. Elation flew through him as her mouth opened completely and urged him in for a deep, slanted kiss. His tongue slid along hers as sensation blossomed everywhere—racing along his scalp, his chest. Mila’s fingernails pricked against his skin, leaving tingling, burning rows.

Isaac inhaled deeply and bit down softly on her lower lip. She was taking as much as he was demanding—a tug of war. Unexpected but goddamn delicious. And she had no idea what he’d demand of her if they took this further. If the fire in her kiss was an indication, she might demand just as much from him, a twist to the way sex usually went for him… but he’d test it. He’d allow it, and he’d probably lose his mind in the process.

This was more than basic chemistry.

This was hands-down sexual attraction.

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AUTHOR

Elizabeth Otto grew up in a Wisconsin town the size of a postage stamp, where riding your horse to the grocery store, and skinny dipping after school were perfectly acceptable. No surprise that she writes about small communities and country boys. She’s the author of paranormal and hot, emotional, contemporary romance, and has no guilt over frequently making her readers cry. When not writing, she works full-time as an Emergency Medical Technician for a rural ambulance service. Elizabeth lives with her very own country boy and their three children in, shockingly, a small Midwestern town.

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