Blog number 18 – July 14, 2020                                                                                                                                                                  Meet the Men

Hey Gals…

JC here, fast on the tail end of my hot n’ steamy Dirty Dozen paperback giveaway.
Thanks to my friends who participated, as well as the large number of new-to-me romance devourers who signed on up. Glad to meet y’all! Happy to report the “DD” was a resounding success; garnering this author scads of new contacts, which is pretty much what this shit’s about, right?

I truly appreciate everyone who took the time to enter and especially the fellow authors, reviewers and bookstragammers who helped spread the word on their own busy pages. You guys seriously rock.

And the randomly-chosen winner is…

(dah da da da daahhh)

Shae M. of Denmark. Congratulations, Shae, and happy reading!

(Yes, Denmark. How cool is that? My very first promo, and the dirty net spread all the way across the pond. Which only goes to show: lovers of sexy prose know no boundaries.)

***

And now for some super-exciting news. Woo hoo, JC has a tasty surprise for you…

Ladies, get ready for my brand-new mini-novella:
Busted Hearts! ❤️❤️❤️

This fascinating journey into three alpha hero’s lovesick minds is smokin’ hot, diabolically witty, and best of all?

It’s. Freaking. FREE.

? Simply click here to snag this baby on BookFunnel.

Penned in the time frame between books two and three in my erotic romcom Breakaleg Trilogy, Busted Hearts chronicles the Big Apple “lost weekend” of testosterone-filled hours my hunky trio of kicked-to-the-curb hotties spend drowning their sorrows.

And I do mean drown.

Ah, the poor dears… Mercy, these dudes are in a baaaad way. And all that firewater they keep pouring down their throats isn’t exactly helping the tormented buddies think straight.

(Can somebody say bad-idea strip club visit? Blottoed booty-without-the-booty 2 a.m. phone calls? Horrific hangovers from hell?)

Yeah, not straight at all.

During this three-day roller coaster of bro-bonding, whiskey and regrets, you’ll meet the Breakaleg Men in high-def and droolworthy detail:

? Tommy, Need It, Bad   *Available now!

? Gash, Need It, Worse   *Available now! 

? Axel, Need It, Worse Than Bad   *Preorder now!

Caveat: this short and unsweet sizzler is written from three uncensored male point-of-views: chock full of raunchy profanity, snarky humor, and graphically steamy recollections of fantabulous time spent with their respective ladies.

Hear what I’m saying? This sucker is not for the prim and proper.

Everyone, else, dig in!

Here’s a tantalizing tidbit from inebriated Ax, who you’ll meet in September:

***

Fist strangling my brew, I addressed the who-knew-what-number Miller Ultra, instead of my buff, blue-collar relation. Examining a blurry label, I gruffed out a short and unsweet reply.

“Yeah, you should fuckin’ talk, Gannon. Downer? Gimme a break—your head’s in the same messed-up place mine is, if not worse. It takes one to know one, my just-dumped chump.”

A bitter laugh escaped me as I looked up, peering past Gash’s shoulder. Skewering the silent Tommy, I sneered at his handsome, hangdog mug. My chin jerked sideways as I slashed a hand in his hulking direction.

“And forget about you and me. I’d lay heavy green this unhappily married muttonhead gets the T-shirt for most unhinged of us all.”

Mouth twisting, I spewed out nonsensical, inebriated accusations, forefinger stabbing.

“Hell, he’s the one who found his woman first. He’s numero uno to get the axe. He’s the one who started this whole lousy karma ball of wax, the one who laid the shitty juju on all of—”

Jaw morphing into a boulder, Branson slapped a heavy palm on the scuzzy wood, sending our impressive battalion of empties wobbling. The thick band of gold hugging his third digit winked in the dim light as he interrupted, voice savage.

“Shut the goddamned hell up, Jameson, if you don’t want that pretty face of yours ruined. Keep your stupid fucking comments to yourself, huh?”

A murderous expression glazed those bloodshot orbs, and I zipped it, tilting my bottle with a shrug.

Fucking A. I might be bombed, but I wasn’t brainless, at least not yet.

***

Enjoy this complimentary read, a fun way of introducing my foul-mouthed yet tender-hearted guys to the masses, before the third and final adventure Need It Worse than Bad hits. (With, of course, a very happy ending for all.)

Soak up the sun and this quasi-bromance, don’t forget to spread the word to your buds, and please leave lots of fabulous reviews after reading.

And be sure to preorder Axel’s story!

In humor, lust, n’ love,

JC                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Meet the Men

Website: jcjaye.com 

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