Release Blitz: XO, Blake (The Undergrade Years #3) by Avery Aster

For fans of the dark comedy film Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down comes an erotic exploration in domination and submission where Ivy League students let their naughtiest desires run wild…

If you think my besties Lex, Taddy, and Vive have had some bad luck earlier this year, cut to me at Glamorama. Last thing I remembered was dancing with Diego and Miguel from my English class, when the room started… spinning. And not in a good way! We got sick. Think Regan in The Exorcist. Taddy was rushed to the hospital. Holding on for dear life, I was carried out by the boys and taken back to their dorm.

Now I’m waking up in Diego’s bed and Miguel keeps staring at me from across the room. I’ve wanted to get into these dudes’ pants since the first day of class. But Diego told me he likes to be tied up and—wait for it—spanked. WTF! The news on TV reports that last night we all got roofied. And Vive just texted me saying that someone is out to kill her. Could this semester get any more bizarre? -–Blake Morgan, college freshman, gay best friend, virgin.

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Fuck. Pre-cum.

Utterly compelling, his magnetism was so potent I could get drunk just by looking at him. Clearly my body couldn’t control itself.

“And?” He came over and straddled my legs, curled himself into the curve of my body. Then his sexy mouth descended to meet mine, first slowly, drugging those lips until our tongues danced.

With a lightness in my chest, my lips burned in the aftermath of his kiss. Damn, he’s good. Gasping in delight, I reached for his hand and embraced the adrenaline rush of being with him. The stroke of his skin sent erotic jolts through every part of my body. There was a dreamy intimacy between us, as if everything was standing still. Except for my heart. That was beating at a zillion pulses a second.

Wet. His mouth covered mine hungrily as we tongued all over again.

Fuuuck. I curled my toes. A delightful shiver of wanting ran through me. I was going to cum in my pants. Any second now. Air, I need to breathe. Instinctively, my hand came up to his chest, begging for a minute.

Filled with desire to know, my pulse quickened as I demanded, “Tell me why you have the rope…”

“I like to use it when I’m having sex.” His mouth grazed my earlobe.

Hearing that made my heart thump erratically. I bit down on my lower lip before asking, “Do you get tied up or do they?” When he didn’t give me an answer, I pressed my open lips to his and murmured, “Tell…me.”

“Usually, they do.” He kissed the sensitive spot of my neck. “I like the power it gives me, having someone helpless under my body. I’m in complete control of them.” A series of slow kisses all over my entire face ensued. It sent a shiver up and down my spine until he rested his lips against my scar, kissing it…twice.

“Does that hurt?” he asked.

Shaking my head, I replied, “The doctors told me I have nerve damage. Mostly, it just feels numb.” Self-conscious, my gaze fell on the floor.

“Hey, guapo…look at me.” He grabbed my chin, his brown eyes flickering with intent. “Let me see your smile.”

My face must’ve been bright red, because I felt embarrassed. I grinned back at him.

“There you go, guapo. You are a beautiful man.” His lips brushed my scar.

Drugged by his compliments, feeling a bit more self-confident, I muttered, “Thanks,” and kissed him back. We took our time getting to know every square inch of each other’s flesh. Curious to see what all that control would feel like, I confessed, “I want to tie you up.”

“Why?”

“The power.” My emotions skittered. “Lately, my life has been sorta slipping through my hands—”

“So…you tying me up will help balance you out?”

“Maybe.” My consciousness seemed to ebb and then the burning desire to fuck him took over, more than ever. “Have you ever been tied up before?”

“No. Like I said, usually I do all the tying.”

My lips curved down into a frown.

“But…”

“Yes?” My voice went up an octave.

“I’m willing to bottom for you, so I might as well let you tie me up.”

“Really?” My eyes blinked.

“Sí.”

“Good. Very good.”

XO, Blake by Avery Aster

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


The Undergrad Years are like – The OC, 90210 and Gossip Girl on steroids – I love it!


This is part three of The Undergrad Years, a spinoff series or prequel series if you will, to the very popular Manhattanites Series by Avery Aster. The Undergrad Years features or favorite besties Lex, Taddy, Vive and Blake as college students. Each installment has the close knit clan in crazy adventures attracting attention and drama everywhere they go.

This installment is all about Blake Morgan III. I loved finding out more about Blake. I have to admit out of all the Manhattanites he was not my favorite. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t getting why the girls loved him so much. Reading XO, Blake and going back in time to the college years with them taught me so much about Blake. He is a generous, kind, loving friend to all and these girls would be lost without him.

Avery Aster manages to write stories that make me laugh out loud, hold my breath in anticipation and get emotional all in a few chapters. Though there are lots of funny parts to XO, Blake there are also some serious issues that the author address very tastefully. Blake is dyslexic when he writes in his journal Avery was sure to show us his mistakes which made the character all the more realistic. There is also talk among the friends as well as between Blake and his mother about HIV/AIDS and safe sex. Important issues that I still find even today people have a hard time talking about.

The romance part of this installment is the new relationship between Diego and Blake. The sex scenes were very well written as I would only expect from Ms. Aster. There is a bit of light BDSM scenes that I though played well in the story. I felt so bad for Miguel loving Blake from a far poor guy. I can’t wait to read Unsaid, which is the Manhattanite series story of Miguel and Blake. I read it on Wattpad but it was revised since then so I am curious to read the changes that were made.

Taddy, Vive and Lex make their voices known in Blake’s life as well as Thor which of course means big scandals galore.

This book can be read as standalone but I highly recommend reading the whole series as well as the Manhattanites series.

The Undergrad Years are about friendship, first love, and growing into adulthood albeit kicking and screaming.

*Received and ARC from the author in exchange for an honest review*




View all my reviews

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New York Times, USA Today bestselling author Avery Aster pens The Manhattanites, a modern romance series of juicy melodramas multilayered on love, friendship, scandal, and drama to the hilt. As a resident of New York’s Upper East Side and a graduate from New York University, Avery gives readers an inside look at the city’s glitzy nightlife, socialite sexcapades and tall tales of the über-rich and ultra-famous. “I write about what I see in my metropolis that never sleeps–beautiful people on the quest for a passionate thrill,” Avery says. By and large, Avery’s characters are ripped straight from the headlines, speak their minds and always get what they want.

Undressed #1 (Lex & Massimo) launched The Manhattanites series. Unscrupulous #2 (Taddy & Warner) is the prequel. Also, stay tuned for the sequel with Unsaid #3 (Blake & Miguel) coming summer 2014.

The Manhattanites is for fans who miss TV shows like Sex & The City or watch Girls (HBO), Revenge (ABC), and The Bold & the Beautiful (CBS) . Avery’s characters are over the top. They have cray-cray fun, speak their minds and always get what they want. Each novel may be read as a stand alone.

Note: Avery Aster practices “follow my ass and I’ll follow you back!”

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Cover Reveal: The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet by Susan Ward

☆☆☆COVER REVEAL☆☆☆The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet by Susan Ward This is book 4 of the Half Shell Series.Add to...
Posted by JB's Book Obsession Blog on Thursday, June 11, 2015

Cover Reveal: Betrayed by Brie Paisley

He is darkness. He is everything that should make me run and never look back. I should run. I should leave and forget everything he makes me want and feel. I have tried running, only to be caught and brought back. Why does this man want me? Why does he want to claim everything I have? 

I just want to be free. I want and need my freedom from him. 

I need freedom from his darkness. 

I need freedom from his chains that bind me. 

I need freedom from falling for the man that I know is a monster. 

She is light. Everything that is good while I am consumed with darkness. She is my salvation from the monster that dwells inside of me. I can’t help but want her. I can’t help but need her. I have to consume her in every way possible. She is mine whether she wants to believe it or not. She wants her freedom from me. But what she doesn’t see, I am the very thing she wants and needs. 

Freedom to be herself. 

Freedom to let go of her pain. 

Freedom to fall for the one man that sets her body on fire. 

Body, mind, and soul I will claim what is mine. 

Brie Paisley is a small town gal from Mississippi. She always wanted to write at a young age and was always filling journals with her thoughts and short stories. Brie started with the idea of Worshipped a year ago and with the encouragement of her husband and sister in law, she was able to write her first book. When she is not writing, you can find her reading a good book, painting, scrapbooking, or watching a good movie with her husband and her boxer.

Blog Tour: Strike Book 2: Dax by Heather C. Leigh

Meet Dax & Kate in the newest standalone in the Sphere of Irony Series.

NOW AVAILABLE

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1HaMtNW

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Blurb

Dax Davies has one job to fulfill in the Davies household. Earn money at the family business. The problem is that the family business was illegal underground fighting.

From a young age, Dax and his brothers are groomed to become money earners in their father's club. Broken bones and bruises are commonplace. Their father pits the brothers against each other to 'toughen them up' for the ring, using his rules to bend his sons to his will. His future is in the cage, not on stage where he dreams of making music.

Kate Campbell loves one thing in life. Well, two. Soccer and Dax Davies. Growing up in the poorest part of London, soccer is her personal escape from reality and from the fact that Dax doesn't seem to know she exists. She figures if she can be good enough at soccer, maybe she can get away from Hackney, and leave the poverty behind.

Kate doesn't plan on ever getting to know Dax as more than a passing acquaintance. In fact, she isn't meant to go with her friend to Dax's father's business, but that one night changes everything.

***This is book 2 in the Sphere of Irony Series. It can be read as a standalone. This is a spin-off of the Famous Series***

Excerpt. Dax notices Kate Dax's POV

I follow Adam’s gaze to see Ellie hurrying towards us, towing a friend by the hand. Ellie immediately latches on to Adam, prattling on about something or other. Tuning out the happy couple, I take a moment to check out Ellie’s friend, Kate. I’ve seen her around, mostly with Ellie, but she’s in my maths class as well. In fact, now that I think about it, we’ve been in school together a long time.

The fact that I didn’t remember her until now makes me frown, which in turn, makes Kate’s eyes go wide with fear. The girl is fiddling with her hair, pulling it up into a ponytail. She’s clearly uncomfortable around me, so, being the heartless prick that I am, I decide to make it worse.

“You’re Kate.”

When impossibly green eyes shoot up to meet mine, big and innocent looking, all of the smartass comments I have at the ready fall away. Smooth, lightly freckled skin flushes pink and full lips part, making my cock sit up and take notice. It’s then I realize I’ve never really looked at Kate before.

How did I not see how gorgeous this girl is? She’s not obvious or flashy—no, she’s very… girl next door. Sporty and fit with tawny brown hair always pulled up on her head, showing off two very high cheekbones. I’m surprised how affected I am by her. My heart has begun thumping hard and my palms are sweaty. How angry would Adam be if I shagged Ellie’s best friend?

Probably very. Not that I care much what he thinks.

While I’m thinking of how she looks naked, she gathers herself together and answers my question. “Yes. I’m Kate.” Shit, even her voice affects me—soft and slightly scratchy in a sexy kind of way. Now my dick is throbbing, pressing uncomfortably against my zipper. I need to hear that voice again.

“I’m Dax. You’re in my maths class.”

Those emerald eyes get even wider and her jaw hangs open. “How do you know who I am?”

Huh?

“Why wouldn’t I know who you are? Haven’t we been in the same year for ages?” I furrow my brow, trying to decide if I’m thinking of a different girl. But no, it’s her, I’m sure of it.

“Y-y-yes. Since third year.”

I hold back a smile, keeping my cool exterior. At least I got that right. “Well then, apparently I’m not as stupid as some might say.”

Kate’s fingers untwist from her hair, settling on her hips. Lush, ruby lips turn down in the corners and her eyes narrow. She looks downright offended. “Who says you’re stupid? You’re in my advanced maths class, so I know that can’t be true.”

For once in my life I’m speechless. No one ever gives me the benefit of the doubt or defends my intelligence. Do I bother explaining to her that most people associate a big, muscled guy with an empty skull? Add in the underground fighting and they assume I’ve taken enough hits to the head to be rendered daft and dumb.

No one talks about it, but the teachers here know what I do—what my dad’s business is. I am the fourth Davies, son at this school after all and they treat me accordingly. They don’t even bat an eye at the bruises anymore.

I tilt my chin to look down at her. Kate’s not at my eye level, but for a girl, she’s fairly tall—maybe five foot seven or eight? In those eyes, eyes as green as the stripes on the Davies family tartan, I see something I haven’t seen on a girl’s face in… well, ever. Admiration? Respect, maybe? Is it possible Kate respects me? That she sees past my intimidating exterior to the man beneath the brawn? That she sees more than just a conquest to brag to her friends about?

One of dad’s rules pops into my head.

Rule 2—Never let your emotions show.

I lock down the surprise on my face, keeping it to its usual icy façade.

What if she doesn’t like what she finds? I don’t know why I care, but suddenly, I don’t want Kate to know about the fighting, the girls, my family… those goddamn rules. For the first time in my life I’m not proud of my wins, of all the girls I’ve shagged or had suck me off at the club or behind the school. For once, I’m truly ashamed of what I am.  

Incite (Book One) The Sphere of Irony Series

Now ONLY $0.99

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About the Author:

Heather C Leigh

After growing up in New England, I currently live just outside Atlanta, GA.

I love the Red Sox and hate the Yankees.

I love hot, sexy romance novels, but hate long, drawn out misunderstandings as a plot line.

I love book series, but hate cliffhangers.

I love alpha males, but hate when they borderline on abusive.

Mostly? I love love love chocolate.

Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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Virtual Tour: Zack - Cold Fury Hockey #3 by Sawyer Bennett

Zack
Cold Fury Hockey # 3

By: Sawyer Bennett

Releasing June 9, 2015

Loveswept

Blurb

New York Times bestselling author Sawyer Bennett goes for a hat trick with the latest romance in a sexy series about cool-as-ice hockey players and the women heating up their lives.

Warning: The following contains spoilers from a cliffhanger in Garrett.

Rising star Zack Grantham has been stuck in a downward spiral of grief that has put his career on hold. Back on the road with the Carolina Cold Fury, still crippled by emotional baggage, and now a single dad, he’s in need of some serious help with his son. But while the nerdy new nanny wins his son’s heart, Zack isn’t sure he’s ready for a woman’s touch—even after getting a glimpse of the killer curves she’s hiding under those baggy clothes.

Kate Francis usually keeps men like Zack at a distance. Though his athlete’s body is honed to perfection, he refuses to move on with his life—and besides, he’s her boss. Still, the sparks between them are undeniable, tempting Kate to turn their professional relationship into a personal one. But before she makes a power play for Zack’s wounded heart, Kate will have to open him up again and show him that love is worth the fight.

Link to Follow Tour:  http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/03/zack-cold-fury-hockey-3-by-sawyer.html

Goodreads Link: 

Goodreads Series Link: 

Buy Links:  Amazon | B & N | iTunes | Kobo | Publisher

Author Info

USA Today Best-Selling Author, Sawyer Bennett is a snarky southern woman and reformed trial lawyer who decided to finally start putting on paper all of the stories that were floating in her head. Her husband works for a Fortune 100 company which lets him fly all over the world while she stays at home with their daughter and three big, furry dogs who hog the bed. Sawyer would like to report she doesn’t have many weaknesses but can be bribed with a nominal amount of milk chocolate.

Sawyer is the author of several contemporary romances including the popular Off Series, the Legal Affairs Series and the Last Call Series. She will be releasing her second book in the Cold Fury Hockey Series with Random House Loveswept, February 2015.

Author Links:  Website | Facebook | Twitter  | Goodreads

The overhead lights go out, and the club would be in total darkness if not for the recessed lights that edge the perimeter of the stage. I slouch down in my seat, pulling my ball cap lower over my forehead. This causes me to have to tilt my head back a little bit farther to watch the show but keeps my face better obscured. The beard I’d been growing for the past four months I’m sure helps to hide my fame as well.

I don’t want to be recognized.

I don’t want anyone to see me and realize just how low Zack Grantham has fallen from grace.

A sexy techno beat starts thrumming low, gradually building in decibels. A few whistles pierce the air, one redneck sounding a catcall. A rolling tide of mechanical fog slithers across the black lacquered stage and then swirling spotlights from the corners of the club start rotating. A slight flutter at the pitch-black curtains that sit closed tight is the only indication that something is about to happen.

A quick glance down at my phone that sits on the table in front of me shows that the time is almost midnight. Time for the grand finale of the evening. The moment all of the drunk and horny patrons of The Golden Box have been waiting for.

I ignore the phone, but tip back the tequila shot sitting in front of me, my eyes sliding up to the stage as I set the glass back down. When the music reaches its apex, a slim but toned bare leg sporting an obscenely high-heeled red shoe peeks through the slit of the curtains, thigh parallel to the floor . . . calf muscle taut, with toes pointing downward. The whistles and catcalls increase, but I watch dispassionately.

The owner of that bare leg raises her knee up higher, then stretches it out fully . . . gracefully, and holds it there, just as the music lulls to a slow grind.

She holds it for just a second.


Just a moment, where everyone waits to see what comes next.


The curtains fly apart just as the bass thump of music crashes through the club and a stunning woman with glorious curly blond hair bursts through. My brain processes a starched white button-down shirt and a black fedora on her head, then just as quickly processes the fact that she reaches to the dipping gap at her chest and rips the shirt open. Beautiful, round, and by the looks of them, real, boobs pop forth . . . spectacularly bare and bouncing.

A hundred horny men start cheering and I’m sure the majority of dicks go to full mast.

The stripper, who I happen to know goes by the name Candi Apple—and yeah, that’s Candi with an i—struts confidently up to the silver pole lodged firmly at the edge of the stage.

Hips swaying, tongue licking at her full bottom lip, hair wild and blowing from some kind of cheesy wind machine built into the stage flooring.

Her right hand reaches out, grabs the pole, and she bends her knees . . . squatting way down until her ass is almost on the floor. Her legs are spread wide and the rotating strobe lights cause sparkles to bounce off the silver sequins that cover the scrap of material between her legs. Candi gyrates her hips, fucking the pole . . . right in front of me. Her dark eyes scan the men surrounding the stage, calculating who might be the biggest tipper. Her gaze passes right over me because I don’t have green clutched in my fingertips waving back and forth with zeal to stuff them in her G-string.

The show goes on and I watch it all . . . willing for my body to feel something. I’d hoped for a hard-on to prove I wasn’t dead, but even a slight fluttering of lust deep in my groin would have been welcomed. Hell, I’d probably kill for a gurgle of indigestion—just fucking something— anything to show I could react.

I come up fucking empty.

The slight ache in my right wrist pulls my attention away from the tits and ass, and I open and close my fist several times to ease the cramp, finally giving it a hearty shake. Overall, my wrist has healed well over the last four months. The plates and screws have been removed, physical therapy has been completed, and I’m feeling physically strong. Yeah . . . my wrist is aching right now, but only because I’ve been gripping the armrests of my chair too tightly while I waited to see if Candi Apple might be the one to bring me back to life.


Luckily, it’s just an ache and certainly not something that gives me any pause. I’ve been cleared by the team orthopedist, Mark Godson, and cleared by Coach Pretore as well. Starting next week, I’ll resume practice with the team, and if I’m lucky, it won’t be long before I’m back in the game . . . a starting second-line left winger for the Cold Fury.

My insides feel dead, my capacity to care for much of anything seems lost, but there are two things that still keep me functioning. It’s the prospect of playing hockey again, and, more important, my son, Ben.

A flare of light catches my eye and I see my phone screen glare brightly. I grab it and wince at the angry text from my sister, Delaney.

WTF Zack? You leave an hour ago to get some milk and you’re not back.

Where are you?

Guilt suffuses through me, and it’s not lost on me that I’m actually feeling an emotion. But then again . . . the acknowledgment of guilt has not been hard for me the past four months.

I wonder what Delaney would say if I texted her back I’m at a strip club. 

Hoping Candi Apple turns me on.

She’d shit a brick, that’s for sure.

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