Release Blitz & Giveaway: Burn by Jenny Lyn

Eight years ago, life was good for Tate Reilly. Living in Atlanta and attending college, her dream of becoming a doctor was within reach, and she was in love with Ryan Hart. Then one night while Tate slept, Ryan disappeared. No note, no phone call, nothing left of a love she thought would last forever. Confused and heartbroken, she doesn’t let it hold her back in her quest to become a physician. If anything, the hurt and disappointment only serve to fuel her drive to succeed.

Ryan never wanted to leave Tate behind the way he did, but sometimes life takes away the choice. The best way to spare Tate the disruption of her bright future with his problems is to make a clean break. So he does the hardest thing he’s ever done—he walks away from her.

Now Ryan is back in Atlanta, working as a sous chef in the most popular restaurant in the city, and he has every intention of winning Tate back, no matter what it takes. It’s not easy because Tate wants answers that Ryan’s not ready to give just yet. First, he needs to remind her of what they once had together. The heat between them is undeniable, and it’s not long before it melts her resistance and she starts to lose the grip on her heart again.

But until Ryan can come clean with Tate about why he left, she can’t fully forgive him and move on. Time doesn’t always heal all wounds. Sometimes you have to shed more blood to become whole again.

Excerpt:

A small part of Tate wanted to kill Ryan for tricking her, just reach out and wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze the life right out of him. 

But the larger part of her, which unfortunately included the lady parts, wanted to touch him for other reasons, reasons that she suspected dictated her actions when she’d asked for his address rather than telling him to go back to the ER to be checked out. Besides, if he had truly been concerned about his arm possibly being infected, he wouldn’t have asked if she was working, he would’ve just gone to the hospital. Ryan valued his limbs too much to risk losing them to something like cellulitis or sepsis.

So that made her almost as culpable as he was.

She couldn’t concentrate while staring at him without a shirt on. His chest was too appealing and distracting. All bulgy solid muscle over thick bone, smooth tan skin, his areolas small and dark in … Holy crap, one of his nipples is pierced!

Before Tate could stop herself, she’d reached for it as if it was some sort of intriguing abnormality. She had seen piercings on patients naturally, but never one she wanted to touch as badly as she did his.

She didn’t even look up at his face for permission. When her fingers made contact with the small silver hoop, he flinched but didn’t move to stop her. She shifted closer then, running the tip of her finger around his nipple to watch it tighten, before she gave the ring a little indulgent tug.

Ryan hissed through his teeth, and his hands shot out to capture her hips, pulling her flush to his body. The more she toyed with the jewelry, the stiffer his cock grew against her stomach and the harder his fingertips dug into her jean-covered skin. And she had to admit, she liked that she could cause that reaction in him with such a simple touch. Feeling it made her wonder about something else, though.

“You didn’t pierce your…” Tate licked her lips, inexplicably shy with her words all of a sudden. Her eyes jumped up to his.

“My cock?” He grinned. “No. I’m not that brave.”

“Or crazy. I’ve seen horror stories, trust me on that.”

 “I can imagine. This was a drunken impulse four years ago.”

She continued to finger the jewelry. “If you take it out, the hole will grow up.”

“I started to, but then … I kind of got used to it.”

Tate gave it another tug, causing him to make a soft grunting noise in his throat. “And there’s a direct correlation between the nerves in the nipple and the nerves in the genitals.”

Ryan laughed, pressing his erection against her stomach. “No kidding, Doc. I’m rock hard. ‘Course a lot of that has to do with the company.”

Tate had opened this door by touching him so intimately, and she was about to step through it. There was no denying she wanted him. Giving in to that desire might not be the smartest thing she’d ever done, but this was Ryan. They had a history, even though the last chapter was depressing. There was no question sex with him would be amazing. She’d worry about the ramifications later. For once, she wanted to act rash and bold and selfish.

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Review and Giveaway: Heart Trouble by Jenny Lyn

Heart Trouble by Jenny Lyn tells the story of a doctor and a cop. They’re thrown together when she becomes the target of a serial killer. Their attraction to each other instantaneous and hot.  Spending 24/7 together just leads to some hot bedroom action and an intense courtship.

Sean and Erin are like two peas in a pod. She’s a doctor with crappy doctor hours and seeing people at their worst. Sean is a copy with crappy cop hours and seeing people at their worst. They get each other.

I loved their attraction to each other. Even before they were thrown together, they were attracted to each other. Being thrown together like that just made their romance happen that much quicker.

The final showdown with the serial killer was pretty intense, even though it was predictable.

Sean is an alpha male who can let go when he needs to. Or rather, when Erin needs him to. He can even say I’m sorry when he’s wrong. Gotta love alpha males that can do that!

This was my first book by Jenny Lyn and I’ll definitely be reading more from her!

Find it on GoodReads!

Jenny's Bio

I started reading when I was four, thanks to a babysitter who found out the only way to get me to sit still (and shut up) was to put a book in my hand. By the time I entered kindergarten, I’d blown through just about every Little Golden Book ever printed. Ten years later, much to my mother’s dismay, I found her stash of paperback romance novels. She tried to divert me back to something more chaste by buying me Harlequins, but I still snuck copies of her Kathleen Woodiwiss’s and Johanna Lindsey’s when she wasn’t looking. Shanna, The Flame and the Flower, and Fires of Winter will always hold special places in my heart because they introduced me to roguish heroes, headstrong heroines, and the trouble they could get into together.

I live with my family in a swampy little corner of north-central Florida, close to the Gulf of Mexico and the historic Suwannee River. It’s hot, humid and full of mosquitos, but I wouldn’t trade it for… actually, I would trade it for a cottage on the beach somewhere in the Keys.

In addition to my website, I can be found saying inappropriate things on Twitter as @JennyLynwrites;  on Goodreads; and Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/author/jennylyn.

Explicit excerpt:

In his right hand he held his gun, strapped inside its holster, which he placed on the nightstand. In his left hand was a strip of three condom packets. She grinned up at him as he tore one off and tossed it on the bed, then dropped the others beside his pistol. An odd juxtaposition, those two items—safety and danger, kind of how she saw Sean.

He crawled over her, bracing his hands beside her shoulders, pinning her legs between his knees. “I like you much better like this. All soft and natural, sexier and even more beautiful than you think you are.” Her stomach did that fluttery thing again. This time she couldn’t blame it on alcohol. “I bet your male patients love having you work on them, a powerful distraction from their pain.” His fingertips traced a path from her neck to her belly. “A dose of you would feel better than a shot of morphine.”

He pushed the hem of her tank top up her stomach and pressed his mouth to her fevered skin. She gasped at the contact. “Sean.”

“If I were lying on a gurney dying, it’d be okay if I could look at you as I go.”

She laced her hands through his hair, grabbing fistfuls and tugging his face up. “Don’t say things like that,” she said, forcing a scowl.

He grinned crookedly. “But it’s true.”

Her hands explored his bunching shoulders, the thick, soft hair that covered his nape, and the flat disks of his nipples, while his mouth found all the secret, sensitive spots on her neck and beneath her ear. He groaned when her blunt nails raked over his rib cage, and Erin loved that she’d made him make that sound.

Sean sat back on his haunches and lifted the tank top, exposing her breasts. Her nipples were already hard, but under his hungry gaze, they pinched even tighter. “Damn.” She raised her arms for him to strip it over her head. “You could be a lingerie model.”

Her blush went unseen in the dim light. “Not my style.”

“No, and I’m glad. I like that you don’t normally flaunt the wares. Makes me grateful that I’m the lucky bastard who gets to see ’em. Maybe even a little greedy,” Sean said as his hands came up to cup her breasts possessively, thumbs brushing back and forth over their peaked tips.

Erin arched, seeking more of his firm touch, wanting his warm mouth. “Sean, please.”

He lowered his head, answering her soft plea. As his tongue made lazy circles around her distended nipple, his fingers strummed at its twin. Sean sucked her into the wet heat of his mouth, and she whimpered, feeling her pussy contract and slicken with his hungry tugs. When he pulled away, he blew softly across the damp, puckered flesh. Erin squeezed her thighs together, thrashed her head on the mattress.

“Like that, huh?” His lips formed the question against the underside of her breast.

Sean focused his attention on her other nipple, treating it to the same lavish attention. Erin tilted her head to watch this time, wanting to memorize the erotic images. He caught her gaze and bared his teeth, biting down until she cried out at the pinch of pain muddled with a rush of pleasure.

Her sex throbbed, needy and swollen. Wet. God, she was so wet it was almost embarrassing. She’d read about women who could orgasm from nipple stimulation alone, but in the past she’d always required much more than that to get off. Given the talent in Sean’s lips and tongue and teeth, she was beginning to see the possibility.

She cupped his cock through his jeans, encouraged by his strangled groan against her skin when she gave him a firm squeeze. He was rigid and thick, long if her hand was a decent measuring device. Fumbling with his zipper, she eased it down.

He rose up on his hands and knees again, dark hair falling forward across his forehead and cheeks, his expression pained. “Take my cock out,” he said. “I want to feel those talented hands.”

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