Adventures Abroad by: Jen McConnel

It’s release day for Jen McConnel’s Adventures Abroad series! Jen is sharing an exclusive excerpt about this fantastic travel romance series!

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About the Books:

Four countries. Three girls. Three loves. One adventure abroad they'll never forget.

What Happens in London

 

Sarah landed in London, just hoping to leave her home behind and escape her family. But she didn't plan on falling headfirst into Carson's arms. Get ready for a summer of self-discovery and romance in the first of the New Adult novella series, Adventures Abroad! Praise for What Happens in London: "Travel through London with Sarah, you'll squee, laugh and swoon at her adventures, I know I did!"- Lisa Burstein, author of Sneaking Candy

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What Happens in Paris

Camie can't figure out what she wants, from college or life…until she meets Hunter. But will the magic of a romantic night in Paris last till the morning? Fall in love with the second novella in the New Adult series, Adventures Abroad!

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What Happens in Berlin

Interrupting a summer of fun, Joelle takes a detour to Berlin for her older brother's wedding. Spending time with her family is enough to make anyone go a little crazy. She's ready to lose it...until she meets Vi, a girl ready to turn her world upside down. Follow her journey in the third installment of the New Adult series, Adventures Abroad!

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What Happens Abroad

After a summer of fun, Camie, Joelle, and Sarah are ready to reunite in Italy for one last adventure, but heartbreak waits in the shadows of the cobblestone streets. Can Florence cast its spell and turn lost love into a final fling? Catch up with the girls in this final installment of the New Adult series about love, escape, and true friendship.

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Exclusive Excerpt:

“Good morning, sleeping beauty!” A familiar voice cut across the street, and I winced. Carson sauntered over to me, holding a brown paper bag in one hand and a Styrofoam cup in the other.

I blinked at him, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“You mentioned where you were staying last night.”

I frowned, trying to remember. “I did?”

He slapped his hand to his chest as if I’d wounded him. “That’s the kind of welcome I get? A few dances and the lady doesn’t even remember me!”

I giggled, but pain shot through my head, and I winced.

Carson handed me the cup and the bag. “I thought you might need some hangover first-aid. You do like coffee, right?”

I nodded, taking the cup. “Actually, I like tea better, but coffee’s okay.”

Carson laughed. “Here I was trying to please your American sensibilities.” He shook his head ruefully. “If you want tea, we’ll find tea for you. That’s one thing we never run short of in London.”

I chuckled, taking a cautious sip. It was warm, but not too hot, and I took another swallow of the coffee. “What’s in the bag?”

“Hangover cure. I told you.”

I peeked inside. “A croissant?”

“Not just any croissant. It’s a chocolate croissant; you’ll love it.”

I took a tentative bite of the flaky pastry, and then I grinned up at Carson. “Oh my God. This is so good.”

He laughed. “I thought you’d like it. At least I was right about half the breakfast.”

“The coffee’s good, too.” I took another sip to prove my point.

“That’s good.” He draped an arm over my shoulder and pulled me close. We started to walk, and I hurried to finish the food. Taking the aspirin out of my bag, I popped a pill in my mouth and washed it down with coffee. Carson grinned at me. “Feeling better?”

I nodded, surprised that my head had calmed down. “Yeah. I thought it was a migraine.”

“Just a hangover. We drank a lot last night.”

I flushed, remembering the feeling of his hands running all over me on the dance floor. “It was fun.”

“It was more than fun.” His eyes sparkled, and his fingers began tracing lazy circles on my shoulder.

I shivered in delight. “So,” I said, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice, “what did you want to do today?”

His eyes danced wickedly. “Well”—he lowered his face to mine—“there are a few things I’ve had in mind,” he whispered, close enough that I could feel the vibration of his words against my skin. Hangover forgotten, I shut my eyes and parted my lips. After a moment, I felt him exhale against my mouth, and then his lips were pressed to mine.

The kiss was sweet and deep, and my body felt electric. God, so this is what I’d been missing all those years? I pressed my lips to his hungrily, but then he pulled back gently and smiled.

Jen McConnel Bio:

A Michigander by birth, Jen McConnel now makes her home in the beautiful state of North Carolina. She writes NA, including the recently released Adventures Abroad series (Bloomsbury Spark), the award winning YA novel Beautiful Curse, and various other works. When she isn’t writing, she can be found on her yoga mat or wandering off on another adventure. Once upon a time, she was a middle school teacher, a librarian, and a bookseller, but those are stories for another time. Visit www.JenMcConnel.com to learn more!

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Searching For Beautiful by Jennifer Probst

Searching For Beautiful by Jennifer Probst
Searching For, #3

(May 26, 2015, Gallery Books)

Genevieve MacKenzie has her life completely under control. About to wed the charming Chief doctor at the local hospital, she’s an up-and-coming surgeon with everything she could ever want. Until an escape through the church window on the day of her wedding sends her life into a tailspin...and flings her right into her best friend’s arms.


When Wolfe catches his best friend falling out a window on her wedding day, he doesn’t ask questions. He whisks her away, determined to watch over her and discover the truth behind her desperate escape. But when his feelings turn more than platonic, he realizes he may risk his most important relationship in order to protect his damaged heart, and the woman he loves.

Can Genevieve and Wolfe’s friendship turn into something deeper—or is it already too late for true love?

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EXCERPT:

He made a move to get up, but she lost it, knowing once she spotted the pity in his eyes she may never be the same.
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me! I need you to leave. I’m begging you to go out the door and give me time. Tomorrow, I’ll put myself back together and everything will be fine.” Her voice broke but she pushed on. “I just need some time alone. To
process. Please, Wolfe, please just go.”
She had nothing left, so she turned and walked toward the window. He didn’t move from the edge of the bed. Didn’t breathe. She pressed her forehead to the cool pane of glass and prayed to finish this awful night in isolation. Tomorrow she’d get her shit together and it would be okay. But tonight all bets were off, and she felt dangerously out of control . . . on the pinnacle of something so fierce she didn’t know how to handle it.
The mattress creaked. Shoes hit the floor. She held her breath and waited for the blessed silence, but instead of heading out, he stopped right behind her. His body heat roped her in and pulled tight, like a helpless calf at the rodeo. She held the windowsill in a deathlike grip, sensing him closing the distance inch by precious inch, until his chest pressed against her back.
“Look at me.” The rough growl was full of danger, command, heat. She was helpless to disobey, leaving the safety of the window to turn and face him full force. He reached out and tipped her chin up. Blistering, raw lust shot from his eyes. As if they were glowing from under the sea in the Caribbean, she tumbled into the depths of a gaze that promised everything with a Warning: Danger label attached.
His grip tightened, refusing to allow her to retreat, and he crowded her space by taking another step between her thighs. The sill dug into her lower back. His scent drowned out everything but the need to touch him, feast, taste—the delicious mix of lemon and soap and cotton surrounding her.
“I need you to listen closely, because I’m only going to say it once. Understood?”
Her lips parted. This was no friend. This was a deadly man with an agenda. Transfixed, she nodded, unable to form words, mere prey beneath the command of a dangerous predator.
“I’m done with excuses and conversation and politeness. I’m over this bullshit of you questioning the power you have to grip me in a vise so tight I can’t even breathe without wanting you with my last breath. I’m tired of walking around with a dick that won’t go down when I catch your scent, or look at your sweet curves, or imagine being buried deep within you. Are you still listening, Gen?”
Her body flamed so hot and bright she was surprised burn marks didn’t appear on her skin. She began to shake, and her belly uncurled so a river flow of liquid warmth coursed between her thighs, tightening her muscles, gripping her with a need she’d never experienced or believed could be real. “Yes,”she whispered.
“Good. Because tonight I’m going to fuck you. All night. If I was a true friend, I’d walk out that door and give you the space to rebuild your walls. You deserve that. But I’m a selfish prick who needs you in my bed so bad I’ll trade my soul to the devil for one taste of you. Still listening?”
“Y-y-yes.”
“I’ll give you three seconds to run. It’s the smart thing to do. Just walk away from me and we’ll never mention this again. We’ll go back to being friends, push this whole episode aside, and go on pretending. But if you’re still standing here after that, you’re mine. Every part of you. And I promise you’ll never question your ability to cast a sexual spell on a man so deep and encompassing he’ll spend the rest of his life comparing you to every other woman he touches.”
Her head spun, the room tilted, and she grasped his arm to keep her balance. “Wolfe.”
“One.”
Her stomach dropped to her toes. His mouth moved closer.
“Oh, God.”
 “Two.”
She swallowed, one foot poised for flight, knowing it would wreck everything, change their relationship forever, open a door that could never be shut and locked again.
“I don’t—”
“Three. Too late. You belong to me for tonight.”
“I think—”
“Don’t think. Just give me everything you got.”
He cupped her cheeks, dropped his head, and took her mouth.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master’s in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again.

She makes her home in Upstate New York with the whole crew. Her sons keep her active, stressed, joyous, and sad her house will never be truly clean.

She is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of sexy and erotic contemporary romance. She was thrilled her book, The Marriage Bargain, was ranked #6 on Amazon's Best Books for 2012. She loves hearing from readers. Visit her website for updates on new releases and her street team at www.jenniferprobst.com.

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We are absolutely thrilled to bring you the Release Week Blitz for Cora Carmack's ALL PLAYED OUT! ALL PLAYED OUT is a New Adult Contemporary Romance and is the 3rd book in the Rusk University Series, published by William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins.

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About ALL PLAYED OUT:

First person in her family to go to college? CHECK.
Straight A’s? CHECK.
On track to graduate early? CHECK.
Social life? …..yeah, about that….

With just a few weeks until she graduates, Antonella DeLuca’s beginning to worry that maybe she hasn’t had the full college experience. (Okay... Scratch that. She knows she hasn't had the full college experience).

So Nell does what a smart, dedicated girl like herself does best. She makes a "to do" list of normal college activities.

Item #1? Hook up with a jock.

Rusk University wide receiver Mateo Torres practically wrote the playbook for normal college living. When he’s not on the field, he excels at partying, girls, and more partying. As long as he keeps things light and easy, it's impossible to get hurt... again. But something about the quiet, shy, sexy-as-hell Nell gets under his skin, and when he learns about her list, he makes it his mission to help her complete it.

Torres is the definition of confident (And sexy. And wild), and he opens up a side of Nell that she's never known. But as they begin to check off each crazy, exciting, normal item, Nell finds that her frivolous list leads to something more serious than she bargained for. And while Torres is used to taking risks on the field, he has to decide if he's willing to take the chance when it's more than just a game.

Together they will have to decide if what they have is just part of the experiment or a chance at something real.

And don’t miss the first two books in the Rusk University Series…

ALL LINED UP, Book 1

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ALL BROKE DOWN, Book 2

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ALL PLAYED OUT Excerpt:

“We’re going to a Halloween party. Trust me, you’ll feel more awkward if you’re not dressed up. When we get there, you’ll see. This is no big deal.”

I don’t look down at the white button-up shirt that’s gaping open over my boobs. I’ve looked at the awful naughty-schoolgirl costume enough times to imprint the thing on my memory.

“If this costume weren’t so … so …”

“Sexy?” she prompts.

“Atrocious.”

“Well, that’s what you get for buying a costume the day before Halloween. Everything is picked over by then. You didn’t want to go as Jasmine and have your stomach showing, so this is what you got. Besides, it kind of fits you.”

I gesture to the button over my chest that’s threatening to pop with any sudden movement. “It does not kind of fit me.”

“I mean, the schoolgirl vibe. It’s like the amplified version of you. That’s perfect for Halloween.”

“There is absolutely no universe where the amplified version of me would not be wearing yoga pants and glasses.”

“Fine. It’s the bold and wild version of you. Nothing wrong with trying bold and wild for a change.”

I groan and throw myself down on the toilet seat beside her. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think I should go to this party after all. All those people, and costumes, and decorations. I think Halloween is way too overwhelming for my first foray into the college party scene.”

Dylan tosses her mascara into her makeup bag and faces me, her look now complete. She manages to appear both classy and sexy in a homemade Statue of Liberty costume. Only Dylan could make Lady Liberty look hot.

“Just take a deep breath, Nell. This isn’t nearly as scary as you’re making it out to be in your head. I promise.”

“Maybe not for you. But the idea of being in some frat house with a bunch of people I don’t know—”

She cuts me off. “We’re not going to one of the frat parties. Everyone has been avoiding that scene since … well, it doesn’t matter. The group decided it would be better to have something smaller, more manageable. It’s at Silas’s house. And it’s only people they know and trust. You’ll be fine. I know it.”

           

Apparently “people they know and trust” translates into about thirty people on the lawn, fifteen on the porch, and more people than I can count on the inside. Dylan’s hand is wrapped tight around my elbow as we step through the entryway to Silas’s house. She’s on her tiptoes, searching for him, and all I can think about is making a break for it and getting out of there as soon as possible.

I’m so concentrated on keeping my short skirt down and the too-tight white shirt buttoned up that I don’t even realize she’s found her boyfriend until she lets go of my arm. At the loss of her touch, I look up, panicked. Silas is dressed as a fireman, and he drops his helmet to circle his arms around Dylan. His fist clutches at the material on the back of her dress, just above her bottom, and I immediately look away, only to lock eyes with the one person I want to see even less than a very public display of affection.

Mateo Torres.

He has a beer lifted halfway to his mouth, but his jaw is slack, and he’s staring at me. No, “stare” does not quite do justice to the look he’s giving me. His eyes raze me, and when I lift my hand to touch my neck, subconsciously covering my all-too-visible cleavage, I’m surprised my skin doesn’t flake away into ashes from the fire in his gaze.

Adrenaline surges through me, and for a moment it feels like a fight-or-flight impulse, and I wonder why my brain still reads his presence as dangerous. But then I stop and think. It’s not quite the same sensation. Fight or flight generally makes me either panic or freeze up. It’s about fear. This is different. When seconds pass and he still hasn’t taken his eyes off of me, I recognize the extra sensation riding on the adrenaline’s heels.

Power.

He makes me feel powerful.

I drop my eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of pleasure I feel at that idea, and am faced instead with his costume that I hadn’t noticed before. Or more correctly, his near lack of a costume. His chest is bare, and I can’t help but measure him with my eyes. His chest is broad, hewn in muscles that couldn’t be more defined if an artist sculpted them. His skin is a warm bronze, and it looks so smooth to the touch. Everywhere. Except for the small line of dark hair disappearing beneath a strange, leatherlike cloth.

God. A loincloth. He’s wearing nothing but a loincloth.

Oh, mercy.

Then he’s moving toward me, and I don’t know where to look. His dangerous gaze. His naked chest. That cloth that hides only … oh, mercy.

“Girl genius,” he says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice without even looking away from the suddenly interesting spot on the floor. Then he shifts, and something changes in his voice when he says, “Nell.”

A part of me likes hearing him say my name entirely too much. And that part … is a fool.

“Still ignoring my request that you stay away?” I ask stiffly.

“If you wanted me to stay away, you definitely shouldn’t have worn that.”

A furious blush steals across my cheeks and down my neck. “Dylan insisted I wear a costume, and this was all that was left at the store.”

“Thank God for Dylan, then. And for procrastination. Can you do me a favor and say, ‘Hit me, baby, one more time?’ Pretty please?”

 Rather than answering, I actually hit him. But when my palm makes contact with the hard muscle of his shoulder, I wish I hadn’t. Because now that I know what his bare skin feels like, I’m not sure I’ll be able to forget the sensation. My brain is already cataloging the feel, comparing it to all the other people I’ve touched, and coming up empty for comparison. Is it normal for him to feel so warm?

It’s the alcohol, I decide. It must be. I read something once about it dilating blood vessels and bringing warmer blood closer to the surface of the skin.

Yes, that’s absolutely it.

For more of what’s next in The Rusk University Series, go here!

Add Book 4, ALL CLOSED OFF, to your Goodreads now!

About Cora Carmack:

Cora Carmack is a twenty-something writer who likes to write about twenty-something characters. She's done a multitude of things in her life-- boring jobs (like working retail), Fun jobs (like working in a theatre), stressful jobs (like teaching), and dream jobs (like writing). She enjoys placing her characters in the most awkward situations possible, and then trying to help them get a boyfriend out of it. Awkward people need love, too. Her first book, LOSING IT, was a New York Times and USA Today bestseller.

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