Friday, November 13, 2015
Hard Beat by K. Bromberg BOOK TOUR
Meet Tanner & Beaux in HARD BEAT - the newest stand alone in the
Driven Series by K. Bromberg!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/20laOb3
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1PZxwlp
Cover & Book Summary
From the New York Times bestselling author of Sweet Ache comes a blistering new novel filled with danger, secrecy, and a desire that can’t be sated…
Foreign war correspondent Tanner Thomas is addicted to living on the edge. Needing the adrenaline rush of his job to help him cope with a personal loss, he throws himself back into the game, concentrating all his energy on getting the next big story. But when he meets his new photojournalist, Beaux Croslyn, he can’t help but feel like he’s losing his focus—and maybe risking more…
With secrets she won’t address, Beaux is far from your ordinary woman. Determined to keep her distance, she’s willing to pull Tanner in closer and hide behind the sparks flying between them. But as Beaux’s past begins to put their relationship—and their lives—at risk, Tanner’s determination to find the truth puts them both in jeopardy.
He's ready to chase her to the ends of the earth to find out if what they had was real, or if the danger surrounding them was just an exquisite heat fated to burn out….
PLEASE CHOOSE ONE EXCERPT FOR YOUR SCHEDULED DAY
She pulls me from my lewd but damn fine thoughts when she tries to jerk her arm from my hold. My spine stiffens some because hell if I’m up for resistance right now. I’m emotionally drained, exhausted, and as much as I don’t want to feel that grenade of desire sitting low in my belly, I still want to pull its pin so I can lose myself for a bit in the soft curves and sweet taste of a gorgeous woman no matter how fucking insolent she is.
I clench my jaw. A fleeting show of resistance before I give in to my need and the sexual tension. She gasps when I release her arm only to bring it up to her neck at the same time I crash my lips to hers.
And fuck yes I’m a dick for not letting her push me away, for letting my own need for this woman who will most likely move on by the week’s end control my actions, for taking without asking, but goddamn her small display of independence turns me on something fierce.
I brand my mouth to hers, press my tongue between her lips as she parts them. Her hands push me away, but the movement of her tongue tells me she wants more. She’s a clear contradiction in all meanings of the word. Soft and supple body, but I can feel the toned muscle beneath. Between kisses she tries to pull back, but a soft moan in the back of her throat when my free hand cups her ass tells me how much she wants this.
Her hands fist in my shirt at the same time my hand takes hold of the loose bun at the nape of her neck to tilt her head back and look into her eyes. But her mouth stays right where I want it because I’m nowhere near done with her yet.
“I don’t like you,” she claims through gritted teeth. Our hands run possessively over each other, but derision laced with defiance glimmers in her eyes.
“I beg to differ.” I laugh at the ludicrousness of her statement, considering the predicament we’re in. She tries to step back, but when she doesn’t release my shirt, I know she still wants more.
And fuck, I’m definitely all in. I need this outlet more than I ever realized until I was in the thick of it. I’ve kept to myself at home, fought with my sister when she attempted to fix me up with one of her friends, punished myself, and now with the heat of a woman’s body pressed up against me and the taste of her kiss seared in my goddamn brain, there is no way in hell I’m walking away now.
“I don’t like you,” she reiterates.
“Too bad,” I tell her as I go in for the next kiss. One that’s full of angry desperation and irresistible need with teeth nipping and tongues meeting and that ache deep in my balls taking hold of me. My hips pin her against the cold cinder-block wall behind her.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she tears her mouth from mine, our chests heaving. And then just when her protests stop and her tongue starts to dance with mine again, I pull back.
“You’re arrogant and—”
“You don’t have to like me to fuck me,” I say, cutting her off. “You just have to want me.”
She protests, and I cut her words off with my mouth on hers at the same time my hands grab her wrists. Even as I gain the advantage, I feel like she’s pulling out the ground from beneath my feet. “Fuck you!” She manages to get the words out between fervent kisses.
I chuckle against her lips before pulling back and looking straight into her desire-laden eyes. “That’s the plan.”
“Beaux!” Even when I say her name, I’m cursing myself for it. “Beaux!” She just keeps walking, causing my better judgment to win out over my obstinacy.
“I said stay away . . . and it’s BJ to you.” She stops and turns around, but a passerby on the sidewalk bumps harshly against her shoulder. Her small frame sways from the contact, and I’m beside her in two strides.
“You can’t go that way unless you’re looking for trouble.” I decide to ignore her comment.
She just shakes her head and starts walking away from me, but at least she’s moving in the direction of the hotel. I swear I hear her mutter something about always looking for trouble, but I miss the rest of it when a car passes in between us, the sound drowning out her voice.
My feet kick up the dirt on the street as I try to catch up to her. I lie to myself that I want to talk to her to establish some kind of ground rules about how we’ll work together, try to restore a professional level, but I know I’m just making sure she gets back into the confines of the hotel safely.
The barely chilled air-conditioned lobby of the hotel meets us as we enter, but it feels like heaven in contrast to the stifling heat outside. If she knows I’m beside her, she doesn’t acknowledge it, and that’s fine with me. I just want to make sure she’s nice and tucked away in her room where I don’t have to worry about her for a bit while I try to drum up some leads.
The elevator car opens on cue as we approach. I step in right behind her, lean against the rear wall, and fold my arms across my chest to mimic her posture. The door closes, but neither of us moves in a game of chicken. Just when the doors start to open up again without the car ascending, Beaux steps forward and presses the button for the twelfth floor. She looks over to me and raises her eyebrows in question.
“My room, please. You remember where that is, right?” I angle my head, stare at her, and enjoy watching her cheeks flush with anger.
I wait for the snide comment to come, but she just turns and faces the doors of the elevator without pushing the button for the eighth floor. Tension is so thick in the car, you can all but see it.
“I don’t trust you,” I say evenly, but it cuts through the silence.
“Good,” she says matter-of-factly as the car alerts our arrival on the twelfth floor. “Be careful whom you trust—the devil was once an angel, you know.”
And with that she walks off the elevator without another word, her comment already replaying in my mind.
The tension in the car between us thickens. The current of desire is so palpable, I feel like it kick-starts my heart every other beat. I blow out a breath as the elevator ascends, Beaux shifting her feet beside me.
“Did I do something wrong?”
I snort. Fuck, yes. But where do I even begin to explain? You made me want you? You made me worry when I told myself I wasn’t going to put myself in that situation ever again? You fucking don’t ever listen about not going off on your own? I want you so goddamn bad right now that the desire is so sharp, it’s painful.
The elevator dings, and I stride off the car to her door without looking back to see if she’s following. My body just knows she is.
It takes her a moment to fumble with her bag, get her room key out, and open her door, all the while casting curious glances my way.
“Put the camera down,” I order the minute we’re inside the door and it’s shut.
“What is your problem—?” she asks, but the question is cut off the second the camera strap leaves her hand, my body crashing into hers and pushing her up against the wall behind her. My lips find hers instantly.
It takes her a millisecond for the shock to fade and for her to respond, but once she does, we meet in a savage union of frenzied hands gripping, mouths taking, bodies begging to join in every way possible.
Beaux weaves her fingers in my hair and holds tight as she tears her mouth momentarily from mine. “I thought you were pissed at me.”
I kiss her fiercely, all tongue and teeth and possession, before I respond. “I’m furious. But I want you more.” It’s as true a statement as I’ve ever given, the moment stripping away any superfluous words. “You came back to me.”
“I’ll always come back to you,” she says, her voice breathless but resolute.
About the Author:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines and damaged heroes who we love to hate and hate to love.
She’s a mixture of most of her female characters: sassy, intelligent, stubborn, reserved, outgoing, driven, emotional, strong, and wears her heart on her sleeve. All of which she displays daily with her husband and three children where they live in Southern California.
On a whim, K. Bromberg decided to try her hand at this writing thing. Since then she has written The Driven Series (Driven, Fueled, Crashed, Raced, Aced (releasing 1/11/16)), the standalone Driven Novels (Slow Burn, Sweet Ache, Hard Beat (releasing 11/3/15), and a short story titled UnRaveled. She is currently working on new projects and a few surprises for her readers.
She loves to hear from her readers so make sure you check her out on social media.
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