Today we have the release day blitz for Jennifer Bernard’s Naughty All Night! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today!
Title: Naughty All Night
Author: Jennifer Bernard
Genre: Contemporary Romance
About Naughty All Night:
A standalone novel in the sizzling Lost Harbor, Alaska series
Kate Robinson has had a talent for trouble since she was a young teen in Lost Harbor, Alaska, during summertime visits to her grandmother’s peony farm. It’s the only true home she’s ever known, so it’s where she retreats when REAL trouble chases her out of California, her legal career in ruins. Upon arriving, Kate finds her eccentric grandma has rented out her home! First order of business—eviction. So what if it’s a move that could get her shunned by the locals? She’s not known as Naughty Kate for nothing.
Fire Chief Darius Boone doesn’t need to add landlady troubles to his already busy plate, despite how fun it is to battle with C. Robinson, Attorney-at-Law. A series of small fires have been breaking out around Lost Harbor. Nothing harmful. Yet. But the number of blazes is steadily growing. The only thing taking his mind off this latest town drama is fiery Kate, who makes Darius want to be naughty with her…in all the best ways.
Trouble is one thing, but nothing has prepared Kate for the likes of “hottie fire chief” Darius Boone. Why not have some harmless naughty fun while she figures out her next move? But she never expected the heat the two of them would generate—or to fall so hard. The next time trouble strikes, everything she loves is on the line.
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Exclusive Excerpt:
Exactly one minute ago, Kate Robinson had been speeding merrily toward town; one curve in the rutted road later, she was stuck in the mud with her wheels spinning uselessly.
And if that wasn’t a perfect metaphor for her entire life, she didn’t know what was.
She was supposed to be in Los Angeles right now, winning over juries and having brunch with friends—not fetching fertilizer for her grandmother’s peony farm in tiny Lost Harbor, Alaska.
Movement at the side of the road caught her attention. A porcupine trundled toward the trees, half its quills raised in defense mode. She must have startled it with muddy disaster.
With a sigh, she pressed the accelerator again, just in case something had changed in the past ten seconds.
Whir. Spin.
Nope. If anything, the car had sunk deeper into the mud.
Maybe she shouldn’t have been dictating an email as she drove. It was a bad habit from her LA life. When you spent that much time stuck in traffic, you learned ways to use the time productively. Which was better, gridlock or a mud bath? At least with traffic, you knew you’d get moving eventually. On the other hand, the view from this particular mud bath was definitely better than a zillion brake lights.
Spruce trees loomed on one side of the road, and a view of Misty Bay on the other. Against the backdrop of a slate-gray April sky, snowy peaks shone like jagged white teeth. Even though the mountains across the bay still had plenty of snow, at this elevation things were starting to edge toward spring.
This was “break-up” season in Alaska, when the snow melted and the ground thawed, and mud swallowed up everything. Including the old Saab her grandmother Emma was letting her use.
Maybe she could push the car out of the mud. She put her hand on the door handle, then remembered that she’d left her mud boots back at the farm. She’d been so excited about a drive to town that she’d put on her cute purple suede half-boots with the chunky heel.
Suede didn’t like mud.
If she was going to free the car by pushing it, she’d have to do it barefoot.
A sound caught her attention, the low rumble of a vehicle coming from behind her.
Potential rescue? Possible kidnapper? Since this was Lost Harbor, odds were on rescue, but she was taking no chances. She rummaged in her bag for the bear spray Emma had made her bring.
The vehicle slowed to a stop behind her. It was a large crew cab truck with so much clearance it could probably drive right over her little Saab. The man who jumped out of it was equally large. His long legs came first—clad in work pants and mud boots.
AKA what she
should have been wearing.
Then came the rest of him—broad and tall and muscular and a little intimidating, considering that she was alone in this forgotten spot on the side of a remote Alaskan road. He wore a weathered work jacket unzipped over a gray Henley.
With easy strides, he made his way through the mud to her car. She kept her hand on the can of bear spray next to her on the seat. He noticed that move, and his lips quirked. They were very appealing lips, she noted. Firm and full, with a sensual curve to them.
“If I help you un-muck your car, will you promise not to mace me?” His deep voice fit the general oversize nature of his physique.
She relaxed enough to allow herself to smile at the stranger. “Do you think you can get me out of this? It’s a mess. I swear, that mud came out of nowhere, Officer.”
One corner of his mouth lifted, indicating that he’d gotten her joke. But he maintained his serious expression. “You have to pay attention this time of year. No cell phones while driving.”
Ah, so he’d spotted her phone on the seat next to her bear spray. “Are you planning to help me or lecture me?”
“Maybe a lecture would help you.” His reasonable tone made her teeth clench.
“I can guarantee that it wouldn’t. No one likes to be lectured.”
“I said it might help you, not please you.” The word “please” in his deep, rumbling voice sparked a surprising little thrill deep in her belly.
Oh no. None of that now.
“If you want to please me, you could tell me what you recommend here. Do I need to call a tow truck?”
He took a step back and surveyed the muddy ruts that had claimed her tires. “What have you tried so far?”
“Not much. Just a little cursing and whining and regretting the fact that I didn’t bring my mud boots. I tried powering out of it, but that made it worse.”
“Yes, that would make it worse. The tires can’t get any purchase on the mud, so they just dig the tracks deeper and deeper the more they spin. They need something solid to grip onto. I’m surprised you haven’t encountered this situation before. It is break-up, after all.”
“I’m not from here.” She bit off each word as she spoke it. This was sounding suspiciously like that lecture she’d told him she didn’t want. “I’ve never seen break-up before. Not this kind, anyway. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my love life.” She could practically hear the “ba-da-bum” after that lame joke.
He was watching her closely as she spoke. His eyes were two shades of blue south of gray, a surprisingly soft color in the midst of all that masculinity. They looked almost silvery in the misty light.
Heat came to her cheeks under his scrutiny. “Sorry, dumb joke.”
“Eh, it was all right.” He shrugged one massive shoulder. “A little obvious, but not bad.”
For a murderous moment, she wondered how bad it would be if she used her bear spray on him right now. Surely someone else would come along to rescue her. “Can we get back to the main event here? Car. Mud. Stuck.”
About the Author:
Jennifer Bernard is a
USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance. Her books have been called “an irresistible reading experience” full of “quick wit and sizzling love scenes.” A graduate of Harvard and former news promo producer, she left big city life for true love in Alaska, where she now lives with her husband and stepdaughters. She still hasn’t adjusted to the cold, so most often she can be found cuddling with her laptop and a cup of tea.
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Connect with Jennifer:
Lenore Ashwood is a steamy contemporary romance author who believes if you’re not squirming in your seat, she’s not doing her job.
She lives in the U.S. but considers herself a global citizen. She believes in sex positivity, human kindness, and the kind of girl power the Spice Girls sing about.
Lenore is best known for her wildly innovative Cavendish Club series, featuring stories of the ultra-affluent who seek unusual services at an elite escort agency. But Cavendish Club is different—it combines science and technology to create experiences guaranteed to more than satisfy their billionaire clientele and the consultants they “engage” with.
