Cowgirl Crazy (#2, Cowboy Way)
Author Becky McGraw
Twyla Taylor is one frustrated cowgirl. She's not winning at barrel racing or in love. She's spent ten years nursing a crush on her brother's best friend, Ryan Easter, who thinks of her as no more than his little sister. When Twyla catches Ryan with yet another no-good buckle bunny, and calls him out, he tells her to get a life, and that is exactly what she decides to do. One that does not include a buckle-bunny-chasing cowboy with a bad attitude, or an overbearing older brother.
Ryan Easter is one frustrated cowboy. He's winning every night at bronc riding, and has a different woman in every city. Mostly so he can keep his best friend's fiery little sister, and his desire for her, at bay. Since she grew those proud little breasts of hers, and mile-long legs, Ryan has had to fight his attraction to her. If her brother knew what he was thinking, he would kill Ryan, if her daddy didn't first. Ryan valued the surrogate family the Taylor's provided him with too much to ever go there with their youngest member.
His diversion techniques work like a charm, until one night he pushes her too far, and Twyla takes off. Ryan knows he has to find her quickly and apologize, or face his best friend's wrath. He finds Twyla in Dallas and decides she's definitely gone cowgirl crazy. He barely recognizes her, because his barrel-racing tomboy is wearing makeup that looks like it was put on with a putty knife and she's working at a bar which borders on a cowgirl strip club. When she isn't serving shots off of her stomach, she's shaking her round ass for any man with a dollar to shove into the waistband of her barely-there shorts.
Twyla refuses to leave with him, and Ryan knows he better make his final arrangements, or come up with another way to convince her and fast.
Buy Links: (watch for buy links)
Book 1 in the Series
Just Shoot Me (#1, Cowboy Way)
Embrace by Kristin Kitchen Release Blitz
July 16, 2014
Joss Brockton discovers that the power of love can be the salvation of damaged souls.
Feisty and independent Joss has been running as fast and as far as she can from her tragic past, never letting anyone inside to see the deepest and darkest parts of her soul. But when the end of the line leads her to Archer, North Carolina, can she put aside her fears and allow herself to find happiness with the equally damaged Chris Greyson?
Army Ranger Chris Greyson has survived horrors most people could never imagine. Restored to his family, he remains haunted by his ordeal, letting no one truly reach him…until Joss comes along and shows him the true meaning of “coming home”.
Come join the release day Party on July 16th
Embrace By Kristin Kitchen Release Party
The Greyson-Slade Series
Book 1, Endure 4.7 stars
Book 2, Emerge 5 stars
Book 3, Embrace 5 stars
About this author
Kristin Kitchen is a transplanted Bostonian who calls Southeastern North Carolina home. A single mother of two amazing kids and a couple of rotten dogs.
When she is not busy at work as a 911 dispatcher telling the cops and firefighters what to do, she can be found at the beach with her sassy toes in the sand.
She leads her life much like her characters. Living every day to the fullest with her incredibly dedicated crew of friends.
Kristin’s passion for writing began when she started blogging as the Diary of a Mad Dispatcher. After much encouragement from her fans and close friends she decided to combine her love of writing and entertaining others with her animated story telling into the Greyson-Slade Series.
They all think they can sleep their way to the top - blondes, brunettes and redheads. That is, until they meet me. My name is DeVon Ricci and I’m an asshole. At least they all seem to think so. But I don’t give a shit because they never last long. Two or three weeks tops, then they're gone. Not that it matters. There’s always another talent waiting to take a seat on the casting couch, but I've yet to find what I'm looking for. I know what I want and I won't settle for less. I'm always chasing perfection.The embodiment of the American dream, DeVon Ricci had come to America from Italy when he was a teenager and then, with hard work and perseverance, had worked his way up in a cutthroat industry to emerge as the head of one of the top talent agencies in Los Angeles. Now it looks like he has everything he could ever want, except for the perfect woman.
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M. S. Parker is the author of the Erotic Romance series, Club Privè. Living in Southern California, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop writing on her next spicy romance.
Struggling to make ends meet as a mystery writer, he sold his soul - and his pride - as he pedaled sex and lust writing under the pen name Christoph Strong.
No one knew he was the one behind the steamy stories on the bestsellers lists. And he planned to keep it that way.
Until he met her.
Monica Singer, an infamous blogger, is keen to discover the truth of his secret identity.
During a chance meeting at a book convention, Michael and Monica form an instant connection. And soon, an innocent online friendship becomes something so much more.
But as Michael starts to let his guard down, he doesn’t realize that the person he's learning to trust may be hiding secrets of her own.
Secrets that could ultimately destroy everything.
Author: Kendall Grey
Publish Date: July 14, 2014
When an accident claims her mother’s life, Keahilani Alana must take charge of her `ohana(family) or risk losing what little they have. With an underage brother to care for and no education, she has few options. The door to a heavenly hellish opportunity opens when she stumbles upon a valuable secret her mother left behind on the slopes of an extinct volcano—a legacy that tempts the family with riches beyond their wildest dreams. But the secret is much bigger and more sinister than they realize. As reality unravels and exposes eerie truths about the ‘ohana that should have remained deep under the mountain, Keahilani must either resist the call of her blood or risk being consumed by its darkness.
Blake Murphy is an assassin working to infiltrate a new Hawaiian cartel. His investigation reveals that Keahilani, the sexy surfing instructor he pegged as an informant, is much closer to the drug ring than he thought. Passion ignites between them in the bedroom, but their ironclad ties to opposing interests pit them against each other everywhere else.
When tensions reach the breaking point and her ‘ohana is threatened, the only cure for Keahilani’s hot-blooded fury is a loaded clip with a body bag chaser.
They don’t call her Pele for nothing
WARNING: HOT-BLOODED does NOT end with a happily ever after. It contains drug use and graphic sex, language, and violence. The story is intended to entertain, not to condone or glorify illegal or immoral activities. This book is unsuitable for sensitive readers and those under the age of 18.
*Written in 3rd person with multiple POVs.
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22319105-hot-blooded?from_search=true
“You think Bane will win this year?” Kai asked from the backseat. It was hard to hear him over the sputter of the coughing engine, but a tinge of uncertainty blurred his soft voice.
From the passenger seat, Keahilani glanced back at her twin. The wind from Mahina’s open window in front of him blew the sun-kissed brown hair from his face. His locks executed complicated flips like a drunk diver stumbling off the cliffs of Black Rock on Kāʻanapali Beach.
“Maybe.” Keahilani didn’t want to jinx their little brother’s chances, so she kept her thoughts to herself. Kai had always been the optimistic one who searched for the good in every situation. She considered herself practical above all else. In short, Kai hoped. Keahilani hedged.
That said, she had no doubt Bane would totally kill it in the surfing competition today.
“Absolutely,” Mahina said. Keahilani felt her mother’s smile rather than saw it. That’s how Mahina was. Energy rather than form. Larger than life. A force to be reckoned with. To those who didn’t know her, Mahina was intimidation made flesh. To her family, she was the epitome of love and respect with a sharp edge.
Years filled with alternating tragedies and triumphs had that hard-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside effect on a person.
Keahilani fumbled with her hair, wrestling the tangles from the wind’s clutches as she squinted into the sun. Damn car’s air conditioning hadn’t worked in ages, and Mahina probably wouldn’t have run it even if it did. She pinched pennies at the expense of the smallest comforts. Recycled water for gardening. No lights on during the day. Not a single bite of food wasted. Hell, the members of the household even took timed, lukewarm showers. Five minutes was all anyone ever got, birthdays included.
Keahilani sighed. As soon as she landed a higher-paying job, she’d help the family move out of government housing into something better. Her mother had given so much of herself to keep the ‘ohana strong. She deserved some reward for her struggles. They all did.
Mahina shoved one hand into the hemp bag lying between the bucket seats while the other maintained tenuous control of the steering wheel. She glanced away from the road a couple of times.
Sitting up, Keahilani swiped the thin sheen of sweat from her leg. God, this heat. “What do you need? I’ll get it.”
Mahina gently pushed her away and continued fumbling around in the bag.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” Keahilani gibed. Her mother always said the same when she drove.
Mahina paused her rifling as she rounded a sharp curve. “Bane told me that rude haole boy from Kihei—what’s his name? Josh something?—is the biggest competition this year. That little shit needs his ass handed to him.”
True. Josh beat Bane (barely) at their last surfing contest, and afterward he bragged about haole surfers being better than Natives. Mahina’s lip curled, and she bared her teeth over a growl. Keahilani had to physically restrain her from attacking the kid. Mahina could take a lot of crap, but when you brought her or her children’s heritage and/or wave-riding abilities into question, things were guaranteed to get ugly.
And they did. Josh ran to his mother and hid behind her. Keahilani was pretty sure he peed his pants too. Served him right.
Most people agreed religion, money, and politics were topics best avoided in social situations. Mahina’s top three incendiary topics were Native Hawaiians, surfing, and social justice.
“He’ll get his.” Keahilani gazed at the ocean. “They always do.”
The bend navigated, Mahina returned to digging through her purse. “Damn it. Where did I put those cigarettes?” She glanced down and shoved half of the contents aside.
Smoking was her one vice—the single luxury she allowed herself. She only smoked two cigarettes a day, always out of sight from Bane, so Keahilani tried not to nag her too much about it. Mahina said she felt guilty for spending an extra seven bucks every week and a half on cancer sticks, but Keahilani was more concerned about her health than a few lost dollars.
Another curve snuck up on them like a rogue wave out of nowhere, and a motorcycle breached the double yellow lines, heading straight for them.
Fear punched her in the gut, and Keahilani slapped a hand to the dashboard.
“Mahina!” Kai’s shout from the backseat struck a perfect chord with Keahilani’s cry.
“Shit!” Their mother yanked the steering wheel, avoiding the motorcycle, but the car careened across pavement, tires screaming in protest.
Keahilani clutched her seat, and the world slowed to a dreadful, slow-motion panorama. Reality spun into blurred brown lines intermingled with blood-curdling, rubber-ripping howls that danced around her head like little cartoon birds. Her body succumbed to laws of physics she couldn’t break as it thrashed against the belt crossing her chest. Bones protested at the impact.
Twirl. Skid. SLAM!
The dreamlike scene ended abruptly. A bloody wake-up call infused with a double shot of delayed reaction lit up her pain receptors. Deadly silence, save for a hissing radiator, commanded the airwaves.
Keahilani tried to unbuckle herself, but her arm wouldn’t cooperate. It was stuck between the seat and the door. Dazed, she turned toward Mahina and wished she hadn’t.
Red. Not on her lips where it should be, but trickling down her temple. Saturating her light shirt. Pooling on the seat. The crumpled door embedded her side as if it were made of cardboard rather than steel. Red-dipped glass fragments lay shattered in a macabre butterfly shape on her lap.
A chill alighted on Keahilani’s skin, soft like a blanket at first, but then it seeped in, a sinister terror, seizing her whole body.
“Mahina?” Keahilani whispered, afraid that if she spoke too loudly, she might somehow break her mother further. Heart shuffling into a gallop, she couldn’t catch her breath. Couldn’t catch her racing thoughts as they sped away, leaving her control high and dry. Sanity whirled into a vortex, and adrenaline-powered fear clamped around her throat. “Makuahine?” she said more forcefully.
Kai groaned behind Mahina and lifted his head from his tipped-over position in the seat. He’d avoided the impact when the door caved in. Thank God.
A quiet rattle nabbed Keahilani’s attention. Dread anchored to her gut, and gravity dragged it down. No. No. No. Mahina would be okay. She had to be.
She wrestled the door and with great effort, wriggled her sore arm free and scrambled for the seatbelt. Mahina’s chest crested with another rattle.
Mahina … oh God, Mahina … Her pulse increased to an impossible speed, flooding her ears with wild thumps, goading her into action. The belt sprung loose, and Keahilani’s hands flew to her mother, who was such a horrific mess, she didn’t even know where to start.
Flag someone down for help. You can’t fix this yourself.
“Makuahine?” The high pitch of Kai’s normally low voice startled her.
Keahilani yanked the door handle and shouldered it open. The grisly rattling spurring her on, she stumbled out of the car. Searing pain shot down her leg. She caught herself before face-planting on the pavement and limped into the road.
The asshole on the bike that almost hit them was long gone, but a car headed their way. She waved her good arm in an exaggerated arc. Eyes wide, the driver slammed into park and pulled out a cell phone. “I’ll get help.” Keahilani nodded her thanks. She awkwardly galloped back to her ‘ohana.
Kai tumbled out of the backseat, wincing, eyes watering, brows knitted together in a tight weave of physical and emotional agony. A furious bruise bloomed on his cheek. “She’s gonna die.” His voice cracked. “Mahina’s gonna die.”
Keahilani ignored him and rounded the car to the driver’s side. Avoiding the bloodied bag of flesh trapped in the seat, she studied the accordion of metal and gave it a gentle tug. Nothing happened. She grasped the panel with one hand, the handle with the other, and put all of her might into pulling it open. Kai appeared beside her, sniffling, shoulders heaving. Barely controlled panic rolled off him. With his help, she managed to budge the door open. Mahina jerked as the air hit her, and blood flooded out of her side in a rush.
Kai tugged his shirt over his head and stuffed it into the wound. He smoothed Mahina’s wet hair. “Makuahine. Makuahine, can you hear me?” The sudden calmness in his tenor frightened Keahilani more than the blood did. Her brother was right. Mahina—her mother, her sister, her best friend—was going to die.
A lump clogged Keahilani’s throat, but the approach of a wailing siren didn’t give her time to grieve. Kai knelt beside their mom until the paramedics barreled up with a gurney and took over.
The ensuing moments were yet another blur in the blizzard of unbelievable events. Someone asked if she was okay. They helped her to the side of the road and checked out her and Kai. Red and white lights whirred. Urgent voices chattered. A line of cars backed up the highway. Dazed, Keahilani followed when a paramedic guided her into the back of the ambulance with Kai and the bundle of splintered pieces that used to be their mother.
Doors slammed behind them, locking her into a wheeled mausoleum. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t be trapped in there with her mother as she died. Panic tore through her, weakening and electrifying all at once.
The engine roared, the siren shrieked, and tires spun.
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.
“I’m dying,” Mahina whispered on a shallow current of air. The garbled words blended with what Keahilani feared was blood filling her mother’s punctured lung. They were almost a plea. Whether for relief, a merciful end, or escape, Keahilani wasn’t sure, but she felt as if she was the one who’d been crushed by the door.
Clutching the crisp white sheet on the gurney, Mahina tensed and arched her back. More blood seeped through the bandages the EMT slapped over her abdomen. God, so much blood. The horrible rattling inside her chest picked up. Thick creases of anguish and fear marred her unusually pale face, gobbling up her ha, her very breath.
“Be still, Mahina.” Trembling hand squeezing her mother’s, Keahilani shot her gaze out the ambulance window. Not too far from the hospital, but the way things were going, it might not matter.
Her mother could not die. Could not.
“Makuahine, you gotta stay awake. Let me know you’re still with me.” Keahilani kissed her mother’s clammy cheek. Forbidden droplets poised at the corners of her lids. A fresh rush of adrenaline surged and prevented those damned tears from falling. She had to be strong for Mahina. And for Kai.
She glanced to her twin in the seat beside her, head stuffed in his tanned, shaking hands. Damp brown waves of hair framed his thumb and fingers. The unbearable siren stifled what must have been chokes issuing through his dry lips.
“The doctors will help you.” Keahilani didn’t believe the words any more than her mother or Kai did. Even if her mom had a chance, the family had no insurance. Odds of getting quality treatment were nil. The haole doctors were interested in paying patients, not “moochers” off their precious system. If you couldn’t help them cover their golf expenses at the country club or the mortgage on their multimillion-dollar suites at the tourist-dominated condominiums, they’d provide only the most basic services because they had to. People like Mahina were nothing more than quickly forgotten chores marked off over-filled to-do lists.
Keahilani clutched her mother’s hand tighter and wiped her nose on a lifted shoulder. Another deep rumble of fluid inside Mahina’s chest fought for control of a space designed only for air. Mahina’s body rose from the gurney again. She emerged gasping, nails digging into Keahilani’s flesh. With a glut of super strength, her mother commandeered Keahilani’s T-shirt, balling the thin, faded cotton. Her bloodshot brown eyes widened, and frightening acceptance dawned over them. She swallowed a couple times in quick succession, her gulps like those of a fish left on a dock to die.
“My garden. You must protect my garden. You know where it is, huh? You remember?” Her words transformed from desperate pleas into unyielding demands.
Keahilani nodded. “I remember. But I won’t need to tend to your plants. You’ll be here to do it,” she lied.
Somehow Mahina’s eyes popped even wider, and her grip became painful. Heated droplets pooled in Keahilani’s palm. Blood.
“No. Death hunted me for years, and now he’s found me. My secrets--our secrets—lie near Kula within the slopes of Haleakalā.” Her brows wrenched together. “Protect them.”
Why would Mahina care about her stupid plants at a time like this?
“Keahilani!” She tried to sit up, but the straps across her chest stopped her. “Promise me!”
“I promise.” Keahilani pressed her lips together to keep the emotion at bay, but an eruption was overdue. Boiling sorrow welled from deep within, tainted by the injustice of her mother’s situation. Waves of regret rolled off Kai beside her, clashing with the whiff of death surrounding Mahina. The combined stench overwhelmed her, suffocated her, lured the burning lava higher up her gullet. She tried bargaining with the impending explosion. Mahina needs you to remain calm. Don’t upset her. If this is her end, honor her with your silence.
“How much longer?” she demanded of the driver through clenched teeth.
Mahina didn’t have three minutes.
Ironic how fast life could transform into death. One moment, they’d been driving to Lāhainā Harbor to see Bane surf in the groms competition. The next, a freak car crash robbed her not only of her mother’s life, but her entire family’s. If Mahina hadn’t been rifling through her bag for that damned cigarette instead of paying attention to the road, they’d probably be sitting on the beach now, cheering for Bane as he dominated ka po‘ina nalu and showed the haole surfers how it was done.
Keahilani had always feared smoking would kill her mother.
She hated being right.
Mahina’s breaths decreased to mere whispers of garbled air. Her dark eyes lost focus. Her hold on Keahilani loosened.
“Stay with me, Makuahine. Come on. Wake up.” Keahilani tapped her mother’s cheek a couple times. Kai lifted his head, his face streaked with tears. He leaned closer.
“Makuahine.” His voice cracked.
Their mother latched onto Keahilani and Kai in turn. “‘Ohana is everything. The blood is everything…” The words were barely intelligible. The ghost of a smile passed over her parted lips. The gurgle kicked up again with her inhale.
Keahilani held her own breath and counted the seconds.
Five … six … seven …
The word “‘ohana” surfed on the wave of Mahina’s lengthy exhale.
The ambulance driver slammed the brakes and took a sharp right into the emergency entrance at the hospital, jostling the three bodies in back. Two reacted. One didn’t.
Kai shook their mother. Her vacant gaze remained fastened on Keahilani, her final word forever emblazoned in Keahilani’s mind.
As shadows converged and undiluted rage consumed her, she channeled the heavenly fire she was named after, pushed it out from her core, and unleashed all of her anger and frustration and sorrow into a vocal eruption. “NO!”
The ambulance windows rattled and sent the petrified EMTs scrambling to cover their ears.
When the last echo of the word died on her lips, the searing heat cooled like lava expelled from the darkest depths, forced to chill in the unyielding harshness of reality. Left with cold blood and too many memories, Keahilani threw herself over her mother’s lifeless body. “No …,” she cried.
Kai’s shaky hand pressed into the small of her back. “We’re alone.” His frame quaking, he nuzzled her shoulder.
‘Ohana was all they had left.
1. HOT-BLOODED is a cross between Point Break, The Sopranos, and Twin Peaks. So, if you like surfing, gangster-style grit with a side of psychological suspense, this one might be right up your alley.
2. HOT-BLOODED’s heroine, Keahilani Alana, is a Hawaiian surfer chick with skeletons (and some other dark, bump-in-the-night baddies) in her closet. She’s strong-willed, independent, and more than willing to use force to get her point across.
3. The tagline for HOT-BLOODED is “‘Ohana is everything,” and boy is it EVER! ‘Ohana means “family” in Hawaiian, and this book explores the nature of family—good, bad, and deadly—on many levels.
4. It’s set on the lush island of Maui where every color of the rainbow rules—and where terrifying shadows exist in places you least expect them.
5. HOT-BLOODED is loosely connected to Kendall’s JUST BREATHE urban fantasy series. You don’t have to have read those books to enjoy this one, but JUST BREATHE readers who do a little digging may notice some subtle connections. There’s a reason for that. Stick with the ‘Ohana series to find out more! :-)
Paperback from Amazon: http://bit.ly/HotBloodPB
Buy signed paperbacks directly from Kendall: http://www.kendallgrey.com/?page_id=4666