Category Archives: Inside Out Trilogy

Release Day Blitz – Revealing Us by Lisa Renee Jones

Revealing Us by Lisa Renee Jones

Genre – Erotic Romance
Series – Inside Out Trilogy, Book #3

Publisher – Gallery Books
Release Date – September 10, 2013


Blurb: 

 
The third installment in the sexy Inside Out erotic romance series—in the seductive tradition of Fifty Shades of Grey.

You’ve discovered Rebecca’s secrets. You’ve discovered Sara’s secrets. Now Sara will discover “his” deepest, darkest secrets…but will those secrets bind them together–or tear them apart?



Add to your GoodReads Shelf  





REVEALING US (Inside Out, Book #3) Ebook Links




Barnes & Noble – http://bit.ly/1cVTkZm


 

REVEALING US (Inside Out, Book #3) Paperback Links

Barnes & Noble – http://bit.ly/1cgZ56R

*Ebook Links to the other books in the series (in correct reading order)*


 

IF I WERE YOU (Inside Out, Book #1)

Barnes & Noble – http://bit.ly/1etlnB5

 

Rebecca’s Lost Journals, Volume 1: The Seduction (Inside Out, Book #1.1)

Barnes & Noble – http://bit.ly/15OrpV9



Rebecca’s Lost Journals, Volume 2: The Contract (Inside Out, Book #1.2)



Rebecca’s Lost Journals, Volume 3: His Submissive (Inside Out, Book #1.3)

 

Rebecca’s Lost Journals, Volume 4: My Master (Inside Out, Book #1.4)

 

BEING ME (Inside Out, Book #2)

 

The Master Undone: An Inside Out Novella (Inside Out, Book #2.5)

My Review: 
http://reneeentress.blogspot.com/2013/09/arc-review-revealing-us-by-lisa-renee.html


About The Author!

 

 
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT TRILOGY which has sold to more than ten countries for translation with negotiations in process for more, and has now been optioned by STARZ Network for a cable television show, to be produced by Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland).


Since beginning her publishing career in 2007, Lisa has published more than 30 books with publishers such as Simon and Schuster, Avon, Kensington, Harlequin, NAL, Berkley and Elloras Cave, as well as crafting a successful indie career. Booklist says that Jones suspense truly sizzles with an energy similar to FBI tales with a paranormal twist by Julie Garwood or Suzanne Brockmann.

Prior to publishing, Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by Dallas Women Magazine. In 1998 LRJ was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her through her website and she is active on twitter and Facebook daily.

Connect with Lisa:
Website
Twitter
Facebook
Goodreads

Excerpt
 

The elevator opens and he waits for me to enter, and I do. With fast steps, I rush inside and whirl around to confront him. He stalks forward, and this time he doesn’t avoid looking at me, his expression etched with pure determination and some raw, dark emotion I cannot fully name. I don’t get the chance to try.


Before a word is out of my mouth, and I have many intended, the bags he’s holding hit the floor and Chris has pressed me back against the wall. My purse tumbles from my arm and his powerful thighs encase mine; his hips mold my hips. I gasp with the rough tangle of his fingers in my hair and the blaze of his eyes as they capture mine. I am angry with him. I am aroused. And when his mouth claims my mouth, his tongue slicing past my lips with a delicious lick followed by another, demanding my response, I am at his mercy. My fingers curl around his t-shirt and I push away the tiny space between us, molding myself against him. He owns me and, considering how the past thirty minutes have gone, this terrifies me, but I’m all in with Chris. I decided that long before Paris. I am his to command, moaning with the taste of him, sultry and male, on my tongue.

His hand sweeps up my side, fingers flexing over my ribs, palm covering my breast. My nipple tightens in anticipation of the tug that follows and I moan, my need to touch Chris almost unbearable. I reach for his shirt, intending to push beneath, but he doesn’t let me.

Chris’s fingers close around my wrist and I know he is in that dark place, where he doesn’t let me touch him—but I am in a dark place, too, on edge, ripe with my anger and unwilling to be submissive to him. Challenging his silent message of control, I reach for his shirt with my free hand and he shackles my wrist as well and tears his mouth from mine. Our eyes lock, the sound of our heavy breathing filling the air and the motion of the elevator I didn’t even know was moving swaying our bodies. The floor vibrates slightly beneath our feet and I sense, rather than see, the doors behind Chris slide open, but still we stand there, still we stare at each other.

“They don’t get to tell you who I am,” he says. His voice is a rough growl, low and tight. “I do. I tell you and I show you so you get the truth, not their fabrication of it.” A muscle in his jaw flexes. “Understand?”

My anger and fear dissolve instantly. He’s not pulling away from me. He’s angry that Amber and Tristan might taint my view of him when he’s already convinced I’ll hate him before this discovery process is over.
“Do you understand?” he demands when I apparently don’t answer fast enough.

This time I don’t fight the bark of his order, understanding the desperateness beneath its surface. “Yes. Yes. Chris, I—”

His fingers tangle in my hair again, tugging my head back in that deliciously rough way he does. Dark Chris calls to me and I no longer fight answering. “Do not go there without me again.” His voice is gravelly; raw like the emotion I’ve seen in his face and tasted on his lips.

“Me going there wasn’t what you think it was, Chris.”

His eyes flash with disapproval. He is not pleased, or accepting, of what I’ve said, and his mouth closes down on mine, punishing, controlling. His tongue thrusting and tasting, before he repeats his words, his fingers stroking my breasts, teasing my nipple. “Do not go there again without me, Sara.”

“I won’t.” The words come out a hoarse groan as his hand strokes a path up and down my side, and back over my breast. His touch is heavy, the air thick, and I’m certain he isn’t convinced. “I won’t go back without you.”
His fingers curl around my neck and he stares down at me, searching my face with such intensity it feels as if he’s seeing straight to my soul. And I welcome the invasion. I welcome him. Seconds tick by, and I have no idea what he sees or doesn’t see in me, but he drags my mouth to his and kisses me.

The silky hot stroke of his tongue is a shot of adrenaline and desire that spikes through my body and creates a tingling sensation from head to toe. I shudder with pleasure and drink him in, tasting the bittersweet hunger in him, the anger and torment. I burn to touch him beyond where my fingers rest on his chest, to feel hard muscle flex beneath my fingers. But control is his outlet of choice when there is no whip, no pain. And I am no longer angry, no longer rebelling against his demands. No longer fighting his need for an outlet I have long ached for him to know he has with me, in me.

I tremble with the caress of his hand over my waist, traveling to my hip, and curving around my backside to firmly pull me hard against his thick erection. His palm skims upward to the small of my back, and flattens, molding me even closer. I moan into his mouth and he groans in response, his tongue delving deeply, hot with growing demand, with a palpable urgency. And his hands are everywhere, touching me, stroking me, caressing me, driving me wild and, before I know what’s happening, he’s shoving my jeans down my legs. I blink and my boots are gone and I’m half-naked in an elevator with the doors locked open.
I might have protested our location, asked to move to another room, but Chris turns me to the wall and his hands slide, slow and firm, possessively down my waist and over my hips. Feeling his gaze rake over my body, I am wet and weak in the knees.

He cups my cheeks from behind and steps forward, pressing his lips to my ear. “Tonight, I want to spank you, but I won’t. Not when it would be punishment. I won’t ever do that to you. But don’t think that means I won’t want to.”

I understand Chris. I don’t know how or why but, deep in our souls, we connect, and I know what he is doing. He’s showing me a hard exterior but all I see is vulnerability, a need that tonight has sparked, to show me a darker, more dangerous side of himself, and have me not run for cover. “You can’t scare me away, Chris. So throw all the words you want at me. I’m still here. I’m still not going anywhere. And in case you forgot, I liked it when you spanked me.”

His hand finds my stomach and then presses deeper between my legs, until his fingers tease my clit. “Maybe this time I’ll tie you up and flog you.”

“Do it.” His fingers stroke into the silky wet V of my body, and I am panting, barely able to speak, but I swallow and somehow finish my challenge. “The more you push me, the more I push back, Chris.”

He nips my earlobe and I can feel him unzipping his pants. “So you say,” he murmurs.

“So I know.” Throwing caution to the wind, I press onward, trying to unleash the pent-up energy in him he bottles until it later explodes. “Only one of us is running. Only one of us is afraid of what I have yet to discover, Chris.”

The air crackles and his hand goes to my waist, fingers flexing into my flesh, and I revel in the certainty I’ve succeeded in taking him to the edge. “You think I’m running?” he demands.

“No. I think you’re trying to make me run so you can blame me if we fail.”

His cock presses between my legs. “Does that feel like I want you to run?” He enters me, driving hard inside me without any prelude. “Does that?” And then he is thrusting, reaching around me to meld his hand to my breast, holding onto it, and me. He thrusts again, burying himself, with a fieriness that outreaches pure physical need. Oh yes, I have made him angry and I am glad. I want this side of him, I want all of him. And damn it, he just keeps trying to deny me. He keeps trying to hold back and, yes, he keeps trying to make me run.

I press my hand to his hand where it’s melded to my breast, teasing me, holding him there, holding on and not planning to ever let go. Pleasure splinters through me with each thrust of his cock, each moment he’s buried deep inside me. Sensation after sensation begins in my sex and rushes through nerve endings. I am lost in how he feels, how I feel, and I arch into him, my muscles clench around him, and then I cannot breathe. My orgasm takes me by surprise, enveloping me, consuming me. I rise to the top of it far too quickly and come down far too hard and fast, but just in time to feel Chris shudder, his body tensing with his release. He stills, burying his face in my neck, and his body slowly relaxes. For several moments he holds me there, and I’m not sure either of us breathes, let alone speaks or moves. I am not sure what to say or what to do next.Abruptly, he pulls out of me, and I don’t know why, but an unusual sense of complete, utter emptiness washes over me. The “why” is answered when I start to turn to find him already headed out of the elevator. I stare after him, knots balling in my stomach. Maybe I pushed the wrong buttons. Maybe I pushed him to far or too hard. Maybe I made a mistake.

#1
 

Prizes – 5 Signed Copies of IF I WERE YOU -and- 5 Inside Out Totes plus swag (There will be FIVE winners, each receiving a signed book and a tote/swag).  The giveaway runs from midnight September 10th through midnight September 13th.  It’s US and International.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

#2

Lisa’s HUGE giveaway for a Kindle Fire HD, as well as numerous other prizes. 
 

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Filed under 2013, Erotic Romance, Gallery Books, Giveaway, Inside Out Trilogy, Lisa Renee Jones, Release Day, Romance, September, Sinfully Sexy, Tour

[ARC Review] Revealing Us by Lisa Renee Jones

Revealing Us by Lisa Renee Jones

Release date: September 10, 2013

<div style=”font-size:11px”>Publication date: 05/01/2013</div>

Blurb: 

 
The third installment in the sexy Inside Out erotic romance series—in the seductive tradition of Fifty Shades of Grey.

You’ve discovered Rebecca’s secrets. You’ve discovered Sara’s secrets. Now Sara will discover “his” deepest, darkest secrets…but will those secrets bind them together–or tear them apart?


Pre-Order Revealing Us out September 10th 

Amazon
Barnes & Noble

Add to your GoodReads Shelf  



My Review: 

5 Star Review – Revealing Us

Note: If you have NOT read BEING ME, do not read this novella until after you have read BEING ME.


This review and book contains spoilers for Being Me.

I could not put this book down.  I really love Chris and Sara.  At the end I thought wow things are setting down then I turned the page to The Epilogue and Lisa once again left us hanging…


This book was written as present tense and in first person POV.   Makes it easier to figure out what is happening in the past (with Rebecca’s journal entries) and the present.


When we left off before Sara McMillian needed to decide if she is going to Paris with Chris Merit to see if they are going to try to rebuild and grow their relationship.  Everyone is dealing with the loss of Rebecca in their own way. 


As this book opens Sara is struggling with if she should go or not.  She can’t find Chris and he will not answer her calls.  She shows up for the plane and he is there to greet her.  Something happens to Sara in the Parris airport after they land.  She also gets calls from the detective running the case about Rebecca that she was accused of being involved in Rebecca’s death.  So Sara has some tough times right away in Paris. 

As she meets Chris’s friends in Paris though she feeling even worst as they are not very nice to her.  They mostly hate her on sight.  They try and pull her into situations that will hurt her relationship with Chris.

Mark shows up very briefly in this book. 

But you get to see how Chris and Sara’s relationship is growing and you learn more about Chris and his secrets.  He is a very complex guy and blames himself for something that he believes is his fault. 

Sara continues to search for her friend Ella Johnson throughout the book with a little progress. 

I cannot wait see what happens.  Hurry Lisa we are all waiting for the next book….

***ARC provided by author in exchange for an honest review***

 
One of my favorite parts:

I make a beeline for a chair in front of one of the tables, when a man appears in the open doorway, and it’s all I can do to keep walking. Dressed in black leather pants and a T-shirt, he is tall, with wavy raven hair to his chin, and perfect, masculine facial features. But it’s not his looks that have me ready to stumble over my own feet. It’s the way he oozes the kind of power Mark does and leaves me with two certainties. He is Tristan and he is a Master.

He leans against the wall directly across from the table I’ve stopped at, crossing his heavily tattooed arms in front of his broad chest. I stare at them, expecting some fizzle of female awareness like I get from Chris’s, and find none. Huh. I’m still not a tattoo girl. I’m a Chris girl. The idea makes me smile inside. Yes. I am definitely a Chris girl.

 

Reading Order:
 

 



 

About The Author!
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT TRILOGY which has sold to more than ten countries for translation with negotiations in process for more, and has now been optioned by STARZ Network for a cable television show, to be produced by Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland).


Since beginning her publishing career in 2007, Lisa has published more than 30 books with publishers such as Simon and Schuster, Avon, Kensington, Harlequin, NAL, Berkley and Elloras Cave, as well as crafting a successful indie career. Booklist says that Jones suspense truly sizzles with an energy similar to FBI tales with a paranormal twist by Julie Garwood or Suzanne Brockmann.
Prior to publishing, Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by Dallas Women Magazine. In 1998 LRJ was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.
Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her through her website and she is active on twitter and Facebook daily.

Connect with Lisa:
Website
Twitter
Facebook
Goodreads

Excerpt
 

The elevator opens and he waits for me to enter, and I do. With fast steps, I rush inside and whirl around to confront him. He stalks forward, and this time he doesn’t avoid looking at me, his expression etched with pure determination and some raw, dark emotion I cannot fully name. I don’t get the chance to try.

Before a word is out of my mouth, and I have many intended, the bags he’s holding hit the floor and Chris has pressed me back against the wall. My purse tumbles from my arm and his powerful thighs encase mine; his hips mold my hips. I gasp with the rough tangle of his fingers in my hair and the blaze of his eyes as they capture mine. I am angry with him. I am aroused. And when his mouth claims my mouth, his tongue slicing past my lips with a delicious lick followed by another, demanding my response, I am at his mercy. My fingers curl around his t-shirt and I push away the tiny space between us, molding myself against him. He owns me and, considering how the past thirty minutes have gone, this terrifies me, but I’m all in with Chris. I decided that long before Paris. I am his to command, moaning with the taste of him, sultry and male, on my tongue.

His hand sweeps up my side, fingers flexing over my ribs, palm covering my breast. My nipple tightens in anticipation of the tug that follows and I moan, my need to touch Chris almost unbearable. I reach for his shirt, intending to push beneath, but he doesn’t let me.

Chris’s fingers close around my wrist and I know he is in that dark place, where he doesn’t let me touch him—but I am in a dark place, too, on edge, ripe with my anger and unwilling to be submissive to him. Challenging his silent message of control, I reach for his shirt with my free hand and he shackles my wrist as well and tears his mouth from mine. Our eyes lock, the sound of our heavy breathing filling the air and the motion of the elevator I didn’t even know was moving swaying our bodies. The floor vibrates slightly beneath our feet and I sense, rather than see, the doors behind Chris slide open, but still we stand there, still we stare at each other.

“They don’t get to tell you who I am,” he says. His voice is a rough growl, low and tight. “I do. I tell you and I show you so you get the truth, not their fabrication of it.” A muscle in his jaw flexes. “Understand?”

My anger and fear dissolve instantly. He’s not pulling away from me. He’s angry that Amber and Tristan might taint my view of him when he’s already convinced I’ll hate him before this discovery process is over.
“Do you understand?” he demands when I apparently don’t answer fast enough.

This time I don’t fight the bark of his order, understanding the desperateness beneath its surface. “Yes. Yes. Chris, I—”

His fingers tangle in my hair again, tugging my head back in that deliciously rough way he does. Dark Chris calls to me and I no longer fight answering. “Do not go there without me again.” His voice is gravelly; raw like the emotion I’ve seen in his face and tasted on his lips.

“Me going there wasn’t what you think it was, Chris.”

His eyes flash with disapproval. He is not pleased, or accepting, of what I’ve said, and his mouth closes down on mine, punishing, controlling. His tongue thrusting and tasting, before he repeats his words, his fingers stroking my breasts, teasing my nipple. “Do not go there again without me, Sara.”

“I won’t.” The words come out a hoarse groan as his hand strokes a path up and down my side, and back over my breast. His touch is heavy, the air thick, and I’m certain he isn’t convinced. “I won’t go back without you.”
His fingers curl around my neck and he stares down at me, searching my face with such intensity it feels as if he’s seeing straight to my soul. And I welcome the invasion. I welcome him. Seconds tick by, and I have no idea what he sees or doesn’t see in me, but he drags my mouth to his and kisses me.

The silky hot stroke of his tongue is a shot of adrenaline and desire that spikes through my body and creates a tingling sensation from head to toe. I shudder with pleasure and drink him in, tasting the bittersweet hunger in him, the anger and torment. I burn to touch him beyond where my fingers rest on his chest, to feel hard muscle flex beneath my fingers. But control is his outlet of choice when there is no whip, no pain. And I am no longer angry, no longer rebelling against his demands. No longer fighting his need for an outlet I have long ached for him to know he has with me, in me.

I tremble with the caress of his hand over my waist, traveling to my hip, and curving around my backside to firmly pull me hard against his thick erection. His palm skims upward to the small of my back, and flattens, molding me even closer. I moan into his mouth and he groans in response, his tongue delving deeply, hot with growing demand, with a palpable urgency. And his hands are everywhere, touching me, stroking me, caressing me, driving me wild and, before I know what’s happening, he’s shoving my jeans down my legs. I blink and my boots are gone and I’m half-naked in an elevator with the doors locked open.
I might have protested our location, asked to move to another room, but Chris turns me to the wall and his hands slide, slow and firm, possessively down my waist and over my hips. Feeling his gaze rake over my body, I am wet and weak in the knees.

He cups my cheeks from behind and steps forward, pressing his lips to my ear. “Tonight, I want to spank you, but I won’t. Not when it would be punishment. I won’t ever do that to you. But don’t think that means I won’t want to.”

I understand Chris. I don’t know how or why but, deep in our souls, we connect, and I know what he is doing. He’s showing me a hard exterior but all I see is vulnerability, a need that tonight has sparked, to show me a darker, more dangerous side of himself, and have me not run for cover. “You can’t scare me away, Chris. So throw all the words you want at me. I’m still here. I’m still not going anywhere. And in case you forgot, I liked it when you spanked me.”

His hand finds my stomach and then presses deeper between my legs, until his fingers tease my clit. “Maybe this time I’ll tie you up and flog you.”

“Do it.” His fingers stroke into the silky wet V of my body, and I am panting, barely able to speak, but I swallow and somehow finish my challenge. “The more you push me, the more I push back, Chris.”

He nips my earlobe and I can feel him unzipping his pants. “So you say,” he murmurs.

“So I know.” Throwing caution to the wind, I press onward, trying to unleash the pent-up energy in him he bottles until it later explodes. “Only one of us is running. Only one of us is afraid of what I have yet to discover, Chris.”

The air crackles and his hand goes to my waist, fingers flexing into my flesh, and I revel in the certainty I’ve succeeded in taking him to the edge. “You think I’m running?” he demands.

“No. I think you’re trying to make me run so you can blame me if we fail.”

His cock presses between my legs. “Does that feel like I want you to run?” He enters me, driving hard inside me without any prelude. “Does that?” And then he is thrusting, reaching around me to meld his hand to my breast, holding onto it, and me. He thrusts again, burying himself, with a fieriness that outreaches pure physical need. Oh yes, I have made him angry and I am glad. I want this side of him, I want all of him. And damn it, he just keeps trying to deny me. He keeps trying to hold back and, yes, he keeps trying to make me run.

I press my hand to his hand where it’s melded to my breast, teasing me, holding him there, holding on and not planning to ever let go. Pleasure splinters through me with each thrust of his cock, each moment he’s buried deep inside me. Sensation after sensation begins in my sex and rushes through nerve endings. I am lost in how he feels, how I feel, and I arch into him, my muscles clench around him, and then I cannot breathe. My orgasm takes me by surprise, enveloping me, consuming me. I rise to the top of it far too quickly and come down far too hard and fast, but just in time to feel Chris shudder, his body tensing with his release. He stills, burying his face in my neck, and his body slowly relaxes. For several moments he holds me there, and I’m not sure either of us breathes, let alone speaks or moves. I am not sure what to say or what to do next.

Abruptly, he pulls out of me, and I don’t know why, but an unusual sense of complete, utter emptiness washes over me. The “why” is answered when I start to turn to find him already headed out of the elevator. I stare after him, knots balling in my stomach. Maybe I pushed the wrong buttons. Maybe I pushed him to far or too hard. Maybe I made a mistake.

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Filed under 2013, ARC, Erotica, Excerpt, Inside Out Trilogy, Lisa Renee Jones, Novella, September

[ARC Review] Master Undone by Lisa Renee Jones

Master Undone by Lisa Renee Jones

Release date: August 12, 2013

<div style=”font-size:11px”>Publication date: 05/01/2013</div>

Blurb: 

 
*** The Master Undoneis a part of the Inside Outtrilogy, and is told from his POV. ***

I told him goodbye, and I will not call him. I know if I do, it will be my undoing, and I’ll once again be caught up in his spell. I will once again be…lost.

In her private journals, Rebecca laid bare her soul, revealing her obsession for the one man whose erotic demands captivated her imagination–and enslaved her forever. Now, with Rebecca no longer in his life he is lost, questioning everything he thought he knew about himself and about control he holds in such high regard. One women will reach out to heal him and then turn away, leaving him haunted. She is nothing he thought he wanted and somehow everything he needs. He tells himself to forget her but he cannot escape his desire for her. He has to have more…


Pre-Order Master Undone out August 12th 

Amazon
Barnes & Noble

Add to your GoodReads Shelf  


My Review: 
5 Star Review – Master Undone

I highly recommend this book.

As always I enjoyed this book by Lisa. 

Note: If you have NOT read BEING ME, do not read this novella until after you have read BEING ME.

This review and book contains spoilers for Being Me.
This book is written in Mark’s POV.  We met Mark before and learned a little about him.  Some things were good and some not so good.  But this book you learn more about what he feels. 

Mark’s story picks up right from where BEING ME ended.  With him trying to deal with what happened to Rebecca.  He is wounded inside.  He is busy questioning how he felt about Rebecca and if he is capable of love. 
He decides he must stay away from woman.  He has decided he cannot have sex and that is his normal drug of choice and that is what got him in trouble in the first place. 

He is on his way to see his mother who has Stage 3 Breast Cancer.  She needs surgery so he must fly to New Your to see her through it.  When his plane lands the new head of sales, Crystal Smith, is there to meet him.  His is intrigued by her and she pushes all of his buttons. 

She disobeys almost every one of his commands.  She calls him Mark when normally he makes everyone call him “Mr. Compton”.  Will she send him on a downward spiral that will make him lose all control?
 
*** Received an Advanced copy from NetGalley***
 
Reading Order:
 

 



 

About The Author!
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT TRILOGY which has sold to more than ten countries for translation with negotiations in process for more, and has now been optioned by STARZ Network for a cable television show, to be produced by Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland).

Since beginning her publishing career in 2007, Lisa has published more than 30 books with publishers such as Simon and Schuster, Avon, Kensington, Harlequin, NAL, Berkley and Elloras Cave, as well as crafting a successful indie career. Booklist says that Jones suspense truly sizzles with an energy similar to FBI tales with a paranormal twist by Julie Garwood or Suzanne Brockmann.
Prior to publishing, Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by Dallas Women Magazine. In 1998 LRJ was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.
Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her through her website and she is active on twitter and Facebook daily.

Connect with Lisa:
Website
Twitter
Facebook
Goodreads

1 Comment

Filed under 2013, ARC, August, Inside Out Trilogy, Lisa Renee Jones, Novella, Review

Being Me by Lisa Renee Jones

 

Being Me by Lisa Renee Jones

Publication date: June 2013

<div style=”font-size:11px”>Publication date: 05/01/2013</div>Inside Out Trilogy #2
Published by Gallery Books
Pages: 351


NOW OPTIONED TO STARZ for TV!

The sexy second installment in the Inside Out erotic romance trilogy, following If I Were You—in the seductive tradition of Fifty Shades of Grey.

Fascinated by the dark fantasies in the journals she’s discovered, and the two men who have now found a place in her life, Sara McMillan finds herself torn between her new life and her past. Now, more than ever, Sara identifies with the lost journal writer, Rebecca, and is certain that something sinister has happened.

In the arms of the sexy, tormented artist Chris Merit, Sara seeks answers about Rebecca and ends up discovering things about herself she never knew existed. Chris forces Sara to reconsider who she is and what she truly wants from life, but not before his dark desires threaten to tear them apart. Her boss, Mark Compton, offers her the shelter to understand just what those needs mean to her, and what they might have meant to Rebecca, but can she trust him to lead her to a final conclusion to Rebecca’s story?

He is rich and famous, and dark in ways I shouldn’t find intriguing but I do. I so do. I don’t understand why his dark side appeals to me, but the attraction between us is rich with velvety promises of satisfaction. . . .

In the bestselling style of Fifty Shades of Grey, Lisa Renee Jones delivers sexy thrills and heart-pounding sensuality with a tantalizing page-turner in which the eyes of a high school English teacher are opened to a world she never knew existed, and she finds a passionate craving within that she never knew she possessed.

The journal comes to Sara McMillan by chance, when she inherits the key to an abandoned storage locker belonging to a woman named Rebecca. Sara can’t resist peeking at the entries in the journal . . . and she finds a scintillating account of Rebecca’s affair with an unnamed lover, a relationship drenched in ecstasy and wrapped in dark secrets.

Obsessed with discovering Rebecca’s destiny after the entries come to an abrupt end, Sara does more than observe the players in the woman’s life; she immerses herself in the high-stakes art gallery world Rebecca inhabited—and is magnetically drawn to two men. Which one seduced Rebecca with his masterful and commanding touch and brought her fantasies to exquisite life? On a daringly erotic escapade, Sara follows Rebecca’s path to fulfill her own hidden longings. But after she tastes the forbidden pleasures Rebecca savored, will Sara be helpless to escape the same submissive fate?


Back of the Book

I arch into him, drinking in his passion, instantly, willingly consumed by all that he is and could be to me. . . .

Sara McMillan is still searching for Rebecca, the mysterious woman whose dark, erotic journal entries both enthralled and frightened her. Tormented by a strong desire to indulge the demands of her new boss while also drawn deeper into her passionate bond with the troubled artist, Chris Merit, Sara must face a past as deeply haunting as Rebecca’s written words. In one man’s arms, Sara will find the safe haven to reveal her most intimate secrets and explore her darkest fantasies. But is safety just an illusion, when the truth about Rebecca has yet to be discovered?


Read an Excerpt

The idea that I’ve convinced myself he is less controlling than he is has my heels colliding heavily on the driveway. I charge toward his car, the same car I’ve let myself drive instead of holding on to my own identity. I don’t look his direction but damn him, I can feel him all over, everywhere, inside and out, and in intimate places I can’t convince my body he isn’t welcome. It’s beyond frustrating to know that anger this potent isn’t enough to stop the thrum of awareness that just being near him creates.

Not for the first time, I feel Rebecca’s words from that first jour- nal entry I’d read deep in my soul. He was lethal, a drug I feared. I relate to her, and I understand the inescapable passion she felt and lost herself inside. I don’t want to be her. I’m not her. And for the first time since my initial first few encounters with this man, I wonder if I am drawn to him because I’m self-destructive, and he to me for the same reason.

Suddenly he is there, at eye level, as he had been the first night we’d met, when I’d spilled my purse. My gaze lifts and meets his, and a blast of awareness shakes me to the core. My breasts are heavy, my thighs achy. My skin tingles. A fine line between love and hate, Alvarez had said, and I understand them in this moment. I stare into his eyes and I wonder if he too is thinking about the night we met and the many ways we’ve made love.The many we have not and I want us to, when I should not. I should be seeking space, independence, and my own identity, which he is threatening by taking over my life. It makes no sense how I feel in these eternal moments. How can I be this furious with him and still powerfully, completely lost in him?

 “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” he asks, breaking the spell. His tone is low, and the rasp of anger in his voice is impossible to miss. It jolts me back to reality. He showed up at my client’s house and he’s angry with me?

My temper overpowers all other emotions in me and I reach for the key. His hand closes over mine and heat races up my arm and over my chest.“Don’t do what you did tonight ever again, Sara.”

The sharp command in his voice hits a bull’s-eye on every physiological male dominance issue I own, of which there are many. I try to pull my hand back but I am captive to his grip, leaving me with words as my only weapon.“Ditto to you. And yeah.We have a lot to talk about—somewhere other than my client’s front yard.”

His eyes glint fire a moment before he releases my hand and helps me to my feet.There is a possessiveness to his touch that has me leaning into him when I should be shoving him away. He notices, too; I see it in the slight narrowing of his eyes, the gleam of satisfaction in their depths that I both hunger for and reject.

“I’ll follow you to my place,” he informs me.

“I have no doubt you will.” I click the key clicker to unlock the car. I’m about to open the door when his hand comes down on it, and he leans close, so close his breath is warm on my neck and ear. That woodsy scent of him, which I could luxuriate in for a lifetime, permeates my senses, tearing down my already weak defenses.

His hip nudges mine.“Don’t think for a minute that when we pull up to my apartment, you’re going to ask for your car and leave.”

It is all I can do to fight him when he touches me. Purposely, I do not look at him, certain all my resolve to distance myself from him will crumble.“If I decide to leave, you can’t stop me.”

“Try me, baby.You’re coming up to my apartment.”

I whirl on him.“I don’t want—”

 “I do,” he vows, and before I know his intent, his fingers twine into my hair and he pulls me into his arms, against his hard, warm body.

“Let go,” I hiss, my hand flattening on his chest. I intend to push him away, but the heat of his body seeps through my palm, radiating up my arm. My elbow softens, and I am instantly closer but not close enough.

“Not a chance,” he promises, his mouth closing on mine, firm with demand. His tongue licks into my mouth with one brutal, commanding swipe followed by another, and I have no resistance left. I’m weak, so very weak, for this man. As always with him, he demands my response and I helplessly respond. I am instantly wet and wanting, my nipples tight points of aching need.


 



My Review:

5/5 – Since I don’t have a 4.5 rating I am giving a 5 but feel it should be 4.5

4.5 big Super stars
This is NOT a stand-alone book, you need to read book #1 of Lisa Renee Jones’s Inside Out series, IF I WERE YOU.


As with most trilogies you will have questions that are not answered in the first book and might not be answered until the last one.  Please try having some to be patience!!!


This book was written as present tense and in first person POV.   Makes it easier to figure out what is happening in the past (with Rebecca’s journal entries) and the present.

BEING ME picks up right where IF I WERE YOU left us hanging…finally an answer to what happened to Sara in the storage facility!   The lights are out and Sara is about to hyperventilate as she hears things and think at any moment she will be grabbed. 

She manages to escape in one piece only to have Chris come to her rescue.  After that scare she will need to be more careful in trying to discover more information as we are not sure where the danger is coming from.  Is the danger from Rebecca being missing or from something in Sara’s past?

“Woman—”

“Save your commands for another more enticing time, Chris. I’m not staying in the car. Haven’t you watched Friday the 13th? Michael slashes the girl in the car.”

“Michael is from Halloween. Jason is Friday the 13th.”

“Whoever he is, he slashes the girl in the car. I’m not staying in the car.”

There is a lot of back and forth between Chris and Sara.  You learn more about each of their pasts.  How it shaped them into who they are today.  The problem is that you feel that Chris’s information is dragged out of him where Sara will share hers.  Makes them have a lot of hurt feelings, untrustworthiness, and pain in the relationship.   

She continues to work with Mark in the gallery even as she is aware that he wants her.  The tension between them evolves throughout the book.  With it finally coming to a head when she is hurting over Chris’s leaving her to deal with his pain in his own way.      

As for Rebecca you find out part of what happened to her and who is responsible.  Also who feels they are responsible for what happened to her. 

We also wonder what has happened to Sara’s friend Ella.  Where is she and why is she not getting in touch with Sara. 

As for the ending what will Sara decide? 

 



Here are a few I can’t wait for answers on:

Will she go to Paris with Chris?
Where is Ella?
What exactly happened to Rebecca?

I can’t wait for the next book in the series REVEALING US which comes out in September 2013.

 
A Few of my favorite lines from Ava/Sara/Chris/Mark/Ricco from the book:

Ava:

Not only is he a jerk, but he has the sexual expertise of a Gummi Bear.

Sara:

 
I lash out. “We’ve has this conversation, Chris.  Fucking me does not give you the right to run my life.

Everything Chris does is as raw and real as the pain he struggles to bury in some deep, dark cavern of his soul.  And I dread the moment he discovers just how notperfect I am.
“I know.  The problem is that everything you tell me is because you’re forced to tell me- not because you choose to tell me.  You never fully trust me.”

Chris: 


“Is that what we’re back to, Sara? I’m fucking you? Is that where last night took us again? Why you are all over me in a parking lot?

Because if you want me to fuck you, I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember your damn name and you never forget mine.”

Baby, the ways I’m going to fuck you are too many to count, but not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to make love to you.

“I’m going to own you, body and soul. I will bind you. I will fuck your ass. Your mouth. I will do what I want. And none of this even comes close to where I’ve been and where I will never take you.”

“Good.” He breathes out and I feel the relief wash over him even through the phone line. “Because it would suck to feel like this alone.”

Mark:

“I go for what I want but I respect certain limits.  Tell me you belong to him and I’ll back off.”


“I caused this, and I almost did the same thing to you.  I would have, if not for Chris.  You and I both know it’s true.  Go home, Sara. Get as far away from me as you can.”

Ricco Alvarez:

“Men like Mark do not need machetes to dice your independence and self-respect. They mind-fuck you.”

 

Contact Info for Lisa Renee Jones

Twitter – @LisaReneeJones




A few pics – enjoy:

 
 
 
 
 
 

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Filed under Gallery Books, Inside Out Trilogy, Lisa Renee Jones, Review, Romance

If I Were You By Lisa Renee Jones

If I Were You by Lisa Renee Jones

Publication date: March 2013

<div style=”font-size:11px”>Publication date: 05/01/2013</div>Inside Out Trilogy #1
Published by Gallery Books
Pages: 340

When Sara McMillan finds a stack of journals in a storage unit, she’s shocked and enthralled by the erotic life the writer led. Unable to stop reading, she vicariously lives out dark fantasies through Rebecca, the writer—until the terrifying final entry.

Certain something sinister has happened, Sara sets out to discover the facts, immersing herself in Rebecca’s life. Soon she’s working at the art gallery Rebecca worked at and meeting Rebecca’s friends. Finding herself drawn to two dangerously sexy men, the manager of the gallery and a famed artist, Sara realizes she’s going down the same path Rebecca took. But with the promise of her dark needs being met by a man with confident good looks and a desire for control, she’s not sure anything else matters. Just the burn for more

Back of the Book

He is rich and famous, and dark in ways I shouldn’t find intriguing but I do. I so do. I don’t understand why his dark side appeals to me, but the attraction between us is rich with velvety promises of satisfaction. . . .

In the bestselling style of Fifty Shades of Grey, Lisa Renee Jones delivers sexy thrills and heart-pounding sensuality with a tantalizing page-turner in which the eyes of a high school English teacher are opened to a world she never knew existed, and she finds a passionate craving within that she never knew she possessed.

The journal comes to Sara McMillan by chance, when she inherits the key to an abandoned storage locker belonging to a woman named Rebecca. Sara can’t resist peeking at the entries in the journal . . . and she finds a scintillating account of Rebecca’s affair with an unnamed lover, a relationship drenched in ecstasy and wrapped in dark secrets.

Obsessed with discovering Rebecca’s destiny after the entries come to an abrupt end, Sara does more than observe the players in the woman’s life; she immerses herself in the high-stakes art gallery world Rebecca inhabited—and is magnetically drawn to two men. Which one seduced Rebecca with his masterful and commanding touch and brought her fantasies to exquisite life? On a daringly erotic escapade, Sara follows Rebecca’s path to fulfill her own hidden longings. But after she tastes the forbidden pleasures Rebecca savored, will Sara be helpless to escape the same submissive fate?

Read an Excerpt

One

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Dangerous.

For months I’ve had dreams and nightmares about how perfectly he personifies the word. Sleep-laden, alternate realities where I can vividly smell his musky male scent, feel his hard body against mine. Taste the sweet and sensuous flavor of him—like milk chocolate with its silky demand that I indulge in one more bite. And another. So good I’d forgotten there’s a price for overindulgence. And there is a price. There is always a price. I was reminded of this life lesson on Saturday night. And I know now, no matter what he says, no matter what he does, I cannot—will not—see him again.

It started out as any other erotic adventure with him. Unpredictable. Exciting. I barely remember where it all went wrong. How it took such a dark turn.

He’d ordered me to undress and sit on the mattress, against the headboard, my legs spread wide for his viewing. Naked before him, open to him, I was vulnerable and quivering with need. Never in my life had I taken orders from a man; most certainly I had never thought I would quiver with anything. But I did for him.

If Saturday night proved anything, it was that once I was with him, under his spell, he could demand anything of me, and I’d comply. He could push me to the edge, to unbelievable places I’d never thought I would go. Exactly why I can’t see him again. He makes me feel possessed, and what is so disconcerting about this feeling is that I like it. I can hardly wrap my mind around allowing such a thing, though I burn for it. But when I saw him standing at the end of the bed Saturday night, all broad and thick with sinewy muscle, his cock jutting forward, there was nothing but that need.

He was magnificent. Really, truly the most gorgeous man I’ve ever known. Instant lust exploded inside me. I wanted to feel him close to me, to feel him touch me. To touch him. But I know now not to touch him without his permission. And I know not to beg him to let me.

I’ve learned my lesson from past encounters. He enjoys the vulnerability of a plea far too much. Enjoys withholding his pleasures until I am nearly quaking with the burn of my body. Until I am liquid heat and tears. He likes that power over me. He likes full control. I should hate him. Sometimes, I think I love him.

It was the blindfold that should have warned me I was headed toward a place of no return. Thinking back, I believe it did. He tossed it on the bed, a dare, and instantly a shiver chased a path up and down my spine. The idea of not being able to see what was happening to me should have aroused me—it did arouse me. But for reasons I didn’t understand at the time, it also frightened me. I was scared and I hesitated.

This did not please him. He told me so, in that deep, rich, baritone voice that makes me quiver uncontrollably. The need to please him had been so compelling. I put on the blindfold.

I was rewarded by the shift of the mattress. He was coming to me. Soon I knew I would come, too. His hands slid possessively up my calves, over my thighs. And damn him, stopped just before my place of need.

What came next was a shadowy whirlwind of sensation. He pulled me to my back, flat against the mattress. I knew satisfaction was seconds away. Soon he would enter me. Soon I would have what I needed. But to my distress, he moved away.

It was then that I was sure I’d heard the click of a lock. It jolted me to a sitting position, and I called out his name, fearful he was leaving. Certain that I’d done something wrong. Then relieved when his hand flattened on my stomach. I’d imagined the sound of the lock. I must have. But I couldn’t shake the subtle shift in the air then, the raw lust and menace consuming the room that didn’t feel like him. It was a thought easily forgotten when he settled heavy between my thighs, his strong hands lifting my arms over my head, his breath warm on my neck—his body heavy, perfect.

Somehow, a silk tie wrapped around my wrists and my arms were tied to the bed frame. It never occurred to me that he could not have done this on his own. That he was on top of me, unable to manipulate my arms. But then, he was manipulating my body, my mind, and I was his willing victim.

He lifted his body from mine, and I whimpered, unable to reach for him. Again silence. And the whisk of fabric. More strange sounds. Long seconds ticked by, and I remember the chill that snaked across my skin. The feeling of dread that had balled in my stomach.

And then, the moment I know I will die remembering. The moment when the steel of a blade touched my lips. The moment that he promised there was pleasure in pain. The moment when the blade traveled along my skin with the proof he would be true to his words. And I knew then that I had been wrong. He was not dangerous. Nor was he chocolate. He was lethal, a drug, and I feared . . .

A knock on my apartment door jolts me from the seductive words of the journal I’ve been reading to the point I darn near toss the notebook over my shoulder. Guiltily, I slam it shut and set it back on the simple oak coffee table where it had been left by my neighbor and close friend Ella Ferguson the night before. I hadn’t meant to read it. It was just . . . there. On my table. Absently, I’d opened it, and I’d been so shocked at what I found that I hadn’t believed it could really be my sweet, close friend Ella’s writing. So I’d kept reading. I couldn’t stop reading, and I don’t know why. It makes no sense. I, Sara McMillan, am a high school teacher, and I do not invade people’s privacy, nor do I enjoy this kind of reading. I’m still telling myself that as I reach the door, but I can’t ignore the burn low in my belly.

I pause before greeting my visitor and rest my hands on my cheeks, certain they’re flaming red, hoping whoever is here will just go away. I promise myself if they do, I won’t read the journal again, but deep down, I know the temptation will be strong. Good Lord, I feel like Ella seemed to feel when living out the scene in the journal—like I am the one hanging on for one more titillating moment and then another. Clearly, twenty-eight-year-old women are not supposed to go eighteen months without sex. The worst part is that I’ve invaded the privacy of someone I care about.

Another knock sounds, and I concede that, nope, my visitor is not going away. Inwardly, I shake myself and tug at the hem of the simple light blue dress I still wear from today’s final tenth-grade English class of the summer. I inhale and open the door to have a cool blast of San Francisco’s year-round chilly night air tease the loose strands of my long brunette hair that have fallen from the twist at my nape. Thankfully, it also cools my feverishly hot skin. What is wrong with me? How has a journal affected me this intensely?

Without awaiting an invitation, Ella rushes past me in a whiff of vanilla-scented perfume and red bouncing curls.

“There it is,” Ella says, snatching up her journal from the coffee table. “I thought I’d left it here when I came by last night.”

I shut the door, certain my cheeks are flaming again with the knowledge that I now know more about Ella’s sex life than I should. I still don’t know what made me open that journal, what made me keep reading. What makes me, even now, want to read more.

“I hadn’t noticed,” I say, wishing I could pull back the lie the instant it’s issued. I don’t like lies. I’ve known my share of people who’ve told them, and I know how damaging they can be. I really don’t like how easily this one slipped from my lips. This is Ella, after all, who in the past year as my neighbor has become my confidante, the younger sister I’d never had. Together we are the family neither of us has or, rather, neither of us wishes to claim. Uncomfortably, I ramble onward, a bad habit brought out by nerves, and guilt, apparently. “Long day of classes,” I add, “and I had piles and piles of paperwork to finish up for the summer. Lucky you got to avoid that this year, though I had some great kids I enjoyed.” I purse my lips and tell myself I’ve said enough, only to find I can’t help but continue. “I only just got home a few minutes ago.”

“Well, thank goodness you have some time off now,” Ella says, lifting the journal. “I brought this over last night when we’d planned to watch that chick flick together. I wanted to read you a few of the entries. But then David called, and you know how that went.” Her lips tilted downward, guilt laden in her tone. “I deserted you like a very bad friend.”

David being her hot doctor boyfriend. What David wanted from Ella, he got. Now, I know just how true that is. I study Ella a moment. With her dewy youthful skin, and dressed in faded jeans and a purple tee, she looks like one of my students rather than a twenty-five-year-old teacher herself. “I was tired anyway,” I assure her, but I’m worried she’s over her head with this man ten years her senior. “I needed to get to bed to be ready for today’s classes.”

“Well, they’re over now and yay for that.” She indicates the journal. “And I’m so glad to get this back before my date with David tonight.” She wiggles an eyebrow. “Foreplay. David is going to love this. This thing is scorching hot.”

I gape in utter disbelief. “You read him your journal?” I’d never have the courage to read a man such intimate personal thoughts—especially not about him. “And it’s foreplay?”

Ella frowns. “This isn’t my journal. Remember? I told you last night. It’s from the storage units I bought at that auction at the beginning of summer.”

“Oh,” I say, though I don’t remember Ella saying anything about the journal. In fact, had she, I’m 100 percent sure I’d remember. “That’s right. The storage auctions you’ve been attending since you got obsessed with that Storage Warsshow. I still can’t believe people store their things and then default and let it go to the highest bidder.”

“And yet they do,” Ella says. “And I’m not obsessed.”

I arch a brow.

“Okay, maybe I am,” she concedes, “but I’m going to make more than double what I would have teaching summer school. You should really consider going to the next auction with me. I’ve already turned around two of the three units I bought for big money.” She holds up the journal. “This came from the last unit I bought, and it’s the best yet. It has artwork I know is going to sell for big bucks. And so far I’ve found three journals that are absolutely spellbinding. My gosh, I can’t seem to stop reading them. This woman started out like you and me, and somehow got pulled into this dark passionate place that is terrifyingly exciting.”

She’s right, and I can feel that burn in my belly as I recall the words on those pages. I can almost imagine the soft, seductive voice of the woman whispering her story to me. I try to focus on what Ella is saying, but I’m wondering about that woman instead, wondering where she is, who she is.

“Oh my!” Ella exclaims. “You’re blushing. You read the journal, didn’t you?”

I blanch. “What? I . . .” Suddenly, I can’t talk. I am so not myself right now, and I sink helplessly into an overstuffed brown chair across from Ella, stuck in the trap of my earlier lie. “I . . . yes. I read it.”

Ella claims a couch cushion, narrowing her green eyes on me. “Did you think I wrote that stuff?”

I cast her a tentative look. “Well . . .”

“Whoa,” she says, clearly taking my reply, or rather lack of reply, as confirmation. “You thought . . .” She shakes her head. “I’m speechless. You couldn’t have read the good parts or there’s no way you would think she was me. But you’re sure blushing like you read the good parts.”

“I read some parts that were, ah, pretty detailed.”

She snorts. “And you assumed I wrote them.” She shakes her head again. “And here I thought you knew me. But heck, I so wish I could live up to that assessment for just one hot night. There is a mysterious eroticism to that woman’s life that’s just . . .” She shivers. “Haunting. It, she, affects me.”

In some small way it comforts me to know she is as affected by the words on those pages as I am, and I don’t know why. What in the world do I need comfort for? It isn’t logical. Nothing about my reaction to this unknown woman is logical.

“Once David and I finish with the journal,” Ella continues, drawing me back into the conversation, “he’s going to take pictures of a few intimate pages for potential buyers and we’re listing the journals on eBay. They’re going to bring in big money. I just know it.”

I gape, appalled at this idea. “You can’t seriously intend on selling this woman’s personal thoughts on eBay?”

“Heck yeah, I do,” she says. “Making money is the name of the game. Besides, for all we know, it’s fiction.”

Her words are cold, and she surprises me. This is not the Ella I know. “We are talking about a woman’s private thoughts, Ella. Surely, you don’t want to profit off her pain.”

Her brows dip. “What pain? It sounds like all pleasure to me.”

“She lost everything she owns at auction. That isn’t pleasure.”

“I’m guessing her rich man flew her off to some exotic location and she is living life in a grand way.” Her voice turns somber. “I have to think like that to do this, Sara. Please don’t make me feel guilty. This is money I need, and if I didn’t do this, some other buyer would have.”

I open my mouth to argue but relent. Ella is alone in this world, with no family aside from an alcoholic father who doesn’t know his own name most of the time, let alone hers. I know she feels she has to have money for emergencies. I know that feeling myself all too well. I, too, am alone. Mostly, but I don’t want to think about that right now.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, and I mean it. “I know this is good for you. I’m happy it’s working out.”

Her lips curve slightly, and she nods her acceptance before she pushes to her feet. I stand with her and give her a hug. She smiles, her mood transforming into the instant sunshine I so often find she brings into my life. I love Ella. I really do.

“David and I are looking forward to a bit of that spellbinding action ourselves tonight,” she announces mischievously. “I have to run.” She laughs and waves a few fingers at me. “Enjoy your night. I know I will.”

I sink back into my chair and watch the door close.

• • •

The sound of pounding on my door once again takes me from bliss to panic. I sit up in the bed, disoriented and groggy, and eye the clock. Seven in the morning on my first day off from classes.

“Who the heck is pounding on my door?” I grumble, throwing the blankets off me and sliding my feet into the pink fuzzy slippers one of my students gave me last Christmas. I grab my long pink robe that is not fuzzy, but does say PINK across the back. More knocking has begun.

“Sara, it’s me, Ella!” I hear as I shuffle my way toward the living room. “Hurry! Hurry!”

My heart flutters not only because Ella is clearly in some sort of panic but also because, unlike me, who doesn’t like to waste a second of any day, Ella doesn’t get up before noon on days she doesn’t have to. The instant I yank open the door, Ella flings her arms around me and announces, “I’m eloping!”

“Eloping?!” I gasp, pulling back and tugging Ella inside, out of the chill of the early morning. She’s still wearing her clothes from the night before. “What are you talking about? What’s happening?”

“David proposed last night,” she exclaims excitedly. “I can hardly believe it. We’re flying to Paris this morning.” She eyes her watch and squeals. “In two hours.”

She shoves something into my hand. “That has the key to my apartment. On the kitchen table, you’ll find the journal and the key to the storage unit. If it’s not cleared out in two weeks, it has to be rented, or it’s auctioned off yet again. So take it and sell the stuff. The money is yours. Or let it go. Either way, it doesn’t matter.” She grins. “Because I’m eloping to Paris, then honeymooning in Italy!”

Protectiveness fills me for Ella. I don’t want her to get hurt, and I’ve never even heard her say she loves David. “You’ve known this man for only three months, sweetie. I’ve met him only once.” He always, conveniently, got called away when we’d been planning to get together.

“I love him, Sara,” she says, as if reading my mind. “And he’s good to me. You know that.”

No, I don’t know that, but while I try to find the right way to say it, she is already reaching for the door. “Ella—”

“I’ll call you when I arrive in Paris, so keep your cell handy.”

“Wait!” I say, shackling her arm. “How long will you be gone?”

Her eyes light up with excitement. “A month. Can you believe it? A whole month in Italy. I’m living a dream.” She hugs me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Since we high school folks don’t go back until October, thanks to the longer school days, I’m going a full month! Can you believe it? I’ll never complain about our longer school days again. A whole month in Italy—I’m living a dream! I’ll call, and when we get back we’ll have a reception.”

Her eyes soften. “You know I wanted you with me for this, don’t you? But David knew I had no family. He wanted to whisk me away so that it wouldn’t be painful.” She pokes at the puckered spot that always appears between my brows when I frown. “Stop making that face. It’ll be wrinkled when you get older. And I’m fine. I’m perfect, in fact.”

“You better be,” I say, attempting my best teacher voice, but my throat is too tight to do much more than croak out the warning. “Call me as soon as you arrive so I know you’re safe, and I want pictures. Lots of pictures.”

Ella smiles brightly, “Yes, Ms. McMillan.” She turns and rushes away, giving me a last-second wave over her shoulder before she rounds the corner. She is gone, and I am fighting unexpected tears I don’t even understand.

I am happy for Ella but worried for her, too. I feel . . . I’m not sure what I feel. Lost, maybe. My fingers curl around her keys, and I am suddenly aware that I have just inherited a storage unit and the journals I swore I wouldn’t read again.

 



My Review:

5/5 big Super stars


This book is marketed as Fifty Shades of Grey meets Basic Instinct.   I definitely see the 50 shades similarity but I didn’t see Basic Instinct so not sure if it compares to that.  This is really a very good book and it’s a different story line then 50 shades so don’t think you are just reading the same book.  


I was sucked in right from the start and stayed that way all the way to the end of the book.  As with most trilogies you will have questions that are not answered in the first book and might not be answered until the last one.  Please try having some to be patience!!! 


This book was written as present tense and in first person POV.   Makes it easier to figure out what is happening in the past (with Rebecca’s journal entries) and the present.

Sara McMillian, a high school English teacher and Arts graduate, has inherited a key for her friend to an abandoned storage locker.  Inside the locker she finds journals belonging to an Allure Art Gallery manager named Rebecca.  The journals contain erotic and passionate writing about an affair.  She feels that she should return the journals to Rebecca Mason. 

Sara goes to the art gallery but is unable to find Rebecca.  Sara gets offered a summer job.  Is she going to be living as Rebecca did?? 

Who could Rebecca have written her journals about Mark Compton, her new boss or Chris Merit, an artist she likes and admires? 

As Sara spends time with Chris she begins to see him as two people one moody and one sweet and tender.  Is it weird that they both make her hot and bothered? 

 
The ending is a HUGE cliffhanger on a couple of different issues. 



Here are a few I can’t wait for answers on:

Will Chris text Sara back? 

Who the hell is in the storage bin with Sara? 
 

I can’t wait for the next book in the series.

 
A Few of my favorite lines from Ava/Sara/Chris/Mark from the book:

Ava:

It’s the mystery. I think. No Matter how I try, I can’t draw him into conversation of any substance.  Well, that, and let’s just face it, the man make denim and leather look as edible as chocolate.

Sara:

“And I don’t want to be a part of the ‘who’s got a bigger sword?’ contest you two have going on, wither. I don’t do cockfights. I just want to do my job and do it well.”

Chris:

 “Be warned, Sara. I’m no saint. If I take you upstairs, I’m going to strip you naked and fuck you the way I’ve wanted to since the moment we first met.”
 
Mark:

These artists know I don’t tolerate that crap and as long as they believe I own you, they won’t believe you will, either.  So when I say I own you, Sara, I mean I own you.

 

Contact Info for Lisa Renee Jones

Twitter – @LisaReneeJones

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Filed under Gallery Books, Inside Out Trilogy, Lisa Renee Jones, Review, Romance

If I Were you on Sale until June

If I Were You by Lisa Renee Jones

The first book in this intensely seductive series, optioned to STARZ is on sale

 
It’s only $3.79 at Amazon

And $3.99 at Barnes and Noble

$3.79 at Amazon $3.99 at Barnes, Kobo, Apple and all retailers —ENDS THIS WEEK
This is only for a limited time, so take advantage of this offer quickly!!

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Filed under Inside Out Trilogy, Lisa Renee Jones, Romance, Sale