Will she realise it was Love at First Glance?
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Will she realise it was Love at First Glance?
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Stevie is a tattoo artist and a free spirit. She’s covered in tattoos, cusses like a sailor, and is quite brash. She lives payday to payday, can barely pay her rent, and uses a bicycle as her only mode of transportation. Every man in her sordid past has abused her, and she’s reached the end of her rope. Only attracted to tattooed alpha males, and primarily bikers, she begins to wonder if her choices in men have been poor. One day as she stands in a torrential downpour without a ride, a handsome man in a suit offers her a lift in his Porsche.
And she can’t help but wonder…
Wilson is a successful businessman and a self-made millionaire. He’s handsome, intelligent, loyal, and unlike many other men with similar interests and wealth, he’s got an extremely colorful personality.
But he also has a secret.
While having one of the worst days of his life, he meets Stevie. Immediately, his views on matters, and on life, change.
And he chooses to change her life in return.
But Stevie and Wilson are from two totally different worlds – worlds that historically don’t mesh well.
Can a self-made millionaire find love in someone who has nothing to offer him but herself?
Can a woman who has only known pain, abuse, and inconsistency see value in stability and sincerity?
Quite possibly only if both halves are willing to meet somewhere in the middle.
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Title: The Weight Of Rain
Author: Mariah Dietz
Genre: New Adult
Release Date: October 27, 2015
Synopsis
One night changed my life—one that I barely remember.
When I close my eyes, my mind paints a picture of his smile and shades the contours of his hands, the deep scar around his bicep.
I’m an artist, yet my hands are unsteady. With his presence, he has unknowingly broken that something inside of me that makes me who I am.
Being around him is like standing in a rainstorm. First the drops tickle my skin, and then they coat me, refusing to be ignored. Finally, they soak into me, reaching parts of me I don’t think anyone has ever touched.
When dreams turn into reality, will the picture in my mind transfer to paper?
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Excerpt
“Why do you pretend that I don’t mean anything to you when clearly I do?”
My charcoal presses hard against the paper as my neck snaps up. He’s fully dressed, his usual baseball hat still on, flipped backward, and wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Flannel is growing on me, but I won’t tell him that. His face shows no signs of humor or teasing. If anything, he looks almost pained.
“Did you just get home?”
“Why did you pretend you wanted to know me? Why not just call it what it was?” His eyes narrow as his chin drops.
“Have you been drinking?” I know the answer before I ask the question. I can smell it.
“I liked you, Lo.”
My heart races with too many possibilities and hopes, and not enough validation.
“You spend so much time trying to convince yourself that what happened that night wasn’t real.”
“I was drunk.”
“You weren’t drunk. I wouldn’t have slept with you if you were drunk! I don’t do shit like that. It’s disgusting!”
“I don’t remember large parts of that night.”
“You remember more of that night than you’re willing to admit.” His eyes land on my drawing where he studies the image for several long seconds. I should have covered it as soon as I realized he was here, but it was too late from the beginning. It’s of him—of course it’s of him. And to make matters worse, he’s shirtless. The scars he mentioned me knowing about are there, as well as the few tattoos most of the world is deprived of seeing. “Obviously you remember.”
His words make my cheeks burn with embarrassment. He’s right, but hearing that he’s aware of this fact is both strangely relieving and move-to-Australia-tomorrow worthy. “You left an impression,” I admit before moving my attention so I don’t have to see his reaction.
“Lo, I haven’t been able to forget that night either. I think about it all. The. Damn. Time.” His words are punctuated, driving his message much further than just my thoughts. “I spent weeks trying to figure out who you were.” I feel slightly guilty that his admission makes me so happy. For so long I have thought he avoided me, lied about his name and identity so that I wouldn’t find out who he truly was.
“Why did we wait so long to be honest with each other?”
His breath is a snicker. “We’re only admitting a fraction of anything.”
His words run through my head, lacing into several variations of what he actually means, still, I nod. “This conversation needs to happen. We need to figure shit out because I’m tired of trying to avoid you, and I’m really tired of you ignoring me.”
“Aren’t we kind of doing that now?”
He shakes his head as he closes the distance between us, then grips the table with his left hand and bends so his face is level with mine. “If I stay in here any longer I’m going to do something that would probably make me deserve getting slapped, so I am going to say this and then leave.” He pauses. I can smell the scent of beer and peppermint on his breath, along with the warmth of his skin as his shoulders roll forward. His eyes are wide and bright, demanding me to pay close attention to his words. “I know you’re tough. I know you can draw better than any damn person I’ve ever met in my life and most likely ever will. I know you love Mercedes and would never risk changing that relationship. But we like each other, and I don’t know what in the hell that means exactly, but I know I want to find out. The question you need to ask yourself is, do you?”
His throat moves, swallowing words we both know he’s fighting with. Ones that would make things both better and worse. He reaches forward, his chest grazing my shoulder. I hate that I don’t want to move. That I want to absorb the feel of his warmth and convince him to admit truths we both know and bury on a daily basis in a sea of general politeness and attempts to avoid one another. But the truths are laid open with the innuendos, silent stares, and capitalized when we go out of the way to cross the other’s path. He has become an exhausting and thrilling addiction that I don’t know how to consider stopping or even changing at this point.
A long breath runs through my nose as his dark eyes meet mine, exposing he’s fighting his own battle: silently pleading with me to bring things up by making a cutting remark or joke about our night. I know he wants it because it’s the only way we can both talk about it and relive it. It’s apparent by the way his jaw locks and his eyes waver from mine that he also doesn’t want me to respond. He’s waiting for me to consider his words and come back. His arm flexes as he holds the table even tighter. Then he stands and stalks out of the room, leaving my heart racing.
Holy shit.
About The Author
Mariah Dietz lives in Eastern Washington with her husband and two sons that are the axis of her crazy and wonderful world.
Mariah grew up in a tiny town outside of Portland, Oregon where she spent the majority of her time immersed in the pages of books that she both read and created.
She has a love for all things that include her sons, good coffee, books, travel, and dark chocolate. She also has a deep passion for the stories she writes, and hopes readers enjoy the journeys she takes them on, as much as she loves creating them.




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Author Bio
In late 2010, Eden’s romance obsession could no longer be sated by reading
alone, so she decided to give voice to the sexy men and sassy women in her
mind.
Eden can’t resist alpha dominance, dark features and sarcasm in her fictional
heroes and loves a strong heroine who knows when to bite her tongue but also
serves retribution with a feminine smile on her face.


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Mason Wade had fought death, and to some degree he had won. The fire of a phoenix coursing through his veins made him feel like hell. Each of his new senses forced him to reach into a past he knew was better left alone, yet he was grounded in the primal desire to protect Indie, to be a lethal supernatural guardian. The discovery of a secret library within the Falcon Manor landed River Sabine, the very girl who first stole his heart and left him in his darkest hour, front and center in his life. Mason and the others discovering how closely his past is connected to the paranormal war at hand have only scratched the surface of how deeply entwined those who lurk at the Falcon Manor are; a painful lesson Indie is forced to learn as she fights to rise to her role as the Queen of the Veil and protect the hearts of her own. An impossible decision must be made; no matter the choice lovers will divide. The only real question is whose sacrifice will be for the greater good.
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In life he haunted her…in death she haunted him.
Love is eternal…
Weeks away from her twenty-first birthday, the date where she would assume control over her family legacy, a night terror robs Indie of the balance she was clinging to. Like the dream she had before she lost her family, it predicts a fatal catastrophe on the horizon. The fight between life and death, good and evil, began the moment her thundering heart awoke her.
Everything changed after that dream. The one thing that keeps her curse at bay is stolen, and then her enigmatic boy arrives in the flesh. Face to face with her fiery born-again lover Indie realizes that the only way she can prevent the tragedy before her is to surrender everything she was, is, and could be.
Can she bend the laws of nature and fight the improbability that fire and ice could ever be one? As far as Indie is concerned, there is not a myth, spoken fate, or curse that is stronger than her stubborn desire to have it all … including him.
About Jamie Magee


Sometimes a single touch is all it takes to spark a wildfire.
Erin Warner learned that the day she bumped into the dashing, tattooed stranger on a busy Chicago street corner. She’s captivated from the moment his mystifying green eyes find hers, and it isn’t long before she finds herself flying to exotic locales to assist him, the award-winning erotic photographer Hunter Ellis, on location. What she didn’t bargain for was the way he makes her blood bubble and churn with lust and thinly-veiled promises of unfathomable erotic pleasure with every click of his camera.
But there is more to Hunter than meets the eye, including the intricately etched tattoos decorating his body that disguise horrific scars from a past he refuses to revisit. As she peels away the layers, Erin realizes that what she thought was true, never really was at all, for both of them.
Now she can only hope that blind adoration for the dashing stranger didn’t sign her death warrant.
The first in a thrilling new erotic serial intended for mature audiences.
“Anxious, Princess?” he hummed, leaning across my back, his teeth catching the zipper that ran down the back of my dress and pulling it down one inch at a time. With my breathing ragged, the dress fell to the floor in a whoosh of fabric and left me standing in a strapless bra and nothing else.
He ushered me across the length of the bench at the foot of his king bed. With my knees firmly seated on the cushion and ass in the air, I turned as he shrugged out of the tux jacket and unbuttoned the crisp dress shirt with quiet precision.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered, his eyes boring into mine, and I saw the switch then. The lowering of his tone, the heat that burned in his green irises. This was Hunter fucking. Hunter fucking was so much hotter than Hunter shooting, and Hunter behind a camera made my stomach swim.
I closed my eyes and turned away from him.
I waited, my breaths slow and measured as the goosebumps raced across my skin. I waited and I fucking waited, every nerve in my body on edge, aware of every shift he made, until finally his fingertips traced the curve of my ass, before both hands wrapped around my wrists and I felt the rough fibers of a rope slipping against my skin.
“Wait.” I choked and pushed back, waves of anxiety and guilt replacing arousal. As if he hadn’t heard, he continued to wrap the long length of rope around my wrists and up my forearms before he slipped the rope around one tall mahogany bed post.
My stomach curled and flipped, my arms instinctively pulling back, resisting the control he wanted. “Hunter, wait.” Words burned on my lips like fiery cinnamon drops.
“What?” he growled and his eyes darted to catch mine.
“There’s something I have to tell you.” I dreaded the words that hung on my lips. It was the wrong place, the wrong time, but I couldn’t take it any longer.
“You don’t have to tell me anything.” He tightened the rope with a swift tug and then his palms were back to running the lengths of my arms and down my torso, my hips twisting as my thighs grew slick.
“There are things you don’t know—”
“I know more than you think I do, and I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Giant palms jerked my ass against his thick erection beneath the fine fabric of his dress pants. I wiggled and sighed, wanting desperately to get lost in this moment with him, but the guilt had been weighing me down, loading my feet with lead blocks that left me stumbling and moving much too slowly for my own good.
“I’m—”
“Shut your mouth, Princess.” The fingers of one hand dug into the flesh of my ass cheek, while a thumb on his other pushed past my lips and into my mouth, forcing me to bite down. “Don’t act so disappointed — I have you right where you like to be.” He leaned across my back, his crisp shirt rough against my cool skin as my arms stretched to hold the pressure of his heavy body. “Without control,” he growled and tightened his hold in my mouth, forcing my head to turn and catch his stare. “I don’t want another word from you until I say so.” His eyes flashed with warning. My pussy clenched and my thighs shifted. He was right, this is exactly where I wanted to be. With him I felt protected in a way I never had. My feelings were barricaded by his imposing voice and giant body. Twisted up in his bonds and helpless, I was finally safe.
Adriane Leigh was born and raised in a snowbank in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and now lives among the sand dunes of the Lake Michigan lakeshore.
She graduated with a Literature degree but never particularly enjoyed reading Shakespeare or Chaucer.
She is married to a tall, dark, and handsome guy, and plays mama to two sweet baby girls. She is a voracious reader and wishes she had more time to knit scarves to keep her warm during the arctic Michigan winters.
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He’s never believed in second chances.
When Maverik looks into the eyes of Ella James in the middle of his hometown grocery store, he finds himself staring at the ghost of second chance redemptions. Ella walked out on him ten years ago and never looked back. She has returned to town to bury her mom but when their paths collide, it sparks up old flames. Both know better than to indulge, but some train wrecks just can’t be stopped.
Ella in her high heels driving her fancy sports car and Maverik still deep in his hometown roots…
Turmoil is at an all time high at Silver Star as buried secrets surface between Ella and Maverik leaving behind irreparable damage. Maverik is left hollow and hopeless wallowing in his bad luck. He has two choices.
Forgive
or
Forget.
Follow the Slatters in this second installment in the Silver Star Ranch Novels: Rules of the Ride.
He waits for me to answer but only a few more painful moans escape.
“I’ve watched you destroy your life year by year since Ella left town, and I’m done. She’s back in town and needs support. You going to be a coward or step it up?”
“I love her. I’ve never stopped loving her. I want all of her and can’t control myself around her. It’s just like she walked out of my life yesterday.” I let my hat slide to the ground and grip my temples. “I don’t want her to leave but don’t know how to let myself love her again.”
“Maverik, look at me.”
The silence in the barn is deafening as I pick at the straw coating my jeans. It’s more painful than my throbbing headache and dry mouth.
“Look at me, dammit.”
When I look up, the grief and pain combination covering Granddad’s face is just another dagger to my already wounded heart.
“Then be man enough to give her a chance.” Granddad slowly takes a seat on a bale of hay across from me. “Have you ever flat out asked her why she left?”
“I’m not dumb. She left for the city.”
“There’s your problem, boy, you’re assuming you know all the answers.”
“She basically told me that when I ran into her for a few brief minutes at the rodeo with Challis and Merek.” I do my best to slide up onto the hay bale and sit down, but I don’t miss the shooting pains going off in my head. “She could do nothing but brag about the city life and told me she needed help dodging a date.”
“Dammit, Maverik, you’re not listening to me. You’re assuming everything when it comes to Ella. Now I don’t know why she left, but I do know she loved you just as much as you loved her, and it’s worth finding out.”
I bury my face in the palms of my hands and grunt. I can’t handle any more of Ella and the fucking emotions simmering within me. I want nothing more than to chalk it all up to a pot of bad decisions and move the hell on.
“Can you live the rest of your life without her, Maverik? Will you be okay knowing you let her walk right out of your life this time?”
“No, it killed me the first damn time.” Overwhelming emotions attack my core.
“Then go get her, find out answers, and make a decision from there instead of living in your own personal hell.”
“She left for the city life. I wasn’t enough.”
“Dammit, boy, it’s your choice.”
I watch as he takes his time to stand and hear several of his bones creak and crack as he moves about. I let his message replay over and over in my head as I process the words. When I look back up, Granddad is nearing his front porch and Marvel is by my side in the stable.
“I need help today.”
“I’m here.”
“We need to move some cattle around and help Merek and Challis work the colts. We need to be on them double time from here on out.”
“Okay.” I kick a cloud of dust up in the air, sliding my boot back and forth.
“Saint’s going to be done screwing with us.”
“Saint will never be gone until the day he dies, and then more than likely he’ll leave behind a mini-him. Fuckers like Saint will always be around fucking with the good people.”
“Go change and be ready in twenty minutes. I’ll get your horse ready.”
Marvel storms out the open doors into the sunlight and it’s in this moment I see the Marvel I used to know disappear in front of me. He’s hardened with hatred and stressed beyond belief. Life’s been a bitch to all of us, but I guess the difference between Marvel and myself is that I have the choice to try to fix this shit with Ella, or at least get some unanswered questions resolved.
My tiny bunkhouse is quiet and lonely with lingering memories of sweet Ella gracing it. Just the short time she was here made everything change. I want her here. I want her forever. My heart just has to figure out a way back to her.
I grab my phone and dial the local motel’s number and cringe when I realize I have the number memorized from several nights of inappropriate behavior with strange women. A vicious cycle I used to drown out memories and numb my pain that Ella left me in.
“Wagon Wheel front desk.”
“Um, yeah.” I pause, not really knowing what I want to ask or say.
“Hello? What can I help you with?”
“Ella James’ room please.”
“One moment.”
The phone begins ringing, and I cringe with each ring, still not knowing what I’ll say to her. Ring after ring goes by until it’s cut off.
“Fuck.” I throw down my cell phone, start my coffee pot, and head for the shower.
The cold water stuns every single one of my senses as well as brings my sore muscles to life. Cuts and bruises begin to sting the longer I stand under the spray of water. My hand stops over my chest, right above my heart, and I hear my granddad’s words again, encouraging me to find out the reasons Ella left. I could argue back with well over a dozen reasons not to, but something clicks in my mind. I’m going for her and not giving up this time.
I race out of the shower, dry off, and throw on my riding clothes. Snagging the hot and very full coffee pot, I dash to Granddad’s porch where he’s sitting and begin speaking before he has a chance to. I feel Jake settle between my legs but don’t even take the time to pat his head.
“You’re right.” I fill his empty black coffee mug and then sit down next to him. “I have to end this hate relationship I have for Ella and accept why she moved.”
“You do.” He nods and takes a long sip from his mug.
“I’m going to need you by my side. I’m afraid she’s going to shatter me again. Fuck. I’ve been shattered for years now.”
“Maverik, I’d rather have a broken boy who can heal than a bitter bastard who’s going to waste away the rest of his life in hatred.”
“I hear you. I do.” My hand finds the top of Jake’s head. “I just don’t think I can let her go if I give in.”
“Then don’t let her go, dammit. We all make mistakes, son. Move on.”
“Let’s go.” I look up to see my brother with my horse saddled and him atop his.
“I’ll do it.” I brave a smile when I turn to Granddad and don’t miss his beaming face. “Thanks, old man. I’ll grab my coffee pot after dinner.”
My boots are deafening as they pound the sidewalk down to the gravel road where my horse stands. With each step, I feel like a coward with the thoughts of what I’m about to let my heart do, but I know it’s the right thing. I fucking love Ella and looks like I have one chance to get her back in my life.
“What was that all about?” Marvel tilts his head to one side.
“Oh, just Granddad making me do the right thing.” I throw a foot up into a stirrup, grip onto the horn of my saddle, and settle down on the back of Chili. I smile knowing Marvel saddled up my favorite horse. He’s been around since my high school days and I used to calf rope and team rope off of him before saddle bronc became too addicting. Ella loved Chili.
I kick him into a slow trot and realize every single thought that passes through my mind always goes back to Ella, even before she came home. Marvel keeps up by my side as we let our horses go at full gait to the back pasture. The crisp air, the sound of pounding hooves, and the smell of the ranch all calm each of my senses, causing me to breathe in deep and exhale.
Merek and Challis’s happy faces flash before my eyes. I see my granddad rocking happily on his porch and Marvel working his fingers to the bone on the ranch he loves. Then I see me on the tailgate of my truck holding a cold beer and petting Jake. The scene immediately makes my stomach turn because it’s not the right ending for me and never has been.
“There they are.” Marvel points over to a herd of black cattle.
I follow behind him as he rides up to them. We begin gathering them up one by one and I watch and listen to old Jake work his heart up gathering the cattle. Several minutes go by before they group together and we begin trailing them back toward the barn and corrals.
I’m going for her. I’m going for her. I chant over and over in my head as Chili trots behind the herd rhythmically, lulling me back into an Ella induced trance.
– Gets the case of the “eff-its” often
– Loves Big
– Hurts Big
– love corn dogs & candy…. & (sex & candaaay)
– My heart is happy writing!!!
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