LATEST NEWS & UPDATE:

Howdy, y'all...

Resist is back from Editor Jess, she dug up the floorboards, rewired the electrics, and is helping me to make the story the best story I can give to you guys in only seven short weeks. Fuck. Is it really only seven weeks? *panics in author*

It's fine. Totally fine. It'll be fine.

Anyways, I figured since I'm not in Texas at the biggest romance conference in the world, like I was supposed to be, I'd drop the first chapter of Cora and Sterling's story for y'all. It's unedited, it's got typos, and all that rough-draft goodness, but I figured it might tempt a couple of you to preorder it all the same...

For those of you who missed the cover reveal a couple weeks ago... here you go...

For those ebook readers who don't use KU, don't forget to clickety click to preorder for me please!!

Link: https://books2read.com/protocolresist1

Before I share chapter one, I wanted to shout out my friend Sierra Hill's Kickstarter that she asked me to share with y'all.

Collectors Edition Sports Romance from Sierra Hill

The full 5-book award winning Courting Love series is NOW AVAILABLE in 3 beautiful deluxe edition volumes with gold sprayed edging, gold foil text and never before seen chapter artwork and a brand new character reunion novella. 

Only on Kickstarter through October 30th! 

Find out more here:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/sierrahillbooks/courting-love-deluxe-hardcover-3-volume-anniversary-edition

Aaaaand without further ado... here's Chapter One...

Girl Code Rules:

1.   Always be honest, even if it means admitting you ate the last slice of pizza.

2.   Always be ready with an alibi and bail money, no questions asked. Be a partner in crime, but draw the line at actual felonies. Promise to delete their browser history and dispose of the vibrators if anything ever happens to them.

3.   Know when to push them out of their comfort zone and when to let them hide under a blanket fort.

4.   Perfect the art of the supportive yet brutally honest pep talk and the art of silent communication through eyebrow wiggles.

5.   Be prepared to drop everything for emergency ice cream sessions.

6.   Respect the sanctity of the "do not disturb" text.

7.   Develop a safe word for "rescue me from this awkward situation."

8.   Never judge their guilty pleasure TV shows (but feel free to mock them lovingly).

9.   Keep an emergency stash of their favorite snacks.

10. Be willing to help them move house, but only once every five years.

11. Keep their secrets locked up tighter than Fort Knox.

12. Master the "I told you so" dance for rare and appropriate occasions.

13. Celebrate their victories like they're your own, even if it's just successfully adulting for a day.

14. Respect the sacred laws of dibs, especially in matters of crushes and the last cookie.

15. Be their voice of reason, but also their partner in occasional unreasonable adventures.

Chapter 1

Cora

Foxy: COCO!! STEP AWAY FROM THE PINT OF COOKIE DOUGH ICE CREAM!!!

Foxy: Then take off the hoodie, put on something savage, and come down to Protocol!!!!!

I could say my father passing away weeks ago has impacted my rock star level Friday night itinerary but I’d be lying. My friend, Phoenix, isn’t wrong in her assessment. She’s also tried the softly-softly approach for a while now, escalating to yelling in text was just a matter of time.

I’m on the couch in an oversized hoodie, yoga pants, calf-length slouch socks that are like a heavenly, toasty, silken bed for my toes, and watching 'The Playing Card Killer' documentary on an on demand streaming service on TV.

The only thing Foxy’s actually wrong about, is the size of my tub of ice cream. And the flavor. I read a serial killer romance with hints of cannibalism last week, and it kind of put me off cookie dough ice cream for a little bit. Maybe even forever.

I’ve opted for my back up preference, chocolate. It’s an underrated ice cream flavor, but hard to get right. So I’m kinda fussy about the brands of chocolate ice cream I’ll allow in my freezer.

Holding the spoon between my lips, I type out a reply.

Me: It’s a gallon, actually. I’m fine where I am, Foxy. Have fun.

Foxy: Shit. A gallon? It’s worse than I expected. 9-1-1!!!

I can say a lot of things about my friend Phoenix. She has the most beautiful legs of anyone I’ve ever known. Her tongue is sharper than any knife in the whole world. And to say she’s dramatic is something of an understatement.

She also loves the ever-loving shit out of exclamation points.

Someone bangs on the front door to my penthouse apartment like I owe them money. I heave out a sigh as I cradle the tub against my chest. I’ll let her in, but she’s not taking my fucking ice cream. Because she’s also a really good fucking friend.

I swing the door open with a grunt. Phoenix stands in front of me.

Her dreads have purple accents this week replacing the red from the last time I saw her. She’s wearing an ankle-length, beige trench coat, and on a second pass of her outfit I’d guess it’s to hide the fact she’s wearing assless chaps in public.

I shake my head and gesture her inside with my spoon.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me.” She plucks the spoon from my hand and spears it into the tub in my arms. She scoops a huge mouthful of melty goodness into her mouth then points the spoon at me with a narrowed gaze.

Without another word, she wafts her hand toward the bedroom as she works through the oversized bite of cool deliciousness on her tongue.

Ha. That’s what you get for taking a bite that’s too big. Fighting a grin, I shake my head.

She stabs the air with the spoon in the direction of my bedroom.

I fold my arms—like that’s going to help protect me against her.

She flexes her eyes wide like a parent trying to silently communicate with her unruly child.

I shake my head again. “I’m fine, Phoenix. Truly. I’m comfortable here.” I steal my spoon back and take another bite. “Go back to the club.”

The corner of her mouth twitches, and I know I’m in hot water now.

She yanks the ice cream from my clutches, finds the lid on the coffee table, and puts it back in the freezer before she comes back to where I’m still standing, spoon-in-mouth, aghast that she dared take my fucking ice cream from me.

She cups my face with both palms, her perfectly manicured nails grazing my skin. “I love you, boo. But it’s time, Coco.”

When a fissure of anger spreads through my chest she shakes my head in time with her own. “I’m not telling you how to grieve. This isn’t even about Papa Blackwell, and you know it. This is about your vagina, your sexuality...” She huffs out an aggressive breath. “You remember orgasms, don’t you?” She’s talking to my crotch now, and my skin heats.

She crouches so she’s face-to-vag with my lady bits, grabbing my hips for added effect. “When was the last time you got some good D?” She turns her ear to my body like she’s waiting for my pussy to answer her.

She looks up at me with sadness in her eyes. “Just what I thought. Too fucking long.” She stands and holds me by the shoulders. “Coco.” She heaves out a sigh. “I’m not trying to rush your grief journey. I’m not. I’m concerned about your clit. She’s on life support. She needs a good...” She makes a buzzing sound like she’s defibrillating my clitoris.

I can’t help the giggle that slips through my lips. She’s not wrong. But I get all the orgasms I need from my army of battery powered boyfriends. They’re all fully charged, take orders, don’t answer me back, and are good to go at whatever time of day or night I need them.

They don’t have fragile egos or get too attached, either.

Win. Win.

She studies my face with narrowed eyes, the flash of gold metallic eye shadow across her lids catching the light in my living room. “Please?” She squeezes my shoulders. “I’m worried about you. I’m your friend, I care, and I know you’re not okay even if you pretend you are behind that boss-bitch armor...”

I nibble my lower lip, afraid to speak the words that are collecting in my throat. It’s true, even before Dad died I was isolating myself. Partly on purpose, partly by accident.

How does that even work?

Either way, the list of contacts on my phone is embarrassing. And those I could call in a life-or-death, ride-or-die emergency are limited to Phoenix and Madeline.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. Having two people I can call in the middle of the night with a crisis is way more than some people, but I take her point. I’ve been somewhat... absent. From everything.

“Don’t make me invoke the rules.”

“Fuck. Is it really that bad?”

Her eyes soften as she nods her head. “When was the last time you came out with me and Maddie? Even just for a coffee?”

My stomach dips like I’m approaching the crest of a roller coaster. Surely it hasn’t been that long.

“When was the last time you went on a date? Or had a non-mechanical orgasm?” She purses her lips.

“When was the last time you went to the spa, or the hairdresser, or created something?”

Each question feels like another arrow to the heart. And while I know she’s not being unkind, it feels like an attack. I don’t even know where my pottery wheel is.

“I’ve... I’ve been... busy.” My pathetic excuses die at the back of my mouth as I look one of my favorite people in the eye. I don’t lie. It’s something Dad taught me when I was young.

Being raised by a single dad wasn’t always easy, but he imparted wisdom on me throughout the years that I’ve tucked away in my mind and my heart.

Never lie, Corabelle. Especially to those you love.

Dad’s wisdom even found its way into the first rule of friendship within our trio.

Rule #1: Always be honest, even if it means admitting you ate the last slice of pizza.

“If it wasn’t so bad would I have left Protocol on a Friday night to come here and drag you out kicking and screaming?” She holds my stare, concern etched into the lines across her forehead and the way her mouth is pursed. “You know I love my Friday Floggings.” Her smile is forced, but her eyes are sad. She’s really worried about me.

“Please? Even for an hour. Just to get out of this apartment.” She gestures around. “Which looks like shit by the way. Hire a cleaner, do some fucking laundry, and turn on an air freshener.” She wafts in front of her nose before guiding me toward the bedroom.

“Take a quick shower.”

I dig my heels in like a cartoon character, but she’s strong as fuck. I open my breath to argue by the words die on my tongue.

“And before you say you don’t have anything to wear, don’t bother. I brought shit with me. Just let it happen.” She snorts.

“What happened to consent?”

“Rule number three happened to consent.” She doesn’t stop her quest to shove me into my bedroom as she answers with a smugness that makes me roll my eyes.

When I get to the bathroom she levels me with a smirk. “You need help getting out of that hoodie?” She digs into her trench coat pocket and pulls out a pair of scissors. “I came prepared.”

“You’re not cutting my favorite hoodie.” I hold my hands up in surrender.

“Then take it off, wash yourself, and I’ll meet you in your bedroom ready to pluck those brows and get your ass out the door.”

Resignation accompanies me into the shower and hangs over my head while I shave my legs.

We’ve been friends for long enough that I know there’s no arguing with the rules. Even if I want to. They’re there for a reason.

I guess I’m going to Protocol.

Don't forget to preorder Sterling and Cora here!

Link: https://books2read.com/protocolresist1

Until next time, don't do anything I wouldn't do,

Have you joined my reader group yet? If not, then head over to: Margaritas, Men and Mischief with Lasairiona. As the name suggests, it's a place for my readers to chat about all things romance - with a healthy dose of sarcasm, sharp wit, conversations comprised entirely of GIFs, sneak peeks, giveaways and a plethora of memes. It's one of my absolute favorite places on the internet and I'm really enjoying getting to know readers that bit better over there. Don't be shy - we don't bite... much! Come on over!

Justin

I thought I’d left my past in Minnesota when I moved to Iowa, but it was right there waiting for me.

Long blonde hair, curves in all the right places, and a death glare that hits harder than a slap shot to the solar plexus. On the ice, I’m a pro at blocking shots, but Savannah Bowen has slipped behind all my defenses and made a home in my heart.

I had no intention of revisiting the past, but when she’s damn near everywhere I go, I’m a goner.

Savannah

Hell freakin’ no.

It doesn’t matter that Justin Ashe is seven feet tall and sexy as sin, or that I’ve had a crush on him for years. He cheated on my best friend in high school, and that makes him off limits.

I can’t be with him, but damn, it’s impossible to stay away from him. Girl Code says uteruses before duderuses.

He’s supposed to be my enemy, but the more I see of him, the blurrier the lines get.

Welcome to UCR hockey, where fierce AF heroines and hot as puck heroes find their hockey ever afters. If you pucking love college hockey romance series, you’ll adore UCR Raccoons hockey.

FREEZING THE PUCK is a delicious slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, ovaries before brovaries sports romance. This interconnected full-length stand-alone is the first in a new series with no cheating or cliffhangers and has a guaranteed happily-ever-after.

Read Freezing the Puck, today!

Bookish. Bold. Beautiful. And entirely out of his league.

On paper, all-American boy next door, Lincoln Scott, has it all. But behind his slap shots, straight-A report card, and easy going charm, Linc hides a secret only his best friend knows.

When he attempts to return a misplaced bra, a wrong number gets him way more than the hook-up he bargained for. No one has ever looked beyond the star hockey player, until the mysterious woman he can’t stop texting sees him for who he really is.

Does Linc have the skills off the ice to keep up with her? Will he follow in his father’s footsteps? Or will he step out from the shadows and chase his dreams?

If you’re pucking obsessed with Helena Hunting, Pippa Grant, and Elle Kennedy, you’ll love this hilarious, hot-as-puck, secret identity, opposites attract, curvy girl sports romance. Two for Interference is a full length standalone with no cheating, cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Welcome to the Minnesota Snow Pirates, where skilled and sexy mother puckers’ lives get turned upside down by strong and badass heroines. Curl up with your next book boyfriend today.

Read Two for Interference, today!