That Secret Crush by Meghan Quinn
Release Date: February 11, 2020
Genre: Contemporary Romance
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BLURB:USA Today bestselling author Meghan Quinn brings more humor and heart with the third novel of her Getting Lucky series: a story about breaking curses and laying your heart on the line. What happens when your secret crush isn’t so secret anymore? I’ve had feelings for Eve Roberts for as long as I can remember, but because she also happens to be the twin sister of my best friend, Eric, I’ve never acted on my feelings and long ago resigned myself to keeping my crush under wraps. But after a terrible falling-out with Eric involving a failed restaurant venture and plenty of blame on both sides, I’m back in Port Snow without my best friend and without any direction. But can you guess who’s here? Eve. And my attraction to her is as strong as ever. As old feelings rush back, Eve and I find ourselves pulled together, whether we like it or not. Lines are crossed, secrets are kept, and we soon discover that the difference between love and friendship may not be so black and white, after all. Everyone wants that secret crush to love them back…but will I be ready when she does?
**REID**What the fuck was that? Did I just experience real-life witchcraft? Whatever it was, I’m pretty sure Neptune and Uranus collided in space, because that shit was crazy. Stunned and nervously laughing at each other, my brothers and I hurry to a more populated part of the city. We’re soon threading our way through crowded cobblestone Bourbon Street toward a partially broken neon sign advertising huge pretzels. “She was scary as shit,” Brig whispers into my ear, reaching for my hand. I swat the idiot away. Out of all my brothers, Brig is by far the most sensitive, but holding hands—come on, dude, self-respect. Although I can’t blame him for quivering in his jeans. It might be all the alcohol I consumed, but damn . . . I’m feeling a little uneasy and a whole lot terrified. Why, you ask? Because I’m pretty sure an old crone who surfaced from Satan’s lair just cast some weird-as-shit curse on us. She pointed a crooked finger and laid it all out: we’ll have nothing but broken love for life. And before you scoff at such a blasphemous occurrence, you have to know this: There was fucking wind whipping us in the nuts as she spoke. And on this still, muggy New Orleans night, where the fuck did that wind come from? There were no fans in sight, and there was zero traffic down the narrow cobblestone side road. Confused? Okay, here are the Cliff Notes. Baby Brig turned twenty-one, and the four of us Knightly brothers very intelligently chose New Orleans as the place to celebrate because we didn’t want to be cliché and go to Vegas—although I’m kind of wishing we had right about now. We were in the middle of having a great alcohol-fueled night on the town. But, not paying any attention to where our wobbly legs were taking us, we ran into some old palm reader’s table, and Brig’s fat ass broke it. To make up for the destruction, Brig paid her to read his fortune. Well, she did a shit job. Oooh . . . you have brothers. They’re going to get you into trouble one day—thanks, lady, tell us something we don’t know. Her prediction was a load of crock, and because of that, we might have, you know, vocalized our intoxicated opinion on her subpar storytelling. That’s when the crazy shit went down. Not taking a liking to our constructive criticism, the old bat started flinging her cloak-draped arms around while her evil eyes turned a shade of petrifying yellow, and a huge mole grew on her nose out of nowhere. Pop! Just like that, the mole . . . with accompanying thick black hair. Okay, maybe the mole isn’t true, and her eyes didn’t change color, but she did wave her arms around, and she said some pretty traumatizing shit. Things like Your dicks are going to fall off and You’ll forever have sensitive nipples. Hmm . . . that doesn’t seem right. Did she say that? Confused, I break the silence hanging over all of us. “Did she say our dicks were going to fall off?” Panic rises in Brig’s voice. “Shit, did she? Did I miss that part?” He grabs his crotch with both hands as he continues to walk. “I can’t afford to have my dick drop dead.” “As if we can?” Rogan, the group pessimist, says, ducking around a rowdy bachelorette party. “Pretty sure we all need our dicks, dude.” Griffin, the oldest and most sensible despite his alcohol intake tonight, speaks up. “There was no mention of dicks falling off. She just said we’ll be cursed with broken love.” “Okay, so broken dicks,” I clarify. “Like, I’ll never be able to get it up again?” Brig steps in front of all of us. “Quick, take me to a strip club. I need to make sure that’s not what she meant.” “She didn’t mean that, you idiot.” Rogan wraps his arm around Brig’s neck and continues down the street, giant pretzels in sight. “That lady was a fucking whack job. Clearly she has some kind of mental health issue. It’s best if we just forget about everything and move on,” Griffin says. Sage advice from the brightest out of all of us. And even though I’m not as freaked out as Brig—I mean, I’m not clutching my dick and praying to the good Lord right now—I have to admit whatever happened back in that alley didn’t seem entirely kosher. What did she say again? Something about having broken love, and it won’t be until our minds have matured that the curse will be cured? What the hell does that even mean? Not that I’m looking for love, not when my restaurant is my life right now, but it would be nice to know that I still have the option. When my best friend, Eric, and I were getting through culinary school, pretty much every instructor told us that we weren’t going to have any time for relationships. The only love of our lives would be our knives. That’s turned out to be true. Betty, Beverly, and Barbie are my girls. Every night we have a foursome, and weirdly, they’re the best I’ve ever had. They enjoy my hands, and I enjoy their cutting edge—fuck, I’m hilarious. So even though that lady was weird, I don’t think I have anything to worry about. Broken love. Curses. Yeah, okay, you old crone. Go tickle someone else with your mole hair—we’re not interested. Together, we step inside the crowded, noisy pretzel bar and take a seat before putting in our order. Brig sits next to me, bouncing his knee and scanning the restaurant, its garage doors tucked up into the ceiling, used for closing time only. Everything about this place—selling giant pretzels in the heart of the French Quarter for all the drunk tourists—is genius. Despite the sticky bar top, peeling walls, and dirt-encrusted floors that probably haven’t seen a mop in a few years, there’s no doubt in my mind that it makes a killing . . . on just pretzels. Brig leans in and whispers, “I think she followed us; I can feel her here, staring at me.” “Dude, you’re fucking paranoid right now. Chill, man.” “Did you not hear her?” Brig seethes with worry. “She said we would never have dicks again.” Christ. I drag my hand over my face. We are way too drunk to be dealing with something like this. “She said we would have broken love. Your dick is fine.” “That’s what you think? Have you looked at yours yet? What if she turned them green or something? And broken love . . . that’s even worse. You know my goal in life is to be a husband. How can that happen if I’m cursed with broken love?” Luckily, at that moment, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I reach for it and see Eric’s name flash across the screen. He knows I’m in New Orleans celebrating Brig’s birthday, so this must be important. I hold up the phone to my sweating, hysterical brother. “Have to take this. Talk to Griff—he’ll hold your hand.” “Really? You think so?” I don’t bother to reply and take off toward the hallway that leads to the employee entrance at the back of the bar, trying to gain a little bit of privacy and to get away from the loud, pounding music. Straight from culinary school—and after working multiple jobs and saving every last penny we ever earned—Eric and I were able to scrape enough money together to start our own restaurant in Boston, which we named Bar 79 after Harbor 79, our favorite place to fish in our hometown, Port Snow. After six months of tireless menu prep, designing the space, and marketing the hell out of our New England–inspired cuisine with a twist, we opened our doors. And we’re only three months in, but we’re killing it so far. The food blogs love us, and three major articles have been written about our impeccable flavoring and our incredibly close bond. I accept the call and bring the phone up to my ear. “Hey, man, what’s up?” “Hey, I know you’re out with your brothers, but I, uh . . . I have a problem.” “What’s going on? Is it the restaurant, or is it something with Janelle?” Eric has been dating our business manager for the past three months, ever since we opened. I told him it was risky and maybe not the smartest idea he’s ever had, but he was gung ho on making a move, and there was nothing I could say or do to stop him. “Uh . . . yeah.” Still drunk, but not so much that I can’t help out with any restaurant issue, I lean against the wall. “Walk me through it.” Eric has always been the big picture guy, the dreamer, the extravagant one, while I’m more grounded and work out the fine details. So when he calls with a problem, I’m usually pretty confident in my ability to help him work through whatever it is. “Uh . . .” His voice shakes, a crack in his usually even-keeled persona. Cue the worry. This can’t be good. “Did you recently ask Janelle to make a transfer?” Janelle has been handling our business for the past five months, ever since Eric confronted me about not being able to juggle everything as we were gearing up for the opening. I was dropping the ball on multiple responsibilities, like managing our funds, paying vendors, and getting all our orders in on time while still trying to cook and develop the menu, so he found Janelle and brought her into the mix to help manage everything. With her MBA and businesslike confidence, she was doing a good job, I thought—well, until this very moment. “A transfer of funds?” “Yeah.” “No. Why? Did she?” “She did.” “Okay, so what’s the problem?” “She, uh . . . she kind of transferred all the funds.” I press my hand to my forehead, wishing I wasn’t drunk right now. “Dude, spell it out for me, okay? I’ve been drinking all damn day, I just got my dick turned green, and I’m hungry for a pretzel. What the hell is going on?” “She took it all, Reid. She fucking took it all.” “Took what? Our money?” That can’t be right. “Yeah. Took every last penny and just disappeared.” “Wait. What?” I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to comprehend what Eric is telling me. “She took all of our money? Where did she go?” “No fucking idea.” “So . . . we don’t have any money in the joint account?” I think back to how much was in there. After all our expenses and the cost of the opening, we were at about twenty grand, I think. Okay, don’t panic. “No, man. She took it all, out of all of the accounts.” My heart seizes in my chest as my breath comes out in gasps. Confusion and understanding collide in my brain, sending my stomach into a nauseous roll. “What the fuck are you telling me right now?” “The restaurant . . . fuck, man, it’s broke.” My head falls back against the wall, my body going limp as I slide to the sticky ground that hasn’t seen a mop in a decade. Broke. As in, no funds? There has to be a solution. The police, lawyers . . . this shit isn’t legal. “Did you report her?” “Yeah, but because she’s a partner, there isn’t much we can do. She had access to everything. She fucked us over.” I rub my hand across my forehead, eyes shut, preparing for the worst. “So what the fuck are you trying to tell me?” “We were already behind on bills. Janelle apparently wasn’t paying them but was still paying herself. Rent is two months overdue, vendors want their money, contractors still need to be paid. We’re fucked, Reid. Utterly fucked.” He lets out a long breath and says the last thing I ever expected to hear. “We have to close.” No fucking way. *** I pace the sealed concrete floor of Bar 79’s kitchen, still trying to comprehend what the hell happened while I was gone. I told Eric to meet me here in the morning after I got back, but he has yet to show up. I’m seriously starting to worry that he’s stood me up when the back door bangs open. I glance up to see Eric stumble inside, a bottle in his hand, a hitch in his gait. What the ever-living fuck? “Are you drunk?” “I can’t believe you’re sober.” He makes his way to a prep table and hoists himself on top of it before taking another swig of what I can only imagine is a bottle of scotch. “How the hell am I supposed to have a conversation about our restaurant when you’re drunk off your ass?” “Just a wee bit twisted,” he says, holding his fingers up. “And there’s nothing to talk about. We’re fucked, Reid. She took it all. We put every ounce of our savings into this place, and my parents’ money . . .” His face twists in grief before he takes another swig. “We have to be able to find some investors, some partners. We have great reviews; we’re up and coming on the restaurant scene. We have options.” He shakes his head. “News is already spreading. No one is going to want to work with two idiots who don’t know how to manage a business.” I run my hands through my hair, tugging at it. “This can’t be it. There has to be something we can do.” “We owe vendors a shit ton of money, Reid. We are so far in debt that even if an investor likes our talent, they’re not about to scoop up all the debt we owe. Face it, this is over.” He leans back on one hand and takes a sip of his drink. “Fuck!” I shout and kick a garbage can across the kitchen. “Fuck! I told you not to date her. I told you it was a bad idea.” Gaining a little clarity, Eric sits tall and jabs at his chest with the hand that’s holding his bottle. “Are you blaming this on me?” “She worked you, man. She used you and took what she wanted—that was her plan all along. I never should have let you hire her.” “I never would have had to hire her if you didn’t drop the fucking ball on all the business shit. Don’t blame me, Reid. When we went into this partnership, you said you could handle the business end while I took over the big picture planning. I did my part. You were the one who fucking failed on his end. I stepped in and tried to find the solution.” “With a pair of tits,” I shoot back. “You hired her because of her tits, not her qualifications.” “Fuck you.” He slides off the prep table, the slap of his sneakered feet reverberating through the kitchen. “We never would have been in this situation if you didn’t fuck us over to begin with. Don’t blame this shit on me, not when you’re just as much at fault. Face it, Reid, we might be good in the kitchen, but when it comes to running a business . . . we both just destroyed our careers.” I don’t want to admit that he’s right, and I don’t want to take blame for this, even though a heavy weight is pressing down on my chest, reminding me over and over that this very well might be my fault. I should have asked for help. I should have interviewed Janelle. I shouldn’t have been so lazy when it came to decisions. But . . . “I trusted you,” I say, hands on my hips, staring at Eric. “I trusted you to make the right decision for the business, and you thought with your dick instead of your head.” He tosses the bottle to the side, the glass shattering as it hits the floor. “Yeah, well, I trusted you to hold up your end of the bargain, and you didn’t, so looks like we’re both shitheads.” He shakes his head and starts to walk toward the back door. “Good luck with your life, Reid. Just don’t ever try to run a business again. Anything you do is guaranteed to crash and burn, just like Bar 79.” AUTHOR BIO: USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book. AUTHOR LINKS: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authormeghanquinn/?hl=en Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorMegQuinn Website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/
The Way We Fell Blurb:
One brilliant smile, and my heart beat for what felt like the very first time.
One night as he held my sister and sang to her, it broke.
Years later, his smile is different, and I curse my heart when it beats in an all too familiar way, a way it’s only ever beat for him… again.
He was once hers, could he ever truly be mine?
This novel is stand alone in the Legacy world.
USA Today bestselling author MJ Fields write books that scorch pages and melt hearts.
Her style is raw, gritty and authentic.
Love an alpha and a strong heroine? She does too.
Join MJ’s mailing list and get a free book ➜ http://bit.ly/MJFNews
Visit her website here ➜ mjfieldsbooks.com
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5 STAR Review
If you’ve read the Love Series by MJ Fields, then you might have been wanting to know more about Kendall and Ben. I love that these two have a past. One that involves Ben being the ex-boyfriend of Kendall’s sister. And Kendall was always the girl that wanted to boy. I love that it took going to a different country for these two to find each other. I love that Kendall was a girl who stood behind who she was and what she wanted from life and love. Ben supported her in this, but that didn’t make things…easy for him.
I love everything about this amazing story. I love getting to see these characters back in their younger days. I have fallen head over heels in love with every story in this series and Ben and Kendall’s felt like coming home.
MJ Fields is an amazing author. She writes stories that feel real and honest. This book is totally about love. I can’t wait to see what’s next from MJ.
Title: Love Me Like ThisAuthor: Lola StVilGenre: Single Dad/Small Town Romance
Release Date: November 20, 2018
We just added something to your "To do list", you're welcome.
He’s an Alpha’s Alpha. And he will do whatever it takes to keep his family safe.My son is my world. I am raising him to be on high alert about his surroundings at all times. I’m a former SEAL; it's in my blood. I maintain suspicion about change. Yet the new girl in town, Ryan Shaw, caught me off guard.Ryan is witty, with soft curves and a big heart. The moment our eyes meet, she wakes something in me I thought had died—hope. And when she volunteers to tutor my son, I marvel at how much my little guy loves her. It turns out he’s not the only one whose taken by her. In fact, the more I get to know her, the more I want her; not just in bed, but in our lives. I never thought a guy with a past like mine, would ever find love. But now that I have, there’s no way I’m gonna let anyone take it from me.Enemies from my past are out to destroy everything I've built, but they have no idea how far I will go to protect the ones I love…This steamy romance is a roller coaster ride that will make you laugh, make you hot, and even make you shed a few tears. It's a full-length standalone novel. You do not have to read the book that came before this one. NO cheating, NO cliffhangers, and a guaranteed Happily-ever-after! This book has adult content for ages 18 and over.Purchase LinksFREE on all platforms!!ExcerptI stand by the hood of her car. She’s so close to me I can smell her—an intoxicating mix of sweet vanilla, strawberries, and a musky smell that makes me want to reach out, bend her over, and fuck her right here in the street. Fuck, I can almost taste her.I can’t help but wonder if I’m having the same effect on her. The way she’s frowning up at me like she’s ready to get the mace back out tells me I’m not.“Well?” she demands. “Are you going to fix it or not?”“Look, I’m good, but I’m not a miracle worker,” I say.Her frown deepens, but now it’s focused on the car instead of me.“It’s that bad?” she asks.“I wouldn’t know. I can’t see through the hood,” I smirk.“I … Oh. Yes. Of course,” she stutters.She runs a hand through her hair, and I feel my insides knot even tighter. What I wouldn’t give for that to be my hand in her hair instead of hers. And it wouldn’t stay there long. I would move it down, trailing my fingers over her neck and …Fuck, get a grip, man. I clear my throat.“Hi,” she says.I look up to see who she’s talking to and I’m surprised to see Max standing beside us, grinning up at Ryan.Dammit. I told him to stay inside. I feel a surge of anger. Not at him; he’s seven and curious. The anger is at myself. I was so caught up in Ryan I didn’t realize he had joined us. I allowed myself to lose my concentration and the consequences of that could be…I don’t even want to think about what they could be.“I told you to stay inside,” I snap.Max’s grin slips a little, and I hate myself for taking my anger out on him. My tone softens.“Why don’t you go back inside? I won’t be long here.”“I want to talk to your friend,” Max says.I swear he puts a weird emphasis on friend like he somehow knows I want to be much more than friends with Ryan. Before I can say anything, Ryan smiles and extends her hand to Max.“I’m Ryan,” she announces.Max shakes her hand formally.“Max,” he replies. “I really like your name.”He handled that better than I did. Maybe I should be getting lessons from him.“Do you go to St Theresa’s?” Ryan asks him.I feel my heart skip a beat. How does she know that? Is she a part of the Company? Is this the day I’ve been dreading?Max is nodding his head before I can stop him.“Yes. I’m in Mrs. Berry’s class,” he announces.It seems that all the training in the world goes out the window for both of us just because a pretty girl smiles at us.“I start working there on Monday,” she tells Max.I feel relief flood me. She didn’t know Max went there. She doesn’t know who I am or who he is. She was just assuming because of his age.“You’re a teacher?” I ask.“Teacher’s assistant. I’ll be helping some of the younger kids with their English,” she tells me.“Well damn, teachers have changed since I was at school,” I blurt out.Ryan and Max both look at me, stunned at my words. They continue their conversation as I go back to the car.If my teacher had looked like Ryan, I don’t think I would have gotten much of anything done. Pretty much like now. The more I try to focus on the engine, the less I seem to be able to focus on anything but Ryan’s collarbone, and how she would writhe beneath me as I ran my tongue over it, moving down lower until she was screaming for more.I realize my gaze has definitely left her face and I jerk my eyes back up to meet hers, expecting a lecture. Instead, she gives me an amused smile.“Seen something interesting?” she asks.“He will have. Every time he gets under the hood of a car he finds something to distract him,” Max replies, digging me out of the hole I’m in.“What he said,” I add with what I hope is a charming smile because we both know we’re not really talking about the car engine when I go on. “There’s definitely something here that I’d like to get my hands on.”
Author BioLola StVil is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who writes Fantasy in addition to Contemporary romance. She has written over a dozen books and loves taking her readers on an emotional roller coaster ride. She is currently living in California and enjoys staying in touch with her readers.Author Links
TWO WEEKS LEFT!!
Shimmy Bang Sparkle by Nicola Rendell
Release Date: August 21st
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To catch a thief…or fall for one?
All Nick Norton wants is to stay on the straight and narrow…and never get caught stealing again. Then he lays eyes on her: Stella Peretti—100 percent sexy and absolutely irresistible. Especially when he sees her smooth moves lifting a two-karat diamond. Nick realizes he’s found the sparkling woman of his dreams—one so perfect for him it’s almost criminal.
The Shimmy Shimmy Bangs are master jewel thieves who are planning the heist of the century. And Shimmy leader, Stella, isn’t about to let anyone—even if he is a hunky, tatted-up studmuffin—get in her way. But when two of her girls are put out of commission, Stella realizes that Nick isn’t just a red-hot distraction. He might be the answer to her pilfering prayers.
Now, Nick and Stella are putting everything on the line for one last job. But when two thieves have this much chemistry, it’s only a matter of time before somebody’s heart gets stolen.
Two hours later, I was standing in a department store in Palm Desert, wearing gray dress pants, a pair of Italian loafers that squeaked when I walked, a light blue button-up shirt, and . . .
When she’d picked them out, I’d said, “Oh, fuck no,” but as she stood in front of me outside the men’s dressing room, buttoning them into the slacks and making helpless groans and moans, I knew I didn’t have the strength to tell her no for real. At this rate, I’d be buying dipped fruit and suspenders for the rest of my life, and honestly . . .
I was psyched about it. When I turned to check myself out in the mirror, I realized the suspenders didn’t look so bad. Not at all. They looked sharp. Old-fashioned in the right way, like out of Peaky Blinders. But I was an ex-con who weighed 275 pounds and drove a motorcycle. I couldn’t be wearing suspenders, for Chrissake.
“It’s a big ask, Stella,” I said, eyeing her as she riffled through a rack of dress shirts. Over her shoulder was a dog carrier bag she’d brought with her, pink-and-white with black paw prints. Priscilla had nodded off and was slowly sliding down into the bag, her lip stuck on the top edge.
Stella froze with one finger perched on a hanger hook as she chewed an enormous chunk of apple, moving it around in her mouth so that it expanded the inside of her cheek. “I know,” she said, with her palm covering her overstuffed mouth. “But just look at you.”
As she said it, a woman approached, pushing a stock cart. When she glanced in my direction, she promptly drove the cart right into a mannequin, and its arm popped off. That, in turn, knocked over a second mannequin, which knocked over a third. Everything the lady did just made it all so much worse. I stepped in to stop the domino-mannequin effect, while Stella stood next to the shirts with a big told you so smile on her face. The woman clutched an arm and a foot, and stared at me, as I tried to reposition a mannequin in a fuzzy track suit on its stand.
“Oh sir, that ensemble is very nice!” she cooed, with big Bambi eyes. Her gaze went from my tattoos to the suspenders, to the pants, and back again.
“You like it?” I asked as I rolled up my sleeves.
The woman gulped. “I do. Very much. Very much.”
Stella circled back around a table covered with dress shirts, and I saw that in her hand she was holding a fedora—like a stylish hipster sort of thing. Not my jam at all.
“Oh no you don’t,” I growled, teasing her, trying to snatch it out of her hands. But she pressed her body up against mine, and instinctively I pulled her into me. She took advantage of me being a fucking sucker for her body, and put the hat on my head. Her eyes lit up, and she leaned back in my arms. Then she said to the salesgirl. “What do you think?”
The salesgirl didn’t even speak. Just dropped a plastic mannequin arm and smiled. Stella made a long, adorable, “Mmmhmmmm!” as she slipped from my grasp, and headed off toward cocktail dresses.
Once I’d changed, and made was sure the woman wasn’t going to knock over another row of mannequins, I followed along behind Stella, weaving and dodging between racks and displays. Stella held up a stunning little black dress, classy and with a slit up a side that was mouthwatering even on the hanger. But then, behind her, there it was. The dress. Little black dresses were fine, but we were going out on the town for our first real date, and that dress was the one. A showstopper. So I shook my head at the black one in her hand, and Stella rumpled up her eyebrows. She put the dress back on the rack, plunged her hand into her purse, and emerged holding the apple on its stick. She took a bite, and stuck it back in its bag, and turned her attention to a strapless red number that would’ve looked great on her, no doubt. But still, it wasn’t the dress.
I tickled her side to get her attention, and when she turned to me, I pointed behind her, at a two-story atrium. The mannequin was set up on a round platform, with a spotlight on it, next to a piano that wasn’t being played. The dress was nothing but rhinestones, with thin jeweled straps coming up from a plunging neckline.
Stella hooted and approached the dress while laughing and shaking her head. “I can’t possibly wear this,” she said, and ran her fingertips over the jeweled front. “I’m not sure anybody can wear this.”
“Oh yeah,” I said as I circled her. “You most definitely can.”
I took the first dress off the nearby rack and held it up. The tag said XS/S. Seemed about right. I held it out, imagining her in it. The very idea made me start to get hard. I let it dangle from my finger and waited for her to take it.
She grabbed the size tag of the dress I was holding. A huge laugh shot out of her mouth, echoing around the marble foyer. “Oh you,” she said, shaking her head, and then grabbed the dressed marked M/L. She took the dog bag off her shoulder, and I transferred it to mine. Priscilla was out cold, snoring softly. I gave her tummy a little scratch as Stella headed off to the ladies’ fitting rooms.
While she was gone, I picked out a gorgeous light-pink teddy for her, and a pair of black panties that had a red ribbon up the back, corset-style. I was thinking through what it’d be like to pull that ribbon off with my teeth while she had them on when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I don’t think I can pull this off.
Let me see.
I look like I just got Bedazzled.
Let me see.
I feel like my phone case.
Let me see.
Or like a disco ball.
Let me see.
Or like the rhinestone aisle at Michaels.
Stella . . .
I can’t wear a bra OR panties!
You’re getting the fucking dress.
About the Author
Bestselling author Nicola Rendell loves writing naughty romantic comedies. After receiving a handful of degrees from a handful of places, she now works as a professor in New England. Nicola’s work has been featured in USA Today’s Happy Ever After and the Huffington Post. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. Her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady, but she’s totally okay with that. She is represented by Emily Sylvan Kim at the Prospect Agency.
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Today we are taking part in the promo tour for ROCK KING by Tara Leigh! ROCK KING is available now, and the second book in the Nothing but Trouble series, ROCK LEGEND, is available for pre-order and will release on July 17! Check out some teasers for both titles below.
ROCK KING by Tara Leigh – available now!
Fans of Kristen Callihan and Kylie Scott will scream for this sizzling bad boy rock star romance!
I’m not who you think I am.
Shane Hawthorne has it all. At least, that’s what the headlines say about me. I have millions of fans, awards, more money – and women – than I know what to do with. But what you don’t see is the wreckage I’ve caused. The memories and pain I can’t escape, even when I pour them into music and spin them into gold.
I tried to forget. To lose myself in booze and groupies. It didn’t work. It hurt me and – worse – it hurt my band. That’s the last thing I want to do, so I’m cleaning up my act… starting with Delaney Fraser.
Gorgeous, smart, drama-free, and even nice – Delaney is the perfect “girlfriend.” When I’m with her I don’t have to pretend. It’s like she sees the real me. And I can see a future with her. But that’s dangerous. Because the truth is, Shane Hawthorne doesn’t actually exist. He’s a shield to hide who I really am. Fraud. Runaway. Addict. Murderer.
And it’s impossible to love a lie, right?
The Nothing but Trouble series:
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Tara Leigh writes steamy contemporary romance featuring tortured heroes worth lusting after and the women they didn’t know they needed. She attended Washington University in St. Louis and Columbia Business School in New York, and worked on Wall Street and Main Street before “retiring” to become a wife and mother. When the people in her head became just as real as the people in her life, she decided to put their stories on paper. Tara currently lives in Fairfield County, Connecticut with her husband, children and fur-baby, Pixie.
4 STAR Review by Jodi for Ruby Red Romance Review
I really enjoyed this book. I’ve been burned out on rocker romance books, so I’ve been avoiding them for some time, but this book was just wanted I need to put me back in the mood.
Shane’s character has a past. One that is troubled. He tries to focus on the things that are good for him, like his music and avoid those that aren’t, drugs and alcohol. Need to clean up his image his agent hires someone to be his girlfriend. What could possibly go wrong with this.
Delaney is running from her past. When her father is sent to jail, she knows it’s time to go. While working as a waitress, Delaney meets Travis, Shane’s manager. Travis knows right away that Delaney is perfect for what he needs her for.
All in all this book was good. I loved every character in this book. The chemistry between Shane and Delaney was hot. But their pasts seem to be brought up a lot, especially Shane. For me, that overshadowed some of the story, hence the 4 star rating. The book itself is beautifully written. Tara Leigh has a new fan for sure. I really hope I get the chance to read the next book in this series.
Have you met the Sons of Sydney?
Craving Justice and Tempting Justice by Fiona Archer are your next binge reads!
Amazon → https://amzn.to/2GJoOpw
iBooks → https://apple.co/2r2YzVI
Nook → http://bit.ly/2Hx8bmb
Kobo → http://bit.ly/2HxIcqp
Four Aussies in Seattle
As an unseen enemy takes aim
Four must stand as one for Justice to survive.
A man branded by his past
Seth Justice is tall, daring and dangerous. The former street kid from Sydney owns a thriving technology company in Seattle. But he has bigger goals―or should that be ghosts?―that drive him harder. On the verge of selling his business for a fortune, he’s celebrating when Harper Fox, daughter of the buyer, tumbles into his arms. The curvy café owner enchants him with her sassy personality. Soon they move from easy banter to a night of passion that reveals a sweet vulnerability in the soft-hearted woman.
A woman determined to control her future
After a lifetime of her domineering father’s scorn and rejection, Harper dances to her own beat. She has her café and surrounds herself with a chosen family of her eccentric staff and close friends. While she’s mostly content… her heart aches for more. But Harper has been burned before and doesn’t trust easily. That is, until a man with a panty-melting Aussie accent and a commanding stare entices her to take a chance–on him. When Seth takes charge in the bedroom and ties her control in knots, he awakens a need in Harper that leaves her hungry for more.
A new beginning worth fighting for
When an unseen enemy attacks the new life Seth and his brothers have built, the ensuing disaster tests not only his developing relationship with Harper, but also threatens to sever the last remaining bonds with his brothers. As Seth struggles to protect everything and everyone he loves, he has to determine if Harper is his enemy’s target–or accomplice.
Amazon → https://amzn.to/2KND1E8
iBooks → https://apple.co/2KRgVRo
Nook → http://bit.ly/2IJbEur
Kobo → http://bit.ly/2klkaFr
He’s sworn to uphold the law
His reckless behavior as a child caused the deaths of his entire family. On the lonely Sydney streets, the orphan found friends. Found “brothers.” Never again will Seattle Homicide Detective Heath Justice break the rules and risk his new family. Order and discipline govern his life…until he meets a curvaceous redhead. With two ugly murder cases to solve, the last thing he needs is this disconcertingly lovely, whirlwind of chaos, yet…charmed by her wit and intelligence, Heath can’t resist.
She believes rules are meant to be broken
Deep into writing a murder mystery, author London Shaw is shocked when she herself is implicated in a homicide. She can’t believe the ever-so-authoritarian Detective Heath Justice expects her to simply ignore the crime and go on about her business. Not happening. Although the man’s whiskey rough voice, cuffs, and masterful touch could melt any woman’s resistance–and does–she has a craving to do a little investigating herself.
When all or nothing is your only play
When Heath’s murder investigation threatens a far-reaching conspiracy, everyone he cares for becomes their target–including the woman he’s come to love.
About the Author:
Fiona Archer writes erotic romance filled with masterful Aussie alpha heroes and teams them with sassy heroines who limit their submissive side to the bedroom. She lives in sunny environs of Sydney, Australia, and is harassed by a flock of wild cockatoos that take over the back yard each afternoon, demanding their feed. Her favorite hobbies include watching Nathan Fillion on television, shopping for that ever-elusive perfect shade of lipstick, and drinking iced coffee.
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5 STAR Review for Craving Justice by Jodi for Ruby Red Romance Review
Fiona Archer is amazing. Craving Justice is an amazing book from start to finish. Seth and Harper are an amazing couple. The chemistry is hot, hot, hot. Harper is quirky and a bit of a klutz. Seth is in business and wants to do well. Unfortunately things happen and cause issues with Harper, Seth, and his business.
I’m new to Fiona Archer, but I sincerely enjoyed this story. It kept me wrapped from start to finish. I don’t want to give to much away about this story, but I think you will love it.
5 STAR Review for Tempting Justice by Jodi for Ruby Red Romance Review
Holy hotness Heath. This man…where to start. He’s ambitious and knows what he wants. And what he wants is London. London is Derek Shaw’s sister. Derek is Heath’s partner. This story is one of mystery. One that will take family to figure it out. I loved this story. I love these brothers.
Fiona Archer does an amazing job with this story. I love seeing all the family. I can’t want to see what’s coming next. London and Heath where amazing.