J.T. Geissinger is an award-winning author of paranormal and contemporary romance featuring dark and twisted plots, kick-ass heroines, and alpha heroes whose hearts are even bigger than their muscles. An entrepreneur since she began hand-addressing envelopes for a local beauty pageant when she was 14, she has owned businesses as diverse as a temporary employment agency to a flower shop. It wasn't until hitting a significant birthday that she became motivated to realize her life-long dream of writing a novel.

Her debut novel, Shadow's Edge, was a #1 Amazon domestic and international bestseller, and won the Prism award for Best First Book. Her follow-up book, Edge of Oblivion, was a RITA© Award finalist for Best Paranormal Romance from the Romance Writers of America. Book 6 in the Night Prowler series, Into Darkness, won the Golden Quill award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy. Her work has also finaled in the Booksellers' Best, National Readers' Choice, and Daphne du Maurier Awards.

Foodie, wine enthusiast, and nap connoisseur, she lives in California with her husband, on whom all her heroes are based.

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J.T. Geissinger es una autora de fantasía paranormal y contemporánea con tramas oscuras y enredadas, heroínas fuertes y héroes alfa cuyos corazones son incluso más grandes que sus músculos. Es empresaria desde que comenzó escribiendo a mano las direcciones de los sobres para una tienda local de flores para desfiles de belleza. No fue hasta que alcanzó un cumpleaños muy significativo que se vio motivada y descubrió el sueño de su vida: escribir una novela.

Su novela debut, Shadow's Edge, fue #1 bestseller local e internacional en Amazon, y ganó el Prism Award por Mejor primer libro. Su continuación, Edge of Oblivion, fue finalista en los Premios RITA© por Mejor romance paranormal dentro de los Romances de escritores americanos. El número 6 de la serie Prowel, Into Darkness, ganó el premio Golden Quill por Mejor novela paranormal/urban fantasí. Su trabajo también ha entrado entre los finalistas de los premios Bookseller's Best, National Readers' Choice y Daphne du Maurier.

Amante de la comida y del vino, y experta de la siesta y los sorteos. Puedes apuntarte a su newsletter en www.jtgeissinger.com

Author links:

http://www.jtgeissinger.com/
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5865943.J_T_Geissinger

“Here’s the thing, Nico—”
“Don’t overthink it, Kat. You wanna see me or not?”
My pulse was all over the place. I sat up, then regretted that move as the room began to wobble. “I do.”
“What’s the address?”
“I wasn’t done talking.”
He cursed. I ignored it. “I do want to see you, but I just want to lay a few ground rules before we start this whole . . . whatever this whole thing is.”
I waited for him to respond. He sounded like he was listening hard, and he didn’t answer, so I plunged ahead. “I don’t want to just . . . um . . . ”
“You got a three-date rule, sweetheart?”
I was relieved that he sounded amused. Thank God he had a sense of humor.
“Because I can respect that. But you should realize that when you see me today, it’ll be the third date. So the next time you see me, all bets are off.” His voice dropped. “And I wanna see you again tomorrow.”
“We haven’t even had one date yet!”
“The shoot, then the restaurant. That’s two.”
His idea of what comprised a date was seriously impaired.
“Those don’t count as dates! We were working on the shoot, and you were only at the restaurant for like five seconds. If I see you today, this will be our first date.”
I didn’t mention that he’d gotten the details of the three-date rule wrong. It was sex on the third date, not after. I was trying to buy myself as much time as possible, because he was moving at the speed of a rocket.
“Okay. I’ll give you the shoot. But the restaurant should count. Being with someone at a restaurant is textbook definition of a date. No matter how long it lasted.”
I could not believe we were actually having this conversation. I sighed.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Now give me the fuckin’ address, Kat, before I wear a hole in the damn rug.”
He was pacing?
“What part of town are you coming from? Because I need, like, a half hour to get cleaned up.”
Nico’s response was a growl. I gave him the address.
“You’re in luck. I’m comin’ from the Hollywood Hills. It’ll take me at least forty-five minutes to get to Venice in traffic.” He paused. “Or I could take the bike. That’ll get me there in thirty.”
Was he screwing with me right now?
“You still there, Kat?”
“I’m still here.”
“I’m gonna be there in thirty minutes. You gonna be ready for me?”
Oh, the dark promise in that tone. I felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down. I already knew I was going to fall. The only question now was, how far?
And how hard?
And would the fall break me?
“I’ll be ready,” I whispered.
Nico’s voice was almost a purr. “Darlin’, that’s exactly what I’ve been waitin’ to hear.”
Before I could say another word, Nico hung up.