5 Days of Nicola Rendell – “Confessed” 18+


 

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Lucy Burchett is the heiress to a notoriously disastrous family, and she’s left home for good. But when she runs a big, black pickup off the road, totaling it, she finds herself stuck in the middle of nowhere with the driver. He’s got a body to die for and a hair-trigger temper. Vince Russo looks like a felon, but he’s also pretty funny. He’s on the lam from the cops… and a psychopathic, Russian mob boss who wants to put his balls on a barbeque. Literally.

 

After a night of ill-advised cocktails and bathroom-wrecking sex, Vince just can’t get Lucy off his mind. But he’s got plans to rob her. And Lucy’s life is about to get a little bit criminal too.

 

But can a bad boy and a good girl really escape from their troubles together? Can they trust each other at all?

 

In the steady march of disasters that follow them west, they fight and they laugh. They tease and they’re tender. They’re either oil and water, or chocolate and peanut butter.

 

Except, they can’t run from the real world forever. And there’s a hell of a surprise in store for both of them…

 

 

He runs his hand through his thick black hair. “When I was your age, music was sexy. Seriously fuck-worthy.”He brings his lips right close to my ear. “Not like this shit playing now.”And then he pulls away. He slides his stool back from the bar and gets up. I watch him walk over to the jukebox. Even the way he stands is incredibly aggressive, masculine, and sexy. Can a stance be dripping with testosterone? Apparently.

 

He turns and catches me staring. The jukebox goes silent, and there’s just that one second of anticipation in the air. He hitches up his belt and gives me this predatory stare. I resist the urge to place my forehead on the bar. Mercy.

 

But then it happens.
Bongo drums.
Electric guitar strum.
Synthesizer.
Phil Collins.

 

He walks back towards me and sits down, dead freaking serious, not a glimmer of fun in his eyes. Unfortunately, deep, deep down, I feel a laugh coming up. One of those incredibly painful church-and-funeral laughs. Phil Collins?

 

A little honking laugh does shoot out of my nose. I can’t help it. I’m only human.

 

He looks wounded. “This is classic music, Peaches.”

 

I move my hand to his forearm and grip it. I mean it to be apologetic, but the way he feels under my hand…it gets sexy in a hurry. “I thought you were going to go for something a little more…”I look him up and down, “broody.”

 

He’s dead serious. Phil Collins is obviously not a joke. “This is the sexiest song in the entire fucking world,”he says. Not for one second, not even to blink, does he look away from my eyes. And then he puts his hand to my waist, gripping me tight.

 

He nestles his chin in close to my ear and draws my body closer, between his parted legs. With his tongue just sweeping against my earlobe, he growls, “I can feel it…in the air tonight.”

 

My neck slides back for him. I feel the seam of his T-shirt under my fingers. Oh, Lord.

 

“I’ve waited for this moment…”He runs his finger up my arm. I breathe him in. “…all my life.”

 

Oh Lord.

 

Eye to eye now, he brings his fingers up my neck and knots them in my hair. I feel goose bumps down my spine. He draws my head to his. The feel of his stubble is harsh and gritty against my skin, almost scraping me. The hand on my waist slides me over my bar stool. I let my legs press hard and hot against his.

 

His tongue makes its way up the curve of my neck.

 

Oh. Lord.
Oh.
Lord.
His lips are almost touching mine now. “The hurt won’t show, but the pain, it grows…”

 

As the drums come in, his other hand comes up and takes my cheek in his palm. I feel my body heave slowly towards him, like a surrender. I can’t help myself, and groan, “Oh, Lord.” Out loud.

 

The pressure of his head changes against mine, and he leans in like I’m making him weak. He nudges me with his nose again, like he did on the ground earlier. So close I can almost taste him. But not close enough.

 

I press my cheek to his and whisper, “Kiss me.”

 

I feel the smile more than I see it.

 

Both hands come to my face, and he pulls me in. He decides the depth of the kiss and moves his tongue all the way into my mouth.

 

Oh Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord.

 

Phil Collins hits us with the drums, announcing the obvious: This is a guy who knows what he wants and is going to take it. Who knows what he’s doing and is going to show me what he wants too. He tips my face in his hands, kissing me deeper, sweeping my tongue aside with his. I feel my grip weaken, and one of my legs slides off the stool. He wraps his huge arm around me. But then he pulls my lips from his, and I open my eyes a second later. “Why do I want you so bad, huh? Helen?”He drags his tongue along the edge of my ear.

 

“I don’t know,”I moan. “But I can feel it.”

 

He nods. “In the fucking air tonight.”

 

I inch my hand toward his hard-on.

 

He kisses me again, starting out way more tenderly than he left off. He fits his fingers between my ribs and grips me hard. I am outrageously wet and can feel the slippery wave between my thighs as I move my legs to bring him closer. I feel my wetness outside my panties even, in a cold smear on my thighs.

 

My fingers find their way to the back of his head to the base of his neck. I feel the muscles rippling even there. Solid columns of tension.

 

“I want to hear you scream,”he whispers. Phil Collins starts to fade out.

 

“I want you to make me scream,”I say.

 

“Jesus Christ.”

 

I let my lips just brush his ear. “Should we get out of here?”

 

“Room’s not ready,”he says.

 

His jaw nudges mine aside and then he explores my neck through a kiss. I go limp in his hands, but he keeps me right where I am. How he can be so tender and so vulgar, I don’t even know. He makes me want to do things I’ve never done before. He makes me want to set fire to all the rules of polite society. This guy here? He makes me want to get in trouble. Big trouble. “I’ve never had sex in a bathroom.”

 

He groans again. “Fuck you,”he says. “Get out of my head.”

 

He presses his mouth to my ear. His voice, it’s dark and dangerous. “Meet me there in two minutes. Don’t you dare make me wait.”And then slowly his stool screeches on the floor as he steps back from the bar.

 

 
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Nicola Rendell writes dirty romantic comedy. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She grew up in Taos, New Mexico; after receiving a handful of degrees from a handful of places, she now works as a professor in New England. An Amazon bestseller, her work has been featured in USA Today’s Happy Ever After and the Huffington Post. She is represented by Emily Sylvan Kim at the Prospect Agency.

 

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“Hard Mountain: Book III of the Appalachian Trilogy” by J. Helen Elza


“Hard Mountain: Book III of the Appalachian Trilogy

Genre: Historical/Romance/Saga

Release Date: July 25, 2017

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“Family is the most important thing in the world.” Diana, Princess of Wales

Amazon’s #1 best-selling author of Rosemillion, J. Helen Elza, has captivated hearts worldwide with her first romantic saga, The Appalachian Trilogy. In the author’s own words, “I work to give my readers more than good books they can read, I work to give them unforgettable narratives they can feel.”

To followers and newcomers alike, the author guarantees, “You will feel Hard Mountain.” This emotional epic of trials and tragedy will rip at your heartstrings. With more twists and turns than West Virginia’s US Route 33, Hard Mountain keeps readers guessing beyond the shocking betrayals that rock Widows Hollow and that put the importance of family to the ultimate test.

It is 1975, vandals plague Rose’s S&S Ranch. While portents and nightmares add to the horrors, The Train Man returns. He knows trespassers have become a greater menace to Rose and Jan than the accident that has crippled them, a threat that possesses the power to steal their dreams-if not their lives.

And to The Train Man, Quayle Johnson’s, mind, Rose and Jan are more than friends. They are family.

Author D.E. Haggerty – Guest Blogger #BookSpotlight

It is a great pleasure to welcome author D.E. Haggerty to the blog today! She’s the author of the quirky, cozy, mystery three-book “Death by Cupcake” series which were all featured  right here on Nesie’s Place.
D.E. will be interviewing the one and only Molly Smith today from her romantic comedy, “Molly’s Misadventures”.  Be sure to check out D.E.’s social network links, and Molly’s buy links below! “Molly’s Misadventures” is currently on sale for #99cents, but the sale ends soon so do not miss out! AND…D.E. will gift an ebook copy to a random commenter!
Enjoy!

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Book title: Molly’s Misadventures

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Content Warning: Profanity

Published: January 11, 2016

Word count: 64,800

 

Synopsis:

I’m having the suckiest day ever. First, my father, aka Mr. Grumpy Pants, calls to say his nurse just walked out on him. Likely story. I rush home to pack only to walk in on my husband getting it on with his younger, skanky secretary. Unfortunately, my quick weekend trip home to fix Dad’s problems turns into a stay of a few weeks. Luckily, I’ve got Danny, the neighbor boy I had a crush on when I was a dorky, braces-wearing, nose-buried-in-a-book teenager, and a brand-spanking new blog to keep my mind off things. Before I know it, I’m writing product reviews of vibrators and getting questioned by a store rent-a-cop at the world’s worst date ever. All while trying to figure out how to take things with Danny to the next level. Not to complicate things or anything but my boss decides to give me an ultimatum – come back in four weeks or don’t come back at all. How in the world did my life get so complicated?

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Interview with Molly from Molly’s Misadventures

By D.E. Haggerty

How’s the love life, Molly?

Oh, my gosh. *Hides face in hands* No easing into it? We’re going to jump right in there? Can I have an easier question? Please. Pretty please with sugar on top.

Okay, then. Why blogging?

Er … that actually wasn’t my choice. My best friend, Dianne, started the whole thing up. She just set me up an account and shoved it in my face as a fait accomplait. I totally revoked her best friend privileges that day.

Well, you’re definitely blogging now. Tell us why you decided to blog about your dating life.

Dating disasters, you mean? Dianne decided I needed a bout of rebound sex – long story – and signed me up for some internet dating website. Yes, I should really hide any and all electronics from her. I don’t know how, but somehow the little conniver convinced me to go on just one date. Since that first dating debacle happened about the same time the blog was set-up, I thought why not blog about it. It’s not like I could be any more embarrassed. Until the second date that is.

I don’t mean to butt in here but aren’t you married?

Wow. You don’t pull any punches. If you want to get all technical about it, I’m separated. Since you’ll probably find out anyway, my husband stepped out on me – with his secretary – and I am therefore completely and totally not obligated to him. Scorned women unite!

Okay. Let’s go back to the blog then. What is internet dating really like?

Ha! Ha! You’re going to have to read my blog to find that out.

Come on. You can tell us a story from your dating experiences that didn’t make it onto your blog.

Persistent, aren’t you? Okay. One thing you miss with my blogs is the lead up to the date. I try to weed out the possible whackos, although I’ve obviously failed at that numerous times. There are several categories of – how shall I say this politely? – incompatible potential dates. The first are those who just want to meet to have casual sex. Most of them are upfront about it, although their requests can be a bit out there. I had one guy email me a whole list of requirements: Do I like to be called master? Do I know how to handle a whip? Can I walk on five-inch heels? Do I own my own cat suit? I couldn’t run away from the computer fast enough.

Thank goodness you don’t need to rely on Internet dating as rumor has it you have a huge crush.

Is it still a crush when you’ve hit the mid-30s mark? We’re taking it slow. Super-duper slow since, as you so helpfully pointed out, I’m still married and going through a divorce. But super slow is definitely not boring. *Blushes*

That’s pretty much all the time we’ve got for today. Anything you’d like to add?

Obviously, everyone should check out my blog. *Winks* But, seriously, thanks for having me on your blog today. It was fun – if not a bit embarrassing at times. *Waves*

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Excerpt:

Molly’s Misadventures

A Coffee Date with the Police

Posted by: Molly Smith at 4:00 p.m.

 Okay, I admit. I assumed my first ‘real’ date in over a decade would be a disaster of epic proportion. I never thought—in my wildest dreams—that the next date would be even worse than that. What’s worse than epic? I have no words. Let me know in the comments if you think of a (mis)nomer that works.

Let’s back up a bit, shall we? Just how did Molly end up on another date after the ambush date? I call it temporary insanity. I let my best friend talk me into signing up for a dating website. I must have been completely out of my mind because I also agreed to go on two dates a week. Not enough craziness? I also agreed to blog about these dates. What have I gotten myself into?

Considering the ambush dinner date of last week, I decided to go for a coffee date with Harry. Not his real name, obviously. I’ve decided to use aliases for all of my dates that start with the letter ‘H’. I once had a friend who named all her children with names that start with a ‘D’. I always did love alliteration, so I’m totally copying her on that one.

So, anyway, my coffee date with Harry. I suggested we meet up in the coffee shop located in a bookstore. It’s a new bookstore I haven’t had time to explore yet. I figured if the date was a dud, I could always do some book shopping because everyone knows you can never have too many books.

The date started out really well. I had mentioned my addiction to lattes when chatting with Harry. When I arrived at the bookstore, there he sat with a fresh latte waiting for me. I’m not going to describe Harry’s physical characteristics because that makes me sound shallow. And now you all think he’s fugly. Well, he’s not. At least not on the outside. Wait until you finish reading to decide on the rest.

We drank our coffees and chatted for about fifteen minutes. Harry was funny with that dry humor that I love so much. My stomach rumbled after a while, and Harry suggested we head to the diner down the street for lunch. I thought it sounded like a great idea and readily agreed.

I should have realized something was off when he then hurried out of the store without waiting for me. I wasn’t expecting him to hold my hand or anything, but he could have walked out the door with me. Well, let me tell you, there’s a very good reason he took off like a rabbit in heat.

I walked through the exit and the security gates started to beep and the lights twinkle. I didn’t think anything of it. I’ve had plenty of security alarms go off by accident before. Being the good citizen I am, I immediately stopped and turned to the security guard rushing towards me.

He grabbed my bag and opened it. To my great surprise, he pulled out the book: Kama Sutra for Beginners. OMG! I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my life. I made the incredibly stupid comment: “How did that get in there?” The security guard just looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Yeah, he’s probably heard that one before.

It didn’t take but a second for me to realize that there was only one way that the book got in my bag—Harry, Mr. Not-So-Nice-After-All. I immediately started to lie out of my ass. “Oops!” I may have even done a giggle at this point. “I must have forgotten to pay for that. Shall I just get in line over there?”

Nice try, Molly. The security guard shook his head at me and told me to follow him. He took me straight to the front of the line—because getting caught stealing the Kama Sutra wasn’t bad enough, I also had to piss off all the people waiting in line. But then he decides to find his voice, and he booms loud enough for the whole store to hear: “Caught this lady trying to steal the Kama Sutra.”

I tried to use my nonexistent magical powers to teleport out of the store, but, like I said, my magical abilities are nonexistent. So I just stood there, turning so red my face could have probably lit up the store. I quickly paid for the book and got the hell out of there—escorted by the security guard, of course. I didn’t even bother to see if Harry was at the diner. I was afraid of what I’d do to the thief if I saw him in person. I rushed home and thanked the goddess that I’ve started stocking my bedroom with wine.

Whose idea was it for me to get back in the dating game, again?

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Meet D.E. Haggerty

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D.E. HaggertyI grew up reading everything I could get my hands on from my mom’s Harlequin romances to Nancy Drew to Little Women. When I wasn’t flipping pages in a library book, I was penning horrendous poems, writing songs no one should ever sing, or drafting stories which have thankfully been destroyed. College and a stint in the U.S. Army came along, robbing me of free time to write and read, although I did manage, every once in a while, to sneak a book into my rucksack between rolled up socks, MRIs, t-shirts, and cold weather gear. After surviving the army experience, I went back to school and got my law degree. I jumped ship and joined the hubby in the Netherlands before the graduation ceremony could even begin. A few years into my legal career, I was exhausted, fed up, and just plain done. I quit my job and sat down to write a manuscript, which I promptly hid in the attic after returning to the law. But being a lawyer really wasn’t my thing, so I quit (again!) and went off to Germany to start a B&B. Turns out being a B&B owner wasn’t my thing either. I decided to follow the husband to Istanbul for a few years where I managed to churn out book after book. But ten years was too many to stay away from ‘home’. I packed up again and moved to The Hague where I’m currently working on my next book. I hope I’ll always be working on my next book.

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