Fireworks for Four Release Week Celebration!
 
FIREWORKS FOR FOUR by Kristi Hancock is an explosive and fiery story of dominance, submission, breaking boundaries, and letting go for just one night. What happens when you’re a young, sexy dancer and you find yourself the object of desire—not just for one man…but three? Well, you light the damn match and see how hot it burns. If you thought WICKED BAD and TRULY SCRUMPTOUS by R.G. Alexander sizzled, then FIREWORKS FOR FOUR will set your sky on fire!
​

Title: Fireworks for Four
Author: Kristi Hancock
Series: Sweet Tooth #2
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: October 12th, 2015
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
Print Length: 30K
Format: Digital
Digital ISBN: 978-1-62210-243-3

Follow all the stops on the tour for more chances to win!
October 12th 
Alpha Book Club a review of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Jen's Reading Obsession a guest post from Kristi
Becky on Books Spotlight Stop
 
October 13th 
Crystal's Chaotic Confessions a spotlight of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Bewitching Bibliophile a review of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
 
October 14th
            WickedGoodReads a review of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
 
October 15th
            Pretty Sassy Cool a review of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Evermore Books a guest post from Kristi
Naughty Book Eden a spotlight of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Books & Bells A spotlight of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
 
October 16th
            Happily Ever Chapter a spotlight of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Nicole's Book Musings a spotlight of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
JJ's kinky books  a review of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
T&L Book Reviews a review of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
British Book Binge a spotlight of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Joyfully Reviewed a spotlight of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Miss Riki a review of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Cara's Book Boudoir a review of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Ramblings of a Book Lunatic a review of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Bound by Books Book Reviews a review of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Jb's Book Obsession a spotlight of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR
Books and Warpaint a review of FIREWORKS FOR FOUR

Synopsis:
 
Kick the new year off with a bang!
 
With few friends and no support from family, ballerina-in-training Caroline Holder pays her bills by working as a nude model. Her financial survival depends on it.
 
Craig Bishop is a workaholic who achieves his goals because of his tunnel vision when it comes to the things he’s passionate about, which has only been his work—until now. When he sees the beautiful model in body paint at his annual New Year’s Eve Party, it’s love at first sight. Irrepressible feelings for the stranger disrupt his autopilot relationship with his girlfriend, leaving him with the untenable choice of dumping her on the holiday or hiding the most powerful emotional response he’s ever known. Not to mention the new object of his affections has caught the eye of his two friends as well. As he grapples with his own growing desire for the nameless model and her surprising desire to be shared, a Dominant side he never knew he had emerges.
 
Caroline prides herself on her professionalism, including not talking to clients. She can live out her ultimate sexual fantasy, but only if she breaks the rules. Is one night with three sexy strangers worth the risk?

Download at: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo

Excerpt:
 
“Do you want to test me? To wrap your hands around my prick and see just how hard it is. For you? You want it almost as much as I do, judging by your fists.”
Caroline started quietly panting. She was losing control of her body yet all he was doing was talking to her. In a public room where anyone could hear. Her pussy clenched, and she whispered, “Yes.”
“I know what you want. I know how to give it to you, how to make it happen for you. I can give you what you want tonight. Do you want it?”
She stammered, “I…I don’t know. I’ve never…”
Gabe ran a finger up the seam of her ass. “Never what? Never been fucked here? Are you curious? What else do you want?”
She issued a little moan, too embarrassed to speak but too overcome to remain silent. “Ah, I think I’ve figured it out now. He’s done something to your clit.” He reached his hand around to stroke the front of her thong. “Not a nipple extender. Highly effective but it might show through your costume. But some gel, something with an edge, eucalyptus or capsaicin maybe.”
When she dropped her head back, he removed his hand, letting it hover over the small panties.
“Yes, Caroline, I know what Craig did to you. And Tate knows, doesn’t he? I’ve seen the way he’s watched you tonight, prowling behind you, looking for an opportunity to pounce. Was he there? Did he help?”
Caroline nodded.
“Oh, yeah, baby. You liked it. You like him, too, don’t you? But you don’t know what to do about it. Have you ever had a ménage?”
His head was over her shoulder, his face next to hers as she gave her head a slow shake.
“Would you like to have one?”
The crowd in front of them started the one minute countdown to midnight.
She couldn’t hide her excitement at the prospect of a temporary physical connection with them. “I…I don’t know.”
“Think about it, sweetheart, and think hard. It’s New Year’s Eve. A time for new beginnings. The clock is about to strike twelve, but you’re no Cinderella. You can stay until dawn, if you like. I think you know that’s what we would like. Don’t you?”
Ten, nine, eight…
“You do? All three of you? You would share me?”
Seven, six, five…
“Craig might be a little jealous to begin with, but only until he sees how much satisfaction we can give you together.”
Four, three, two…
“One mouth on each of your beautiful rich breasts, sucking and biting. One mouth on your crotch, licking you from ass to clit.”
One, Happy New Year!

Also available
DESSERT FOR TWO, book one in the Sweet Tooth series
 
Download at Amazon | Kobo | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Liquid Silver Book

About Kristi Hancock:

Kristi Hancock became an author of erotica and erotic romance when the characters in her dirty mind demanded to come to life. Creating worlds ranging from the music underground of Seattle to the hot spots of colorful Key West to the vibrant streets of New York City (and the hotel rooms above them), she leads heroes and heroines through intense sexual experiences that transform them into stronger and more confident people. Her racy stories are guaranteed to make you randy. 
 
Connect with Kristi: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | Tumblr

​Excerpt
“You’re game for anything, right?”
Devi compressed her lips and studied Omar through a narrow gaze, taking in the way his overly bright eyes concentrated on her face as if memorizing every pore. Her gaze traveled south to the non-existent rise and fall of his chest and how he pushed his suit jacket aside as he placed his hands low on his hips. He’d stopped breathing while he waited for her reply. That made her more nervous than anything. “Normally I am game for anything, but considering the man asking the question, I’m a little nervous.” She licked her lips.
Omar shook his head, swallowing her hands in the warmth of his. “No. This is a great idea. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”
“I’ll hold back on saying I’m glad I could help until I know what you’ve got pinging around your brain.” She tried to pull free of his grip, but he only grasped her fingers tighter. Her inner voice told her whatever plan he’d cooked up included her and she wouldn’t be thrilled with the role.
“Bartow wants a family-first firm. He wants a planner who is married, blah, blah blah.” He dismissed his unfinished words with the thrust of his chin.
Devi nodded, her mouth going dry. Was he planning to hire a wife, or about to propose?
“I might not be married, but what if I were engaged?”
She didn’t want to jump to conclusions about the proposal so she pasted on a tight smile. “Do you have a serious girlfriend hidden away I don’t know about?” The thought unsettled her, but she pushed aside the heaviness in her gut. Omar and relationships mixed like fire and ice. Not that women didn’t find him attractive and vice versa, but his true love would always be work. Most sane women wanted something more than a workaholic commitment-phobe.
He shook his head a bit too vigorously. “No. No.” His grip tightened, and she flexed her fingers so he’d loosen his hold. “Hear me out before you shoot me down.”
“I’m more curious than ever.” Again, she threw sand over that niggling feeling in her belly. She never jumped to conclusions. Living by the seat of your pants didn’t allow it, but…
Why start now? She rolled her shoulders in an effort to relax. Omar pulled her off to the side and out of the crowd moving past them on the sidewalk. His hands shook with excitement, and he swallowed hard before clearing his throat. Always calm and collected, his buildup unsettled Devi, and she tugged one hand from his grip and pressed it against the gurgle growing in her stomach.
“How about we announce our engagement? I could pull in some favors and have it in the press Monday morning. That’d still give Bartow enough time to invite us to the meet and greet. And—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Devi’s stomach did a nosedive, and she yanked her other hand from his death grip and stepped back. She twisted one of the bangle bracelets on her wrist. “Our engagement? First off, I didn’t even know we were dating. And second, I am not going to help you get ahead by lying.”

Excerpt:

Kelly Watson was getting annoyed because Caleb wouldn’t hang up the phone.

She’d come over to his big estate outside DC for the weekend. She wasn’t living with him all the time anymore—the way she had in the beginning—but she’d spent the last three weekends with him. Now it was Friday at almost seven in the evening, and he was still on a work call.

He was also wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

Caleb Marshall was the CEO of Vendella and Co., a high-powered pharmaceutical company. He didn’t have the luxury of working only on weekdays. She didn’t expect him not to work—or not to take calls on any day or at any hour they came in.

But still, they were scheduled to leave for a black-tie event in ten minutes. The cocktail party was his thing—since she was a pet portrait artist and wasn’t in the habit of attending formal events of any kind. It was only because of him that she was going to this party at all. She’d gotten out of the shower, dried her hair, and done her makeup in the bathroom, and she’d expected him to be dressed when she reentered his bedroom.

But he was sitting in a leather chair near the window, talking on the phone, naked except for the towel.

And he didn’t even appear aware of her presence.

It worried her.

They were supposed to be in a real relationship. They’d never said the words “I love you.” Given both of their pasts as commitment-phobes, that would have been far beyond the comfort zone for either of them. But they’d admitted that the feelings between them were real, and they’d agreed to try to make the relationship work.

He was supposed to care about her, be totally into her, feel for her more than he’d ever felt for anyone else. That was what he’d said, at least.

Which was why it was concerning that he hadn’t noticed that she’d walked into the bedroom wearing nothing but her underwear. He hadn’t even glanced over at her.

Caleb wasn’t just her boyfriend. He might have killed her father. And the only way she could ever find out the truth was to get him to trust her completely, let down his guard, and allow her access to the information she needed so she could find concrete evidence about who had arranged her father’s murder. And she only had a limited amount of time to accomplish all this in the month or so her mother had left to live.

If Caleb was losing his interest in her, if she wasn’t as attractive to him as she used to be, then she could never do what she needed to do.

So she felt distracted and out of sorts as she walked over to the dresser and looked in the mirror.

Her makeup was good—setting off her blue eyes, high cheekbones, fair skin, and full lips—and her long, dark gold hair was pulled up into an elegant twist. Her bra and panties were a sexy black lace—much more expensive than she’d ever bought for herself before she’d met Caleb.

In the past, she’d only ever had one-night stands. There was no man in the world whom she’d known as deeply and intimately as Caleb. No man who could turn her on as much. No man she’d invested nearly as much in as him.

No man she’d hated as much.

It was the bitter irony of her life—to live torn apart like this until she could finally find the truth, finally find closure, finally heal. If such a thing was even possible.

But all of it would be futile if his interest was waning.

He was talking about some sort of marketing campaign on the phone. She heard the words, but they were of no interest. It didn’t sound like an emergency, though, so it was definitely time for him to hang up the phone.

With that same flutter of anxiety and uncertainty, she grabbed a tube of lotion from the bag she’d brought over for the weekend and squeezed some out on her palm.

Then she walked over so she was directly in Caleb’s line of sight, sat down on the edge of the bed, and started to rub the lotion onto one of her legs.

Her body was pretty decent, with long legs and good breasts. Caleb had always seemed to really like it before. Might as well use it to her advantage.

She massaged the lotion in slowly, extending her leg in a way she hoped was sexy.

With a clench of pleased satisfaction, she noticed from the corner of her eye that Caleb’s eyes had shifted over to her.

He was still talking, but at least now he was watching her.

She took her time rubbing the lotion on her other leg as well, and then she stood up and started applying it to her arms and shoulders in turn.

He was definitely focused on her now. His brown eyes had taken on a familiar heat—albeit still distracted by his conversation—and his gaze didn’t leave her body.

Making sure to act unaware, she walked over to the closet to get a dress. She’d brought two possibilities with her for this evening, since she hadn’t been sure which she should wear. Inspired, she grabbed the one she’d already decided against.

She returned to his line of sight to slowly, sensually pull the dress on, letting the soft fabric cling to her body.

It was a blue that matched her eyes, and she studied herself in the mirror, turning around and pretending to be evaluating the effect. She slipped on her high heels and looked at herself again.

Then she unzipped it and let it fall slowly to the floor so she was standing in nothing but her underwear and heels.

Caleb stumbled over something he was saying.

Excerpt
“Okay, back to the topic at hand,” Duncan said. “You can’t stay here.”
Still watching Marc, Lovey saw his head snap up.
“I have to stay here, Dunc. Where else am I going to go?”
He cursed under his breath. “But I told you, there’s nowhere for you to sleep.”
“Uh . . . she can have my bed,” Marc offered.
Lovey beamed at him. “That’s so sweet of you.”
“She can’t have your fucking bed,” Duncan snapped. “Where the hell are you going to sleep?”
Marc shrugged. “Couch?”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Duncan gave a gusty sigh. “One night. One night only. After that, you have to stay in a hotel or something, Lovey.”
“I can’t afford a hotel!” She gaped at him. “D’you think my last job paid me multi-millions of dollars like yours does?”
“Quit throwing my money in my face.” He slumped into the couch with a scowl.
“I’m not throwing it in your face.” She blinked. “I’m just pointing out what should be obvious . . . my marketing job for Kleinheinz Cheese did not pay enough for me to be able to afford to stay in a pricey Chicago hotel indefinitely.”
“You have enough to rent an apartment, don’t you?” He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Um . . . I have a little money. I sold my car.”
“Lovey . . .”
“Duncan.”
They glared at each other in one of their famous sibling standoffs. She lifted her chin.
As usual, she won.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Stay here until you get on your feet. But it better not be long. And you better not be in our way.”
“Thanks, Dunc.” She smiled. “I promise I won’t be. You won’t even know I’m here.”
“Why do I doubt that?” Duncan shook his head.
She looked over at Marc and saw he was grinning at the counter he was wiping.
Cheese whiz, he was gorgeous! Even more so when he smiled. Earlier he’d been so straight-faced and serious. A little curl of lust warmed her inside.
“We need to get going.” Marc looked at her brother, the grin now absent. “Gotta get to the dealership.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Duncan gave her a narrow-eyed look as he rose from the couch. “I’m buying a new vehicle. Gotta go sign the papers and pick it up.”
“Oooh. What kind?”
“Land Rover.”
“Duncan! You can’t drive a truck in Chicago!”
“It’s not a truck, for fuck’s sake.”
She made a face. “If you say so. I’ll unpack and get settled in. Hey, could you pick me up a bed on your way home?” He bugged his eyes out at her and she laughed. “Kidding! We can do that tomorrow.”
“What about the stuff from your apartment in Madison? Where’s that?”
“Storage. I’ll get it shipped here when I find my own place.”
“You mean you actually do intend to find your own place?”
“Uh . . . yeah.” She gave him a “duh” look. “I can’t stay with you forever. Although, I could get some of the stuff shipped here . . . my bedroom set. And . . .” She glanced at his dining room full of weights. “You could use a dining table and chairs.”
“Fuck no. I mean . . . I’ll help you find a nice apartment.”
“Sure. As long as you don’t mind sleeping on the couch until I do.”
He groaned and she heard a laugh from the kitchen. She looked back at Marc and their eyes met. His gleamed with mirth and she felt that little kick of lust again.
He grinned. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen Army taken out so easily. This is hilarious.”
Duncan scowled. “Shut the fuck up, Duper.”
Her eyes met Marc’s and held again and she grinned back at him, trying (but failing) to ignore the flip of lust and attraction low in her belly. He looked at her long enough that she knew he felt it too.
Well, she certainly hadn’t anticipated something like this. She’d come to Chicago to move on with her life. Things with Richard had gotten serious enough that she’d been scared spitless; scared enough to break up with him, quit her job, pack up all her belongings, and run. She had a plan, figured there’d be lots of opportunities in Chicago, and was going to get right on that, first thing Monday morning. She hadn’t planned on living with a hot hockey player with a body that could turn a girl to a puddle of lust . . . but this was going to be fun!

Excerpt:

November 26, 2011

Dear Neve,

First off, please call me Rory. (Rhymes with “story.” Sorry, couldn’t resist.) Or Mic. We’re big on nicknames over here and that’s mine.

Thank you for your letter. I got it yesterday, which was the day after Thanksgiving. They try to do it up big here, to make the day special, but it’s not the same as being at home. And I was in a funk, thinking about my family and friends, all together at our pub, everyone there but me, stuffing themselves on Mom’s delicious turkey, Aunt Jackie’s honeyed ham, cousin Barbara’s mashed potatoes, and our neighbor Abigail’s macaroni and cheese, which is the best I’ve ever tasted. Damn it, now I’ve got my mouth watering again.

Anyhow, your letter came at the right time to cheer me up and give me something else to think about. Like the picture you sent. Hot damn. That had to be the finest female butt I’ve ever seen in a skimpy purple bikini bottom . . . or any bikini bottom, for that matter. In fact it’s so perfect the guys are convinced you’re trying to catfish me—you know, sub someone else’s pic for your own. How about we prove them wrong? Send me another picture, a full body shot this time. In that same bikini would be my preference.

To answer your question, I don’t know anyone who would call me amoral. But a dog? There, uh, may be one or two girls from my past who think so. But I’m a guy, and any guy who tells you he’s never in his life exhibited some doggish behavior is a liar. One thing I am not is a liar. That said, when I’m in a relationship, I don’t cheat. Lucky for me, I’ve got no girlfriend or special someone at the moment. And being of high moral character—if I do say so myself—I would certainly have told you, without you having to ask, if I did.

So if you’re up for writing me some sexy letters (and hell yeah, the hotter the better!) I’m more than okay with reading them. For sure I like the entertainment you’re offering a helluva lot more than any entertainment I could have gotten from a classroom of third-graders.

Now, about me. My bio probably told you I’m a twenty-three-year-old Southie from Beantown. (Translation: From South Boston.) My family owns and runs an Irish pub there, McRoy’s. My mom, dad, and three brothers all live above it. I’m the oldest. Been working at that bar for as long as I can remember. Couldn’t wait to get the hell out. As soon as I graduated high school I went straight into the army.

I’m six weeks into a twelve-month combat deployment, and I can tell I’ll be seeing a lot more fighting this time around. I’ve already decided this tour of duty will be my last. I only hope I survive it.

On a happier note . . . what I’m looking for in a pen pal? Someone to take my mind off all the shit happening here—and so far you’re doing a bang-up job. Tell me about your day. Share the story of why you and your brother are only six months apart. Tell me about your childhood, your teen years, and your dreams for the future. Tell me about the loser who needed stitches. Talk dirty to me. I think we’re pretty evenly matched in the pen pal department. I just happen to be an up-for-anything kind of guy. I don’t shock easily. So give me all you got. I can handle it. Care packages? I’m happy to get whatever you want to send.

Favorite food: My dad’s corned beef and cabbage. Favorite non-alcoholic beverage: Lemon-lime sports drinks. Favorite alcoholic beverage: Guinness Draught. Favorite color: At this point anything that isn’t tan or green. New favorite treat: Peanut brittle. Favorite part of the female anatomy: (I’m laughing because you have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here trying to decide.) A butt that looks like the one in the picture you sent is certainly high on my list. Especially if it tops off a nice set of toned legs, which I bet you have since you’re a gymnast/dancer. But for some reason I am really attracted to a woman’s feet. Not in a toe-sucking, fetish kind of way. But if a woman takes care of her feet, she probably takes good care of the rest of her. I like small, feminine feet with painted toenails. Part of the reason I love summer so much is for the opportunity to see women’s feet in pretty sandals.

Okay. I sound like a creeper. But I’m not. Really.

In my downtime I like to work with my hands, building things or repairing stuff. I run when the mood hits, which it doesn’t often. But I think chasing after you might be fun. See, something nice to think about for a change.

Well, I gotta go. Time for lunch, then some training stuff. Send out your letters as often as you like. Please don’t wait to hear back from me. Sometimes things get crazy, but I’ll do my best to stay in touch. It’ll help if you’d include your email address in your next letter.

Rory