Contents
The First Love Collection
[ Random Acts of Trust by Julia Kent ]
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
EXCLUSIVE CONTENT from Julia
Sneak Peek
About the Author
[ Blue Roses by Mimi Strong ]
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
About the Series
[ Heartbitten by Aubrey Rose ]
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK by Aubrey
More by Aubrey Rose
[ Lost by Nadia Simonenko ]
Title Page
Seven Years Ago...
Seven Years Later...
Wednesday, February 20 – 3:45 PM
Saturday, February 23 – 8:10 AM
Wednesday, February 27 – 3:30 PM
Friday, March 1 – 2:30 AM
Saturday, March 2 – 10:30 AM
Wednesday, March 6 – 3:00 PM
Friday, March 8 – 7:30 AM
Saturday, March 9 – 9:30 AM
Sunday, March 10 – 7:00 AM
Wednesday, March 13 – 5:30 PM
Saturday, March 16 – 10:00 AM
Monday, March 18 – 3:30 PM
In the middle of the night...
[ Forever Innocent by Deanna Roy ]
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1: Corabelle
Chapter 2: Corabelle
Chapter 3: Gavin
Chapter 4: Gavin
Chapter 5: Corabelle
Chapter 6: Gavin
Chapter 7: Corabelle
Chapter 8: Gavin
Chapter 9: Corabelle
Chapter 10: Gavin
Chapter 11: Corabelle
Chapter 12: Gavin
Chapter 13: Corabelle
Chapter 14: Gavin
Chapter 15: Corabelle
Chapter 16: Corabelle
Chapter 17: Gavin
Chapter 18: Corabelle
Chapter 19: Gavin
Chapter 20: Corabelle
Chapter 21: Gavin
Chapter 22: Corabelle
Chapter 23: Gavin
Chapter 24: Corabelle
Chapter 25: Gavin
Chapter 26: Corabelle
Chapter 27: Gavin
Chapter 28: Corabelle
Chapter 29: Gavin
Chapter 30: Corabelle
Chapter 31: Corabelle
Chapter 32: Corabelle
Chapter 33: Gavin
Chapter 34: Corabelle
Chapter 35: Gavin
Chapter 36: Corabelle
Chapter 37: Gavin
Chapter 38: Gavin
Chapter 39: Corabelle
Chapter 40: Corabelle
Chapter 41: Gavin
Chapter 42: Corabelle
EXCLUSIVE Bonus Content by Deanna
About Deanna Roy
[ Uncaged Love by JJ Knight ]
Volume 1
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Volume 2
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
EXCLUSIVE Bonus Content by JJ
About JJ
[ No One's Angel by Kelly Walker ]
Title Page
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Twenty Six
Twenty Seven
Twenty Eight
Twenty Nine
Thirty
Thirty One
Thirty Two
Thirty Three
Thirty Four
Thirty Five
Thirty Six
Thirty Seven
Thirty Eight
Thirty Nine
Forty
Forty One
Forty Two
Forty Three
Forty Four
Forty Five
Forty Six
Forty Seven
Forty Eight
Forty Nine
Fifty
Fifty One
EXCLUSIVE CONTENT from Kelly
A Note from the Author
Thank You
FIRST LOVE
Seven New Adult Romances
~*´♥`*~
Featuring Five New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors
Random Acts of Trust by Julia Kent
Heartbitten by Aubrey Rose
Lost by Nadia Simonenko
Forever Innocent by Deanna Roy
Uncaged Love by JJ Knight
No One’s Angel by Kelly Walker
Random Acts of Trust
by Julia Kent
Giving up is hard...
but giving in is even harder.
Summary: Sam blew it with Amy four years ago, but when they reconnect at one of Sam’s gigs, their explosive reunion will either rip open old wounds, or help them forget their painful past.
Copyright © 2013 by Julia Kent
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
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Drummers are mysterious creatures who seek the erratic microbeats of authentic life that are layered between the macrobeats of society. Sam’s hands were always tapping. Did they move in his sleep? Were his dreams filled with the nuanced undertone of beating movement? What did those hands seek?
With his hands in constant motion, how could I let him know my body should be the one place where those fingers could be still?
All I knew, after four and a half years of the unknown keeping us apart, was that it was time to face the past head-on and find out whether a future was possible.
Giving up is hard....
but giving in is even harder.
Chapter One
Amy
I wish it were my mouth, the man’s voice said, so faint I could barely understand.
I was sitting on the train, taking the T from Porter Square to South Station on the Red Line, a day of fun in Cambridge alone capped by this trip. We were underground, the train lit up by blinking fluorescent lights, and the rumble of the cars along steel tracks made it hard to hear.
And then, again, a man’s voice:
...bucking against his hand, rushing to find the climax she wanted him to give her. “And if we weren’t about to get caught, it would be.”
“Caught?” She panicked—
This time, the voice was louder and...tinny. Robotic. An older, friendly-looking woman with a service dog glanced up, ears perked.
Someone giggled. Where the hell was this coming from? I looked across the way to see my reflection in the train car window, the same old Amy staring back. Cultivated, half-lidded stare for city walking. Rumpled hair in a ponytail. Yoga pants and a v-neck t-shirt. My bag, filled with my wallet, some cosmetics, and—
My eReader tablet.
“Not yet, my sweet,” he insisted. “Not until I’ve given you this pleasure, and you’ve given me your abandon.” His fingers stroked her—
“My, oh, my,” said the woman across the way, who began to fan herself with a piece of paper. “Someone is getting it on.”
Frowning, I unzipped my bag.
The voice grew louder.
Very loud.
lips and tongue tasting her as he drove two fingers inside her aching pussy, clit on fire from his fingers...
Pussy? Clit? What the fuck was going on?
Snorts and hoots filled the train car as every single set of eyes—including the dog’s—were on me now.
“What you listening to, girl?” asked some old man five seats away.
“I—what? No, I don’t know what that is,” I protested, frantically pawing through my purse.
“You are reading something hot and steamy,” said a young voice with an unplaceable accent. My head tilted up to follow the sound as my hands searched for the tablet, buried under a bunch of new student orientation notices from my grad school program.
“I’m not reading any such thing—” I locked eyes with a woman my age, with a huge halo of unruly blond curls, merry green eyes, and eyebrows that twitched with amusement.
“Let go, Lydia,” he whispered, grinding into her from behind, his words an urging she didn’t need to hear twice.
Mouth open, neck straining, she mewled a scream of unleashing, her body thrusting against his fingers, her thighs shaking as she lost control...
Except she was right. The last thing I’d read on my tablet had been a very hot romance novel, which left off with the hero and heroine trapped in a broken elevator (doesn’t every romance novel have to have at least one scene like that?), and the words were familiar.
Too familiar.
“Turn it up! This is getting good!” called a guy across the way, wrists covered with tats, a leering smile on his face.
Found it! The tablet almost slammed to the ground as my fingers fumbled, face flushed with fear and shame, the voice pouring forth unbidden:
Matt turned her around, thumb steady as it circled her hot, red nub, and he took her mouth with his, her lips tense with climax, mind on fire and body overcome with surges of heat, then chill, of riding his hand to wring every drop of ecstasy
The blonde woman with the accent and the crazy hair started to clap. A bunch of people joined her. I hate you, I thought. The train came to a halt at Harvard Square and I reflexively stood and darted through the pneumatic doors, the damn tablet continuing its passionless robotic narrative, the crowd hooting and laughing hysterically. Someone pulled out their phone and began snapping pics.
Dear God, please do not let this be some Facebook viral story.
the intensity so much she nearly came again from the sound. “Next time,” he hissed, lips taking hers, pinning her lower lip between his teeth, sucking, then using his tongue to explore her teeth, her palate, her mouth being loved by his
Damn it! Where was the OFF button? This was a new tablet and in my overwhelm and horror I forgot how to shut it off.
“You readin’ Fifty Shades?” She’d followed me? The voice was so distinct for Boston that I didn’t even need to look up. Evil Blonde Subway Torture Ringleader was staring down at me as I crouched on the ground in front of a wall covered with ads for movies, music, and other performances.
Skirt around her hips, he used both hands to pin her ass to him, the weight of her release resting in his palms as she swallowed, breathing labored and sensual, his own breath...
“That’s some damn fine writing. Who’s the author again?” Stepping back, she finally got the hint as I ignored her, mercifully stopping the barrage of words from my tablet, words that had comforted and amused me just minutes ago, now turned into weapons of social destruction.
Ready to snap, I looked up to find her fading into the crowd. A Dunkin’ Donuts cup, greasy and covered with a fine layer of soot, was shoved under my nose.
“Got any change?” a panhandler asked.
Hastily standing, I shook my head furiously. “No.”
“Got a vibrator? Cause I need to rub one out after hearing that.” A six-toothed grin on the face of a woman my mom’s age came along with the comment, like a side of fries. She turned away to ask the next person for money, leaving me holding my tablet, clutching my bag, and too many stops away from my final destination.
As the new crowd assembled to wait for the next train, my heart rate gradually slowed from hummingbird to sloth, the flush on my face receded, and my mind raced to replay what had happened. Jostling from the train car going around a curve must have made something turn on the text-to-speech option, but how?
A laugh escaped through my nose, soft and touched with a cringe that made me want to hide under a rock. An un-narrated rock.
I shrugged. Ten more minutes and the next train would come. Might as well read for the next ten minutes. After pointedly shutting all sound off on my tablet, the whoosh of air that indicated a new train’s arrival short-circuited my attempt. Shoving the tablet back in my bag, I turned and saw it.
The poster.
Random Acts of Crazy. Tonight, at a bar a few blocks from my new apartment.
Oh, Sam.
* * *
That night, I walked into not a high school dance or a community center gathering, but a very grown-up bar that reeked of ancient cigarette smoke (long outlawed) and rancid liquor, staring at a stage peppered with sound techs doing final checks. I paid my cover charge and absent-mindedly pocketed the raffle ticket the guy gave me.
“Save it for the drawing,” he said, turning to the next person behind me.
Sam, Trevor, Joe and Liam would be on display any minute now, and I slid into a seat at an empty, sticky-topped table toward the back. I sat with a tilt to one side, hiding my face with my hair, grateful as the lights were dimmed and the stage lit up, from dull to bright by a dimmer switch some unknown hand cranked to full throttle.
And then—they strutted out to the cheers and catcalls of the crowd. My own mouth stayed silent as a guy who looked like a bouncer swiped the table with a very wet bar cloth, the motion efficient and distracting, though appreciated. With another hand he used a dry towel and within twenty seconds the table was wiped clean.
But not the slate between me and one of those guys on stage.
Two, actually.
“What can I get you?” a pleasant woman’s voice asked. The crowd crushed the edge of the stage as Trevor marched to the mic and shouted his introduction.
His words were lost as I shouted back, “Amaretto sour, please.”
And then—the opening chords of their first song made my table shake, with Sam the maker of the room’s heartbeat.
Drummers are mysterious creatures who seek the erratic microbeats of authentic life that are layered between the macrobeats of society. Sam’s hands were always tapping. Did they move in his sleep? Were his dreams filled with the nuanced undertone of beating movement? What did those hands seek?
With his hands in constant motion, how could I let him know my body should be the one place where those fingers could be still?
His hands moved like a poem, the left one tapping out a line, the right one pausing at the perfect moment to communicate emotion. Hot and sweaty on stage, the band moved as one organism. Trevor sang lead vocals. Hot, tall, muscled, and taking the crowd to a new layer of existence—and everyone willingly followed. Joe stood quiet in the background, playing bass, providing the undercurrent of emotion that allowed Trevor to fan the flames inside all of us. Liam played guitar like a man strumming a woman’s body. He seemed to make love to the instrument in a way that I could admire from afar, but that never quite caught the essence of me.