PRE-ORDER CONTEST FOR THE NECKLACE TRILOGY!

​WE ARE LESS THAN 8 WEEKS AWAY FROM THE LAUNCH OF MY NECKLACE TRILOGY!!

I am beyond excited to introduce my readers to this trilogy, it very much has the feel of my Inside Out series (you'll even see a few familiar faces), but it's also a whole world full of unexpected dangers, and undeniable passion, and I have had the best time getting lost in these characters' minds and hearts. I hope you feel the same once you have it in your hands. 

​To celebrate two months until the launch, I am hosting a big PRE-ORDER CONTEST! If you pre-order book one, WHAT IF I NEVER, and register your pre-order, then you'll be entered to win a GORGEOUS SWAROVSKI NECKLACE, and everyone will receive a free ebook from my backlist of their choosing! There's a lot of free ebook options that haven't been available in the past, too!

ENTER FOR THE CHANCE TO WIN HERE

https://www.lisareneejones.com/necklace-trilogy-pre-order-contest.html

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BUY WHAT IF I NEVER

Amazon: http://mybook.to/Necklace1
Apple: http://apple.co/3pIeHYe
Nook: http://bit.ly/2ZIL7Hv
Kobo: http://bit.ly/3pGnpq0
Print, Audio, and Google coming soon!

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READ AN EARLY SNEAK PEEK!

​“We meet again.”

At the sound of a familiar male voice, there is a flutter in my belly and a rush of a heat in my blood. I know even before I turn that this is the man I’d almost met in the Hawk building a week ago. The man from the elevator.

I turn to find him standing just behind me.

He’s not in a suit tonight like Tyler Hawk, but he’s also not all cowboy’d out, like so many of the other guests. He’s wearing dark blue jeans, paired with a black turtleneck and a brown suede jacket with sleek matching boots.

And yes, he’s him.

The man who’d smelled good and charmed me in the elevator. The man who’s leanly muscled and quite handsome and I noticed these things all too easily because he’d stood too close to me and yet somehow not close enough.

“We meet again,” I repeat, confirming our prior encounter.

His eyes, an earthy grass green, light on me, as if my memory of our encounter pleases him, as if he actually doubted I’d remember him. “I blinked and you were gone,” he comments, moving in closer and resting his arm on the railing next to us.

“I was swallowed by the crowd,” I reply. “I guess I lost you.”

His lips quirk slightly, a hint of amusement in his expression, as if he knows why I disappeared and knows her, in fact, by name while I only know her as “the blonde woman.” “And now you’ve found me,” he comments.

“I actually think you found me,”