Showing posts with label 99 cents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 99 cents. Show all posts

Thursday, April 16, 2020

Hilarious romantic comedy – for peanuts! Fluffy by @jkentauthor - #sale #99c #romcom #romance #comedy

Fluffy teaser banner


99¢ SALE – add audio with Whispersync and/or Audible Escape

Description

It all started with the wrong Help Wanted ad. Of course it did.

I’m a professional fluffer. It’s NOT what you think. I stage homes for a living. Real estate agents love me, and my work stands on its own merits.

Sigh. Get your mind out of the gutter. Go ahead. Laugh. I’ll wait.

See? That’s the problem. My career has used the term “fluffer” for decades. I didn’t even know there was a more… lascivious definition of the term.

Until it was too late.

The ad for a “professional fluffer” on Craigslist seemed like divine intervention. My last unemployment check was in the bank. I was desperate. Rent was due. The ad said cash paid at the end of the day.

The perfect job!

Staging homes means showing your best angle. The same principle applies in making a certain kind of movie. Turns out a “fluffer” doesn’t arrange decorative pillows on a couch.

They arrange other soft, round-ish objects.

The job isn’t hard. Er, I mean, it is — it’s about being hard. Or, well… helping other people to be hard.

Oh, man…

And that’s the other problem. A man. No, not one of the stars on the movie set. Will Lotham – my high school crush. The owner of the house where we’re filming. Illegally. In a vacation rental.

By the time the cops show up, what I thought was just a great house staging gig turned into a nightmare involving pictures of me with an undressed naked star, Will rescuing me from an arrest, and a humiliating lesson in my own naivete.

My job turned out to be so much harder than I expected. But you know what’s easier than I ever imagined?

Having all my dreams come true.

Excerpt

“Do you use the proper terms for everything, Mallory?” He makes an inarticulate sound as I peel the gauze off the cut, wiping gently. “You call your pretty place a vulva, right? And you use the word vagina.”

“'Pretty place'?”

He shrugs.

“And yes, I do. Vulva and vagina. And then there’s the clitoris,” I say primly.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“A clitoris. Never heard of it.”

I freeze and look down at him. Bright eyes meet mine. Is he serious?

“The clitoris is a nerve cluster above the opening to the vagina,” I begin, taking a breath to continue my impromptu human sexuality lecture, because when a man tells you they don’t know what a clitoris is, you educate them immediately.

For the sisterhood. All the women Will is going to sleep with from here on out will thank me later.

He starts to laugh. I’m so tempted to pour the small bottle of isopropyl alcohol directly on his wound, but I’m a kind, compassionate woman, so instead I dab it on with a swab.

“OW!” he bellows.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry at all.”

“I’m sorry for your sex partners that you have no idea what a clitoris is, Will.”

“I know what it is. And my tongue knows how to find one. Blindfolded.”

“Why would you blindfold your tongue?”



Buy Links








Google Play: http://bit.ly/2COKLmQ


Amazon Audio: https://amzn.to/2Vm0cdF


Print: mybook.to/fluffy



About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down
Social Media Links
Sale blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.



Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , , ,

Wednesday, January 29, 2020

Binge on hilarious #romcom from @JKentAuthor! #romance #boxedset #99cents


Sale teaser banner

A BUNDLE OF LAUGHTER FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR JULIA KENT

Get books 6 (Shopping for a Billionaire's Fiancee), 7 (Shopping for a CEO) and 8 (Shopping for a Billionaire's Wife) in one BIG bundle of laughter, community, and - of course - romance in Julia Kent's New York Times bestselling series.

Audiobook lovers can also get all three books in one big, 26-hour-long bundle! Narrated by Zachary Webber, Amy McFadden and Tanya Eby. Give your ears something to look forward to!

Buy links
Excerpts

Shopping for a Billionaire’s Fiancee

Shannon has a key to my place, and as I walk in the door I see candlelight. Flickering flame is to a man what Ben & Jerry’s is to a woman.

A sign of a sure thing.

“Shannon?” I call out, following the disorganized scatter of lit candles in the living room. Shadows dance on the wall in my hallway, and I round the corner to my bedroom to find her, spread out on my bed, wearing garters, stockings, the red corset, and—

She’s asleep.

That’s okay. I can work with asleep.

I can’t work with absent.

You’d be surprised how fast a man can undress when under the complete control of testicles so full they look like a case of mumps. I’m out of my clothes in seventeen sec-onds or so (who’s counting?) and on the bed, my hands taking in her prone body. I’m allowed to touch. We have an unwritten rule. It goes something like this:

Touch Shannon.

It’s a simple rule.

Her skin is so soft, my fingers scraping against the rolling contour of her inner thigh, from knee to heaven. The whorls of ridges on my fingertips feel like raw sandpaper against her porcelain flesh. My breathing slows, eyes adjusting to the dim light, taking in her body. How did I ever get so lucky?

From Toilet Girl to Mrs. McCormick in eighteen months.

Shopping for a CEO

It’s Andrew McCormick.

Oh, sweet holy hell.

I haven’t seen him in months. Haven’t kissed him since we were in the emergency room after my best friend, Shannon, swallowed the engagement ring his brother, Declan, gave to her as he proposed.

(A tip: don’t bury a three-carat diamond ring in a piece of tiramisu at a fancy restaurant as a way of proposing to a woman. Any woman. Why ruin the dessert like that?)

I’m the maid of honor for the wedding. Andrew is the best man. We’ve managed to avoid each other so far, but the wedding is three months away. I knew this day was coming.

But I didn’t expect it to be today.

My heart starts skipping beats as I take him in from afar, shielded by the angle of my bench. He has no idea I’m watching him. Thick hair, cut short and with the kind of layered sophistication that only comes from a stylist who charges three figures. Shaded eyes that I know are sharp and smoldering, a blend of brown and honey that makes you melt inside. He’s in a full suit, tie still snug against his neck, the moonlight reflecting off a white shirt. His grin is contagious, making my own smile widen as I tilt my head and let myself get lost in wondering.
Shopping for a Billionaire’s Wife

As we walk into the lounge, every single pair of eyes swivels to take us in.

“Why are they staring at us?” I ask Declan, clutching his arm.

“Because you’re wearing a wedding dress and I look like something out of a BBC documentary?” he answers smoothly.

I look down at myself. Look over at him. Take in the kilt, the socks covering his calves, the laces on his special Scottish shoes.

“Oh.”

One of the patrons, a man who is sitting next to a woman who looks like an adventurous traveler and not a mannequin on a rich man’s arm, points to the television, then back to us.

“You two on the run?”

Declan frowns and pulls me closer to the television.

Where someone is interviewing my mother.



About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three children.

Social Media Links











Sale blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.


Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , , ,

Wednesday, October 30, 2019

Special Sale! #VegasBabes #NewRelease #99Cents


Sale banner 

The latest book in my Vegas Babes series, Babes in Bondage, will be released on Friday. 

In fact, you can buy it today, on pre-release, at Amazon and Smashwords.

To celebrate (and to give those of you who are new to the series a chance to get to know my characters and their world), I’ve dropped the price of the first book to only 99 cents - but only for the next week!

Get your copy of Hot Brides in Vegas while it’s under a buck!

Not sure if you’re interested? Here’s the blurb and a sexy excerpt.

Never underestimate the power of a horny bride.

Francesca Torelli’s tycoon father is throwing a lavish Las Vegas wedding for his only child. Her fiancé Jake and his buddies set out for a stag night, exploring the fleshpots of Sin City. Meanwhile, Fran and her bridesmaids Laura and Chantal are stuck at the resort under the watchful eye of her stern Aunt Giulia, who has promised her brother that Franny will come to the altar a virgin.

Frustrated and annoyed by these double standards, the young women hatch a plan to escape their chaperone and have some fun of their own. With the help of a susceptible concierge, a butch ex-cop limo driver and a scandalous French couturiere, they find their way to The Fox’s Den, the most exclusive—and outrageous—gentlemen’s club in the city. Owner Larry Archer and his crew of strippers, bouncers, voyeurs and sluts are more than happy to welcome the delectable trio as contestants performing at the club’s famous Amateur Night.

The gleeful permissiveness of the Den challenges the women’s assumptions and undermines their inhibitions. Complications ensue when Jake and his groomsmen arrive to find Fran in the midst of her strip act. Then Aunt Giulia crashes the party, determined to save her virgin niece, and things get really sticky—both figuratively and literally.

Will love triumph? Will Francesca be drawn over to the dark side? Is there a difference?
Only 99 cents until November 7th!




Excerpt

Larry beamed at the customers, waiting for the hubbub to die down. “And now,” he said, “I’d like to introduce our first contestant. Put your hands together and give a big Vegas welcome to the lovely Laura!”

The first bars of her chosen music filtered through the din. “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak, a song that always made her feel sexy. Laura stepped out of the shadows, into the pool of light on the stage.
The applause hit her like a physical blow. She would have stumbled on her sky-high heels, but the music held her.

The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you…

Like fire, lust raced through her. She raised her arms above her head in a luxurious stretch, then pivoted so her back was to the crowd. Ever so slowly, she bent at the waist, walking her hands down her legs to her ankles.

It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do…

She felt her clinging, skimpy dress ride up the back of her thighs before completely baring her ass. Her thong tightened between her cheeks, adding delicious pressure against both her rear hole and her pussy. Laura swung her hips in a figure eight, in perfect time with the music. The audience was silent—hypnotized by her slow, sensual moves—but she felt their eyes on her.

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way…

She twirled on her high heels, until she once more faced the crowd. At the same time, she grabbed the hem of her costume and eased the garment up to her waist, showing off her flat stomach, her shadowy navel and the lace-sheathed plumpness of her pussy. A guy sitting at the bar leaned toward her, holding out a ten dollar bill. With a smile she hoped was enticing, she crouched down in front of him, holding his gaze. He stuck the cash into the elastic waistband of her thong. In a flash of wickedness, she pushed the bill under the triangle of fabric that barely covered her sex, then palmed her pussy and rubbed hard.

The spectators burst into wild applause. Meanwhile, Laura went rigid as a mini-climax raced through her. The spotlights dimmed and the room whirled as she struggled to remain standing.

Did the people watching know? Of course they did. But maybe it was common for dancers at The Fox’s Den to come on stage. She wouldn’t be surprised.

The song died away, haunting and erotic. Laura pulled the stretchy dress over her head and shook her blonde curls free, as Donna Summer picked up the beat.

Sittin' here, eatin' my heart out waitin'
Waitin' for some lover to call…

Laura strutted around the stage, shimmying her shoulders so that her breasts swung back and forth. People were clapping in time with the music as she bent once more and shook her ass in their faces. She felt high from the lust that washed over her. They wanted her, every single one of them.

“Take it all off,” yelled someone in the back.

She obliged, teasing the thong down over her hips little by little, until everyone could see her shaved pussy. The drenched Alexander Hamilton fluttered to the floor. Oh God!

A voluptuous brunette at the bar pumped her fingers in and out of her month, then made a come-hither gesture. Laura sank to the stage directly in front of the woman, knees spread wide, swollen cunt lips gaping. Her eyes locked to Laura’s, the dark-haired lady slid her fingers bit by bit into Laura’s weeping slit. Drawing them out, equally slowly, she dragged them over Laura’s clit.

Fireworks shot through Laura’s body. Juices gushed from her, puddling on the stage. It was lucky she was already kneeling; in this onslaught of sensation, her legs would not have held her.

“Hot stuff!” came a call from the audience, audible even above the thunderous applause. She recognized the deep voice. Steve!

Mingled shame and lust triggered another climax. Still shaking, she rolled onto her hip and somehow made it to a standing position. The music had ended, or at least she thought it had. The clapping made it hard to tell.

She made an awkward curtsy, then bent to retrieve her tangled dress, acutely aware she was showing off her ass once more.

Posted by at 2 comments:
Labels: , , , ,

Friday, August 23, 2019

Sizzling contemporary romance by Sadira Stone - only 99 cents! #CheapRomance #99cents


Sale banner

Check out Sadira Stone’s latest novel, Runaway Love Story – only 99 cents until September 6th. Nearly four hundred pages of delicious, steamy contemporary romance, for less than a buck!

She hates average...he's as average as they come.

High school history teacher Doug Garvey is trying to enjoy his last few weeks of summer vacation, but receiving his final divorce decree hits him harder than expected. After a brief fling fizzles, he fears love just isn't in the cards for him. If only he could find someone who's real, someone interested in something beyond herself…maybe a new running partner who can keep up with his more carnal appetite. When sexy, straight-talking Laurel runs across his path, he dares to hope again.

He's done with social-climbing posers...she's ambitious and has big dreams.

Fired from an art gallery, Laurel Jepsen shelves her pursuit of an art career in San Francisco to help her beloved great aunt Maxie move into assisted living. While out on a morning run, she's harassed by a group of teens until a tall, broad-shouldered hottie steps in, pretending to be her boyfriend with a kiss that makes her wish it were true. But she's only passing through, not looking for a relationship.

Their fierce chemistry burns up the sheets—and the couch, the shower, the forest—but falling in love would ruin everything. Laurel can't stay in Eugene, and he can't leave. Doug's only hope is to convince her the glittery life she's after could blind her to the opportunities already in her path.

Here’s a tease of a snippet:

“I’m sorry she called you the S word.”

“Huh?”

“Sensible.”

She laughed. “Yeah. That’s a curse word, as far as I’m concerned.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“I’ll strike it from my vocabulary. Your S word is sparkle.” He traced her jawline with a feather-light touch. “Look at you, Laurel. You’re blinding.” His twilight-blue gaze made her heart dance—a steamy tango with swirls and dangerous dips. He kissed her, and, for a moment, she forgot all about caution, about cutting things off before they became too serious, about San Francisco. Her focus narrowed to his lips on hers, his nearness heating her whole body, opening her like a blossom, soft and willing. Ripe for the plucking.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He scooped her legs across his lap. One hand cradling her nape, the other gripping her thigh, he kissed her senseless. His velvet tongue teased her lips apart. He tasted of sugary coffee. The world around them faded—just two bodies, calling and answering, breathing in sync, their pulses beating the same rhythm.

Get your copy while it’s on sale!







About the Author

Ever since her first kiss, Sadira’s been spinning steamy tales in her head. After leaving her teaching career in Germany, she finally tried her hand at writing one. Now she’s a happy citizen of Romancelandia, penning contemporary romance and cozy mysteries from her home in Washington State. When not writing, which is seldom, she explores the Pacific Northwest with her charming husband, enjoys the local music scene, belly dances, plays guitar badly, and gobbles all the books. Visit Sadira at www.sadirastone.com.


Posted by at 1 comment:
Labels: , , , ,

Monday, March 11, 2019

Taking a pregnancy test is not rocket science... #99Cents #romcom @JKentAuthor

Sale Banner
Description

You know what's even better than marrying a billionaire? Having his baby.

We're ready. We've studied and planned, read all the birth and labor books, researched parenting classes, consulted our schedules, and it's time.

And by we I mean me.

Declan's just ready for the "have lots of sex" part. More than ready.

But there's just one problem: my husband and his brother have this little obsession with competition.

And by little, I mean stupid.

That's right.

We're not just about to try to bring a new human being into the world.

We have to do it better, Faster, Stronger.

Harder.

McCormick men don't just have babies.

They engage in competitive billionaire Babythons.

I thought the hardest part about getting pregnant would be dealing with my grandchild-crazed mother, who will go nuts shopping for a billionaire's baby.

Wrong.

Between conception issues, my mother's desire to talk to the baby through a hoo-haw cam, a childbirth class led by a drill sergeant and a father-in-law determined to sign the kid up for prep school before Declan even pulls out, my pregnancy has turned out to be one ordeal after the other.

But it's nothing -- nothing -- compared to the actual birth.

Shopping for a Billionaire's Baby is the newest book in Julia Kent's New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series and is a 400+ page full-length novel.

Buy Links














Excerpt

First morning urine is precious cargo. My Kegel muscles kick in and I halt midstream, panicking, my wet thighs making me slip slightly forward on the toilet seat, and– 

I drop the test into the toilet.

“DAMN!” I scream. My vaginal wall muscles are clamped down like the Hoover Dam holding back an unexpected early thaw, and I involuntarily shake the urine off my hand, flinging droplets all over the rest of me. I jump up, turn around, and try to retrieve the ruined test.

Just then, a whuff of cold air assaults my bare ass. Declan has apparently opened the bathroom door.

“What’s wrong? I heard you scream. Are you...” His voice trails off as I look at him, hand in the toilet, naked ass on display, single-handedly proving that taking a pregnancy test is, in fact, rocket science after all.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” he says softly, closing the door before bursting into laughter.

Now I know why they sell pregnancy tests in packages of two.


About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.

Sale blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.


Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , , ,
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)