Monday, January 27, 2014

Year of The Billionaire Boxed Set SPOTLIGHT


**New Box Set Release--Year of the Billionaire Trilogy--Limited time offer. Buy a bundle to save a bundle.**

Knowing His Secret, Taking His Risk and Keeping His Promise are all wrapped into one steamy adventure and available now at great savings!

Knowing His Secret--the scorching beginning to Raina and Tristan's affair.

He looked like the kind of man even my mother would call smokin' hot. Eventually, she did. He felt like the kind of man who didn't just break the rules, but made new ones. He led and it was follow or get out of the way.

Why did a billionaire with a voice like liquid silk and a face like a bad angel take a second look at a girl in no-name jeans,  with a fifteen-dollar haircut and a beat up car she calls her "Eep" because the 'J' fell off long ago?

I didn't want to know why and when I thought I knew I didn't want to admit it. By the time I found his secret, it was already too late. His passion had me hooked like a drug. It didn't hurt that he pulled the people I love the most out of harm's way. A girl can get used to a knight in shining armor even when the armor has some very large dents in it.

Taking His Risk--the second installment, full of suspense and surprises.

I was hurtling across the ocean, a mile high, destination unknown. I'd brought a passport and nothing else. He seemed determined to make everything in my life brand new. He revealed me, peeling back layer after layer until all that was left was my raw intimate core. Yet, I hardly knew him.

Crazy is a pretty good word for the kind of uncertainty that comes with a man like Tristan King. I never knew what the day would bring, but I began to expect surprises. That was the biggest problem. Managing my expectations with a man who'd told me I couldn't have any.

For a regular girl, falling for a man like him was taking a very big chance. Was it really possible to love one day at a time?

Keeping His Promise--the soulful and satisfying conclusion to a journey of discovery, danger and delight.

Just carrying a million dollars around is exhausting. Paying my mother's ransom was a relief but I had too much time to think about Tristan on that ferry ride.  He was more than I had dared hope for and less than I deserved.

I underestimated his power and didn't give him nearly enough credit for determination. He had me on his jet again, flying high and wanting him. Consequences be damned.

Who could be prepared for what he had to say? I wasn't going to hold him to the promise he intended to keep. When he opened the heavy door to his heart we both knew it would change what we had. Trouble is, I still didn't have a word for what it is we had.

Our bodies tended to do all the talking. Sometimes, it seemed to me there wasn't much left to say.



Excerpt: (from part one—Knowing His Secret)

"Do you do that often? Run around naked?" I couldn't help it. He leapt into my imagination--all golden skin and hair against a background of forest that matched his eyes.

"As much as I can," he grinned devilishly at me and caught me blushing, again. "What can I fix you to drink?"

"Whatever you're having's fine."

He cocked an eyebrow at me and began mixing away while I vainly tried to push the image of his nakedness to the back of my mind. He brought me a glass and sat beside me on the sofa. He sat close enough so that his knee was touching my thigh as he turned to clink glasses with me.

"To the play!"

"Break a leg," I answered. I took a nice healthy swig of the pale green drink Tristan had made for us. I nearly choked. It was very tart and very, very strong. "What the hell is this?" I finally managed to gasp out.

He threw his head back and laughed. "It's a Kamikaze. Vodka, triple sec and a little Rose's lime juice. You don't have to drink it."

"No, that's okay . . . it's growing on me," I told him as I took another swallow. The warmth from his knee against me and the spreading heat from the alcohol were about to make the idea of pride go up in smoke. He took his finger and ran it around my jaw line up to my ear where he traced the outline delicately and tapped my simple hoop earring so that it swayed in the lobe. I pulled my breath in deeply.

"You're certainly growing on me . . ." The suggestive line belonged in a script. I tried to think of a snappy retort and came up empty. He was intoxicating in spite of the predictable moves. There wasn't anything inherently wrong with being rich, handsome and full of yourself, I rationalized. But, if I went for it, I'd have some long awkward weeks ahead of me until the play ran its course. That, and I'd have the rest of the cast, plus those catty bitches to deal with. I'd have 'used' tattooed on my forehead. The men would pity me and the girls would laugh at me.

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K.C. Falls is a native of New York. While studying at Columbia University, she met a kindred spirit and together they found a way to trade life in the Big Apple for one in Big Sky country. Much as she loves the city life, she’s never regretted the move.

Her  small Montana ranch is home to a menagerie of animals including  that special human male she shamelessly uses for inspiration. Her tales are sharp-edged stories with strong sexy heroes and the women they can't resist.

K.C.’s homestead is in the southeastern corner of Montana where her great grandmother once lived with her Native American tribe, the Cheyenne. The ‘C’ in ‘K.C.’ stands for that tribe’s name. Once or twice a year, she hires a 'ranch sitter' and takes an urban vacation somewhere hitting all the restaurants, plays, museums and musical performances she can squeeze in. Then it's back to the wide open.
K.C. finds time to feed the chickens, study Native Americana and cook incredible food because there isn't a restaurant around for many miles. She writes in between bites.

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