Pre-order your copy today!
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2JRu25q
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2JTI6LZ
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You can add it on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2AYvZdE

Thank you to Katy Evans and SocialButterflyPR for the opportunity.

The post Katy Evans’ Boss Excerpt Reveal appeared first on ClaryNathanWill.

Now what you have all been waiting for, the cover… 

The male protagonist comes from the Shacking Up world. Lincoln Moorehead is the brother of Armstrong, the ex-fiancé/husband of Amalie Whitfield. Remember he cheats on her during the reception and then she has an epic love story after she leaves him. You should really read Shacking Up and Hooking Up if you haven’t, they are two of Helena Hunting’s best books.

The synopsis is still in the works, so instead enjoy an excerpt from the book… “I’m startled out of my thoughts when my brother jumps up and shouts a bunch of profane nonsense, hands flailing like he’s trying to swim on land, or approximate the chicken dance while on an LSD trip.
“You can’t do this! It’s absolute bullshit!” Armstrong yells.
I look around the table, trying to piece together what I missed.
“I’m sorry, Armstrong. I know this is a shock, but we feel it’s in the company’s best interest to put Lincoln at the helm during this transitional stage,” G-mom says firmly.
At the helm? I look to G-mom who’s busy not looking at me.
Armstrong jabs at finger at himself. “But I’m the one who’s put in all the time here! I deserve to run the company! Lincoln doesn’t know the first thing about Moorehead. All he knows how to do is dig wells and forage for food in the wilderness. How are those valuable assets here?” He turns his attention to our mother. “Did you know about this? How can you let this happen? Look at him. How can that be the face of our company? He looks like he crawled out of a gutter and mugged a twenty-year-old college kid on a bender. How is this better for our bottom line?”
My mother clasps her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry, Armstrong, but this decision wasn’t mine to make. I know this is hard for you, but your grandmother and fath—”
Armstrong stomps his foot, exactly as a toddler would. “The company is mine! Lincoln can’t have it!”
I raise a hand, half to quiet my brother and also to find out what the freaking deal is. “Whoa, let’s back this bus up.  Can someone explain what’s going on?”
“You’ve been appointed as the CEO of Moorehead Media, according to the will,” Christophe—no R, because that would make it far too pedestrian a name—my father’s lawyer says.
I’m working on trying to remain calm as I address my grandmother. “You didn’t say anything about me being CEO. You said you needed my help.”
“Running the company, yes,” she says through a practiced, stiff smile.
It’s her warning face, but seriously, when she said she needed my help for a few months I figured it meant I’d be keeping Armstrong in line while she sorted out who was going to take over the company, which I realize now was a stupid assumption.
“I didn’t think that meant CEO. How am I going to run a company with this dickhead on staff?” I motion to my brother.
“The name calling is unnecessary,” G-mom replies.
“Lincoln’s not even part of this family! He hasn’t attended one event in the past five years except for Dad’s funeral. He didn’t bother coming to my wedding and now he’s going to run the company? How is that fair?”
I snort. “Your wedding was an expensive joke.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I was set up. Amalie had cold feet and made me out to look like the bad guy.”
The woman beside him shoots him disgusted look.
Armstrong clears his throat and tugs at his collar. “My wedding is not the real issue. The point is that you’ve never involved yourself in any part of this family and now you think you can come in and take over. I will not stand by and let this happen!” He keeps jabbing his finger at me, as if he’s engaged in a finger sword fight.
I lean back in my chair and lace my hands behind my neck. Armstrong has always been reactive. And self-absorbed. For a while it seemed like he finally had it together—back when he was engaged. But ever since that fiasco of a wedding he seems to have come completely unglued. Again. But worse this time. “Someone needs a timeout.”

If you are interested in pre-ordering the book, check out the links below… US → https://amzn.to/2CgGp87
CA → https://amzn.to/2Av1f3k
UK → https://amzn.to/2CTeblc
AU → TBA
iBooks → http://bit.ly/HandleWC
NOOK → http://bit.ly/NookHWC
Kobo → http://bit.ly/KoboHWC
Google Play → http://bit.ly/HandleWCgp
Mass Market Paperback Preorder
Amazon PB → https://amzn.to/2UIonUw
B&N → http://bit.ly/BNHandleWC
Chapters → http://bit.ly/ChHandleWC
Indie Bound → http://bit.ly/IBHandleWC
BAM → http://bit.ly/BAMHandleWC

You can also add it to Goodreads → http://bit.ly/GRHandleWChh

Thank you to Helena Hunting for the opportunity to reveal her latest cover and thank you for reading and supporting my blog.

The post Helena Hunting’s Handle with Care Cover and Excerpt Reveal appeared first on ClaryNathanWill.

From Goodreads: “Bennett Fox walked into my life on one hell of a crappy Monday morning.

I was late for the first day at my new job—a job I’d now have to compete for even though I’d already worked eight years to earn it, because of an unexpected merger. 

While I lugged my belongings up to my new office, a meter maid wrote me a parking summons.

She’d ticketed a long line of cars—except for the Audi parked in front of me, which happened to be the same make and model as mine.

Annoyed, I decided to regift my ticket to the car that had evaded a fine. Chances were, the owner would pay it and be none the wiser.

Except, I accidentally broke the windshield wiper while slipping the ticket onto the car’s window.

Seriously, my day couldn’t get any worse.

Things started to perk up when I ran into a gorgeous man in the elevator. We had one of those brief moments that only happened in movies.

You know the deal…your body lights up, fireworks go off, and the air around you crackles with electricity. 

His heated stare left me flush when I stepped off the elevator. 

Maybe things here wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

Or so I thought.

Until I walked into my new boss’s office and met my competition.

The gorgeous man from the elevator was now my nemesis. His heated stare wasn’t because of any mutual attraction. It was because he’d seen me vandalize his car. And now he couldn’t wait to annihilate his rival. 

There’s a fine line between love and hate—and we shouldn’t cross it. 

We shouldn’t—but straddling that line could be so much fun.”

Now here is what you have been waiting for the excerpt reveal…
Figures.

It was the gorgeous guy I’d seen in the elevator. And here I thought we’d had a little spark.

Bennett Fox grinned like he’d already been named my boss and extended his hand. “Welcome to Foster Burnett.”

Ugh. He wasn’t just good looking; he knew it, too.

“That would be Foster, Burnett and Wren, as of a few weeks ago, right?” I iced my subtle reminder that this was now our place of employment with a smile, suddenly thankful my parents had made me wear braces until I was nearly sixteen.

“Of course.” My new nemesis smiled just as brightly. Apparently his parents had sprung for orthodontic care, too.

Bennett Fox was also tall. I once read an article that said the average height of a man in the US was five-foot-nine-and-a-half inches; less than fifteen percent of men stood taller than six feet. Yet the average height of more than sixty-eight percent of Fortune 500 CEOs was over six feet. Subconsciously, we related size to power in more ways than just brawn.

Andrew was six foot two. I’d guess this guy was about the same.

Bennett pulled out the guest chair next to him. “Please, have a seat.”

Tall and with gentlemanly manners. I disliked him already.

During the ensuing twenty-minute pep talk given by Jonas Stern—in which he attempted to convince us we weren’t vying for the same position, but instead forging the way as leaders of the now-largest ad agency in the United States—I stole glances at Bennett Fox.

Shoes: definitely expensive. Conservative, oxford in style, but with a modern edge of topstitching. Ferragamo would be my guess. Big feet, too.

Suit: dark navy, tailored to fit his tall, broad frame. The kind of understated luxury that said he had money, but didn’t need to flaunt it to impress you.

He had one long leg casually crossed over the other knee, as if we were discussing the weather rather than being told everything we’d worked twelve hours a day, six days a week for was suddenly at risk of being in vain.

At one point, Jonas had said something we both agreed with, and we looked at each other, nodding. Given the opportunity for a closer inspection, my eyes roamed his handsome face. Strong jaw, daringly straight, perfect nose—the type of bone structure passed down from generation to generation that was better and more useful than any monetary inheritance. But his eyes were the showstopper: a deep, penetrating green that popped from his smooth, tanned skin. Those were currently staring right at me.

I looked away, returning my attention to Jonas. “So what happens at the end of the ninety-day integration period? Will there be two Creative Directors of West Coast Marketing?”

Jonas looked back and forth between us and sighed. “No. But no one is going to lose his or her job. I was just about to tell Bennett the news. Rob Gatts announced he’ll be retiring in a few months. So there will be a position opening up for a creative director to replace him.”

I had no idea what that meant. But apparently Bennett did.

“So one of us gets shipped off to Dallas to replace Rob in the southwest region?” he asked.

Jonas’s face told me Bennett wouldn’t be happy about the prospect of heading to Texas. “Yes.”

All three of us let that sink in for a moment. The possibility of having to relocate to Texas shifted my mind back into gear, though.

“Who will make the decision?” I asked. “Because obviously you’ve been working with Bennett…”

Jonas shook his head and waved off what I was beginning to question. “Decisions like this—where two senior management positions are being merged into one office—the board will oversee and make the final determination of who gets first pick.”

Bennett was just as confused as me. “The board members don’t work with us on a daily basis.”

“No, they don’t. So they’ve come up with a method of making their decision.”

“Which is?”

“It’ll be based on three major client pitches. You’ll both come up with campaigns on your own and present them. The clients will pick which they like best.”

Bennett looked rattled for the first time. His perfect composure and self-assuredness took a hit as he leaned forward and raked long fingers through his hair.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. More than ten years, and my job here comes down to a few pitches? I’ve landed half-a-billion dollars of ad accounts for this company.”

“I’m sorry, Bennett. I really am. But one of the conditions of the Wren merger was that due consideration be given to the Wren employees in positions that might be eliminated because of duplicity. The deal almost didn’t go through because Mrs. Wren was so insistent that she not sell her husband’s company, only to have the new organization strip away all of Wren’s hard-working employees.”

That made me smile. Mr. Wren was taking care of his employees even after he was gone.

“I’m up for the challenge.” I looked at Bennett, who was clearly pissed off. “May the best woman win.” He scowled. “You mean man.”

If you want to read more you can read the first two chapters here: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/qi0wfckd79

We Shouldn’t releases January 21st! You can preorder it at any of these links below…
Audio pre-order ➜ http://smarturl.it/e2gv12
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B&N ➜ http://smarturl.it/5zqpdu
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Please note: There will not be an Amazon ebook pre-order, but it will be available on Amazon on release day.

You can add to Goodreads ➜ http://smarturl.it/f0wur9

You can keep in touch with Vi, at any of the links below…
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ViKeelandFanGroup/
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https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Vi-Keeland/435952616513958
Website: http://www.vikeeland.com
Twitter (@vikeeland): https://twitter.com/ViKeeland
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Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6887119.Vi_Keeland

Thank you for reading and thank you to Vi Keeland, and her assistant Mindy Guerreiros!

The post Vi Keeland’s We Shouldn’t Excerpt Reveal appeared first on ClaryNathanWill.

Here is the synopsis: “Jesse Lachlin is cursed. 

So the town folklore says, but while Jesse’s had his fair share of tragedy, the only curse he believes is in his grandmother’s will: in order to inherit his family farm he must win the approval of his childhood best friend, the girl he froze out his freshman year, Scarlett Copeland.

Scarlett Copeland is psychic.

Glory Gardner tells Scarlett she has hidden psychic abilities, but Scarlett thinks Glory is delusional. What is real is Scarlett’s father’s irrational fears, controlling attitude, and the dark secrets at home. Scarlett may have a way to escape, but there’s a hitch: she’ll have to rely on the one person she used to trust, the same boy who broke her heart, Jesse Lachlin.

Each midnight meeting pushes Jesse and Scarlett to confront their secrets and their feelings for each other. But as love blooms, the curse rears its ugly head…”

And now here is the excerpt reveal: ” SCARLETT

I’m defying my parents by attending a funeral. Reckless and adventurous teenage behavior, I know. Most seventeen-year-olds lie to their parents so they can go on a date with a forbidden boy or attend a party where there will be questionable behavior. Me? I’m outright lying to my dad, and it’s because Jesse Lachlin’s grandmother died. 

The entire way here I’ve questioned my sanity, but I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I stayed home. Jesse Lachlin used to be my childhood best friend. We were inseparable. We had the type of friendship people strive to have, and then, a few years ago, he cut me so deeply that I still bleed. But ten-year-old me would have never abandoned a hurting Jesse. So today I’m not only honoring the memory of Jesse’s grandmother, but also the memory of our dead friendship.

On my way to the funeral, the high grass of the field swats at my legs, but I don’t mind the sting. I love walking barefoot in grass, I love the smell of the earth and I love that brief feeling of freedom open spaces can provide. 

It’s the dog days of August. The type of hot that starts when the sun rises and makes you sweat through your clothes within minutes. While my skin and palms are on fire, the pads of my feet are cool against the dirt. The heat is unwelcome, but the sky is deep blue and the sun is bright, and for that, I can be grateful.

Walking out of the field, I stop short of crossing the one-lane road to slip on the flats that dangle from my fingertips. My mother would be mortified if she knew I was entering a church in a cotton daisy-print sundress. It’s not one of the dresses with stiff fabric and impossible back zippers she would have picked for me at an overpriced department store. It’s the type that’s machine-washable and breathable. The type of dress Jesse’s grandmother would have given her stamp of approval. 

I can practically hear my mother heavily sigh and mumble my name, Scarlett, as if it were her personal, private curse word. Mom believes there’s a certain way to dress and behave, and I’m breaking all sorts of her rules today. Watch out, world. I’m officially rebellious. 

I smile to myself because I’m the opposite of rebellious. For the last few years, I’ve followed every rule. I’m the teacher’s pet and the girl with straight A’s. I’m the poster child of perfection, and have earned every snarky ice princess comment Jesse’s friends whisper about me in the school hallways because he and I no longer speak. 

There are only six cars in the parking lot of the white church, and that makes me frown. I thought more people would have wanted to attend. Jesse’s mud-covered pickup is there, and so is an unnaturally clean black Mercedes that belongs to his uncle. This ought to be interesting. Jesse and his uncle have a mutual hate for each other that runs deeper than any root of any tree. 

Movement to my right and I slowly turn my head. Shivers run down my spine at the sight of Glory Gardner. Even though I’m seventeen and too old for ghost stories, I still can’t shake the ones regarding this woman. Girls would whisper over lunch boxes that Glory was a witch. As I grew older, I understood that witch meant con artist. She claims she can read palms, tarot cards and “sees” spirits from beyond the dead. All for a glorious fee. 

She’s a beautiful woman—long dirty blond hair that’s untamed, even in a bun, and she has an eclectic taste in clothing. Today she wears a white peasant shirt and a flowing skirt made of material that shimmers in the sun. 

Glory watches me like I watch her, with morbid curiosity. I knew her as a child, back when Jesse and I ran wild in the fields near her home, but we haven’t talked in years. 

She stands under the shade of a towering weeping willow. There are lots of those trees around here. Mom says it’s because there is too much water in the ground. I say it’s because the people in this town have cried too many tears. Mom doesn’t like my answer. 

I tilt my head toward the church, an unspoken question if Glory will be joining me. She shakes her head no. I’m not shocked. According to rumors, Glory will go up in flames if she enters the house of God. But who knows? Maybe I will, too. 

The church is one of those picturesque, historical, one-room school buildings squeezed between a cornfield on one side and a hay field on the other. A huge steeple with a bell attempts to reach the heavens, but like anything created by a human, it falls tragically short. 

The foreboding wooden door makes no noise as I open it, and I’m able to slip in without a huge, squeaking announcement. Orange light filters in through the dark stained glass windows, and its struggling beams reveal millions of dancing particles of dust. 

On the altar, there’s no casket, but there is an urn. My heart dips—Suzanne is dead. I used to wish she were my grandmother, and many times, she treated me as if I belonged to her. Suzanne was the epitome of love, and the world feels colder now that she’s gone. 

Choosing a spot in the back, I drop into a pew, and as I scan the church my stomach churns. How is it possible that this place is so barren? 

Besides the Funeral Brigade, or the FB, as I like to refer to them, there aren’t many people here. The FB are the older group of woman who attend every funeral in our small town even if they didn’t know the person. Attending funerals isn’t my idea of fun, but who am I to judge? 

The FB sit directly behind the one person the town believes to be the lone sane member of the Lachlin family, probably because he isn’t blood related—Jesse’s uncle. 

On the left side of the church is Jesse. Only Jesse. And that causes a painful pang in my chest. Where are his stinking friends? The anarchists in training who follow Jesse wherever he goes? Where is the rest of the town? Yes, Suzanne was polarizing, but still, where is any respect? 

Quietly, so I don’t draw attention to myself, I slip from the right set of pews to the left. Someone should be on Jesse’s side, and it’s sad it has to be me. 

A door at the front of the church opens, and the pastor walks out from the addition the church build on as a small office ten years ago. I would have thought any pastor assigned to this place would be as ancient as this church. Sort of like an Indiana Jones Knights Templar scenario where he lives forever as long as he stays inside. But no, he’s the youngest pastor from the main, newer church in town. His name is Pastor Hughes, and he’s a thirty-something black man with a fit build who is just cute enough that he should be starring in a movie. 

The pastor looks up, and he flinches as if startled. I peek over my shoulder then sigh. Clearly, he’s surprised to see me. Flipping fantastic. 

His reaction, and the fact he won’t stop staring, causes every person to turn their heads. Lovely. I’ve had dreams like this where I enter a room and become the center of attention. Only in my dreams it’s at school, it’s my classmates and I’m naked, but still, this is disconcerting. 

Eventually, the FB and Jesse’s uncle return their attention to the front, but Jesse doesn’t. He rests his arm on the back of the pew, and it’s hard to ignore that he’s made me his sole focus, but I do my best to act as if I don’t notice. 

To help, I concentrate on what my mom taught me as a child—to make sure the skirt of my dress is tucked appropriately so that my thighs don’t show. I then fold my hands in my lap and straighten to a book-on-head posture. I can be the ice princess people claim me to be. 

Five pews separate me and Jesse, and it’s not nearly enough. My cheeks burn under his continued inspection. Jesse has done this a handful of times since our freshman year. Glance at me as if I’m someone worth looking at, someone worth laughing with a little too loud and smiling with a little too much. Then he remembers who I am and snaps his gaze to someone else. 

But he’s not looking away now.”

If you want to pre-order this story, check out these links below… Amazon: https://amzn.to/2K4poUy
Kobo:http://bit.ly/2M7Sn7f
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2M6S24K
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If you want to keep in touch with Katie, you can at any of these links… Website: www.katielmcgarry.com
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Thank you for reading and supporting my blog.

The post Katie McGarry’s Only A Breath Apart Excerpt Reveal appeared first on ClaryNathanWill.

Synopsis: “That smoking hot one-night stand with a former rock star?

Turns out he’s my son’s new music teacher. Oops.

But I didn’t know that the night I met Campbell. All I knew was he played my body the same way he played a guitar — like he owned it.

My libido is still high-fiving me after being self-served for too many years, and we’re both ready for another night or two of fun, especially since we don’t just have chemistry in bed — we connect over everything.

That is, until I learn he’s the man who’ll be coming to my house twice a week to teach my son — the best music lessons money can buy.

Time to turn down the volume on our shenanigans. Only that’s easier said than done.

***

I can rock a guitar solo in front of thousands, I can write chart-topping tunes, and I can absolutely stop thinking about my student’s mother naked.

After all, I’m a single parent too, and I know what it’s like to put your kid first. That’s what I do every damn day.

Trouble is, now that I’ve had Mackenzie, it’s hard — and I do mean hard — to stop wanting her. Harder too when I get to know her, and learn she’s an awesome mom, a great friend, and, oh yeah, she happens to get along perfectly with my daughter.

All we have to do is set some rules. No dating, no nookie when the kids are around, and no one gets hurt.

It’s all working out beautifully. Until we start breaking the rules, one by one.

Making music with her in the bedroom is easy. But will we be more than just a real good time when the music stops?”

Keep reading below for an exclusive excerpt…

“Mackenzie

I’m not checking him out.

I am solely focused on answering the next trivia question. The game emcee spouts it out for the four teams vying for the prize at The Grouchy Owl bar. The prize being bragging rights.

The hostess clears her throat, brings the mic to her mouth, and asks the question: “Which Las Vegas hotel did the bachelor party stay at—”

I’m perched forward in the chair whispering the answer to my teammate—Caesars, Caesars, Caesars—so we can write it on the answer slip before the hostess even finishes.

“—in the 2009 moving The Hangover?”

“So easy,” I say to Roxy as she smacks my palm and mouths ringer while filling in the answer.

I’m not a ringer.

I was simply fed a steady diet of Trivial Pursuit, trivia books, and endless facts about the world as a kid.

That’s all.

Also, I love trivia. Trivia helped me through some tough times as an adult, and by tough, I mean anxiety-ridden, sleepless, and stressful. That kind of tough.

As the hostess flips her cards to the next question, the guy on stage—the one I’m not at all checking out—adjusts the amp for his guitar. The Grouchy Owl has a little bit of everything—from darts, to pub quizzes, to pool, to live music from local bands. It’s like a Vegas hotel right here in the West Village. Big Ike doesn’t want patrons to leave, so she makes sure the entertainment options are plentiful.

And if that handsome hottie stays on the stage, I won’t want to head home for a long, long time. Except that I’ll have to. I’m Cinderella, and I turn into a pumpkin in minutes.

But for now…Hello, nice view.

As the guy turns the knob on the amp, his brown hair flops over his eyes. He flicks it off his forehead with a quick snap then runs his fingers down the strings on his guitar. Those fingers fly.

I bet they’d fly other places too.“

If you are interested in picking this guy up check out the links below…

✦ Kindle US ➜ https://amzn.to/2NvVwlm

✦ Kindle UK ➜ https://amzn.to/2Mb1aol

✦ Kindle CA ➜https://amzn.to/2QhpyYU

✦ Kindle AU ➜https://amzn.to/2oSAtLX

✦ iBooks ➜ https://blkly.pub/i-ARealGoodTime

✦ Kobo ➜ https://blkly.pub/ARealGoodTime-kb

✦ Nook ➜ https://blkly.pub/ARealGoodTime-nk

✦ Google Play ➜ https://blkly.pub/ARealGoodTime-GP

✦ Paperback ➜ https://blkly.pub/ARealGoodTime-pb

✦ Audible ➜ https://adbl.co/2nSLcp7

ADD IT TO YOUR GOODREADS TODAY!

You can keep in touch with Lauren at the links below…

Website ** Facebook ** Twitter ** Newsletter ** Goodreads

Thank you for reading and thank you to Lauren Blakely and Inkslinger PR.

The post Lauren Blakely’s Once Upon A Real Good Time Excerpt appeared first on ClaryNathanWill.

“~Karsen~
I was stuck to the spot, trapped by all the jagged, sharp pieces of my broken fantasies. I wanted to bolt, to run as far away as I could, but I couldn’t move. I felt like the shards would rip me to shreds any direction I turned. Even when the naked woman continued making out with the man of my dreams right in front of me, I was stuck in the same spot. The noises they were making were loud and graphic and all-encompassing. I could hear them echoing in the empty places in my chest where my heart used to be.
Finally, the other woman in the skintight leather skirt and black bra walked over to where I was locked in place. Her hand was light on my arm and she touched me like I was made of glass, even though I wanted to claw her eyes out.
I blinked up at her numbly, letting her guide me around and tow me toward the open front door. “Don’t worry, sweetie. There are better guys out there for someone like you. Guys much nicer than the type of guy Booker is…he’s made for women like me. You are still too new, too pristine, honey, and all he’ll do is ruin you.”
Everyone said that. I was sick to death of everyone telling me that. I didn’t want someone better for me. I wanted Booker.
I finally gasped, pulling a burning breath into my starved lungs. “Today’s my birthday.” The words came out on a shuddering sob. I have no idea where that came from, why I’d share such an intimate detail with the woman who was next in line for Booker’s dick. I’d stop thinking rationally the second I heard the giggling through the door.
She made a sympathetic noise and patted my arm. “Happy birthday, honey. You deserve something special.”
“Roxy. Get back in here. We’re moving to the bedroom.” The other girl’s voice was excited, and I felt her words settle in my stomach like a lead weight.
“I thought he was special.” The words were barely a whisper.
The woman squeezed my arm and I was shocked when she leaned forward and touched her brightly painted lips to my cheek in a kiss that was more like a whisper. I should’ve pushed her away, called her a whore, smacked her across the face…something, anything. But all I could do was watch as her perfect, painted face blurred into a melted blog as tears obscured my vision.
“The fact that you think that proves you’re the special one. Get out of here and go live the kind of life that doesn’t have guys like Booker and girls like me and Rowan in it.” She backed up gently and firmly shut the door in my tear-streaked face.
I don’t know how long I stood outside the door crying and trying to pull myself together. It was long enough to hear laughing voices quiet and disappear as they made their way farther inside the apartment. Once the tears stopped, I used the hem of my t-shirt to wipe away my smeared eye makeup, rubbed away the traces of moisture on my cheeks, and marched back upstairs to Race’s apartment. I wasn’t even all the way through the door before I was telling Brysen I wanted to change colleges. I wanted to go out of state and get as far away from the Point—and from Booker—as possible.
Today was supposed to change everything…and it did. But not in the way anyone expected. Not in the way I’d dreamed about for years.
Right then and there I made the decision that once I left the Point, I had no plans to ever come back. The city simply wasn’t big enough for me and Noah Booker and all the pieces of the heart he broke on my birthday.”

If you are interested in picking this guy up check out the links below…

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KvqGEe 

Paperback: http://bit.ly/RespectPB 

Audible: http://bit.ly/RespectAudible 

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/BNRespect 

iBooks: http://bit.ly/RespectiBook 

Kobo: http://bit.ly/RespectKobo 

Add to your Goodreads

You can keep in touch with Jay at the links below…

Website: http://www.jaycrownover.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJayCrownover?ref=hl
Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/JayCrownover
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/Crownover

Thank you for reading and thank you to Jay Crownover and Inkslinger PR.

The post Jay Crownover’s Respect Excerpt appeared first on ClaryNathanWill.

“May I get you something to drink while you wait for the rest of your party?” the waiter asked.
I would normally wait to see what the client did and follow his lead on alcohol. But tonight was not the norm.
I rubbed at my stiff neck. “I’ll take a vodka cranberry, please.”
I hoped it would help calm my nerves and release some of the tension in my jaw before I gave myself a full-blown headache. Taking out my phone, I started to scroll through emails to distract myself while waiting for my drink and dinner companion.
My head whipped up at the sound of Gray’s voice behind me. “Sorry I’m late.”
My heart unexpectedly fluttered, and I fought against the feeling of excitement. “Are you really? Because I get the sense you don’t have any manners after the way you interrupted me a million times today.”
He completely ignored my attitude as he took the seat across from me. “Traffic is a bitch getting downtown at this time. Next time we’ll have dinner at my place.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
Gray’s mouth curved into a smug smile as he snagged my gaze. “Sure there will. There’ll be plenty of next times. And eventually you’ll stop pretending you don’t enjoy my company.”
I hated that my body reacted to him. Right from the very start, we’d had a crazy chemistry between us that was difficult to dull.
I sighed. “What are you doing, Gray? Why did you come to my firm?”
He lifted the cloth napkin in front of him and laid it across his lap. “Isn’t that obvious? I need new legal representation.”
“At my firm? And you’d prefer that representation come from an associate instead of my boss’s boss—the head of our securities division? Or even from Pittman, who would gladly hold your hand and provide you whatever legal advice you need from his fifty-plus years of experience?”
“Loyalty is important to me. I want someone I can trust with my business.”
“And you’ve decided that’s me? An associate with five years experience who just got off probation with the Bar Association for violating attorney-client privilege?”
The waiter arrived with my drink. “Here you go, ma’am.” He turned to Gray. “May I get you something to drink? Or would you like to wait until the last of your party joins you this evening?”
“It’s just the two of us. I’ll have a Macallan, neat, please.”
“Coming right up.” The waiter walked around to the other side of the table and started to remove the third place setting.
I put my hand out, stopping him. “We actually do have another party coming, so you can leave that.”
“Very well.” He nodded.
Gray waited until the waiter was out of earshot. “I didn’t invite anyone else to dinner.”
I sipped my drink and offered a saccharine-sweet fake smile. “I did. Figured an important client like you should have more than one attorney to answer his questions.”
Just as I set down my glass, I saw the other man I was waiting for enter the restaurant. He scanned the room, looking for me, so I held up my hand and waved.
“Perfect timing. There’s Oliver now.”
Gray glanced at the man heading toward us and back to me. Instead of being pissed off, the jerk was amused. “That’s cute. You invited a chaperone because you don’t trust yourself with me.”

If you are interested in picking this guy up (or want to be notified when it goes live) check out the links below…
iBooks pre-order: http://smarturl.it/3m7isv
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Amazon print: https://amzn.to/2H0XH9p
Audio pre-order: https://amzn.to/2uC6fPS
Goodreads giveaway: http://smarturl.it/lu0b99
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Thank you for reading and thank you to Vi Keeland and Vi’s assistant, Mindy Guerreiros.

The post Vi Keeland’s The Naked Truth Teaser appeared first on ClaryNathanWill.