Review: His Alone by Alexa Riley

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Okay, a little caveat first. I wanted to really love this one. After all, I waited for M.O.N.T.H.Ssssssssss for “His Alone” to come out. I swear, following one’s favorite authors can sometimes be detrimental to one’s patience (and wallet). But was it all that?

Mmmm… it was fine. Not too bad, but not the super duo, Alexa Riley’s, best. Perhaps it’s only me, seeing as how I’m in the minority on GR reviews. Maybe I was just not in the mood to read about a woman who’s supposedly a strong female character but is extremely wishy-washy about what she wants. There were more than plenty times in the book where heroine Paige Turner displayed a sense of not knowing what she wants (i.e., her mind tells her no, her body and heart say yes). I’ve outgrown reading about women who need to make up their damned minds and who can control their vajayjays and secretions from “down under,” methinks. In the end, though, since this an Alexa Riley book, both Paige and her hero, Ryan Justice (oy vey, what a name) found love, got sweet vengeance, committed murder [nay, don’t worry – their victim was justly and vigilantly killed in a very OTT scene], had tons of sex, and lived happily ever after.

I’ve read all of Misses Riley’s books. In all honesty, I think they should stick with novellas. Ryan and Paige’s story was filled with verbiage and sexy scenes that after the 15,849th time Ryan slammed Paige onto a wall and ate her out, I was just bored.

yawn

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But! Yay for their HEA.

P.S. Ryan Justice turns out to be an undercover CIA agent tasked on investigating Paige’s criminal father while they’re both on American soil. Why a young, almost-straight-out-of-high-school CIA field agent was shadowing an American drug seller (i.e., he wasn’t even the top brass in his organizational chain of drug lords and women-peddlers), Ms. Riley didn’t see fit to explain. Suffice it to say, Ryan fell uncannily obsessed in love with Paige when he first sees her. On a photograph. Again, I say: oy.

2 stars

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Blog tour: @BennettBooks and “The Hard Truth About Sunshine”

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IT’S ALREADY OUT! Please go grab a copy if you haven’t yet. I promise: it’s a different story from Sawyer Bennett. There’ll be hard passages to get thru in the book, but it’s worth the “walk” with Christopher Barlow and his 4 misfit, tragic, yet hope-harbinger friends.

Read my review about “The Hard Truth About Sunshine” here.

———————–

New York Times bestselling author Sawyer Bennett has written her most gripping and poignant tale yet. Provocatively heart-breaking, audaciously irreverent and romantically fulfilling, The Hard Truth About Sunshine exposes just how very thin the line is between a full life and an empty existence.

An angry, bitter amputee.

An optimist losing her eyesight.

A dying kid.

A suicidal thief.

Four people with nothing in common but their destination.

Despite having narrowly escaped death’s clutches, Christopher Barlow is grateful for nothing. His capacity to love has been crushed. He hates everyone and everything, completely unable to see past the gray stain of misery that coats his perception of the world. It’s only after he involuntarily joins a band of depressed misfits who are struggling to overcome their own problems, does Christopher start to re-evaluate his lot in life.

What could they possibly learn from one another? How could they possibly help each other to heal? And the question that Christopher asks himself over and over again… can he learn to love again?

He’s about to find out as he embarks upon a cross country trip with a beautiful woman who is going blind, a boy with terminal cancer, and an abuse victim who can’t decide whether she wants to live or die.

They will encounter adventure, thrills, loss and love.

And within their travels they will learn the greatest lesson of all.

The hard truth about sunshine…

Warning: This book deals with some tough issues including suicide and sexual abuse.

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34078139-the-hard-truth-about-sunshine

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2jAJ31R

Paperback: http://amzn.to/2l4OenI

B&N: http://bit.ly/2kZxgKO

iBooks: http://apple.co/2k409nt

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2jHejr5

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2kWpkd2

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Since the release of her debut contemporary romance novel, Off Sides, in January 2013, Sawyer Bennett has released more than 30 books and has been featured on both the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists on multiple occasions. 

A reformed trial lawyer from North Carolina, Sawyer uses real life experience to create relatable, sexy stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From new adult to erotic contemporary romance, Sawyer writes something for just about everyone. 

Sawyer likes her Bloody Marys strong, her martinis dirty, and her heroes a combination of the two. When not bringing fictional romance to life, Sawyer is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to a very active toddler, as well as full-time servant to two adorably naughty dogs. She believes in the good of others, and that a bad day can be cured with a great work-out, cake, or a combination of the two.

WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | BOOKBUB | AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE | INSTAGRAM 

Review: The Hard Truth About Sunshine by @BennettBooks

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Okay. Wow. I planned to post this review on the 28th of March, when the book officially comes out, but I just can’t help thinking about it. Hence, here I am waxing all sorts of poetic about Sawyer Bennett’s newest release, “The Hard Truth About Sunshine.”

“Hard Truth” is so completely, 100%, abso-freaking-lutely different from other Bennett books that it just caught me with my panties down. Not literally, of course, but you know what I mean. It’s a story told from the point-of-view of Christopher Barlow, a medically discharged Marine and amputee who’s suffering from PTSD and depression. He was legally ordered to enter into group therapy, where he meets three other people who are also facing their own tragic dilemmas: a girl going blind, a suicidal and understandably bitchy rape survivor, and a dying teenager diagnosed with cancer. They travel together cross-country, and somewhere along the way, from the East Coast to the West, the four form an unusual bond. Christopher falls in love with one of his co-patients. Barb… sigh, well, it’s another Barb I want to come back. And, the “Dead Kid.” He kinda broke me.

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Ms. Bennett typically writes erotic contemporary romance, but don’t expect that here. She wrote about the instance in an airport that inspired “Hard Truth,” and it also made me think. What if it happened to  me? How’d I react? Perhaps I may not write such a mind-blowing book, but I’d certainly reflect much deeper about how others perceive themselves versus how I initially think they should react.

Besides all the feels for the 4 characters, Ms. Bennett stayed true to her male POV narration. It was as if it was a guy talking directly to me from my e-reader. There wasn’t a lot of sexy details shared – and you know what? It was perfectly all right. Christopher’s narrative tone was apt for his story, and the love he suddenly felt blossoming for his friend Julianne was still hugely apparent as I flew through the pages.

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Now, the “hard truth” I personally face is this: what the heck am I gonna read now that I’ve finished “The Hard Truth About Sunshine?” I think I’m ruined.

5 stars

Review: The Hot One by Lauren Blakely

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I think I’m officially “graduating” from (i.e., not buying) Lauren Blakely’s books. I found “The Hot One” to be as trite and as boring as the one before it, and I just couldn’t stomach reading about another set of delusional men and women who have perfect bodies, have asshole tendencies, and, yet, are rewarded with HEAs. So sad! (Pun very much intended.) 1 star

Surprise Book Announcement! New Books & Excerpt from @LisaReneeJones

I’m not gonna do much talking here. I’ll just let author Lisa Renee Jones do the talking herself.

Side note: I. AM. EXCITED!

Provocative (White Lies Book One) by Lisa Renee Jones
Release Date:  April 18th
Genre: Contemporary Romance

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A Note from the Lisa Renee Jones:

Hi everyone!   

I am BEYOND excited to introduce my WHITE LIES DUET! This is a sexy, intense, psychological thriller, that is provocative in every way, thus why I named book one: PROVOCATIVE. And since this series takes me back to my indie roots, the pricing is lower than my New York titles, and the release dates are close together.

Here are the details on the series:

  • PROVOCATIVE, book one, will be out on April 18, 2017 and priced at $2.99 – includes the free novella REBECCA’S FORGOTTEN JOURNALS for those readers who purchase during release week or pre-order where pre-order is available.
  • SHAMELESS, book two, will be out on July 11, 2017 and priced at $3.99
  • BOTH books will be full-length!
  • I’m also giving away prizes on my blog every day in April to celebrate! Entry is super easy. Just comment! The link to my blog is HERE so be sure to subscribe!

And now, without further ado, the covers for the duet, blurb for book one, and CHAPTER ONE of PROVOCATIVE! I can’t wait for you to meet the dirty talking alpha, Nick “Tiger” Rogers. I hope you enjoy him as much as I enjoyed writing him!

ABOUT THE BOOK

Book one in the sexy and intense new White Lies duet by Lisa Renee Jones!

There are those moments in life that are provocative in their very existences, that embed in our minds forever, and sometimes our very souls. They change us, mold us, maybe even save save us. But some are darker, dangerous. If we allow them to, they control us. Seduce us. Quite possibly even destroy us.

The moment I walked into Sonoma’s Reid Winter Winery and Vineyard and made eye contact with Faith Winter for the first time was one of those moments. Provocative because I know at least one of her secrets, of which, I suspect she has many. Provocative because she believes I was a stranger to her when we met, but I am not. Provocative because I sought her out, with no intention of touching her. But now I have. Now I want her. Now I have to have her. But that changes nothing. It doesn’t change why I came for her.

Pre-Order PROVOCATIVE Today!

Special $2.99 pre-order price – will increase after release!

Amazon alert: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeAmazonAlert

B&N: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeBN

iBooks: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeiBooks

Kobo: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeKobo

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34602810-provocative

Read Chapter One Now:

pro·voc·a·tive

adjective

1.    causing annoyance, anger, or another strong reaction, especially deliberately.

2.    arousing sexual desire or interest, especially deliberately.

Chapter One

There are those moments in life that are provocative in their very existences, that embed in our minds forever, and sometimes our very souls. They change us, mold us, maybe even save us. But some are darker, dangerous. If we allow them to, they control us. Seduce us. Quite possibly even destroy us.

The moment I stepped into the mansion that is the centerpiece of the Reid Winter Vineyards and Winery wasn’t one of those moments. Nor were any of the moments I spent weaving through a crowd of suits and dresses cluttering the circle that is the grand foyer of the 1800’s mansion, fancy tiles etched with vines beneath my feet. Nor the ones spent declining three different waiters offering me glasses of various wines from one of the most established vineyards in Sonoma, meant to entice me to buy their bottles and donate money to the charity hosting the gathering. Not even the instant that I spotted the stunning blonde in a snug black dress that hugged her many lush curves proved to be one of those moments, but I would call it a damn interesting one. The moment I decided the blonde silk of her long hair belonged in my hands and on my stomach was also a damn interesting one. And not because she’s fuckable. There are plenty of fuckable women in my life, a number of whom understand that I enjoy demands for pleasure, which I will definitely provide, and nothing more. This woman is too prim and proper to ever agree to such an arrangement, and yet, knowing this, as she and her heart-shaped backside disappear into the congestion of bodies, I find myself pursuing her, looking for more than an interesting moment. I want that provocative one.

I follow her path formed by huddles of two, three, or more people, left and right, to clear a portion of the crowd, scanning to find my beauty standing several feet away, her back to me, with two men in blue suits in front of her. And while they might appear to blend with the rest of the suits in the room, they hold themselves like the parasites I meet too often in the courtroom, those who most often call themselves my opposing counsel. My blonde beauty folds her arms in front of her chest, her spine stiff, and if I read her right–and I read most people right–I am certain that she’s found trouble. But lucky for her, trouble doesn’t like me near as much as I like it.

Closing the space between me and them, I near their little triangle just in time to hear her say, “Are we really doing this here and now?”

“Yes, Ms. Winter,” one of the men replies. “We are.”

“Actually,” I say, stepping to Ms. Winter’s side, her floral scent almost as sweet as the challenge of conquering her opponents that are now mine, “we are not doing this here or now.”

All attention shifts to me, Ms. Winter giving me a sharp stare that I feel rather than see, my focus remaining on the men I want to leave, not the woman I want to make come. “And you would be who?” the suit directly in front of me demands.

I size him up as barely out of his twenty-something diapers, without experience, the glint in his eye telling me he doesn’t realize that flaw, which makes him about as smooth as a six-dollar glass of wine everyone in this place would spit the fuck out. A point driven home by the fact that he’s wearing a three hundred-dollar Italian silk tie, and a hundred-dollar suit, no doubt hoping the tie makes the suit look expensive, and him important. He’s wrong.

“I said, who are you?” he repeats when I apparently haven’t replied quickly enough, his impatience becoming my virtue as my role as cat in this game of cat and mouse is too easily established.

Unwilling to waste words on a predictable, expected question that I’d never ask, I simply reach into the pocket of my three-thousand-dollar light gray suit, which I earned by beating opponents with ten times his experience and negotiation skills, and finger the unimportant prick my card.

He snaps it from my hand, gives it a look that confirms my name and the firm I started a decade ago now, after daring to leave behind a certain partnership in a high-powered firm. “Nick Rogers?” he asks. “Is there another name on the card?” I ask, because, I’m also a fearless smartass every chance I get.

He stares at me for several beats, seeming to calculate his words, before asking, “How many Mr. Rogers sweater jokes do you get?”

I arch a brow at the misguided joke that only serves to poke the Tiger. Suit Number Two, who I age closer to my thirty-six years, pales visibly, then snatches the card from the other man’s hand, giving it a quick inspection before his gaze then jerks to mine. “The Nick Rogers?”

“I don’t remember my mother putting the word ‘the’ in front of my name,” I reply dryly, but then again, I think, she didn’t ask my father, to change my last name either. She just hated him that much.

“Tiger,” he says, and it’s not a question, but rather a statement of “oh shit” fact.

“That’s right,” I say, enjoying the fruits of my labor that created the nickname, not one given to me by my friends.

“Who, or what, the fuck is Tiger all about?” Suit Number One asks.

“Shut up,” Suit Number Two grunts, refocusing on me to ask, “You’re representing Ms. Winter?”

“What I am,” I say, “is standing right here by her side, telling you that it’s in your best interests to leave.”

“Since when do you handle small-time foreclosures?” he demands, exposing the crux of Ms. Winter’s situation.

“I handle whatever the fuck I want to handle,” I say, my tone even, my lips curving as I add, “Including the process of having you both escorted off the property by security.”

“That,” Suit Number One dares to retort, “would garner Ms. Winter unwanted attention in the middle of a busy event. Not that Ms. Winter even has security to call.”

“Fortunately, I have a phone that dials 911 and the ability to call it without asking her.”

If she’s your client,” Suit Number One says, clearly inferring that she’s not, “you’re obligated to operate with her best interests in mind.”

“My decisions,” I reply, without missing a beat, and without claiming Ms. Winter as a client, “are always about winning. And I assure you that I can think of many ways to spin your story to the press that ensures I win, while also benefiting Ms. Winter.”

“This isn’t my story,” Suit Number One indicates.

“It will be when I’m finished with the press,” I assure him, amused at how easily I’ve led him down the path I want him to travel.

“This is a small community with little to talk about but her,” he says. “She doesn’t want her foreclosure to become the front page story.”

My lips quirk. “If you don’t know how easily I can get the wrong attention for you here, and the right attention for Ms. Winter, you’ll find out.”

“We’ll leave,” Suite Number Two interjects quickly, and just when I think that he’s smart enough to see the way trouble has turned from Ms. Winter to them, he looks at her and says, “We’ll be in touch,” with a not so subtle threat in his tone, before he elbows Suit Number One. “Let’s go.”

Suit Number One doesn’t move, visibly fuming, his face red, that white ring thickening around his lips. I arch a brow at Suit Number Two, who adds, “Now, Jordan.” Jordan, formerly known as Suit Number One, clenches his teeth and turns away, while Suit Two follows.

Ms. Winter faces me, and holy fuck, when her pale green eyes meet mine, any questions I have about this woman and the many I suspect she now has of me, are muted by an unexpected, potentially problematic, palpable electric charge between us. “Thank you,” she says, her voice soft, feminine, a rasp in its depths that hints at emotion not effortlessly contained. “Please enjoy anything you like tonight on the house,” she adds, the rasp gone now, her control returned. Until I take it, I think, but no sooner than I’ve had the thought, she is turning and walking away, the absence of further interaction coloring me both stunned and intrigued, two things that, for me, are ranked with about as much frequency as snow in Sonoma, which would be next to never.

Ms. Winter maneuvers into the crowd, out of my line of sight, and while I am not certain I’d label her a mouse at this point, or ever for that matter, considering what I know of her, I am most definitely on the prowl. I stride purposely forward, weaving through the crowd, seeking that next provocative moment, scanning for her left, right, in the clusters of mingling guests, until I clear the crowd.

Now standing in front of a wide, wooden stairwell, my gaze follows its path upward to a second level, but I still find no sign of Ms. Winter. A cool breeze whips through the air, and I turn to find the source is a high arched doorway, the recently opened glass doors to what I know to be the “Winter Gardens,” a focal point of the property, and a tourist draw for decades, settling back into place. Certain this represents her escape, I walk that direction, and press open the doors, stepping onto a patio that has a stone floor and concrete benches framed by rose bushes. No less than four winding paths greet me as destination choices, the hunt for this woman now a provocation of its own.

I’ve just decided to wait where I am for Ms. Winter’s return when the wind lifts, the floral scent of many varieties of flowers for which the garden is famous touching my nostrils, with one extra scent decidedly of the female variety.

Lips curving with the certainty that my prey will soon to be my prize, I follow the clue that guides my feet to the path on my right, a narrow, winding, lighted walkway, framed by neatly cut yellow flower bushes, which continues past a white wooden gazebo I have no intention of passing. Not when Ms. Winter stands inside it, her back to me, elbows resting on the wooden rail, her gaze casting across the silhouette of what would reveal itself to be a rolling mountainside in daybreak. The way I intend for her to reveal herself.

I close the distance between us, and the moment before I’m upon her, she faces me, hands on the railing behind her, her breasts thrust forward, every one of her lush curves tempting my eyes, my hands. My mouth. “Did those men know you?” she demands, clearly ready and waiting for this interaction. “Did you know them?”

“No and no.”

“And yet they knew the nickname Tiger.”

“My reputation precedes me.”

“I’ll take the bait,” she says. “What reputation?”

“They say I’ll rip my opponent’s throat out if given the chance.”

“Will you?” she asks, without so much as a blanch or blink.

“Yes,” I reply, a simple answer, for a simple question.

“Without any concern for who you hurt,” she states.

I arch a brow. “Is that a question?”

“Should it be?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not,” she says. “You didn’t get that nickname by being nice.”

“Nice guys don’t win.”

“Then I’m warned,” she says. “You aren’t a nice guy.”

“Is nice a quality you’re looking for in a man? Because as your evening counsel, Ms. Winter, I’ll advise you that nice is overrated.”

She stares at me for several beats before turning away to face the mountains again, elbows on the railing, in what I could see as a silent invitation to leave. I choose to see it as an invitation to join her. I claim the spot next to her, close, but not nearly as close as I will be soon. “You didn’t answer the question,” I point out.

“You wrongly assume I am looking for a man, which I’m not,” she says, glancing over at me. “But if I was, then no. Nice would be on my list but it would not top my list, however, nowhere on that list would be the ability, and willingness, to rip out someone’s throat.”

“I can assure you, Ms. Winter, that a man with a bite is as underrated as a nice guy is overrated. And I not only know how, and when, to use mine, but if I so choose to biteyou, and I might, it’ll be all about pleasure, not pain.”

Her cheeks flush and she turns away. “My name is Faith.” She glances over at me again. “Should I call you Nick, Tiger, or just plain arrogant?”

“Anything but Mr. Rogers,” I say, enjoying our banter far more than I would have expected when I came here tonight looking for her.

She laughs now too, and it’s a delicate, sweet sound, but it’s awkward, as if it’s not only unexpected, but unwelcome, and an instant later she’s withdrawing, pushing off the railing, arms folding protectively in front of her body, before we’re rotating to face each other. “I need to go check on the visitors.” She attempts to move away.

I gently catch her arm, her gaze rocketing to mine, and in the process her hair flutters in a sudden breeze, a strand of blonde silk catching on the whiskers of my one-day stubble. She sucks in a breath, and when she would reach up to remedy the situation, I’m already there, catching the soft silk and stroking it behind her ear.

“Why are you touching me?” she asks, but she doesn’t pull away, that charge between us minutes ago now ten times more provocative with me touching her, thinking about all the places I might touch next.

“It’s considerably better than not touching you,” I say.

“My bad luck might bleed into you.”

“Bleed,” I repeat, that word reminding me once again of why I’m here, why I really want to fuck this woman. “That’s an extreme, and rather interesting choice of words.”

“Most bad luck is extreme, though not interesting to anyone but the Tigers of the world, creating it. You’re still touching me.”

“Everyone needs a Tiger in their corner. Maybe my good luck will bleed into you.”

“Does good luck bleed?” she asks.

“Many people will do anything for good luck, even bleed.”

“Yes,” she says, lowering her lashes, but not before I’ve seen the shadows in her eyes. “I suppose they would.”

“What would you do for good luck?”

Her lashes lift, her stare meeting mine again. “What have you done for good luck?”

“I came here tonight,” I say.

She narrows her eyes on me, as if some part of her senses, the far-reaching implications of my reply that she can’t possibly understand, and yet still, the inescapable heat between us radiates and burns. “You’re still touching me,” she points out, and this time there’s a hint of reprimand.

“Holding onto that luck,” I say.

“It feels like you’re holding onto mine.”

With that observation that hits too close to the truth, I have no interest in revealing just yet, I drag my hand slowly down hers, allowing my fingers to find hers before they fall away. Her lips, lush, tempting, impossibly perfect for someone I know to be imperfect, part with the loss of my touch, and yet there is a hint of relief in her eyes that tells me she both wants me and fears me.

A most provocative moment, indeed.

“Have a drink with me,” I say.

“No,” she replies, her tone absolute, and while I don’t like this decision, I appreciate a person who’s decisive.

“Why?”

“Good luck and bad luck don’t mix.”

“They might just create good luck.”

“Or bad,” she says. “I’m not in a place where I can take the risk for more bad luck.” She inclines her chin. “Enjoy the rest of your visit.” She pauses and adds, “Tiger.”

I don’t react, but for just a moment, I consider the way she used my nickname as an indicator that she knows who I am, and why I’m here. I quickly dismiss that idea. I’d have seen it in those pale green eyes, and I did not. But as she turns and walks away, and I watch her depart, tracking her steps as she disappears down the path, I wonder at her quick departure, and the fear I’d seen in her eyes. Was the root of that fear her guilt?

That idea should be enough to ice the fire in me that this woman has stirred, but it stokes it instead. Everything male in me wants to pursue her again, and not because I’m here for a reason that existed before I ever met her, when it should be that and nothing more. It is more. I’m aroused and I’m intrigued by this woman. She got to me when no one gets to me. Not a good place to be, considering I came here to prove she killed my father, and maybe even her own mother.

Book two: SHAMELESS will be out on July 11th!

Pre-Order notification:http://bit.ly/2nocwgZ

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34602828-shameless

Enter the Giveaway!!

https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e837c2b0295/

About the Author:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series. Suzanne Todd (producer of Alice in Wonderland) on the INSIDE OUT series: Lisa has created a beautiful, complicated, and sensual world that is filled with intrigue and suspense. Sara’s character is strong, flawed, complex, and sexy – a modern girl we all can identify with.

In addition to the success of Lisa’s INSIDE OUT series, Lisa has published many successful titles. The TALL, DARK AND DEADLY series and THE SECRET LIFE OF AMY BENSEN series, both spent several months on a combination of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. Lisa is presently working on a dark, edgy new series, Dirty Money, for St. Martin’s Press.

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

Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at www.lisareneejones.com and she is active on Twitter and Facebook daily.

Connect with the Author:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLisaReneeJones/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2kWFra1

Twitter: @LisaReneeJones

Stay in touch with Lisa by joining her mailing list:

http://lisareneejones.com/newsletter-sign-up/

Website: http://lisareneejones.com

P.S. Here’s a look at book 2’s, “Shameless,”cover. It’s gonna be out in July. That’s… oh… still a long time away from now, but AUGH!!!! What can we do? It’s a duet series.

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Cover Reveal: Co-Wrecker by @AuthorMegQuinn

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He’s holding a strawberry ice cream cone. PEOPLE. The cover model on Meghan Quinn’s newest soon-to-be released book is HOLDING A STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM CONE, while wearing the sexiest pair of eyeglasses.

And he has those abs? Life is totally unfair. But dang, he makes the best book cover, doesn’t he? Regardless, Ms. Quinn’s “Co-Wrecker” is coming out on March 23rd, 2017. Here’s a sweet l’il taste.

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Blurb:

What do ice cream and Sadie Montgomery have in common? They’re both ice cold, but one taste is never enough.   

I wanted to be friends — I would have even settled for her seeing me as anything but a nerd — but there was no getting through. So just like any hard-headed, red-blooded man out there, I made up my mind.

I’d make my coworker fall for me.

I’d like to say it was simple, but like every other epic love story, all it took was one drunken night and a lot of naked courage to get the girl. For a moment, at least.

Love with a coworker is never simple, especially since Sadie’s trying to keep us on the low. Not to mention her persistent ex-boyfriend who won’t leave her alone. But I’ve never been good at giving up, and I don’t plan to start now.

The whole thing is a recipe for a rocky road, but I plan to eat the whole gallon, no matter how bad the brain freeze. 

Preorder Exclusively on iBooks: http://apple.co/2lqstCA 

Add to Goodreads: https://goo.gl/PRM1Ux

About the Author:

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A BLONDE AT HEART

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!

Connect with Meghan:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pg/meghanquinnauthor
Instagram:
authormeghanquinn
Website: http://www.authormeghanquinn.com/

Sign Up for Meghan’s Newsletter: http://bit.ly/MQWrapUp

Co-Wrecker, an all new sexy, laugh out loud romantic comedy is coming March 23rd!

P.S. Book cover is by Photographer: Lauren Watson Perry. Too bad Ms. Quinn’s PR team didn’t mention who the actual model is. 🙂 LOL!

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Cover Reveal: Forever (Friends #3) by @MsMonicaMurphy

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I’m BEYOND excited for this one by the fabulous Monica Murphy! It’s the 3rd book in her “Friends” series, which, I have to tell you quite honestly, I’m saving for a rainy day. One never knows when one needs a good pick-me-up type of book. With the series title being “Friends,” well… you can tell I’m judging it simply by that. And, by “judging,” I meant “loving.” Go ahead and pre-order (links are below). I already did and need someone to discuss it with – AFTER I read books 1 and 2, then I’m on to “Forever.”

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Blurb:

She’s all I could ever want…

I have a reputation around school. Cold. Untouchable. Unfeeling. Only one girl could ever make me want to change and that’s Amanda Winters. Too bad I broke her heart and drove her away.

So to get through the rest of my days in high school, I tell myself I need to focus on more important things. Like taking our football team to championships. Get accepted to the college of my choice. And finish my senior year without wanting to run away from my problems.

But your problems chase after you no matter where you go. And it’s a lot harder when you fight them alone. The longer I go without Amanda, the more I miss her. Her smile. Her laughter. The things she said. How she looked at me like I was the only person who mattered. The way she made me feel…

Why can’t I have everything, including the girl? I’m determined to make things right. And make Amanda mine…

Forever.

Add to Goodreads: https://goo.gl/6bJPbN

About the Author:

Monica Murphy is the New York Times, USA Today and #1 international bestselling author of the One Week Girlfriend series, the Billionaire Bachelors and The Rules series. Her books have been translated in almost a dozen languages and has sold over one million copies worldwide. She is both self-published and published by Random House/Bantam and Harper Collins/Avon. She writes new adult, young adult and contemporary romance.

She is a wife and a mother of three who lives in central California on fourteen acres in the middle of nowhere along with their one dog and too many cats. A self-confessed workaholic, when she’s not writing, she’s reading or hanging out with her husband and kids. She’s a firm believer in happy endings, though she will admit to putting her characters through angst-filled moments before they finally get that hard won HEA.

Connect with Monica:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MonicaMurphyauthor/ 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5934418.Monica_Murphy

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1YUl0Vm

Website: http://monicamurphyauthor.com

Newsletter: http://bit.ly/IW5U0y