Vegas and Stripped OH MY!

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Well the day has finally arrived. My super sexy new release Stripped is HERE! Have you heard what the reviews are saying? OH.MY.WORD. Here is a tiny peek below. Hope to see some of you in Vegas this weekend. I will have paperbacks of Stripped available for signing.

“You will need fans, ice, Valium!!!!! I wish I were kidding.” ~ Natasha is a Book Junkie

“Stripped has some of the hottest, most intense, emotionally moving sex scenes I’ve ever read. There’s a tremendous amount of buildup to finally get to the good stuff, and when you get there, the reward is page after page after page of emotional, intense, and creative sex. Well done, Jasinda. *slow clap* Well done.” ~ Smut Book Club

“A sensuous, erotic and breathtaking romance that breaks molds, shatters thoughts and makes you feel alive. Beautiful. Sinful. Sexy. The perfect read” ~ Angie’s Dreamy Reads

“One of the most addicting books of the year! Filled with seduction, struggle and star power, I couldn’t put this book down. And god, it’s absolutely off-the-charts, intensely hot! Get ready!”~ Vilma’s Book Blog

“Jasinda Wilder proves again why she is a bestselling author – Grey and Dawson will knock not only your socks off but the rest of your clothes as well; Seductive, Sexy and Sensational” ~ Whirlwindbooks

Slow building and then an explosion that leaves you so satisfied and wanting more. Smokin’ hot love scenes that will rival any that you’ve read before.~A Love Affair With Books

“Jasinda Wilder writes a powerful love story, that draws you in and holds you, either with compelling characters, story line or sweetly erotic love scenes.” ~ Ripe For Reader

You want a sexy read? You want to cry ugly tears and laugh out of loud at the same time? You want to swoon over a book worthy boyfriend? ….THEN READ STRIPPED!!! ~ Jacqueline’s Reads

“A virgin stripper? Reading the blurb had me intrigued, but finishing the book left me obsessed!” ~Dirty Girl Book Club


Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoy it.
Please think about leaving a review. Reviews are da bomb.

Hope you all have a great weekend.
Happy reading!

Stripped Blog Tour!

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BIG NEWS! The blogger blast for Stripped will be August 11-15 leading up to the release on the 16th.
Each day of the blast I will be giving away a $100 Amazon gift card.
Yep, 5 of them!
Make sure to follow the tour for the chance to win those as well as signed paperbacks and swag.
LOTS of prizes. I love my readers and I want to thank you for being so awesome.
Only four days until the fun starts!

Stripped Tease!

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Screen Shot 2013-07-09 at 5.02.48 PM

Happy Summer!

I’m so flipping excited about this little book I’m writing called Stripped. It is about two people who are all sorts of wrong for each other. He’s a hunky movie star and she’s a virgin stripper. Sounds good, right? I’m trying my first ever preorder on this one and you can get it from Amazon in ebook HERE  or in paperback HERE.

As promised here is a tiny tease. I really hope you like it!

See you soon!

xoxo Jasinda

Copyright © 2013 by Jasinda Wilder. All rights reserved.

“I’ll make this easy,” Dawson says. “You were at the club last night. You were Gracie. Now you’re here, and you’re Grey.”

I feel a rush of panic, and it comes out as anger. “There’s nothing to explain! You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? You saw what I do. What else do you want me to say?”

I push away off the counter, but my heel slips and I stumble. Strong arms catch me and hold me, lift me upright.

“Don’t touch me,” I snap, shoving away from him.

“Grey, it’s fine. I don’t care.”

“It’s not fine. I care.” I’m facing the door, with Dawson behind me.

His fingers touch my shoulder and effortlessly spin me around. I duck my head to avoid his eyes, because his gaze is all too intent, all too knowing. Just the touch of his fingers on my shoulder is enough to set my heart thumping. I was leaving, I was walking out, but I can’t move. I can’t pull away. He’s sucking me in to the orbit of his intensity. His touch is a riptide. It sucks me under. It’s a catalyst, igniting the fire of need. I need. Him, his touch, something. Anything. I don’t even know. Just him.

I panic and scramble away from him. “I have to go.”


“Away. I don’t know.” I yank the door open, but his hand catches my wrist and stops me. I jerk free. “I said don’t touch me! This won’t work, Mr. Kellor. I’ll have Kaz—I mean, Mr. Kazantzidis assign another intern for you.”

“I don’t think so.”

I don’t answer. Arguing is futile. I can’t do this. He’s too much. He knows. Working with him professionally, when he knows what I am…no. I can’t.

I go back to the conference room, and everyone asks if I’m okay. “I’m fine,” I say. “Kaz, can I have a word in private?”

He frowns but accompanies me to his office. I sit in the deep leather chair in front of his desk and wait for him to sit. “Is everything okay, Grey?”

I shake my head negative. “No, sir. I…I can’t accept this assignment.”

“Grey, I don’t understand. This is vitally important. This is potentially the biggest film this studio has ever worked on. It could gross billions. What’s the problem?”

I don’t know what to say, how to explain without explaining everything. “I just…I can’t work with Dawson Kellor.”

Kaz leans back in his chair. “God. I was wondering if this would come up.” He sighs and fiddles with his pen, spinning it around his fingers. “I know Dawson has a bit of…a reputation. But I’ve been assured his time away from Hollywood has matured him.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, at first, but then I remember reading a series of articles in various magazines about Dawson. He had a reputation as a hard-partying playboy, a womanizing type. A dog. There was a scandal involving a married assistant, and then another one with a famous actress, also already married. And that didn’t even touch the endless parade of girlfriends he’s been photographed with. He had a different woman on his arm in every photograph, several of whom sold stories to the media about his predilections in the bedroom. He liked dirty sex, according to the stories. And a lot of it. The scandals mounted and swirled around him like a hurricane, but through it all he kept acting, and each role was better than the last, so he kept getting roles. Over time, though, actresses and assistants refused to work with him, which started cutting into the demand for him as an actor. Then there were allegations of rape, and that was when Dawson vanished from the public eye for the last few years. This role as Rhett Butler was going to be his big comeback, his reboot of his career and his image.

“Did he make a pass at you?” Kaz asks.

I want to say he did. I want to put it all on Dawson, let his reputation win the fight for me. But I can’t. I shake my head. “No, it’s not that.”

“Well then I confess I don’t understand. What’s the problem?”

I’m near tears. I breathe and try to focus. “It’s…I just can’t, Kaz. I’m sorry. I just…can’t.”

Kaz pinches the bridge of his nose. “Grey, I like you. You’re hard working, you’re smart, and you really seem to love the business. I want to hire you full-time. I really do. I think you could go far. But…if you refuse this, my hands are tied. Unless you have accusations to level at Dawson, you need to do this. This is the biggest opportunity of your life. It could make your career, but if you don’t do it, it will break it. I’m being honest with you.”

I do cry then, a few tears leaking out. “I get it.”

“Why don’t you go home and think about it?”

I nod. “I will, sir. Thank you.”

Rising on unsteady feet, I leave his office, ride the elevator down and walk the two and a half blocks to the bus stop. I don’t hear him behind me until it’s too late.

“Where are you going?” His voice is right behind me, buzzing intimately in my ear.

I jump, and then hunch forward, away from him, away from his intense presence. “Home.”

“What are you afraid of…Gracie?”

I whirl in place and have to restrain my impulse to slap him. “That’s not my name. Don’t call me that, and don’t touch me.” If he touches me, I’m lost. Something bad will happen. I know what will happen.

He closes the space between us, and despite the scorching early-evening heat, he’s perfectly unruffled. His hair is perfect, his clothes are dry. My armpits are sweating and my forehead is dotted with moisture and my hands are shaking. It’s after seven in the evening and I haven’t eaten since six this morning and I’m getting dizzy. But all this is irrelevant in the face of his proximity. He’s not even an inch away. My breasts are brushing his chest. I remember how his eyes looked at me, how he devoured me with his eyes. He wanted me. But he saw me, too. Saw me, saw into me.

You don’t belong here, he’d said.

And then he kissed me. He’s that close again, and I’m drowning. If he presses his mouth to mine I won’t be able to stop him.

My stomach growls then, and a wave of dizziness crushes me. I sway on my feet, and I’d fall if it weren’t for an iron arm around my waist holding me up.

“You need to eat.”

I shake free of him. “I’m fine. I just need to get back to my dorm.” I stumble again as I try to get away from him. I lean against the bus stop sign and struggle for steadiness and for breath and against the nausea.

“You’re not fine. Let me drive you home,” he says. I wish it was home. It’s just a dorm room; it’s not home. I don’t have a home. I shake my head and cling to the sign.

He glares at me, seeming affronted by my stubbornness. “You’re going to pass out.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head and spins on his heel. I hear him mutter under his breath: “Stupid ass.”

“I heard that,” I mumble.

He doesn’t answer, just strides away. I can’t help watch him; he moves like a predator, like a panther stalking through the grass. I clench my eyes closed and push away the unphysical hunger in my gut. Something in him speaks to me, calls me. It’s not just that’s he’s so beautiful as to be beyond words or description. It’s something in him. Some magnetic draw in his eyes and his presence dragging me into him.

Tires squeal, and a sleek mirror-silver car, the one I’d seen in the parking lot, roars toward me. No. No. He’s so persistent and I can’t resist him but I should. I have to.

He skids to a stop in the middle of the curb-side lane, flings open his door, heedless of the traffic piling up behind him, unmindful of the horns and the shouts. His eyes are different. Blue, and angry. He jerks open the passenger door, wraps an arm around my waist, easily and ungently shoves me into the car. The door closes, and then he fills the driver’s side and I’m assaulted by his scent, cologne and sweat. The car is cool, air conditioning blasting. Rock music blares from the speakers, something hard and heavy. I’m dizzy, so dizzy. The world spins, and all I know is Dawson next to me, a bead of sweat trickling down his tan neck and under his shirt collar, and the chugging guitars and thumping drums of the heavy metal and the rocking motion of Dawson’s driving. I’m cognizant of the power of this vehicle, the effortless speed. I glance at the dashboard and he’s doing sixty, weaving through traffic with mad and reckless skill. I remember that he did a movie in which he played a stunt driver, and the rumors were that he did nearly all of the driving stunts himself. I close my eyes as we carve through an intersection, blowing a red light and nearly causing a wreck behind us. I’m pressed against the seat, struggling to breathe, fighting nausea. I would vomit, but I have nothing to bring up. Bile is bitter in my mouth, and I swallow it.

This car is worth more than I’ll see in my life, and he’s driving with an absolute disregard for it, or our safety. I’m flung forward as we skid to a stop. My door is opened, and the belt I don’t remember buckling is unlatched. I’m lifted from the car by powerful arms. Dawson, of course. I smell him, some kind of faint but heady cologne and sweat and man. I recognize the way my body reacts to his presence.

I fight against him. “Put me down.”


I look around me. We’re on the USC campus, and the entire student body is watching, it feels like. I hear whispers. I see people holding up cell phones and snapping pictures.

“Which building?” His voice is silky and intimate, almost gentle. Almost.

I point, and he makes a beeline for it. I’m nothing in his arms. He moves as if unencumbered. “Please. Put me down. I can walk.”

“No.” He pushes open the door and pauses.

“Second floor. Two-sixteen.”

Word has spread and doors are opening as we ascend. I hear whispers, hear the electronic click of cell phone cameras.

“That’s Dawson Kellor!” I hear the shriek of a female voice. “Ohmigod, that’s Dawson! Can I have your autograph! Please? Do you want to come in?”

He ignores her, brushes past brusquely. “Not now, ladies. I’ll sign a few autographs after I leave.” Something in his voice brooks no arguments.

He’s at my door, somehow twisting the knob without letting go of me. I hear the tell-tale moans of Lizzie and her latest boyfriend. “Boy-toy”, as she calls them. They are toys to her, too; she goes through boys faster than she does outfits. The door bangs open, thumping against the door and shuddering noisily as it swings back toward the frame.

“Ohmygod, what the hell—” I hear Lizzie start, and then she recognizes who it is barging through. “Dawson Kellor? Grey, what’s going on? What’s he doing here? Ohmygod, you’re even more gorgeous in person, Mr. Kellor! I love you so much! Can you do the line?”

I feel Dawson tense around me, his hands turning to steel around my shoulders and under my knees. “Not now, Lizzie. I’m not feeling well. Can you give me a minute?”

“But…but we’re—” Lizzie protests.

“Leave. Now.” Dawson growls, and the sound is pure threat.

I’m twisting in Dawson’s arms to see Lizzie fumbling from under the sheet to grab her panties next to the bed, and then her current boy-flavor does the same, but he accidentally kicks away the sheet and they’re both left naked. Lizzie squeals, smacks him on the arm and scrambles into her panties, covering her breasts with one arm. Dawson hasn’t put me down, and even though I’m a solid one-forty, he’s holding me with complete effortlessness. He just waits impassively while Lizzie tugs on her clothes. The boy—who really is a boy, a good-looking blond freshman with a big build which he hasn’t entirely grown into yet—jams his feet into his jeans and hops out with his shirt in one hand and ADIDAS sports sandals in the other. It’s an awkward dance which he does with enough familiarity to make me think he’s done it many times. When they’re gone, Dawson looks around the room for somewhere to set me down. I kick my feet and he reluctantly sets me down on my feet, but his hands don’t leave my arms.

I wriggle in his grip and move away to sit in my desk chair. “I’m fine, Dawson. Really.” My stomach growls again, and his brows furrow.

“When was the last time you ate?” He demands.

I shrug. “I don’t know. This morning?” I don’t lie well, or easily, and Dawson just lifts an eyebrow at me. I sigh, and mutter,“Before class. Six?”

Dawson’s face contorts. “You haven’t eaten in twelve hours? And you walked how many blocks to the office?”

I dig a Powerbar out of my desk and unwrap it, holding it by the wrapper. “I’m fine. See? Dinner. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m used to it.”

“Used to it? Meaning you routinely go twelve hours between meals?” When I just shrug again, he growls. “That’s not healthy. And a Powerbar isn’t dinner.”

He rummages in the minifridge, but I stop him. “That’s Lizzie’s. Nothing in there is mine.” I open my snack drawer in my desk, where I keep Powerbars, granola bars, a bag of bagels, and some Stacy’s Simply Naked Pita Chips.

Dawson just stares at me. “Where’s the rest?”

“The rest of what?” I ask between bites.

“Your food. What do you eat?”

I shrug again, and then determine to not do it again. I seem to shrug all too often around Dawson, and I’ve only known him for two hours, if that. “I eat. Just not here. I have a bagel in the morning, and I sometimes grab a snack from a vending machine between classes. I have dinner at work.”

“And lunch?”

I’m getting irritated. I crumple the wrapper and toss it in the little round white garbage can under my desk, which is filled with wrappers. “Why are you so interested in my eating habits?”

Dawson just stares at me. His eyes were a light shade of blue when he was angry, out on the street. Now they’re back to a muted hazel. I can’t look away, can’t take my eyes off his. Off him. His jaw shifts, and I realize he’s grinding his teeth, thinking. He digs a cell phone out of his pocket, and I’m kind of nonplussed to realize it’s an iPhone. After the expensive sports car, I expected him to have some kind of space-age gadget from a scifi movie, not a basic black iPhone 5. He taps at it a few times and then holds it to his ear.

“Hey Greg. Yeah, look I’m on the USC campus and I need some food delivered.” He turns to look at me. “Are you a vegetarian or anything weird?”

I shake my head. “No, but—”

He glances away from me and speaks into the phone once more. “Just a spread of food, I guess. Sandwiches, burgers, whatever. Yeah, campus housing—” he gives basic directions to my dorm room. “Oh, and Greg, bring the Rover and the set of spare keys. I’ll drive you back in the Bugatti. Cool, bye.”

Bugatti. That must be the silvery-mirror car.

He stuffs the phone back in his pocket and slumps into Lizzie’s desk chair. Before I know what’s happening, he has my legs on his knees and his hands and fingers are kneading into my right foot. It’s shockingly intimate, sensual, and not a little scary. I want to take my foot back, but he won’t let go. He holds my foot by the ankle and digs into the arch of my foot with a thumb. It feels so good I can’t stop a groan from escaping. It’s a loud, embarrassing sound, and I clap my hand over my mouth. Dawson just smiles, and the small, pleased grin on his lips makes him so beautiful my breath catches in my lungs.

His touch on my foot is like…it’s sinful. It makes me feel things I don’t understand, makes my stomach roil, makes things flip and twist. Something happens down low, near my core. I can’t help but relax into my chair as he massages my feet. And then I realize I’ve been on my feet all day and they probably stink. I jerk my feet away and tuck them under my leg, keeping the fabric of my skirt modestly draped over me.

“Don’t like foot massages?” He seems amused, a twinkle in his eye.

“No, I just…they stink. That’s gross.”

“Your feet don’t stink.” He leans forward and grabs my foot. His hand is on my thigh, near my backside, as he tugs my feet back out. “Now give them here. I wasn’t done.”


“Why what?” He resumes his slow, thorough massaging of my right foot.

I start to shrug again, and then stop, which ends up in an awkward roll of my shoulder. “Why are you here? Why did you…why are doing all this?”

His eyes are intense, going dark and stormy as he regards me and considers his answer. “Because I want to.”

“But why?”

He doesn’t answer, but instead returns with his own question. “Why are you questioning it?”

“Because you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be rubbing my foot. You should just go home and leave me alone.”

“But that’s not what you want. And it’s not what I want.”

Damn him, he’s right. I want him here. I want this foot massage. His presence is…intoxicating. I’m drunk on his proximity. This is all a dream I’ll wake up from, I’m sure. But I don’t want to.

“You don’t know what I want,” I say. It’s a lie, and I’m a bad liar.

He doesn’t answer again, just sets my right foot down on his thigh and picks up my left, and his fingers slid along my calf, his thumb rolls into my arch, eliciting another moan from me. And then his fingers slide a little higher, toward the underside of my knee, and it’s too much.

                                         To pre order now on click HERE.



Stripped is coming August 16th!

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Just wanted to let you know that my newest release Stripped will be out on August 16th. You can preorder it HERE on Amazon for $4.99.

This book is a tiny bit Flashdance some Footloose and some Pretty Woman. I’m really excited about it and I hope you all enjoy it!


So how did I get myself into this situation, you ask? Simple: desperation. When you’re faced with being homeless and hungry or taking off your clothes for money, the choice is easier than you’d imagine. That doesn’t make it easy, though. Oh no. I hate it, in fact. There’s nothing I’d like more than to quit and never go into another bar again, never hear the techno beat pulsing in my ears again, never feel the lecherous gazes of horny men again.

Then, one day, I meet a man. He’s in my club, front and center. He watches me do my routine, and his gaze is full of hunger. Not the kind of desire I’m used to though. It’s something different. Something hotter, deeper, and more possessive. I know who he is; of course I do. Everyone knows who Dawson Kellor is. He’s People Magazine’s Sexiest Man alive. He’s the hottest actor in Hollywood. He’s the man hand-picked for the role of Rhett Butler in the long-awaited remake of Gone With the Wind.

He’s the kind of man who can have any woman in the entire world with a mere crook of his finger. So what’s he doing looking at me like he has to have me? And how do I resist him when he looks at me with those intoxicating, changeable, quicksilver eyes?

I’m a virgin, and he’s an American icon of male sexuality. I’m a stripper, and he’s a man used to getting anything and everything he wants. And he wants me. I know I should say no, I know he’s the worst kind of player…but what my mind knows, my body and my heart may not.

And then things get complicated.


Stripped AmazonGRSW



Exciting: Big Girls Do It Pregnant release AND my first ever RT Convention!

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Hey everyone! I just wanted to drop a line and say hi. It seems like forever since I sent out the last email about Falling Into You. So much has happened since then. Four weeks on the NYT list, five weeks on USA Today. Wow. It all seems like a dream. Thank you for all the love and support. I’m so grateful. Please be on the lookout for lots of info about the follow up book Falling Into Us, coming soon. I will post some teasers soon.

I’m here at my very first RT conference in Kansas City, MO and I’m having a blast, speaking on panels, meeting awesome authors, attending great parties. What an awesome event. I wish you all were here.

I’ve been hanging out at RT with the great ladies from The Indie Voice. If you haven’t checked out that website and Facebook page, please do. We are giving away $1,000 or a Macbook Air and I’d love one of my readers to win. Check it out at Sign up for the newsletter too because we plan to do a big giveaway for our readers each month. I hear Liliana Hart is giving away a Coach purse…

I have been waiting for all the links to come up for Big Girls at all stores but B&N is being slow. Here are all of them except that one. I’m crossing fingers that B&N pops up soon. Just click on the links below to purchase Big Girls Do It Pregnant. Thank you so much for reading! I love you guys, have a great weekend.

Amazon US
Amazon UK

Happy reading!

Big Girls Do It Pregnant (teaser #2) – Explicit

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Warning this teaser is not for those under the age of 18 or those that don’t enjoy reading about sexy times. 

Chapter 7: ANNA
I heard my phone ringing. It was distant, hazy. I struggled up through the fog of sleep, reaching for it even as I felt Jeff stir next to me, nudging me with his foot and mumbling, “Phone’s ringing.”
I snagged it off the nightstand and brought it to my ear. I’d forgotten it was plugged in, though, so the cord jerked it out of my hands to fall, still ringing, between the nightstand and the bed. I cursed floridly, reaching for it, unable to quite grasp it. Still swearing, I finally managed to grab it with my thumb and forefinger, swiping the ‘answer’ tab immediately.
“Hello?” I sounded out of breath and frustrated. The clock on the nightstand read eight-oh-six in the morning.
“Uh, hi, Anna. It’s Chase.” He sounded exhausted and exhilarated.
“Hi Chase. How’s Jamie?” I felt Jeff sit up next to me.
“She had the baby about an hour ago.”
“An hour ago?” I shrieked. “She was supposed to call me first so I could be there! God, we’re so fighting!”
Chase laughed. “I’ll tell her you said that. Things happened really suddenly, though. We were in a holding pattern for a long time, just waiting. Then her water broke and she had the baby within like, fifteen minutes.”
“Gotcha. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Congrats, Chase! You’re daddy! How does it feel?”
“It’s amazing. It was, no lie, the most incredible experience of my entire life.” I heard him sigh, holding the phone away from his mouth. “She’s actually sleeping right now, but they’re going to move us to a recovery room soon. Well, soon in hospital terms.”
“So like, four hours?” I said.
“Exactly. Have some breakfast before you come up. There’s no rush. We’ll be here.”
“Ok. What room are you in?” I asked.
“I’ll text you the room number when we get moved.”
“Okay.” I paused. “Chase? I’m happy for you. You’ll be a great daddy.”
“Thanks, Anna.” He hung up, and I flopped back on the bed.
“She had the baby an hour ago,” I said.
“Well, lets get our asses up and showered, have some breakfast, and go see them.” Jeff suited action to words, moving into the bathroom and starting the shower.
Instead of getting in himself, though, he returned to the bed and dragged me out, pushing me to the bathroom, stripping me of my nightshirt and panties in the process. I had been laughing up until he pushed my panties off and knelt in front of me on the bathroom tile, a hungry look on his face. I leaned back against the sink, staring down at Jeff’s blazing brown eyes. He ran his hands up from my ankles to my knees, up the backs of my thighs, carving hot trails around between them in a teasing brush along my folds.
My breath caught and I closed my eyes in anticipation. I felt his fingers close around my ankle and lift. I cooperated, setting my foot on the closed lid of the toilet, holding the edge of the sink with both hands for balance. His fingers slid up the inside of my thigh, sliced through my folds and swiped through the slick heat deep inside me. I gasped and felt my knees weaken, then buckle when his tongue slid against my clit and began slow circles around it. I let go of the sink with one hand to run my fingers through his soft, brown, close-cropped hair, pulling him against me as the fire began to boil in my core. Two fingers slipped inside me and curled against my G-spot, buckling my knees again and sending lances of lightning through me.
I felt myself riding the edge, teetering on the brink of climax. Instead of letting him bring me over the edge, I tugged him up, tilting his face away from my core. “I need you. I want you inside me. I want us to come together.”
He stood up slowly, and I felt the tip of his cock nudge against me. I wrapped my leg around his hip and he held it there, lifting up on his toes to enter me. As he slid into me, he leaned in to kiss me, his tongue spearing into my mouth. My belly was in the way, though, so he had to lean back to thrust into me. I still had one hand gripping the sink for balance, and I put my other hand on his shoulder, pulling myself up and sliding down to meet his thrust. He leaned away from me, stretching his cock as far as it would comfortably go, and we both watched as he drew out and slid back in, setting a slow rhythm. I watched my folds stretch around him, watched his thick length driving in and sliding out, finding something erotic in the play of skin against skin, against the wet glistening of his cock and the way we fit together so perfectly.
Jeff’s free hand slipped between our bodies to touch the hypersensitive nub of my clit, barely touching it, brushing it with a feather-light touch that had me jerking and arching my back, needing more, wanting all he could give me.
The only sound was our bodies meeting, wet sliding, slick sucking, mouths kissing and breath gasping, fingers scratching and scraping. Then the heat billowed through me and stirred me hotter and Jeff’s strokes grew frantic and his fingers on my clit circled rough and pushed against me and made me wild and touched me so perfectly. He lifted up on his toes and jerked me closer by the leg, fingers clutching my thigh and pulling me behind the knee, and each thrust of his cock had me gasping, sent my body to trembling and spasming and gasping. My head lolled back on my shoulders and I felt my breasts bouncing with each thrust, and I knew he was still holding himself back, still forcing himself into a measure of gentility and I loved him all the more for it.
 I careened over the edge into climax without warning, digging my fingers into his bicep and whispering his name in a breathless prayer. I felt him release in that moment, at the exact instant of my orgasm. I knew he’d been keeping it back, holding, waiting until I came. God, the man always, always knew how to give me exactly what I needed.
Is it bad that one of the things I loved most about my relationship with Jeff was our sex life? I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s the only thing, and it’s not the thing I love the most about Jeff as a man, but our sexual relationship never failed to leave me breathless. Even when it was plain old vanilla missionary in the dark on a Sunday night, it was perfect. He was perfect. Slow and sweet when I needed him tender, rough and ready fucking when I needed him powerful and erotic.
And this? Standing up in the bathroom, thirty-four weeks pregnant? God, so amazing.
If you’d told me yesterday that I’d be fucking Jeff like this, I’d have laughed at you. I’d have told you there was no way I could manage standing sex at this stage of my pregnancy. Yet here I am, coming so hard I can barely breathe, clutching Jeff for dear life as my entire body convulses, my leg slipping from his grip and driving him deeper inside me, his cock still spasming and thrusting, our mouths crashing together in a rough and raw kiss of desperate love, furious expression of need.
We breathed together for long minutes as we regained our bearings.
And then contractions struck. The first one hit me like a ton of bricks, my womb clamping down with enough force to leave me doubled over, gasping for breath.
“Anna? Shit, Anna?”
I pulled myself upright, clinging to Jeff with both hands as another contraction hit me hard on heels of the first.  “It should pass,” I gasped. “Sex can cause contractions, but it rarely induces labor. Just…just give me a minute.”
I felt Jeff’s worried gaze on me, and but I ignored it, resting my cheek on his chest and breathing through the pain. Finally the contraction left me and I was able to straighten and stand on my own.
“See?” I said, “It’s gone.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t—” Jeff started.
“Oh hell no,” I interrupted. “Unless the doctor tells us we can’t, you’re not taking away my orgasms. Especially since I’ll be without them for six weeks after the birth. I read on some internet mommy’s chat-board that these contractions are actually good somehow. They soften the cervix or something.”
Jeff frowned. “It looked painful.”
I shrugged. “It was. It’s worth it to me, though.” I pushed him toward the shower, which was still running. “Now get in, before we don’t have any hot water left.”

Big Girls and Rock Stars Do It reading order

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I’ve been getting emails asking for the Big Girls and Rock Stars Do It series reading order. Here it is with all books listed. Even if you haven’t read all of the books I think you can enjoy Big Girls Do It Pregnant. You will enjoy them the most if you have read them all first. Happy reading! Big Girls Do It Pregnant should publish next week. I should also have some fun and exciting news to go along with it. Have a great week!

Big Girls Do It Pregnant (super tiny teaser Tuesday)

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Chapter 2: JAMIE:

It was the day of the ultrasound, and I’d been fighting tears all day. Chase had called me the day before to tell me he had an interview today and wouldn’t be at the appointment. I knew it was silly. I knew it was just an ultrasound. At least, that was what I told myself to keep myself calm. He’d be here if he could.
Right? It was hard not to question everything, with the way my emotions were running rampant.
I sat in the waiting room, reading through old text conversations between Chase and I, just to feel any kind of a connection with him. My heart was in my throat, my eyes burning. A nurse in maroon scrubs called my name, and I followed her down a short hallway, where she weighed me, and then ushered me into a dimly lit room. I slid onto the elevated chair, my phone clutched in my fist, waiting for the technician.
My phone buzzed in my hand and I slid the green icon across the lock screen to open the text thread. You have wifi access right now? 
I went through the requisite steps to access the guest wifi for the doctor’s office, and then texted him back. Yep. Why?
The three dots in a gray bubble appeared, and his response came through a few seconds later. I put the interview on hold until after your appointment. FaceTime me.
I put my hand over my mouth and held back a sob. He’d found a way to be here anyway. I sucked in a deep breath to calm myself, hating how emotional I was all the time. I’d never been the kind of girl to cry at every little thing, so this was especially frustrating, since I couldn’t stop it. The technician came in and sat down in her chair, greeting me. She was a thin, younger woman with black hair cut in a short bob, and she had the coldest hands I’d ever felt.
The nurse tapped at the keyboard, slid my shirt up, lined the waistband of my yoga pants with a white towel before slathering the frigid blue goo on my belly.
“Is it okay if I have my husband on the phone with me for this?” I asked her. “He couldn’t be here for the appointment, but he wants to involved.”
“Sure,” the technician responded without looking away from her screen.
I tapped the FaceTime button on my phone and after a few rings, Chase’s face appeared on the screen of my iPhone. I smiled at him and we talked about the upcoming interview forSpin. When the nurse began sliding the wand across my stomach, Chase asked me to show him what was going on. I turned the phone around and showed him to the nurse, who flashed him a distracted and slightly irritated smile, which turned to awe when she realized who he was. I showed him the ultrasound equipment, and then focused on the screen showing the baby.
The nurse hit a key and the room was filled with the distorted thumpthump—thumpthump of the heartbeat, and Chase gave a choked laugh at the sound. “Is that the heartbeat?” he asked.
“Yes,” the nurse replied. “And it’s a good one. I’m gonna see if I can get a good shot at the gender now.”
I swiveled the phone so I could see Chase, and felt love for him ripple through me at the emotions I saw written on his features.
“Where are you?” I asked him.
“I’m in the hotel room in Columbus,” he replied. “The guys are all down in the conference room waiting for the interview to start.”
“Oh, here, look!” The nurse pointed at the screen, holding the wand low on my belly at an angle.
I turned the phone so Chase could see the monitor clearly. There was a blob of white against grainy black, moving and shimmering as the baby wiggled inside me. I couldn’t make anything out at first, but then I realized what I was seeing.
“It’s a girl, Chase, you see it?” My throat was thick as I spoke, and I mentally cursed the damned emotions.
“I see, baby. I see. It’s a girl. Our daughter.” He was equally as emotional, so I didn’t feel as embarrassed by my own.
I turned the phone back to me, seeing a single tear streak down Chase’s face. “God damn it, Jay. I wish I was there with you. We’re having a daughter. A baby girl.” He wiped his face and forced a laugh out. “It didn’t seem really real until now, you know? Seeing it there on the screen made it…god. Fuck, I’m really going to be a father.” He scrubbed his palm over his scalp, which was now darkened by growing hair.
“I know what you mean,” I said. “I knew it was real because I’m the one with the baby growing inside me, but this makes it all the more real.”
“Do you guys have a name picked out?” the nurse asked.
“We’ve discussed a few,” I said. “He likes Beth and I like Samantha.  We haven’t decided yet.”
“Actually,” Chase cut in, “I’ve been thinking, and I want to go with Samantha. Sam.”
I looked at him in surprise, seeing the satisfaction cross his face. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He smiled at me, and I wished I could run my fingers down his cheek. “Samantha Delany. It’s got a great ring to it, don’t you think?”
I could only nod until I had control of myself. So damn emotional. Ugh. I sucked in a deep breath and smiled at him. “Yeah, it does. Sam Delany.” I laughed. “I knew you’d see things my way.”
“Don’t I usually?” He asked.
The nurse smiled at our conversation as she continued to tap keys and shift the wand. “The rest of the appointment is just taking measurements and stuff. I heard Dad mention an interview, so if you have to go, you won’t be missing anything dramatic.”
I blew a kiss at the phone. “Call me after the interview,” I said.
“I will,” Chase said. “I’ve been told I have a couple days between shows after Columbus, so I’m going to fly back. We’ll do the nursery all in pink or whatever you want then, okay?”
I said goodbye, and we hung up. As the appointment wound down, I found myself alternating between a confusing welter of emotions. I was ecstatic at the thought of having a daughter, and I was so grateful to Chase for making the effort to be as involved as possible in the ultrasound; on the other hand, I was still terrified.
I stopped in the hallway as the thought hit me. I’d been skirting it for awhile, but now it was out there. I was terrified. I’d never had to take care of anyone but myself. Even now that I was married to Chase, I was still basically independent most of the time. I’d held babies on a handful of occasions, when friends had them, but that was it. I had never interacted with a baby for longer than ten or fifteen minutes.
And Chase would be gone for much of it.
Could I do this?

Falling Into Us

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I just want to thank all of my readers for making Falling Into You a bestseller! I was floored to learn that it made both the NY Times and USA Today lists this week! Just AMAZING. I can’t even express the feeling. I’ve been overwhelmed with emails and messages asking if I could continue the story. I honestly had a really difficult time trying to figure out if I could. I have plotted out what I’m calling a parallel book. It’s isn’t really a sequel and it isn’t a POV change. It’s more of a expansion. When Kyle dies it didn’t just change Kyle’s life but everyone’s. I think that this book will give you more Nell and Colton but also examine some other characters that also have a story to tell. I hope you’re as excited as I am for Falling Into Us. Coming early summer 2013.

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