Showing posts with label rachel van dyken. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rachel van dyken. Show all posts

Monday, July 3, 2017

Release Blitz - Steal by Rachel Van Dyken




Title: Steal
A Standalone Seaside Pictures Novel
Author: Rachel Van Dyken
Genre: Second Chance/Rockstar Romance
Release Date: July 3, 2017



Blurb

Steal, the follow-up standalone rockstar romance to the #1NYT Bestseller Keep…

It's easy to lose yourself in someone you love.
Easier to lose yourself in someone you hate…

I didn't think it could get any worse than having to babysit a bunch of spoiled musicians on set — keeping them out of trouble is a cakewalk compared to seeing my ex every day. 

Seaside, Oregon isn't big enough for the both of us.

She hates me.
I loathe her.
The plan was simple — stay the hell away and make sure she gets to set on time.
What I didn't expect was to be faced with our past in front of an audience — and be forced to face it again.
It's torture.
The way she looks at me.
The way I try to look through her.
Words left unsaid.
The lingering aftermath still as powerful as ever.
I feed the chasm between us, for fear that she'll make me feel again — and steal the last shred of heart I have left.
We have everything but each other.

It's not enough.
Not when you've lost love.
And replaced it with the only thing left — hate.








Purchase Links

99c for Release Day ONLY!

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
B&N / KOBOiBOOKS






Excerpt

Angelica

I finally understood what prison would be like.
By way of my agent.
After his pep talk where I imagined kissing him about a million times before he gave me a pat on my shoulder and helped me to my feet, he walked me back to set and watched each scene.
When I was done and Lincoln asked if I wanted to go out with the rest of the cast for drinks, Will stepped in. “She can’t.”
Did I call him a babysitter earlier?
The man was like a parent.
A prison guard.
A hot one.
One that oozed sexuality with a swagger that refused to go away every time he walked in any direction. Hell, the guy was going to be eighty years old and still turning heads when he walked into restaurants.
“I should have gone,” I said once Lincoln walked off with Dani and Jay. “It’s good for the cast to bond.”
“He’s your brother. You’ve had your time.” Will shrugged.
I clenched my teeth and followed him to the parking lot, but instead of going to his shiny car, he walked right past it.
Shit, he was going to make me walk back to the beach house again, wasn’t he?
“Come on,” he called over his shoulder. “Keep up.”
“You’re twice my size!” I yelled in a struggle to keep up with him in the flip-flops I’d packed into my bag that morning. “Hey, wait up!”
If anything the bastard picked up his pace until he reached the sidewalk then stopped.
My flip-flop got stuck on the sidewalk sending me into his arms. I braced myself on both of his biceps. My fingers tingled with the need to squeeze and swoon into his embrace.
Instead, I shoved away and crossed my arms. “So? What now?”
He licked his lips, drawing my attention to his mouth. I licked mine in response. Like an idiot.
“You did good today, Ang.” He held out his hand.
I narrowed my eyes. “Is this a trick?”
“No.” He smirked. “This is a hand. You take it in yours, see?” He demonstrated by lacing our fingers together. A shiver erupted down my right arm, goose bumps popped up.
People didn’t touch me.
But Will did.
I forgot what warmth had felt like.
Until he held my hand.
“Dinner.” He squeezed my hand and let it fall against my side before he nodded to the busy main street of Seaside where families ran back and forth between ice cream and taffy shops like sugar addicts. “It’s the least I can do.”
“For?”
He grinned. “For actually not sucking today.”
I smacked him in the shoulder. It was a kneejerk reaction. He laughed harder and rubbed the spot.
“I see you still know how to hit pretty hard.”
“And you’re still a sarcastic ass,” I said sweetly.
“Always will be.” He winked.
My diaphragm refused to work.
I nearly stopped breathing.
Why did he have to remind me how easy it had been between us? Because in a life full of harsh realities — he’d always made me realize one thing about love.
In the beginning, it should be easy.
Involuntary.
Like sucking the sweet salty air through my teeth and exhaling in the same breath.
Love was as simple as the air surrounding us.
And between us, it had been more than natural; it had been effortless. Love shouldn’t start out hard, the struggles happen once you’re together long enough to realize that the other person isn’t perfect, and the anger comes when you blame them for not living up to expectations.
I knew it well.
Because it had been easy.
Until it was so hard that I bailed.






Author Bio


Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. 

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!

Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866!

You can connect with her on Facebook or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. And make sure to check out her website.


Author Links




Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Release Blitz - Cheater by Rachel Van Dyken

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Cheater by Rachel Van Dyken is NOW LIVE!
What are you waiting for?  Grab your copy TODAY!

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Blurb
Lucas Thorn wasn’t born a cheater. All it took was a single moment—say, a certain disastrous incident on the night before his wedding—and boom. Reputation destroyed forever and always. So now he owns it. He has a lady friend for every night of the week (except Sundays—God’s day and all), and his rules are simple: No commitments. No exceptions.


But a certain smart-mouthed, strawberry blonde vixen is about to blow that all to hell.


Avery Black has never forgiven Lucas for cheating on her sister. And suddenly being forced to work with him is pretty much a nightmare on steroids. Of course, it does afford her the opportunity to make his life as difficult as possible. But no good revenge scheme comes without payback. Because he didn’t become the Lucas Thorn without learning a few things about women.


Now Avery’s lust for vengeance has turned into, well, lust. And if Lucas stops cheating, it’s definitely not because he’s falling in love…


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Excerpt


One night.
It was all I needed anyway, right? It’s not as if he was going to really commit to me, marry me, offer to impregnate me and father all our children.
“Are you sure about this, Avery?” He cupped my face with his rough hands. “You still have a choice. You can turn that cute ass around and march out that door—hell, you can even slam it on the way out. I’ll even let you keep the steak.”
“Are you offering me an out?”
He nodded.
“Do you offer that to every girl?”
Another nod.
“Do they ever take it?”
“Sometimes.”
“What do you want me to do?”
He paused. “You know, nobody has ever asked me that before.”
Probably because nobody cared about what else he had to offer besides what was dangling between his legs.
“I’m asking. Right now.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “What does Thorn want?”
“You didn’t full-name me.”
“It seems to make you even more arrogant, God forbid.”
His grin made me weak, so weak that I had to hold on to him for strength. Funny how things come full circle. How he’d always been my rock.
Dependable.
Loving.
And now?
He held all the power. Lucas Thorn . . . could destroy me.
“Stay.” He brushed a soft kiss across my lower lip. “I want you to stay.”

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About the Author:

Rachel.jpg

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.


She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!





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Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Release Blitz & Giveaway - The Matchmaker's Replacement by Rachel Van Dyken


The Matchmaker's Replacement Banner - Aug 9

    VanDyken-TheMatchmakersReplacement-CV-FL-vC6-RGB

Wingman rule number two: never reveal how much you want them. 

 Lex hates Gabi. Gabi hates Lex. But, hey, at least the hate is mutual, right? All Lex has to do is survive the next few weeks training Gabi in all the ways of Wingmen Inc. and then he can be done with her. But now that they have to work together, the sexual tension and fighting is off the charts. He isn’t sure if he wants to strangle her or throw her against the nearest sturdy table and have his way with her. But Gabi has a secret, something she’s keeping from not just her best friend but her nemesis too. Lines are blurred as Lex becomes less the villain she’s always painted him to be…and starts turning into something more. Gabi has always hated the way she’s been just a little bit attracted to him—no computer-science major should have that nice of a body or look that good in glasses—but “Lex Luthor” is an evil womanizer. He’s dangerous. Gabi should stay far, far away. Then again, she’s always wanted a little danger.

Amazon US / Amazon UK / Amazon CA / Amazon AU

       
        

GIVEAWAY! 


   rachelborder

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers! Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866! You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Release Blitz - Keep by Rachel Van Dyken



My name's shouted on rooftops.

It's written on bras, bathroom stalls, hell my name is everywhere. To say my name is to experience an orgasm without ever leaving your house.

My name?

Zane "Saint" Andrews.

I'm sex.

I'm a rock god.

I'm also a virgin.

What they don't know won't kill them right? Give the people what they want. And what they want is the idea of me; the pleasure they gain at listening to my song and knowing without a doubt I'm talking about them and only them.

It worked for a while. Until a nerdy girl with glasses falls at my feet, literally, and suddenly I don't want to be Saint anymore, what I want? What I really need? Is to be kept. By her.

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA |  Amazon AU | B&N  | iBooks |  Kobo

           
rachelborder

 Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers! You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com.

FACEBOOK / TWITTER / GOODREADS / AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE / NEWSLETTER

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Release Day Launch - Empire by Rachel Van Dyken

Empire 0 days  
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 I have lost everything. My purpose My love My soul Death knocks on my door, I want to answer, but every time I reach for the handle -- the promise I made her brings me back. So I breathe. I live. I hate. And I allow the anger to oil beneath the surface of a perfectly indifferent facade. I am broken, I don't want to be fixed. But the Empire is crumbling and it's my job to fix it. My job to mend the pieces that were scattered over thirty years ago. A trip to New York, only one chance to redeem a lost part of our mafia family. The only issue is, the only way to fix it, is to do something I swore I'd never do again. An arranged marriage. Only this time. I won't fall. Or so help me God, I will kill her myself. My name is Sergio Abandonoto, you think you know my pain, my suffering, my anger, my hate? You have no idea. I am the mafia. I am the darkness. Blood in. No out.

AMAZON US / AMAZON UK / AMAZON AU / AMAZON CA / B&N / iBOOKS / KOBO

    The loving couple in the rain  

EXCERPT

Sergio looked ready to strangle me. “No. I don’t believe I asked for an annoying little sister, but if that’s what you’re offering, please don’t let me stop you. Just know, I won’t hesitate to put you over my knee if you get out of hand.” The minute the words left his mouth. I froze. He froze. The taxi driver stared little laser like holes into the rearview mirror. And Sergio leaned toward me. I swallowed as tension swirled around us. He gripped me by the chin and turned my head to the side, his lips brushing my ear. “It’s like you have a death wish.” “You wouldn’t do it.” He pulled back as both of his eyebrows shot up, and then he looked down, like he had spotted something. I followed the direction of his gaze and let out a little gasp as a gun dug into my stomach. “It’s been directed at you for the last four minutes,” Sergio said through a practiced smile. “I meant what I said. Listen well. I keep my word. Kiss me, and blood will be spilled.” “Y-you’re a crazy person!” I hissed, shoving at his chest. “And I wasn’t going to kiss you!” “Sure you weren’t.” He put the gun away. “Good talk though, right? Oh look, the movie theater.” To say that I scrambled out of the car like a kid running away from her kidnapper would be a gross understatement, but the minute my feet hit the pavement, I paused. My body told me to run. The guy had pulled a gun. On me. I didn’t even watch violent movies.    

 

Get the beginning of Sergio's story in Elude

elude

Twenty-Four hours before were were to be married--I offered to shoot her. Ten hours before our wedding--I made a mockery of her dying wish. Five hours before we were going to say our vows--I promised I'd never love her. One hour before I said I do--I vowed I'd never shed a tear over her death. But the minute we were pronounced man and wife--I knew. I'd only use my gun to protect her. I'd give my life for hers. I'd cry. And I would, most definitely, lose my heart, to a dying girl--a girl who by all accounts should have never been mine in the first place. I always believed the mafia would be my end game--where I'd lose my heart, while it claimed my soul. I could have never imagined. It would be my redemption. Or the beginning of something beautiful. The beginning of her. The end of us.

AMAZON / iBOOKS / NOOK

  rachelborder

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers! You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Book Blitz - The Matchmaker's Playbook by Rachel Van Dyken


The Matchmaker’s Playbook
Rachel Van Dyken
(Wingmen Inc. #1)
Published by: Skyscape
Publication date: April 5th 2016
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Wingman rule number one: don’t fall for a client.
After a career-ending accident, former NFL recruit Ian Hunter is back on campus—and he’s ready to get his new game on. As one of the masterminds behind Wingmen, Inc., a successful and secretive word-of-mouth dating service, he’s putting his extensive skills with women to work for the lovelorn. But when Blake Olson requests the services of Wingmen, Inc., Ian may have landed his most hopeless client yet.
From her frumpy athletic gear to her unfortunate choice of footwear, Blake is going to need a miracle if she wants to land her crush. At least with a professional matchmaker by her side she has a fighting chance. Ian knows that his advice and a makeover can turn Blake into another successful match. But as Blake begins the transformation from hot mess to smokin’ hot, Ian realizes he’s in danger of breaking his cardinal rule…

Read Chapter 1:
The tea? Cinnamon.
The coffee shop? Secluded. Dark. Inviting. The girl? Late.
And not just fashionably late, but the type of late that had me thinking she was going to be a no-show, which was common for a first meeting. At least 15 percent of our clients were no-shows. It was nerves. And fear that our system wouldn’t work for them and they’d be in worse shape than before.
The wood chair creaked as I leaned back and examined the small shop. A year ago people would have asked for my autograph. Then again, a year ago I had just been drafted by the Seattle Seahawks.
I rubbed my knee self-consciously as the aching pain returned, causing a raw edge of irritation to burn through my chest.
I checked my watch again, biting my cheek in annoyance. Twenty-three minutes late.
With a sigh, I reached for my tea one last time, drawing out the sip as I peered over the cup. Two more minutes and I was leaving.
The glass door shot open, the bell nearly clanging to the floor as it slammed against a nearby chair. A small mousy girl with plain brown hair stumbled through; her pale skin turned crimson as she touched her cheeks and nervously glanced around the room.
Most would give her a passing glance. But I wasn’t most.
I stared. Hard.
When her fidgety eyes finally settled on me, she blushed even deeper. It wasn’t unattractive, just very telling.
I pushed my chair back and stood. I had a feeling she wanted to run.
They were always nervous. Which was expected. Besides, I knew what I looked like. I wasn’t being vain, just drawing a logical mathematical conclusion after adding how many times I’d gotten laid to how many times I’d been asked if I was an underwear model.
Chiseled? Check.
Caramel-blond hair that somehow managed to look wavy and thick all the damn time? Check.
One dimple on the right side of my cheek? Check. Sexy crooked smile? Check.
Rugged badass-looking scar near my chin? Check. Smoldering hazel eyes? Check.
And don’t even get me started on penis size. Really, it just gets better the farther south your eyes go—trust me.
She took a faulty step backward, colliding with the magazine rack.
Several copies of the Seattle Weekly went flying across the floor.
With a flutter of busyness, she bent down. Her jeans ripped at the knees.
Yeah, I was going to have to rescue her. She was already a danger to herself.
With a patient sigh, I slowly walked from my seat and approached her. Lowering to her level, I peered over at the newspapers, calmly collected every last one, and stood.
She was frozen.It happened. Often. And unfortunately, it was a huge time-waster.
Because my business? It was flourishing, and time was my currency.
She was late.
Meaning she was wasting not just my time, but my money. Typically, I met my clients elsewhere, but I was short on time and wanted to see her in action. I was having some serious second thoughts as she grabbed one of the paper napkins and proceeded to blow her nose before stuffing the napkin in her front pocket.
“Stand,” I instructed, trying to keep the scowl from my face.
She gaped up at me, her mouth ajar, her eyes widening as her skin went from pink to white, all within a few seconds.
“Or,” I whispered, pinning her like a bug with my stare, “you can sit. But I highly doubt that’s the way to get on the good side of that barista you’ve been trying not to check out ever since you walked in that door.”
“But I haven’t—”
“You have.” I nodded, giving her an encouraging look. “And if you don’t stand right now, you’ll lose your chance with him. Most experts believe that jealousy is the most crucial emotion men feel before falling in love.” I held out my hand.
She stared at it.
“I won’t bite.” I smirked, then leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Yet.”
She gasped.
“Take it.” I gave a curt nod. “That’s what I’m here for, remember?” With reluctance, she placed her hand in mine and stood on wobbly legs. I eyed the barista with mock annoyance as I helped my new client to her seat.
“What’s this?” She pointed at the red cup in front of her chair. “Tea.” I yawned. “But yours is probably cold.”
“I hate tea.”
“No.” I shook my head and leaned forward, my hands placed directly in front of her cup as I scooted it closer to her. “You love tea.”
She frowned. “Smile.”
“What?” “Just do it.”
She forced a smile, which actually transformed her face quite nicely. A bit too much tooth and faux enthusiasm, but I could work with enthusiasm. Apathy, despondency, despair . . . not as easy.
“Hey . . . you, uh . . . guys need anything?” Jealous Barista asked as he wandered over to our table. Any jackass with half a brain knew that if we wanted something, we’d just go to the counter and ask.
“Nope.” I didn’t give him a second glance. “Oh.” He didn’t leave. Idiot. “I just—”
“I’ll send my girlfriend over if I need something, how’s that?” This time I did meet his gaze. Sometimes it was just too easy. Really. His eyes burned through me, nostrils flared, fists clenched. Dude may as well have been wearing a sign that said “Mine” with an arrow pointed at Mousy Hair.
“Thanks, though,” my client squeaked, tucking that flat hair behind her ear in a seminervous gesture that asshat probably found cute.
We were going to have to work on that squeak. It was endearing . . . like a fat puppy that couldn’t walk.
But in order to gain the barista’s attention? She needed to move on from fat puppy to something more like a greyhound—sleek, beautiful, unique.
Jealous Barista walked off. “He hates me.” She slouched.
I let out an irritated sigh as I reached for her hand and gripped it.
Clammy fingers. A personal favorite, said no man ever.
“Stop fidgeting and sit up straight.” I squeezed her hand.
Her chest rose and fell like she was running a marathon. Shit, if I had another fainter, I was going to walk.
“Sorry,” she huffed as she leaned in. “It’s just that he’s actually talked to me only a few times, and only ever to ask if I wanted sugar in my coffee.”
“He hates coffee,” I whispered. “Every time someone orders coffee, he actually sneers. It’s hard to tell if you don’t look for it. But his nose lifts, his eyes narrow, and the bastard sneers, as if coffee is the equivalent of getting high behind the Dumpsters.”
“But . . .” She bit down on her bottom lip. It was plump. Juicy.
Finally! Something I could work with. “He works at a coffee shop.”
Impatience pounded through me. “And you run five point six miles every day at three in the afternoon, yet you hate running. We all do what we gotta do to get what we want. You want a nice body? You work for it. He wants to pay for parts for his motorcycle? He works for it.” Damn it, I really needed to stop taking clients when I was running on no sleep.
“Should I be taking notes?” she asked softly.
“You love tea. You hate coffee.” I reached out and brushed my thumb across her bottom lip. “He despises public displays of affection, probably because he wishes he was the one involved with a girl who can’t keep her hands off her man.”
Her head swayed toward me, eyes heavy, cheek pressed into my hand. Bingo!
“Touch me,” I instructed. “But—”
“Do it now.”
Gulping, she reached across the table and placed her hand on my shoulder.
On. My. Shoulder. “Lower.”
“But . . .” Her eyes darted to the counter.
“Stop staring or we’re done.”
She moved her hand lower and ran her hand over my chest, her forefinger grazing my nipple. Probably by accident, but the barista’s reaction would be the same.
“Now laugh.”
“Laugh?” She giggled nervously.
“That works too.” I grinned smugly. This was always my favorite part, the part that solidified me as a certified genius. A rich one too. The moment when the guy suddenly realizes there’s something brewing between him and the girl who’s been vying for his attention for weeks, years, whatever.
Jealous Barista waltzed back over. “Shell, if you need anything besides tea, let me know.” His chest puffed out as he crossed his arms. I fought the urge to roll my eyes and give the douche the finger.
“No.” Shell met my gaze with a reluctance that slowly turned into triumph. “I think I’m good with my tea.”
“You hate tea,” he pointed out. “No,” I said. “She loves tea.”
“Asshole,” he grumbled under his breath before walking away. “He knows my name.” She gave a rapturous sigh of longing. Again, the urge to roll my eyes was so strong my cheeks twitched. I shrugged and leaned back.
“Who are you?” she said.
“Ian Hunter.” I nodded. “Master wingman and your only chance in hell of getting”—my eyebrows lifted as a sigh escaped between my lips—“that.”
Jealous Barista stared at us with his lips pressed into a firm line. “When do we start?” Her words rushed out so fast they nearly ran
into one another.
I smirked. “Three minutes ago.”


Author Bio:
Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!
Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866!
You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com. 

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Thursday, August 27, 2015

Cover Reveal - RIP by Rachel Van Dyken

On OCTOBER 20 Rachel Van Dyken brings you Rip a complete stand alone novel that fans of the Eagle Elite series will devour! With twists and turns you won't see coming, this dark romantic suspense will keep you on your toes and leave you screaming for more.





Pretty things aren't meant to be broken.
But I broke her, and now we both have to pay the price.
I'm her nightmare.
I'm her savior.
And now that I have her signature on an ironclad contract, I own her body and soul.
She doesn't remember me.
She will.
It's inevitable.
Because as much as I know I need to stay away, for fear of unlocking the memories I helped her father bury--I can't.
She was the apple in the Garden, dangled in front of me, her core so tempting and sweet. A voice whispered. Just. One. Bite.
I bit.
I tasted.
I fell.


Welcome to the world of the Russian mafia, where death, is your only future.








Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!
Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866!
You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken  or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com 



Friday, August 21, 2015

Release Blitz - Capture by Rachel van Dyken








Losing your ability to speak at the age of seventeen; it’s not normal or fair.
But trauma, has a way of throwing normality out the window.

Dani lives anything but a normal life.
Her sister is married to one of the biggest names in Hollywood.
Her best friends are rockstar duo AD2.
And she has more love around her than most people experience in a lifetime.
But that doesn't change the fact their parents are dead.
Or that it's her fault.

It seems her new normal is being a mute, living on the inside, unable to actually communicate on the outside.
That is until Hollywood’s newest heartthrob Lincoln Greene hires her as his assistant for the summer.
He's gorgeous, completely unavailable, and unobtainable.
But that doesn't stop her from wondering...if things were different...would he want her?
If she was whole, would he be the other half? 







EXCERPT

“Finally!” Jaymeson pointed at both of us. “Lincoln, show her to her mark. Dani, for this scene you’re simply staring at him like you want to eat him. Think you can do that?”
I nodded.
Any woman could do that.
Most men too.
“Cue music!” Jaymeson called out. “Action.”
A techno mix of AD2’s latest song filled the air as the extras started dancing around us. I stayed glued to the wall while Lincoln delivered his lines to Pris, and then he lifted his head, meeting my gaze.
It’s just a movie. It’s just a movie.
The breath left my chest on one slow exhale as he moved toward me, his body making fluid purposeful movements through the crowd.
My lips parted; my entire body felt heavy as he approached.
He stopped in front of me, his forehead grazing mine as he leaned in a few inches. Our breath mingled as the music and scene faded around me.
“Cut!” Jaymeson yelled.
Holy crap on a cracker. I almost experienced my first stroke — at seventeen.
“You okay?” Lincoln’s eyebrows knit together in concern.
I licked the lipstick from my lips and nodded quickly.
Jaymeson approached. “Time for the kiss, remember kissing, not hockey. Clearly, you were confused earlier.”
Lincoln gritted his teeth and let out a little groan.
I patted his arm and grinned, my way of encouraging him. He seemed to pale more.
My stomach sank.
Maybe it was me.
I was the problem.
Not the kiss, but me. If he’d had trouble kissing my gorgeous sister, how was he going to be able to kiss me?
“Hey…” Lincoln cupped my cheek. “… focus on me, nothing else, alright? It’s only us.”
I nodded.
“You ever been to a party?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Ever made out with a guy at a party that wasn’t your boyfriend?”
I thought about it then slowly shook my head.
“So that’s what this scene is about. It’s about a guy seeing a girl from across the room and wanting her so badly that he’s willing to cheat on his own girlfriend for just one taste. Granted, he’s supposedly drunk and high, but that just takes the romance out of it, doesn’t it?”
He released my cheek and stepped back. “Imagine you’re trying to attract me, make your body as inviting as possible. Hell, just stand there and look at me, and you’ll sell it.”
Sell it. I repeated the words in my mind.
I could do that.
Because I wanted him to kiss me.
It made my heart beat faster.
My blood pump harder.
And for the first time since my parents’ death, I was actually excited about something. Nervous, but excited.
“Okay,” I mouthed.
I must have surprised him again because his eyes darkened, and then he grinned. “One day, Dani. One day I’m going to hear my name coming from that gorgeous mouth of yours, and I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions… damn the consequences.”
My breath hitched.
“Quiet on set! And action!”
There was no warning. Suddenly, Lincoln’s mouth was fused against mine, no teeth, just his soft lips pushing, prodding, moving slowly back and forth until his tongue slid through and made contact with mine.
Heart racing, I opened my mouth enough to deepen the kiss as heat washed over me.
He groaned and dug his fingers into my shoulders then slid his hands down my back and gripped my butt. I let out a squeak of surprise as I flicked his tongue with mine.
“Cut!” Jaymeson yelled.
I kept kissing.
So did Lincoln.
His chest brushed roughly against mine; my breasts ached at the sharp contact. I let out a little hiss at the exact time Linc let out a groan and nudged his knee between my legs.
“Cut!” Jaymeson yelled again.
Slowly, Lincoln pried himself away from me, chest heaving.
“Good enough,” said Jaymeson.
“No,” Lincoln argued without taking his wild grey eyes off me, “I went off script. We need to do it again.”
“The hell you do,” someone mumbled. I wasn’t surprised to see Demetri glaring daggers at Lincoln’s back. Alec was next to Jaymeson, giving him an earful. I noted the strong tick in his jaw.
“Fine.” Jaymeson waved them both off. “We’ll do it again.”
“Take two, and action!”
This time the kiss was slow, languid in its movements. Hot waves of pleasure coursed through my body as his tongue slid seductively pass my lips. His taste, the feel of his mouth was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Greedily, I moaned, desperate for more of him as I reached for his shirt then fisting it with my hands and tugging him tighter against my body, wanting more contact with him. I felt every plane of muscle as he slowly turned us so his back was semi facing the camera. His knee nudged my legs apart as pressure increased down the middle of my body. I hadn’t really looked long at the script, but I was pretty sure that this wasn’t part of it.
Not that I was complaining.
He rocked into me, my back connected with the wall. With a possessive growl, he nipped my lower lip then started kissing down my neck. Kissing in public had never been my thing — but maybe that was because I’d never kissed Lincoln.
I would kiss him anywhere.
All he needed to do was ask.
Body humming with pleasure, I let out a little gasp as his warm lips met the pulse on my neck. Then his tongue licked where his lips had just been.
His knee rose higher and higher as my body sank onto his; the first contact of his leg had my body screaming with pleasure — just a little higher, just a little more.
“Cut!” someone shouted, though it didn’t sound like Jaymeson.
Suddenly, Demetri was pulling Lincoln away from me and glaring daggers at both of us. “I think you guys got the scene.”
Embarrassed, I looked down, tucking my silky hair behind my ear. Did I really almost just dry hump Lincoln Greene’s leg? In front of about twenty people, including my sister?
“You sure?” Lincoln asked, voice hoarse. I glanced up at him, his chest was heaving with exertion, his lips swollen. “Because I could have sworn I messed up my lines.”
“There are no lines, you bastard,” Demetri muttered under his breath.
“Damn it!” Jaymeson shouted. “Hey, guys, I’m going to need you to shoot it one more time. Remember, Lincoln, you’re supposed to proposition her.”
Lincoln grinned smugly at Demetri.

Demetri didn’t move.



Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!
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