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Tuesday, September 15, 2015


Release Date: September14, 2015

Author:  Alexandrea Weis

Cover Design:  Laura Hidalgo @ Beyond DEF


Strong willed, independent, and
competitive as hell, Heather Phillips isn’t going to let anyone beat her in the
show ring… that is until Grant Crowley started taking away her blue
ribbons.  A wealthy cattle rancher with
an attitude and taste for beautiful women, Grant is the only person who ever
made Heather feel second best.  Yet she
is determined to beat him, no matter the cost.

When an accident brings the two
rivals together, their heated dislike has to be put on hold.  Outside of the show ring, they slowly get to
know each other.  But what happens when
these passionate competitors discover a different kind of spark?

Will Heather use what she learns
about Grant to take advantage of him in the ring, so she can be number one?

Winning can mean everything until 

something sexier comes along.



     Scurrying down the short entrance hall
done in brown stone and decorative plaster inlay, she placed her hand on the
brass door handle, punched in the alarm code on the panel to her left, and put
a saccharin smile on her face. But when she yanked the heavy door open, it was
not her elderly neighbor standing there with yet another casserole, it was

     His long arms were stretched out, gripping
either side of the doorframe around the entrance. His blue button-down shirt
was open halfway, and his gray slacks looked a little wrinkled. His amber eyes
were drawn together, and his thin lips were pulled back in a displeased scowl.

     “Why did you leave?” His voice was
saturated with anger.

     Heather tugged at the collar of her robe.
“I thought it was better this way.”

     He furrowed his brow. “Better for whom?
Because it sure wasn’t better for me. I didn’t like waking up to find you
gone.” He bounded in the door. “Don’t do it again.”  

     “Hey, wait a minute,” she fussed as he
rushed past her.

     He stood in the hallway, analyzing the
decor. “We’re going to have a little chat.”

     “A chat?” The loud whack of the front door
closing resonated around them. “How did you get my address, and my cell phone
number for that matter? What are you, some kind of stalker?”

     “It’s in your employment record at
Lewisville Medical.”

     She came up to him, fuming. “You talked to
Ben, didn’t you?”

     His eyes traveled the curves of her robe.
“Of course not. I called your hospital administrator, Tim Wellborn. I told him
I wanted to thank you for all the personal care you gave me.”

     “You manipulative bastard.”

     He inched closer. “Why did you leave this
     She marched past him and into her
living room, trying to formulate an answer that would appease him and sound
somewhat reasonable. At the white sofa, she stopped and faced him, shoving her
damp hair aside. “You know why I left. You have Vanessa and I—I have Ben. Last
night was just one of those things that can never be repeated.”

barreled up to her, glaring into her eyes. “Bullshit. You know last night was a
hell of a lot more than that.”

     She tossed her hand in the air. “You’re
practically engaged, Grant.”  

     “Do you honestly think I can marry her
after last night?”

     “That’s what your father wants, right?
Don’t you always do what he wants?”

     The fire in his eyes scared the crap out
of her. She knew he was capable of real rage, she had seen it in the show ring,
but never had she expected to be in the line of fire. His hands gripped her
arms, pulling her against him. His fingers were squeezing into her robe,
crushing her flesh.

     “Don’t ever speak to me like that again,”
he snarled. “You have no idea what….” He went quiet. His face was inches from
hers. She could feel his hot breath on her lips. “Tell me to go away and I

     She mustered the strength to ask him to
leave, but could not form the words. Having him so close was setting off a
firestorm of desire. She ached for him … she longed for one more night naked in
his arms.

     He pushed her away. “That’s what I
figured.” He untied the belt of her robe and slowly slipped it through the
loops as Heather held on to the lapels.

     Wrapping the thick piece of terrycloth
about his right hand, he then lowered her hands from the robe.

     “You can’t push me away, not without
consequences, Heather.” 

     Her stomach balled into a knot. “What

About the Author

Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans. Having been brought up in the motion picture industry, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective and began writing at the age of eight. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her award-winning novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story memorable. A permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans. 

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Title: Clutch (Disciples' Daughters #1)

Author: Drew Elyse

Genre: Contemporary/MC Romance

Release Date: September 15, 2015



Once a Disciple, forever a Disciple.
Cami was born into the Savage Disciples MC, but she ventured out to build a life of her own away from the club. She’s engaged now, living a new life despite missing the bikers that raised her. Overall, she’s… fine.
Sure, fine. She’s fine with the fiancĂ© who is more interested in position and image than the woman in his life. She’s fine with the fake people around and the suffocating passive aggression. She’s fine with the fact that she is turning to drugs to self-medicate.

A Disciple will fight like a savage for what he wants.

When Gauge tags along to visit his club brother’s daughter, he can’t believe the two women he meets: the fiery daughter of a biker and the puppet with the blank affect. And yet, they’re both Cami.
He sees the fire beneath surface, and he wants to watch it burn. He wants to rip away the man smothering her like a wet blanket. He wants to see the flames consume that cookie-cutter future-wife facade to the ground and dance with her in the flames.

When this biker clutches onto a Disciple’s daughter, there is no letting go.

Buy The Book

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Speaking of Tank, he and the rest of the boys would be back within the hour, which meant there was probably going to be a reasonable amount of awkward around the clubhouse for a while. Sure, I’d gotten the man’s permission to go after his daughter, but approving the concept and seeing the result weren’t exactly the same thing.

“Hey, baby. What are you doing?”

Speak of the devil. Cami strode into the main area of the clubhouse in a pair of tiny cut-off shorts and the Disciples’ Supporter tank she’d been wearing when I got back from Sturgis. Damn, she looked fucking good. So good, I wanted to drag her back into my room, strip everything but that tank top off, and take her. She moved to sit next to me on the couch, but I reached out and grabbed her hips to settle her onto my lap.

“Love this shirt, babe. We’ll have to get you some more,” I told her.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to my lips while I stroked her exposed thighs. “Glad you like it,” she said, but I muffled the end of it when I chased after her sweet lips.

“You two oughta knock that shit off before Tank gets back,” Daz warned as he sat on one of the nearby couches.

I flipped him my middle finger, trying to hold Cami still as she pulled away. “You aren’t going anywhere,” I growled. Then, I looked around her. “As for you, asshole, she’s my old lady. I can do as I fuckin’ want.”

“All you fuckers with your old ladies. Why shackle yourself when there’s so much sweet pussy out there?” Daz kicked back and grinned like he was imagining some of that pussy getting busy with him right there.

“I’ll ignore the inherent insult in that,” Cami sassed.

“No insult meant, Cam,” he shot back. “I’d gladly see how sweet you are, but I ain’t gonna keep sampling the same dish when there’s a whole buffet in front of me.”

I grabbed the nearest non-fragile item—a pillow from the end of the couch—and chucked it at him. “You talk about my woman’s pussy again, I’ll fuckin’ make you wish you were back in lockup.”

“And that,” Daz kept right on. “You spend too much time with the same pussy, you start to turn into one.”

I was about to shuffle Cami off my lap and show him just how much of a pussy I was when she spoke. “Hey, Daz?”

“What, babe?”

“When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Cami,” I interjected. I wasn’t liking where this conversation was headed. She shushed me.

“Last night,” he answered.

“Hmm,” she got a look on her face, like she was pondering. “Not bad. Gauge, baby, when’s the last time you got laid?”

I smirked. “You know the answer to that, darlin’.”

“You’re right.” She snapped her fingers like she just realized it, and I suppressed a chuckle. My woman was a goof ball, and it was fucking adorable. “It was this morning. Once when we woke up, and then again in the shower. Not to mention, everything last night. Wow. So, since the last time Daz got laid, we’ve probably had sex…what? Four, maybe five times?”

Daz laughed and shook his head. “Your woman’s a fucking smart ass.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Cami feigned being affronted. “I was simply trying to consider the validity of Daz’s argument,” she snapped.

“Were you on the debate team in high school?” I asked.

“No,” she stated emphatically, then backtracked, “not for long, anyway.”


“I might have been asked to quit because of my ‘over-competitiveness’, ‘short temper’, and ‘inability to allow others to finish their arguments’. I mean, excuse me for not wanting to lose because Jerry Simmons’ talking points were always terrible and unsubstantiated. There was a reason he didn’t get into law school.”

Daz and I laughed before he said, “Don’t worry, you can start any spirited debate you want. I’ve got another we can tackle. Anal or vagin—”

“Alright, brother, you’re fuckin’ done,” I cut him off.

“Buzzkill,” he muttered, getting to his feet. “That’s alright. I’m going to find one of the girls and get her to make me a sandwich.”

“Seriously?” Cami called at his retreating back.

“Hey, I’m all about feminism. Especially a woman’s right to choose whatever lifestyle she wants. Particularly if that lifestyle involves her making me a fucking sandwich,” he shot back as he left.

“So you know,” Cami started, but I jumped in.

“You aren’t going to make me a sandwich on command?”

“Nope. I cook. I’ll make you pancakes, cupcakes—”

“Anything that’s not a cake?”

She gave me a glare. “I can cook most things relatively well. But if you want a sandwich, I think you’re solidly capable of that on your own.”

“Guess I’ll be cutting sandwiches out of my diet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Asshole.”

About The Author


Drew Elyse spends her days trying to convince the world that she is, in fact, a Disney Princess, and her nights writing tear-jerking and smutty romance novels.

When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found over-analyzing every line of a book, binge watching a series on Netflix, doing strange vocal warm ups before singing a variety of music styles, or screaming at the TV during a Chicago Blackhawks game.

A graduate of Loyola University Chicago with a BA in English, she still lives in Chicago, IL where she was born and raised with her boyfriend and her fur babies Lola and Duncan.


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