Showing posts with label #blitzkit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #blitzkit. Show all posts

Sunday, April 16, 2023

Grand Gestures by Lynne Hancock Pearson

 

Grand Gestures
Lynne Hancock Pearson
Publication date: April 15th 2023
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

She will grit her teeth and smile at the snobby and suspicious CFO if it means landing the contract. But she won’t put on a dress and definitely not heels.

Event planner Jane Beckett has big dreams for her small company and is bending over backward to accommodate demanding clients. Jane doesn’t have to like them. She doesn’t have to spend her free time with them. But she wants to tease the grumpy pencil-pushing executive who always seems to be in her way, muss up his hair and show him that there’s more to life than boardrooms and bottom lines. That is, when she doesn’t want to yell at him. Or punch him.

Liam Cross believes every woman has a hidden agenda, one that involves taking advantage of big hearted, clueless billionaires like his best friend and co-worker. He’s watching Jane and her sister to ensure that party-planning is all that’s going on. Even though she manages to steal his assistant, he likes what he sees in the smart-mouthed brunette, admires her stubborn independence, and wants to help her fledgling firm succeed despite his misapprehensions.

Paintballs, punches, and sparks fly when inflated egos and miscommunication threaten relationships between friends, family, and partners.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

EXCERPT:

With whiskey warming his belly and muddling his mind, signing up for a paintball session seemed like a great idea, in the light of day and with a pounding headache, not so much. He intended to argue his way out of the non-refundable fee he’d paid in his drunken state. Settling his sunglasses firmly over his eyes, Liam hauled his sorry ass out of the car. His back hurt, his head hurt, and his hands hurt.

Fingering a fresh blister on the palm of his hand, he cursed himself for not wearing gloves at the batting cage the night before. He’d gone directly from the office to the sports field in Magnuson Park. For two hours, he’d slugged away at balls. Personal day. Liam had never taken a personal day. Other than dental and medical checkups, he never took a day off. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything fun without Chuck. He’d whacked the ball time and time again, thinking about his best friend potentially getting his heart stomped on. Again. Worn out from swinging the bat, he’d stopped for booze and takeout, then headed home to stalk Jane Beckett online.

Bullseye Paintball was located in an old salvage yard off Aurora. Whooping with glee, kids erupted out of SUVs and mini vans in the parking lot. Wincing at the noise, Liam made his way to the office and pulled open the heavy door.

“What are you doing here?”

Shit!

Wearing black cargo pants tucked into combat boots and a black hooded sweatshirt, Jane Beckett lounged against the registration desk. She flicked her bangs out of her eyes with a toss of her head and smirked at him. “You’re not playing, are you?”

Her dismissive tone rubbed against his raw nerves. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

Sipping from a travel mug, Jane’s gaze roamed up and down his body, taking in his khaki shorts, fresh white collared shirt, and sneakers. Her lips twitched. “Oh, no reason at all.”

The door opened, and the small office filled with kids, backing Liam into a corner and saving him from having to reply. Jane shifted her attention to the kids and raised her arms in the air.

“Who’s ready to have fun?” she yelled.

“Yay!” the kids replied at the top of their lungs.

“Who’s ready to get dirty?”

They yelled louder.

“Who’s ready to plant a garden?”

The kids looked confused.

“I’m just messing with you!” Jane grinned and opened the door to the playing field. “Head out and find Jason. He’s going to fit you with safety equipment and guns.”

The kids stampeded out, leaving two dads dressed in camo-chic, looking both excited and nervous. One of whom wore an air cast on one leg. “Oh dear,” Jane said, “you’re not going to be able to play with that.”

The man in the cast replied, “Stan and I discussed strategy. I figured I’d prop myself up in a corner and shoot from behind cover.”

“Yeah,” Stan said. “You and I can run and juke, draw their fire, and Carl can pick them off. He can as well.” He looked toward Liam. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Whose dad are you?”

Three pairs of inquisitive eyes turned toward him. “Nobody’s. I’m not part of the party.” He felt like a fool. How the hell to get out of this while saving face?

“Liam’s never played before. He’s here to scout the place for a team-building event for his company.”

Carl and Stan nodded at Jane’s remarks. Liam shot her a quick smile of thanks.

Then she cocked one hip, crossed her arms, and threw him under the bus. “We’ve got tactical gear you can borrow for firsthand experience, Mr. Cross. How about it?”

“Yeah,” Carl said. “You’ll be able to see how much fun it is. And help us out. There’s twelve of them, and with my bum leg, they’ll make mincemeat out of us.”

Stan nudged Carl’s shoulder. “Don’t scare him.” He turned to Liam. “It won’t be that bad. The girls are experienced. We’ll tell Jessica, that’s our daughter, to tell them to go easy on you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Liam caught the grin Jane was attempting to hide behind her hand. Great. She was laughing at him. There was no way he could get out of this and still keep his man card. “I’m in.” He extended his hand to Carl but glared at Jane.

Thirty minutes later, he found himself cowering behind a stack of wooden pallets with a barrage of paintballs coming at him. What the holy hell?! This was not fun. This was terrifying. He looked back and spotted Carl wedged between empty oil drums, cackling maniacally as paintballs pinged off the metal. What was wrong with these people?

Author Bio:

Lynne Hancock Pearson writes fun, flirty, feel-good fiction set in the Pacific Northwest. Stories of people finding their way, even if it takes a while to get there.

She lives near Seattle with two and a half finicky felines and one long-suffering husband. She is a left-handed middle child who grew up in the Great White North.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram


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Sunday, December 4, 2022

Resting Grinch Face by Alina Jacobs

 

Resting Grinch Face
Alina Jacobs
Publication date: November 17th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

I might not be able to ruin his life, but I will ruin his Christmas.
Yeah, I’m totally a grinch. But I come by it honestly.
Because of Oliver Frost, I flamed out at Harvard in the most humiliating way possible.
Now I’m back in my small town—just in time to suffer through a display of small-town Christmas cheer so festive it will make you puke your eggnog. But who cares about being home for the holidays when you live with your family like a loser and have to share one bathroom with seven other people?

I plan to spend my Christmas purgatory being tsked at by elderly residents and passive aggressively prodded by my mom’s friends about what I plan to do with my life.
I don’t know, Deborah, work in the Christmas market and get screamed at by tourists because I didn’t put enough sprinkles on their little brats’ coffees? Seriously, who gives five-year-olds that much caffeine anyway?!

See? Like I said. A grinch.
I hate Christmas.
I set a nativity scene on fire.
Got in a fistfight with an elf—I lost, by the way.
And threw a vat of Snowman Surprise all over Oliver. Don’t ask. Small-town Christmas insanity.
Sleigh what? Oliver is here???
The man who humiliated me and ruined my life?

Ho ho ho, fuck no.

He doesn’t deserve a quaint small-town Christmas.
He doesn’t deserve a fancy Christmas tree from my family’s farm.
And he certainly does not deserve to win a bottle of whiskey in the daily Christmas market raffle.
Goddamn, I needed that drink.
He should be haunted like Ebenezer Scrooge by the Ghost of Christmas Past. Or at least the Ghost of Hookups Past.

Momma’s gonna have herself a very merry Christmas revenge.
Swapping the salt and sugar so his Christmas cookies are ruined? Be still, my shriveled little heart.
Spying on him so I can gather recon to ruin his holidate? Damn, I forgot how ripped his chest was.
Sneaking down his chimney to steal all the presents under his tree? Amateur hour.
Until I get caught…

Guess I’m spending Christmas in jail.
But when he sees I’m not wearing a bra under my ugly Christmas sweater, Oliver smiles like Santa has come early.
Crap! I knew I should have worn my good underwear.

Hold on to your stockings because the eggnog is spicy and mostly booze. This is a fuck-second-chances, Santa-stalker, holiday-revenge romantic comedy. Featuring Christmas-hating heroines with poor decision-making skills, ripped guys who will leave a very large package under your tree, and adorable corgis dressed up as reindeer, this standalone book has a happily ever after, guaranteed!

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

I slid like a squirrel straddling the roof peak, scooting along the ridgeline to the massive brick fireplace. I pried the round ceramic top off and stuck my head inside.

The Victorians liked their fireplaces.

While my parents’ wood-burning fire was more of a stovepipe, this house had been built to hold a massive fire.

I swung my feet over and shimmied into the chimney. Below me, Max must have figured out what was up because he was barking, the noise echoing up the chimney shaft.

“Dang, I can’t believe I fit,” I marveled. The cold air whipped my face, and I had a moment of clarity.

“Maybe this was a bridge too far,” I said and tried to hoist myself back up.

The chimney rim was slick with ice. My hand slipped. Then I fell down into the sooty black tube.

I stopped abruptly, my teeth knocking together.

“Help,” I squeaked.

I was stuck in the chimney, my arms wedged up above my head. Every time I let out a breath I slid farther down. My skirt was wedged under my boobs, and my sweater was wrapped around my head and neck.

“Help!” I rasped, kicking my legs. “Max, get help.”

The dog’s frantic barking changed to excited yips.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around my soot-covered thighs.

In any other scenario, I would have been really put out that Oliver was finally touching me only after I had flaked on working out the past year and developed a layer of winter flab. But I just wanted to be free. It was difficult to breathe.

“Save me,” I forced myself to whisper.

“Shit,” Oliver said, giving a solid tug on my legs.

I wedged down farther.

“I think you’re stuck in there.” His hands disappeared.

“Don’t leave me,” I begged.

His hand was back, his thumb stroking me reassuringly on my ankle.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to call the fire department. We’ll probably have to dismantle the chimney. I’m sure my neighbors will complain to me about it.” I heard the eye roll in his voice. Then his phone emitted beeps.

I kicked my feet. “Don’t you dare, Oliver Frost. Don’t you dare call the fire department. My mother will find out. I’ll be the talk of the town for years. Decades. It will be on my tombstone.”

“I can’t leave you here,” he said, voice echoing up the shaft.

“Oh, yes you can. I insist. I’ll be dead and done rotting in about three weeks. Then we can all just pretend this never happened.”

“Are you insane?”

Oh God. I had a horrible thought.

He can probably see straight up my crotch.

Was I wearing my nice underwear? Did I even own any sufficiently nice underwear?

“Please,” I begged. “My life is shit. Please just try pulling me out one more time?”

“I’m afraid to make you more stuck. Embarrassment won’t kill you.”

“It literally will,” I shrieked with my remaining breath.

Oliver muttered something that sounded like “God save me from this woman.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, moving the logs and the metal grate out of the way. “I’m giving this one shot. Then we’re going to host the fire department for the second time in as many days.”

After a rustling of fabric, his large hands slid up my bare legs.

“Sorry for manhandling you like this.”

His bare arms circled my waist, and I squawked as he wrapped them around my bare torso, connecting my body with his.

I could feel his bare chest against my thighs.

His head was somewhere in crotch vicinity, and he squeezed me tight.

Maybe I could just tell him to eat me out and then die happy.

Oliver gave a sharp hard tug. My sweater slipped up.

He adjusted his grasp and pulled, grunting hard.

“I think I’m moving,” I called.

He gave one more strong tug. My sweater ripped, and then I was free, tumbling down in a heap of ash and yarn on top of him.

He was covered in black soot. It was all over his pale skin, turning his hair a dark gray and making his eyes a startlingly bright blue.

“See,” I said, spreading my arms. “I knew you could do it. And you wanted to call the fire department.”

He didn’t say a word. He was staring at me, or more specifically my boobs.

I looked down.

“Elf balls.”

Author Bio:

If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I'm your girl!

Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books…

Sign up for my mailing list to get the free novella, AFTER HIS PEONIES, along with special bonus content, giveaways, and more!

Mailing List / Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub


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Cold Rage by Toni Anderson

  Title: Cold Rage Series: Cold Justice - Most Wanted #8 Author: Toni Anderson Genres: Romantic Thriller/Suspense Tropes: Slow Burn, For...