Book Blitz with Giveaway & Excerpts: Hot Zone Boxset

Hot Zone Boxed Set
Publication date: June 15th 2017
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense


Five bestselling romance authors give you this steamy, sexy and sizzling compilation of sports star stories. From sweet-hot baseball players to smokin’ snowboarders to rich Italian race car drivers, there’s something here for everyone. This collection features the best in New Adult sports romance, all with the promise of happy-ever-after.Hundreds of pages for one amazing price. Grab a cold beverage, sit by the pool and get into the Hot Zone — with your next book boyfriend.

Authors include 2017 RITA nominee Lyssa Kay Adams, Lilly Christine, Tamara Lush, Rae Anne Hadley and Lyssa Lane.

Goodreads / Amazon

On sale for 99¢ until release day only!

What’s included:

Lyssa Kay Adams: The PROSPECT

Baseball star Jax Tanner is everything Bree McTavish has been warned about. Easy smiles. Lethal charm. Sexy promises, satisfaction guaranteed. He’s a prospect! When Cinderella meets baseball, secrets and dreams collide in the greatest grand slam of all. . .


“You lied to me,” he accuses.

“Of course, I lied! You really think that night meant nothing to me? It meant everything to me!”

“Then why?” he cries, wrapping his hands around my arms. “Why did you run away? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

“Because you’re a prospect!” I blurt, angry and thick-voiced.

“What?” He stumbles back.

“You’re him,” I shout. “The one they warn us about when we’re growing up here. The one who has all the looks and all the smiles. The one with big promises who will charm the pants off any girl they want and then leave.”

He can barely contain his fury as he sputters a response. “Charm the pants off …? Is that what you think I was doing that night? That I’m trying to do now? You think you’re just some ball bunny I’m trying to score with?”


“Then what the hell did you mean?”

“You’re a prospect,” I say again, as if emphasizing the word will somehow make it mean more this time. “And there just aren’t a lot of prospects for a girl like me. Not with a guy like you.”

“Well, this is your lucky day, Bree,” he breathes, voice a low rumble as he closes the distance between us again. “Because I’m not much of a prospect anymore.”

Then he grips the back of my head.

And kisses me.

My body reacts instinctively, like a cannonball into a cold lake. I stiffen and suck in a gasp at the shock of it, the surprise of it, the giddy recklessness of it.

But in the next instant, as his fingers relax and weave into my hair, as his mouth softens against mine with a low moan, and as his other hand finds a home on the small of my back, I start to sink. Memory and longing drag me under.

A murky voice in the back of my mind tries to throw me a line and yells at me to grab on because it’s only going to hurt in the end, that I’m just feeling vulnerable and needy right now, that even if I manage to crest the surface again, I’m going to end up coughing and sputtering on the beach when he leaves.

For two years, I’ve been kicking against this current, barely keeping my head above the crashing waves of my want for him. But now I’m drowning all over again, helpless in his rogue wave. And all I can do is swim to him.

Lilly Christine: SNOWSLAMMER

Smokin’ hot snowboarder Shane McGreer shows intern Candace Bamberger legendary moves, and not just in halfpipe! It’s hot burn at high altitude and Shane wins big, but Candi’s heart and conscience are both on the skids. Then tragedy strikes, slamming them both back to a chilling reality. . .


“You’re Candace, right?”

Shane took her in, from the tips of her newish Uggs all the way up to her shy, embarrassed eyes. Tossing his head, so a mop of dark curls lifted and settled against his cheeks, coarse with day old scruff, a thrill shot down her middle, and she felt her face go red. Her reaction was silly; of course she’d expected Shane McGreer, one of Team Method’s stars. She was shadowing Method’s men’s team manager, Dave, right?

But still.

Nationals had been when they were fourteen, and he’d been tipsy at the wedding; there was no way she ever thought he’d remember her. But now Shane McGreer was towering over her, big and bold. . . and amazing.

Really amazing.

Flustered, she stammered, “How do you. . .?”

“Dave told me we’d be flying in around the same time, to keep an eye out for you,” he drawled, loose and lazy. “I recognized you, too, of course.”

“You do?” she asked, too high-pitched, too pleased that he remembered her.

“Yeah. You’re really pretty.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Candace stammered, trying to calm her voice, not sure what else to say.

Oh. My. God!

Alright, her hair was her best feature, long and tawny blonde and curly, but where Shane was tall and lean, Candace was short and dumpy. Not dumpy, exactly, but round and full and curvy. Okay, her tummy was flat, but she had hips. And a butt. Anyway, her body had proven great for snowboarding and gymnastics: with a low center of gravity, she’d always nailed inverts and rotations.

Shane was still looking her over. Which made her nervous, more so because it seemed like he liked what he saw. “So. . . ” she said lamely.

Grabbing his own snowboard bag from the floor, Shane plucked hers from the floor too, slugging it over his broadly-muscled shoulder, taught under the Method graphic t-shirt he wore. “You brought a heckuva lot of gear for a event that only lasts five days, Candace Bamberger. C’mon, our SUV is parked outside. I already grabbed the rental keys. You and I are the only afternoon arrivals. The rest of the crew is coming in tonight, with Dave.”


Fast. Seductive. Italian. The first female tire changer in open-wheel racing, Savannah Jenkins is lured into deception with irresistible driver Dante Annunziata. Suddenly, she’s no pioneer. . she feels like his mistress! The race is on to save her heart from. . everything.


I took a deep breath and tried not to stare as he peeled the shirt off. He had perfectly-defined shoulder muscles and a V starting at his hips and dipping down below his coveralls. He wasn’t bodybuilder-muscular, but was cut as if carved from Roman marble. Long, sinewy muscles rippled against smooth, olive-hued skin.

“My father,” I blurted. Realizing my answer made no sense, I added, “My father owns a tire company in America. Jenkins Auto. When I was a teenager, I’d go with him to races all over the U.S. NASCAR, IndyCar, stock car races. I majored in automotive engineering at Georgia Tech.”

I conveniently left out the pageant part, and how an eating disorder had affected my confidence while I was a teen, enough so I’d shunned most of the trappings of femininity. Motorsports made sense. Being a woman didn’t. It wasn’t that I couldn’t act the part of being a girly-girl—no, I’d been beautiful on stage, once upon a time. I was simply through with projecting an image of perfection. I wanted people to like me for my brains and personality, not my smile and pale skin and red hair.

Which is why it was so disconcerting, scary even, that Dante was staring at me with big, dark pupils and a huge, flirtatious grin. Men usually didn’t flirt with me, and I never, ever flirted with them.

“You come from impressive credentials.” He made wide stretching movements with his arms, crossing one over his torso. The movement sent a little waft of his scent toward me, and even though he’d been sweating in race coveralls, he smelled faintly of lime and spice. And, of course, man.

The man scent was very, very sexy.

“Thanks.” I wanted to bury my nose in his chest.

He stretched the other arm up and over his head, bending at the elbow. Transfixed, I watched his muscles ripple. What would it feel like to be underneath his chest, to run my hands over it, to arch my own body and feel him against my bare skin? It made me shiver a little, despite the thick Italian heat.


Quivering muscle. Coiled power. It’s the sport of team roping, and Valerie must choose between horse and man.


“May I have this next dance?”

Her partner respectfully nodded and she found herself in Hudson’s arms.

Breathless, she gazed up at him. “You showed.”

“I did,” he acknowledged. “But I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Why not?”

Hudson pulled back slightly and stared at her. “Really? You don’t dance for one, and for another, you and your boyfriend just broke up after he was admitted into the hospital.”

She bristled at his tone. “Jathan is fine. The doctor doesn’t even think he has permanent damage and Barbara is with him. She seems to make him very happy. So why shouldn’t I be out enjoying myself?”

His eyes flashed with shock then narrowed. “So you know about Barbie?”

“If you mean Barbara, then yes. I met her last night when I went back to see Jathan. They seem very blissful and happy. I hope they work out.”

“So you’re not upset?”

“Of course I’m upset,” she agreed. “I lost my roping partner. But I’m hoping someone else will consider taking his place.” She flashed a grin and squeezed him a little tighter.

He frowned. “So you’re only upset because you lost your roping partner?”

“If you are referring to Barbara, then no.” She hesitated. “Maybe a little because Jathan found someone who makes his heartbeat a little harder.”

“I thought you two felt that about each other.”

She smiled softly. “No. We were too young to know what we were looking for. We love each other but we are more like brother and sister.”

“I can understand that. Are you two on good terms then?”

She nodded. “We want each other to be happy.”

He smiled and pulled her closer. “Good. I want my brother and sister to be happy too.”

She tensed at his words but before she could say anything, the song ended and a beautiful blonde came up and asked Hudson to dance.

He nodded and turned back to Valerie. “As long as you are doing okay, Sis. I love you.” He kissed her on the forehead before turning and sweeping the blonde in a twirl. Her giggle infuriating Valerie as she made her way back to her table.

She found a fresh beer at her table and took a big swig from it. She felt angry and humiliated. Did he really just call her Sis and dismiss her like a child? If she was honest with herself he always had treated her like a little sister. So what was the use? He’d always see her that way, never as the woman she’d grown into. She downed half of her beer and gathered her stuff to leave when another cowboy approached her, asking her to dance. She saw Hudson and the blond laughing on the dance floor and felt her anger grow. Why should everyone else have fun and not her? She deserved it too.

Lyssa Layne: DIG DEEP

Beach volleyball sensation Lindy James needs only sanity, secrecy, sunshine and sand. One glance at the blonde bombshell, and sports agent Kip Deevers heart takes a dive as he catapults her into the spotlight. LIndy’s secret’s out, Kip’s career tanks, and it’s all riding on the final play. . .Dig Deep!


As I walk across their back yard, the yapping gets louder the closer I get. A thud against their glass door and a giant blur of black startles me and I shake my head. Shadow, the black lab, has grown quite a bit since I saw him last summer when he was still a puppy. Entering the garage code, I don’t even have the door to the house open when it’s blocked by the massive beast.

“Come on, Shad, move back,” I mutter, thoroughly irritated, especially when I can feel the heat of his breath on my arm as I try to push him backward. It takes a few seconds before the mutt understands that there’s no coming or going for either of us until he moves. The door fully opened, I have one foot on the stoop and one on the tile floor when his front paws make direct contact with my white dress shirt. The force of his weight knocks me back into the garage and I fall to my butt. No worries, my new best friend is standing above me, licking my face with his tongue that’s been only God knows where.

“Get back, you lug, and stop licking me!” I try to sound firm, like I’m the alpha between the two of us, but the dog has me pinned against the filthy garage floor.

“Shadow, come,” a soft, assertive voice commands and the dog obeys, retreating to the woman’s side.

I stand up slowly, brushing off my Armani pants and cursing the dog for showing me up in front of this beautiful woman. She’s tall, at least five-nine, with honey blonde hair that falls around her shoulders. Her eyes are a piercing blue and from the rigidity in her body, I can tell she’s on guard. Something about her is familiar but I can’t quite place it.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask, trying to take back control of the situation and roll my sleeves down without her noticing.

“Who the hell are you?” she throws back at me, mocking me as she does.

“Kip Deevers, the James’ neighbor, who has permission to be here. Do you?” I cross my arms, trying to intimidate Blondie but judging from her hands, which are now on her hips, I don’t think it’s working.

“I’m Tate’s sister,” her voice seethes in my direction, sending her disdain for me my way.

Her dislike for me is actually kind of turning me on, which reminds me I need to find a road honey next time I fly back east. I have a strict rule that I don’t take anyone to bed that lives in the same time zone as I do. I huff and pat my leg, hoping Shadow will come to me, but instead he sits happily by her side, panting and almost smirking at me, if a dog could do that. “That doesn’t answer if you have permission to be here. His wife wouldn’t have asked me to come let the mutt out if she knew you were here. Now, who are you?”

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