Thursday, December 1, 2016

Virtual Tour - Hard Compromise by Samanthe Beck!

Nothing will stop this sexy cop from staking a real 
claim on her body and her heart. 

Title: Hard Compromise
Series: Compromise Me #2
Author: Samanthe Beck 
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Released: November 21, 2016

Laurie Peterson assumes her impulsive one-night stand with sinfully sexy Sheriff Ethan Booker is the biggest surprise of the year…until her bakery burns down while she’s basking in the afterglow. 

It looks like her dreams are up in smoke, but then Ethan proposes a deal too tempting to resist. 

Ethan has no intention of settling for a one-night stand with Laurie. Nor does he want anything to do with the women his wealthy family wants him to meet. Not when he’s waited ten years for his chance to make his move. 

His deal might have strings—and Laurie may not know the stakes—but nothing will stop this sexy cop from staking a real claim on her body and her heart.

She turned on less than steady legs and walked to the other side of the room, feeling the weight of his stare on her the entire time. Once there, she planted her feet hip’s distance apart, bent from the waist, and rested her forearms on the bed. “I trust this is interesting enough for you?” - 

 His footsteps fueled her adrenalin. She lowered her head to the mattress, and lifted onto her toes. It’s definitely a start. Hand me my belt. - 

 She raised her head as a hundred imaginary feathers fluttered down her spine. “Your...what?” “My belt,” he repeated. It’s right beside you. Why? Give it to me, and you’ll find out. - 

 If she wasn’t in the mood for this, all she had to do was say so. Booker would let it go, without question. Even knowing this, backing down felt too much like surrender. She handed the strap to him, but couldn’t help adding a caustic comment. “Who would have guessed there were fifty shades of Sheriff Booker?” - 

 His soft laugh stirred invisible molecules in the air around her. “I would never do anything so conventional. Besides”—he folded the belt in half and ran the edge along the back of her thigh—“I think you secretly prefer gentle.” - 

 I told you before, you don’t have to be gentle with me. You’re tough, huh? The edge of the belt tickled her skin again. She faced front and held her position. “That’s right.” Dammit, she was her own worst enemy. - 

 “Okay, tough girl. Be still.” -

Forgive me, but I have to let Booker ruin you now...

“Jesus, Jailbait.” He leaned in and pinned her against the wall, his hands on either side of her head. “This is a perfect example of you not understanding the risk inherent in your situation. -

I’ve missed you. I’ve wanted you constantly for the last week and you’ve denied us both out of sheer stubbornness. I’m in no shape to be toyed with. Keep it up, and this is going to be brutal. You’ll feel it for the next week, no matter how many times I kiss it better.” -

Her chin came up. Temper or excitement—knowing her, a good dose of both—whipped color into her cheeks. “I need brutal. I’ve been in pain for a week and nothing relieves it. Give me your goddamn cock, because you’ve ruined me for everything else.” -

On the plus side, this time I'm actually teasing you with something you can get your hands on! If you want Booker to ruin you for good... -

Each book in the Compromise Me series is a standalone, full-length story that can be enjoyed out of order. 

Compromising Her Position 
(Compromise Me #1)

He's not who she expected, but he's exactly the man she needs…

When Chelsea Wayne drags Santa into a supply closet for a little office party nookie, she assumes the man in the suit is her on-again/off-again coworker boyfriend. 

Instead, it's Rafe St. Sebastian, a man known for his hard-driving ways in business as well as the bedroom--and, kill her now, the brand spanking new owner of Las Ventanas--who grants her naughtiest Christmas wishes.

So much for her reputation, not to mention her career.

Rafe needs to close three acquisitions to prove to his father he's ready to take the helm of St. Sebastian Enterprises. A hot interlude in a supply closet after deal number two seems like the perfect illicit Christmas bonus. 

Unfortunately, when that "bonus" becomes the key to the final deal, he finds himself back in bed--so to speak--with Chelsea, and after their steamy tryst, he's not interested in keeping things professional…

~Chapter One~ 

Dec. 5 12:27 p.m. - 

Paul, -

 I left the Santa costume in your office, in case you change your mind. See you at the party. -

 Chelsea Wayne 
Assistant Manager 
Las Ventanas Resort - 

 A flash of red at the other end of the hall caught Chelsea’s eye. - 

Holy cr…Christmas, looks like she’d earned a surprise this holiday season. - 

The sight of Paul in the costume she’d ordered melted her heart—and did funny things to her stomach. Champagne might account for some of the giddy reaction, but mostly it came down to the knowledge that he’d worn the over-the-top outfit for her. Lord knew he didn’t want to play Santa at the employee holiday party. When she’d first sprung the notion on him, he’d flat-out refused, calling the idea inappropriate for a general manager. - 

 Yet there he stood, wearing the red suit, fuzzy hat, beard, and boots, in a display of affection her starved heart desperately needed right now. The level of work stress they’d endured at the resort recently had sucked the intimacy right out of their fledgling relationship. - 

 No woman in her right mind would let such a sweet gesture go unrewarded. She pushed off the wall and closed in on him. As if he sensed her approach, he turned, but before he could so much as “Ho, ho, ho,” her, she planted a palm in the middle of his padded belly and shoved him into the closet. The door slammed closed behind them. - 

 “I’ve got a present for Santa and it’s not safe for work.” She didn’t give him time to reply. Everything that came out of his mouth lately tended to spoil the moment, and she didn’t want this moment spoiled. She went up onto the toes of her red sling-backs and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. - 

 He stood stock still for a moment, no doubt shocked right down to his Santa socks by her uncharacteristically forward behavior, but she dropped her purse on a stack of folding tables, grabbed two handfuls of velvet and kept right on kissing him. The suit, padding, and beard made him feel bigger, less familiar, like kissing a stranger. Then again, it had been a while since they’d last kissed. Really kissed. - 

 Maybe the drought had left him as pent-up as she, because he released a low groan, clamped a white-gloved hand at the back of her head, and took control. And what she’d started as a funny, slightly naughty thank-you ignited into a long, urgent demand the likes of which he’d never delivered before. One her entire body begged to satisfy. - 

 He shoved her up against the tables in a domineering move that sent a whiplash of pure, feminine lust reverberating through her. Something spilled to the floor. Her purse, she realized, but then the thought spun away as hands worked their way under her blouse and cupped her breasts, lifting them until her nipples scraped the lacy edge of her bra. The small torment coaxed a moan out of her, and then another when his thumbs brushed the tight, tingling peaks and set off answering tingles strong enough to make her thighs clench. - 

 A proper, responsible part of her couldn’t believe they were doing something so crazy in a supply closet, with co-workers gathering in a banquet room on the other side of one thin wall. She drew back to catch her breath and level her head, but a wild, reckless part of her she’d ignored for too long took charge of her voice. “Hurry,” she whispered. “There’s not much time.” - 

 Spurred on by her own warning, she twisted away and bent over the stack of tables to scramble for the little packet of condoms in her purse. Dammit, she couldn’t reach it. She leaned over as far as she dared, and stretched. Her fingertips grazed the bag, and… “Ohmigod!” - 

 Swift fists yanked her skirt up around her waist. Bare hands clamped on her hips, and a hot mouth trailed over her backside. Her leg muscles dissolved. What was he doing to her? - 

 Not bestowing gentle little kisses. Uh-uh. Whatever he was up to involved lips, tongue, and—sweet mercy—teeth. The faux beard tickled her thighs, but she couldn’t blame her restlessness on the props. He was the one making her squirm. Him. - 

 His mouth roamed lower, and any remaining questions flew out of her mind, along with her sense of propriety and every ounce of her dignity. She arched her back and lifted up onto her tiptoes, praying he could reach the spot that craved his attention from this position. And then he angled his head, and Oooooh, thank you Santa for your fast, merciless tongue… Air rushed out of her lungs. She must have made a noise, because a stern “Shhh” reached her ears. - 

 “Sorry.” She closed her eyes, bit her lip, and fought the urge to cry out. - 

Despite her effort, some sounds simply couldn’t be silenced. Her choppy breaths filled the room, punctuated by the squeak of the tables every time she moved, and the wet sound of his tongue delving in, out and around her panties. - 

 He deliberately teased her, making her shiver uncontrollably while he whipped her to a frenzy and retreated, again and again, until she rocked backward so hard she nearly toppled the stack of tables and sent them both sprawling. Thankfully, he didn’t let that happen. He caught and steadied her, but the low rumble of his laughter washed over her skin. - 

 Okay, it was funny. The sheer awkwardness of their cramped love nest, the Santa suit, the looks she imagined on their poor co-workers faces if someone opened the door right now. A giggle snuck past her lips. - 

 “Shhh.” The admonishment came from behind her, and then he sank his teeth into the curve of her butt and sent two fingers between her legs, sliding into her. Slow. Deep. - 

 She locked her jaw to stifle a grateful sound, and choked back a whimper when he withdrew and used one damp fingertip to paint her flesh with a slow, circling design. - 

 Where had this Paul been hiding for the last few months? Wicked, playful, and devastating. This Paul intended to exploit every inch of her, and nothing—good heavens, absolutely nothing—appeared to be off-limits. She loved it, and for once in her life she didn’t care about the reasons. All she cared about were the sensations building to a crisis inside her. - 

 She swept her arm out, snagged her purse, and used her free hand to dig around until she found the inside pocket. Condom. Clenching her inner muscles around his fingers in a silent plea, she thrust the small packet at him. A tear of a wrapper, the rustle of clothing, and then those hands were back on her hips. - 

 He dragged her panties down. She braced herself. Time ticked by. One eternal second. Two. Her pulse pounded, and her nerve endings twitched. What was he waiting for? - 

 Palms smoothed down her blouse, along either side of her spine, and then he moved lower, pausing to give each vulnerable cheek a squeeze. He took her hips and lifted them slightly, and she adjusted her stance to accommodate the deeper angle he wanted. His hands wandered along the insides of her thighs, long fingers sliding between for an all-too-fleeting caress, followed by another, and another. - 

 She swayed into his touch, not caring how frantic she looked. Those hands were all she could focus on. Why hadn’t she noticed how big, and warm, and talented they were before? How they could practically finesse an orgasm right out of her with a maddeningly patient stroke… - 

 “Ooohhh!” There was no practically about it. Her body stiffened as the first ripple reverberated through her. Apparently, that’s what he’d been waiting for, because he drove into her with a single thrust that shot her orgasm into uncharted territory. Then the thrusts came fast and hard. Beyond the rush of blood in her ears, she heard him say her name in a low, nearly unintelligible groan. She clung to the edge of the topmost table and cried out as pleasure slammed into her, crashed over her, and took her under. - 

For long minutes after the last wave passed, she lay there like a cat in a sunbeam, too content to move. The slow, cautious friction of his body easing out of hers provoked a tiny shiver, but that was involuntary. She might have sighed when he slid her underwear into place. She definitely gasped when he followed up the gentlemanly gesture with a quick, loud slap on her butt. What the…? Hello, Santa just spanked you. Her surprised laugh echoed in the small room. - 

 Another “Shhh” greeted her outburst. - 

 So strict. But those magic hands tugged her skirt down, and she fought back another sigh. Interlude over. She pushed herself upright, re-tucked her blouse and smoothed her skirt. He held her purse out. She took it, and then leaned in and planted one last kiss on his beard-covered lips. “Give me a few minutes before you join the party.” She cracked the door and peeked into the hallway. All clear. “Merry Christmas, Paul,” she whispered, and slipped out of the closet. - 

 Copyright © 2015 by Samanthe Beck. All rights reserved - 
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Wine lover, sleep fanatic, and USA Today Bestselling Author of sexy contemporary romance novels, Samanthe Beck lives in Malibu, California, with her long-suffering but extremely adorable husband and their turbo-son, Hud. 

Throw in a furry ninja named Kitty and Bebe the trash talking Chihuahua and you get the whole, chaotic picture.

When not clinging to sanity by her fingernails or dreaming up fun, fan-your-cheeks sexy ways to get her characters to happily-ever-afters, she searches for the perfect cabernet to pair with Ambien.

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1 comment:

  1. Thank you for hosting HARD COMPROMISE today!

    Crystal, Tasty Book Tours


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