BOOK BLITZ - Trillionaire Boys’ Club: The Producer by Aubrey Parker

Trillionaire Boys’ Club:

The Producer

by Aubrey Parker

Publication date: January 10^th 2017

Genres: New Adult, Romance

BLURB

These hot, powerful men don’t impress me.

I’m not new to this secret club of billionaires. I know all about their Syndicate … and even some of their plans to control the world. I’m Alyssa Friggin’ Galloway, publicity genius, and I’ve dealt with all of them: Nathan Turner, who built the Boys’ Club, and even the insufferable Ashton Moran.

They’re all the same: all arrogance and bluster, using women like disposable things. I’m immune to their charms.

So why does the worst of the worst … Cole Freaking Ellison … intrigue me so much?

READ more THE PRODUCER (The Trillionaire Boys' Club, #3) . . . 

Book Blitz - The Clothing Mogul Trillionaire Boys’ Club, #2 by Aubrey Parker

The Clothing Mogul

The Trillionaire Boys’ Club, #2

by Aubrey Parker

Publication date: December 6^th 2016

Genres: New Adult, Romance

BLURB

“You have to fall in love,” Alyssa suggests. And then, because she’s my publicist, she adds the key word: “Publicly.”

My name is Ashton Moran, and I’m CEO of the $2.2 billion Hurricane Apparel company. You’d think that’d be enough, but it’s not. Not for Alyssa. She says my public image sucks. She says my being a womanizer is hurting Hurricane’s brand.

So she found this girl, Jenna, who I’m supposed to pretend I’m in love with for the press. I’m not supposed to sleep with any other women for as long as this farce goes on. Only with Jenna — if she’s into it, which she will be.

I understand what Alyssa is trying to do by making Hurricane more “family friendly,” but … Me? In love? With only one woman?

There’s no way this is going to work.

The Clothing Mogul is part of the Trillionaire Boys’ Club series by Aubrey Parker. Each book tells the story of one of the Club’s powerful members … and you’re going to want to collect them all.

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EXCERPT:

“Ashton? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He slides closer. “Not anymore.”

I turn to look at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing’s gotten into me.”

But it’s too much. Too weird. I sit up straighter. I watch his dark eyes in the sparse light filtering up from the street. “Don’t you want to …?”

“What?”

“Don’t you want to have sex?” For a second I’m embarrassed — ridiculous, given the things we’ve done.

“Very much.”

“Well?”

“I just wanted to take a moment.”

“Why?”

“To do without. As if you’ve denied me.”

“I’m not denying you.” The words stir something. My hair against my shoulder, bare but for the straps of my nightshirt, is like the brush of my lover’s fingers. I forget why I was put off by the idea that he’d come here and simply expect to fuck me.

This change is even stranger than the one at dinner. Stranger than the one I saw when he spoke to my father, deferring to the older man’s authority like a proper suitor. His lack of action is making me more aroused, not less. I want to be the aggressor. I want to take him all without asking.

“I know,” he says. “But you could.”

“Anyone can. What’s so special about denial?”

“You don’t know, Jenna. You can’t know what it’s like to be me. Everything is so hard at first, but at a certain point everything gets too easy. You’re the only person who challenges me, who pushes back, who made me work to have you.”

“I’m yours.” I lick my lips, finding control harder to summon. “You don’t have to work to have me anymore. We have a deal.”

“Don’t mention it. Don’t talk about our deal.”

“Why not?” I don’t understand. I’m uneasy, nervous.

“Because I’m sorry we made it. Too many lies to keep track of.”

“You mean the lies about us being together?”

“I mean the lies about how we’re not.”

I look down at him. He can’t mean what he seems to. His hand is at my breast. He’s stroking it idly, almost as if he doesn’t realize what it does to me. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t really know who I am anymore, Jenna. I thought I did, but tonight I found I was wrong. The old me would have been different. He would have lapped it all up. But I didn’t want to. It just made me angry. All I could think about, the entire time, was coming here.”

To my house? It’s so ridiculous.

“You’re Ashton Moran.” It’s such an empty thing to say, but some of the disorientation and confusion leave his expression. I don’t know if it’s what he honestly needs to hear, or if it’s more that he needs me, of all people, to say it.

“Am I? We’ve lied so much, I’m not sure. There’s the old story of Ashton Moran, and now there’s this new one. I’ve been in the new story for months now, but tonight I re-entered the old one. I didn’t feel comfortable in it, like I don’t know or like the old Ashton anymore. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Because if I don’t like the old Ashton, it means I like being the new one instead. But the new one is a lie. The new Ashton doesn’t exist.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s all bullshit. Everything we’ve said in those interviews … bullshit.”

I look down. I don’t know what to say.

“Tell me it wasn’t all bullshit, Jenna.”

“I … I don’t know.”

“All I know is that tonight, I didn’t feel like myself. I didn’t like me or who I’d become. I only like myself these days when I’m here, in the belly of the lie.”

He raises my shirt and bares my breasts. He kisses them sweetly, one by one. His hand his on my leg, moving slowly, warming me.

Then his hand goes to the center of my chest. To my heart. It’s ironic — he made his billions manufacturing clothing that monitors vital signs, relaying them to an app. But right now the great clothing titan is feeling my vitals using only the biometric device of flesh and bone offered by God. A connection born not of Bluetooth, but skin to skin.

He comes to my lips and kisses them.

“Don’t deny me now.”

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Author Info

I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.

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Book BLITZ - Trillionaire Boys’ Club: The Connector by Aubrey Parker

Trillionaire Boys’ Club:

The Connector

by Aubrey Parker

Publication date: November 1^st 2016

Genres: New Adult, Romance

People say money can’t buy love. Fortunately, it can buy everything else.

BLURB

My name is Nathan Turner. I’m the best networker in the world, and I make big deals happen.

Right now, I’m bringing together the most powerful people on the planet. When the group is complete, we’ll have a pool of over one trillion dollars.

Internally, we call ourselves the Syndicate. But within the Syndicate is another group — a smaller group of bad-boy billionaires who the press already knows and loves.

We call ourselves the Trillionaire Boys’ Club. The Syndicate controls the world, and we control the Syndicate.

There’s only one man standing in my way.

And now there’s this girl in my way, too — this 18-year-old freshman who seems to think she knows my business better than I do.

Fortunately, there are ways to deal with both of them.

The Connector is the first book in the Trillionaire Boys Club series by Aubrey Parker. Each book tells the story of another of the Club’s members … so pay close attention, because you’re going to want to collect them all.

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IT’S ANNOYING, THE WAY I keep checking my Patek Philippe watch — and the rhodium and carbon fiber clock on the mantle — as two o’clock nears.

I have things to do. A million things to do. I don’t even have time to check my email, and that’s where so many connections are made. I’ve automated everything to save time: set it up once, then taught Geoffrey how to either do it himself or outsource it to someone competent.

That’s the way my calls and texts are handled, the way my appointments are made and my social calendar is taken care of. But the Syndicate has changed everything — all of the things I used to do are now like chores in the background. That’s right in a way; I hustled to amass my first billion, but now I’m playing a game that’s literally a thousand times bigger.

My day-to-day won’t matter at all when my network’s worth reaches a trillion. Then I could burn all that I’ve built, and it wouldn’t matter at all.

I’m so busy these days, I don’t stand for my own tailoring. Geoffrey found a guy with my exact build, tried an alteration on one of my suits, then calibrated once I found time to try them on. Now I use that same stand-in for all of my tailoring, because I’m too busy to stand in one place.

I barely attend my own meetings. I don’t answer my own phone.

I have to do my own workouts, unfortunately, but I have three personal trainers, a nutritionist, a cook, and several cross-discipline instructors for the sports I enjoy most, all at my disposal to tell me exactly what to do and when.

Geoffrey translates vague descriptions of clothing into wardrobe choices for the next day so that I don’t have to think.

Every fucking second is accounted for. My life has no wasted moments.

Yet here I am, sitting on my sofa with my laptop, ignoring the work at hand.

I keep looking at my watch, and glancing at the clock. Waiting for a knock from the single person the doorman has been instructed to allow entry.

She’s one minute late.

She’s two minutes late.

I thought about her all night long.

Alex Wynn is a distraction. I keep saying that to Geoffrey. But even though he’s supposed to be my gatekeeper — the man who has more sense than me sometimes, whose job is in part to save me from myself — Geoffrey’s done nothing to prevent this. I told him that I wanted to start coaching Alex, because if she was going to nose her way into my stuff, she should at least know what she’s doing. I told him that Alex was a wildcard, and that her unpredictability could sink us if she isn’t properly molded — taught the Nathan Turner way of doing things.

Geoffrey should have nodded, said, “Yes, Nathan, I agree,” and then set her up with any one of the faceless minions beneath me. She could have earned a real-world education that would eclipse the bullshit she’s learning in school, and it wouldn’t have cost her a dime. It all could have happened without my involvement, just a random series of emails or texts.

Instead, I answered when Alex called earlier. And I made the appointment.

Geoffrey sees it all and says nothing. He lets Alex sink her hooks in me, as if he’s trying to sabotage all that I’ve built.

I thought of her on my drive — alone, in my Bugatti — back to the office yesterday.

I thought about her through the rest of my demolished afternoon.

I thought about her over dinner, wondering what slop she was eating in her cafeteria while I ate charred lamb leg, with gnocco alla romana, shaved fennel, celery and vincotto. I even considered calling her to start our lessons early. If she’s to be my student, the least I should do is teach her to eat finer foods.

I thought about her in the evening.

I thought about her all night long, and then all day until she called — with me, Nathan Fucking Turner, waiting by the phone like a pathetic teenager.

Celeste also called, following her earlier thank-you for my college speaking gig with an offer to pay a visit. I know the code; her “visits” end in sweat and spent fluids. But I turn her down, tell her I’m busy. I don’t even know why until I’ve hung up, again answering my own phone even though I shouldn’t.

My mind continues to cycle.

Alex turns me on so much, it’s hard to think. I find her so hot, I feel practically sunburned. But it’s more than that.

I wonder if it’s that I think she could be an asset to the company. She has guts. Oblivious to the truth that she’s in over her head, she keeps right on swimming. She’s tough. She’s hard. She’s pushed back every time I’ve squared off against her. I dragged her into a closet to shout her down, but she stared me in the eye and backed me into a corner.

Nobody stares me down.

Nobody challenges my decisions or commands.

Nobody takes me by the balls, because I’m always three steps ahead.

Nobody but Alex.

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Author Info

I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.

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Book BLITZ - Almost Wrong by Aubrey Parker

Almost Wrong

by Aubrey Parker

Publication date: October 11^th 2016

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

BLURB

I’ve always hated Hunter Altman.

I hated him at first sight, in my teens, when my mother met his worthless father.

I hated when Bill moved in with us, dragging Hunter like bad baggage.

I hated when Mom and Bill made it official, turning the delinquent a-hole in the next room into my brand-new stepbrother.

I hated when I fell for Hunter, and Hunter fell for me.

It killed me when he left us behind, shed like dead skin on his way to the top. And now that Hunter is a hotshot music producer on every magazine cover, I hate him even more.

I hate his money. I hate his fancy toys. I hate that he thinks he owns me … or worse, that he OWES me.

I hate that he’s back. That he’s soiled our ghetto with his pristine suit, his fancy black limousine.

My heart hurts, I hate him so much. And it scares me that my heart might keep loving him in the end, beneath it all.

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EXCERPT:

“I guess we should talk,” Angela says.

I’m still wearing my tux shirt and pants, because going into the other room to change when she has nothing to swap seems rude. But at least I’ve ditched the jacket and tie. My sleeves are rolled up. She touches my forearm and gives me a chill I haven’t felt in forever.

“About what?” I ask.

“About us.”

I run a multibillion-dollar empire. I could buy and sell countries. People practically bow when I walk down the street. Still, those two words flutter my stomach.

“Okay. In what way?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Her hand makes firmer contact with my arm, her fingers soft and splayed. She’s already turned toward me, and as juvenile as it seems, I keep wanting to look at her cleavage.

This is so messed up. She’s my stepsister. Has been forever. And we’ve been through all this before, a thousand years ago.

“You know what way,” she says.

I swallow.

“What happened,” she says, “I won’t lie. I wanted it.”

I nod. I wanted it, too. But right now I can’t breathe a word and risk breaking the spell between us.

“But Hunter … it was wrong. We grew up together.”

I think that’s stretching it. We spent two years in adjacent rooms, and I was gone most of the time. I never wanted to be there at all.

I say none of that.

“At the time,” she says, “I was just a kid.”

“Me too.” I don’t like how I say it—almost like begging, as if I’m waiting for Angela to feel sorry for me.

“I didn’t know what was going on back then. You remember how I was, kind of in my shell. I guess you’d say I was a late bloomer. We happened to become … closer … right around the time I finally started to bloom.”

I don’t like this talk of blooming. I remember how she’d bloomed. I remember how she felt to the touch.

I’ve seen countless tits since leaving home. I’ve licked whipped cream and snorted coke off an endless parade of nipples. Breasts are two blobs of fat capped with tiny hats, and yet one of my most vivid, most sepia-tinged memories is of that day under the pier. There was something about the first time I saw her like that. She looked vulnerable — but at the same time, I could see her as a sexual being in a way I’d never been able to before. At first, she’d seemed childish, and later she’d seemed full of herself, prudish, naive.

But that day she’d been … Angela. Someone new. Someone who’d bloomed open from a closed bud, and I was there when it happened, tempted by forbidden fruit.

“But it was just hormones,” she says. “We’re older now. Wiser.”

I try to smile. It probably comes off sideways, maybe obnoxious—the jaded grin I’m afraid will convince her that I’m the asshole she’s always imagined I was. But it’s meant to soften the blow as I say, “Stop it. I already feel old at thirty, and you’re making me feel older.”

“You know what I mean, don’t you?” Her hand is still on my arm. If she’s trying to make a platonic point, her touch is driving me in the wrong direction.

“I guess.”

“Have you thought about me while you’ve been gone? You know … in that way?”

Which answer should I give her?

Yes.

Constantly.

Unceasingly.

Nobody could ever quite compare, and I may have gone through an entire modeling agency, like yanking tissues from a box, searching for something that felt the same.

Instead, I keep my face neutral. “I guess. Sometimes.”

Angela looks like she’s blunting her reply. “Me, too. Sometimes.”

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Author Info

I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.

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Book BLITZ - Hotel Indigo by Aubrey Parker

Hotel Indigo

by Aubrey Parker

Publication date: September 13^th 2016

Genres: Adult, Romance

At the luxurious Hotel Indigo, the staff is attentive and the heat is always on.

BLURB

Between her father’s funeral, stress from work, and her mother’s guilt, Lucy White has hit her boiling point. Something’s got to give, so she books a room at the exclusive Hotel Indigo spa to let it all go, and leave her worries behind.

Dark and brooding Marco is Indigo’s best masseur — always in demand, always under pressure to “make the ladies feel good.” According to the boss, Marco’s pay depends on talented hands and loose morals, but lately Marco has had enough. He’ll take one last high-paying client, then leave his tired past behind.

But paradise has other plans for both of them.

Once Lucy checks in and falls under Marco’s strong touch, she just may never check out.

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Buy Link: Amazon

—

Author Info

I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.

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BOOK BLITZ - Burning Rivalry (Trevor’s Harem, #2) by Aubrey Parker

 Burning Rivalry

(Trevor’s Harem, #2)

by Aubrey Parker

Publication date: February 16th 2016

Genres: New Adult, Romance

Good girls finish last.

The contest is heating up in every way imaginable.

Bridget still only wants one thing: the money she needs to sort out her life, and the lives of those who depend upon her. And so far, nothing has broken the boundaries of what she’ll do for that money—though that edge keeps pushing further and further each day. 

But now, battle lines are being drawn. Kylie versus Bridget, and everyone else falling over themselves to choose a side.

Kylie’s convinced Bridget wants to win, no matter what Bridget tells her to the contrary. And Kylie is determined that the top spot will go to her, and to her alone.

And all the while, Daniel Rice lurks at the edges of the contest—an unforgettable, unforgivable thorn in Bridget’s side, a ghost haunting her steps, a desperate need in her yearning core.

They say the competition can only have one winner. But the way things are going, Bridget isn’t sure there will even be that many.

Choose a side in Inferno Falls’ sexiest adventure yet.

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Sequel to:

—

I have zero interest in marrying Trevor, so I haven’t given that detail attention, but it’s clearly been on the other girls’ minds. I’ve seen it in their indecision. Since nobody is really telling us what to do and what’s good or bad by their definition — what earns us points versus losing them — the ad-hoc harem has been playing it by ear. Trevor runs a sex empire and likes having girls on his dick, so it makes sense to have a lot of sex and climb onto his cock. But it’s all been done halfway — Jess and I have discussed it. The saying goes that a man wants a woman who’s a lady in the parlor and a whore in the bedroom. Since this mansion is like half parlors, pretty much everyone is defaulting to whore in most places, but there’s always the danger of going too far. Of being too loose, too willing. Somewhere deep down, if he’s looking for a wife instead of a mistress, Trevor must want that lady half as well.

When Jess gave me that explanation yesterday, I laughed at her. Who gives a shit what Trevor wants? Why would she change who she was? Because he’s hot and loaded, duh.

I know she’s joking. Mostly. But some of these girls are kidding less than others, and I think they’d strangle their own mothers to get their conniving hooks in Trevor’s back.

So when Jessica pulls me aside and tells me that I really need to start paying attention because everyone else seems to know I’ve been selected for a date with Trevor, I’m not all that surprised. The time was going to come when we’d need to play at affection, and that’s fine so long as he doesn’t expect me to do shit I don’t want to do.

I am surprised, however, when Jessica tells me that there’s only one date today. Not everyone will have this chance to ooh and aah over our host and generally grovel for his attention. It’s a group date, just like TV taught me to expect.

One billionaire.

Three girls.

And somehow, despite doing my best to be invisible, I’m one of them.

Kylie walks by me and accidentally spills hot coffee all over me.

I realize she is, too.

Author Info: 

I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.

Author Links :

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

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