Click on this website https://www.mysweetvillain.com
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MY SWEET VILLAINTINE – A VALENTINE'S COLLECTION OF DELICIOUS DARKNESS
Happy f*cking Valentine's Day.
That's what your favorite sexy-as-sin villain would say to you, right? And he'd probably say it with one hand around your throat and your dress bunched around your hips.
It’s doubtful that he’ll buy you flowers.
He definitely won't serenade you.
But there's a good chance he'll tie you up and spank you if you ask nicely. And the only jewelry you'll be getting? Is a pretty pearl necklace. Unless you count the rope bracelets he threads around your wrists when he straps you down and f*cks you until you forget your own name.
Leave the chocolates and the jewelry to the good guys. It's time to go dark side this Valentine's Day.
My Sweet Villaintine – a collection of dark tales from some of your favorite dark romance authors…
Lili St. Germain
Release Date: Feb. 9, 2017
Genre: NA Contemporary Romance
— SYNOPSIS --
Every life is made of thousands of them, each one strung together with the next. Some are yellow and happy, some are blue and sad, and some…
Some wipe out color altogether.
“I love you,” is what I should have told Maverick.
“I’m still fighting.”
Instead I just watched him leave.
Now my husband, my everything is battling for each breath, and all I can do is stare at the machines as the clock ticks off precious minutes.
The doctors said the first twenty-four hours are critical—but every moment is critical.
You never know which will be your last.
This is our story, and I’m not ready for it to end.
— PURCHASE LINKS --
Available on Kindle Unlimited!
— EXCERPT —I’m cold sitting in one of the waiting rooms in the ICU. Maverick is still in surgery, the nurse tells me. They’ll come get me once he’s in his room. It shouldn’t be too much longer. No one else is close by. It’s just me and my thoughts.
It’s strange the things you think of to distract yourself from the real reason you’re sitting here. Me, I focus on the oil painting on the wall. Wonder how many people have stared at it and wanted to tear it down. How many liked it. Has anyone noticed that it leans a little to the left or that there’s an inconsistency in the corners of the wooden frame? Did anyone deliberate why this painting?
I’m sure it’s meant to calm the people who look at it. Doesn’t everyone find a lake dotted with sailboats calming? But the colors are all wrong. They don’t soothe me. They’re bright and bold and demanding. There’s too much crimson, too dark of navy.
I have to turn away from it. There’re magazines on the tables, but they scream at me too. Loud headlines of celebrities with large divorce settlements, jail time, and plastic surgery. The science ones boast of the newest medical advances and archeological finds. What they don’t realize is that in here, life beyond these walls no longer exists. In here, there’re only three things that matter: life, death, and the battle between them.
I shiver again. I should have brought warmer clothes.
Hugging my knees to my chest, I focus on the fake plant in the corner. There are no windows in this area, which is how I know it’s fake. It might be a fern of some sort, I don’t know. The leaves are long and skinny, but again, the color is wrong for this place.
I shift my attention to the hallway. In here, the lights are dim, but out there they’re on full and reflecting off of the cream floor. There’s a nurse at the nurses’ station, sitting behind a computer. She’s different from the one before. A moment later, another walks up to the desk. They keep hushed voices, and I hear nothing. The one at the computer lifts her eyes to me and when she meets my gaze, she offers a sympathetic smile. I don’t smile back.
I lower my head until my cheek rests on my arms, and I close my eyes. My skin is ice against my face. Cold is what it means to be alone, and right now, I’ve never felt more alone. Alone, but not lonely. No, because being lonely is different than being alone. Lonely is a fleeting state that ends. When Finley gets here, I’ll no longer be lonely, yet without Mav, I’ll still be alone.
I think about the happy moments Mav and I shared. Our time in Cancun. The dance under the stars. His smile. His silly pet name for me.
That was us. The whole, take-on-the-world, in-love us.
The us before we broke.
I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
As the synopsis indicates, moments are everything in this book. The moment Alieya and Maverick meet, there is this pull between them. A spark that ignites something deep within them both. They meet on vacation. In the most unconventional way. They spend their last days together until neither one wants to say goodbye. They refuse to end this and decide to see where this will go.
Fast forward and they are building their lives together. While falling in love was easy, life has thrown obstacles in their way determined to keep them apart. One night changes everything. Hurtful and spiteful words are now full with regret. Could it be their last words? Maverick is fighting for his life. These moments are now critical. I know I am vague with the synopsis. But this is a journey. One that you are to experience through the eyes and hearts of the characters. This is their heartbreaking yet inspiring story.
The writing is honest and raw. The author gives us a true and open account of the greatest love in its most hopeful moments. And its dark and lost days. We get the ups and the downs. She never holds back. The author effortlessly allows Alieya to narrate their story from beginning to end. How they met, when they loved, and ultimately how they fell. She paints their story in vivid colors. So you feel their highs. And you feel their lows when darkness takes over.
The Story Of Us is a deep and heartfelt story about never losing sight of what’s important. Never taking love and all it has to offer, the good and the bad for granted. Alieya and Maverick’s story is a testament to enduring love and all of its trials and hardship. That love is always worth it. Their story is intense and so worth every angsty moment. The author knows how to burrow her characters deep within your heart, and this story was no different. This was a poignant and thought provoking read. There were so many meaningful messages the author had for her readers. Love deeply. Love loudly. For love is brave. Worth every risk.
— ABOUT THE AUTHOR --
d. Nichole King was born with a book in her hand. During her school years, she’d hide books inside textbooks, read during recess, changing classes, and while walking home from school. She wrote her first book at the age of 11, and the re-worked version of that book is her debut novel, LOVE ALWAYS, KATE.
Her YA urban fantasy series, THE SPIRIT TRILOGY, along with her NA contemporary series, LOVE ALWAYS, was acquired by Limitless Publishing and includes a total of six books. BREAKING THROUGH, an NA science-fiction romance, is her first self-published novel.
d. Nichole King currently resides in a small town in Iowa with her supportive husband, four amazing kids, a dog, a cat, a fish, and a turtle.
--— GIVEAWAY ----
Enter to win a SIGNED PAPERBACK of THE STORY OF US by d. Nichole King! OPEN INTERNATIONALLY!a Rafflecopter giveaway
Three things sum up Valentine Marsden at this moment: she’s got a sweet tooth so deep she opened her own bakery; she hates the holiday that is her namesake; and she just might be charged with murder tomorrow morning when she strangles the contractor next door banging on the walls during the busiest week of the year. Valentine finds herself bumping into the completely sexy and totally cocky stranger more and more often. So often she’s beginning to think he’s a working man with a serious sweet tooth...
Ford Knox has spent almost twenty years secluding himself from the public, retreating to his mountain cabin after work everyday without a second thought for complicated things like women and relationships. But when the syrupy sweet and dangerously curvy bakery owner next door seems to fall right into his lap this Valentine's Day, he winds up drunk on her and desperate for more. Knox is a real man with a wicked appetite, and Valentine is the only thing he can see.
Warning: Sweet Valentine is cocky, blue-collar alpha goodness with a dash of sweet candy hearts, lush chocolate-dipped strawberries, and sawdust-scented first kisses. Grab a chocolate martini because Knox and Valentine are about to melt your insides!
Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.
For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn't take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she's writing next!
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Title: A Thousand Letters
Author: Staci Hart
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 9, 2017
Sometimes your life is split by a single decision.
I’ve spent every day of the last seven years regretting mine: he left, and I didn’t follow. A thousand letters went unanswered, my words like petals in the wind, spinning away into nothing, taking me with them.
But now he’s back.
I barely recognize the man he’s become, but I can still see a glimmer of the boy who asked me to be his forever, the boy I walked away from when I was young and afraid.
Maybe if he’d come home under better circumstances, he could speak to me without anger in his voice. Maybe if I’d said yes all those years ago, he’d look at me without the weight of rejection in his eyes. Maybe if things were different, we would have had a chance.
One regretted decision sent him away. One painful journey bought him back to me. I only wish I could keep him.
*A contemporary romance inspired by Jane Austen’s Persuasion*
I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
This was my first book by this author and definitely not my last. I finished in a puddle of emotions. This was one of the most beautiful and romantic love stories I’ve read in such a long time.
“I thought I could forget you. I even convinced myself I had, for a time. But it was impossible. You left a mark on my soul I couldn’t erase.”
Elliot and Wade fall irrevocably in love at a young age. At the point where most young adults are just beginning their future. Ellie and Wade have it all planned. Until one decision derails everything. The total trajectory of their lives changed. A decision that makes them part ways. Eight years later, Wade returns under the most tragic circumstances. Eight. Years. Later. His heart still beats for Elliot. She is all he sees. But the pain still remains. He is dealing with so much and his love for Elliot is overwhelming. Elliot no longer sees the boy she loved. She sees the man who broke her heart. The man who never came back to her.
“I could heal him, but he would ruin me. I would make that sacrifice without question, simply because he needed me, and I loved him.”
The love between Elliot and Wade is powerful. Their story is deep and heartbreaking. The author places a love story in the midst of sadness. The emotions are raw. Years later, the consequences of their choices still haunt them. There’s an intensity to this book that I felt the entire reading experience. The author allows you to feel their pain, their sorrows, and even their joy. I laughed. I cried. This book holds nothing back. It reminds you of the resilience of the human spirit, the human heart, and most of all forgiveness. Every character played an integral role. The author is definitely talented in character development while executing a story on love, loss and the power in choosing love over fear.
“There is no length to love; its infinite. It lives in you always. Hold on to it.”
I am going to be completely honest here. This book is slow. The pacing is slow. And as I read, I became a little worried on how the book was progressing. But as it continued, I was in absolute awe. How dare I question the brilliant execution of this poignant and beautiful story. The writing? Poetic. Meaningful. The lyrical prose overwhelmed me. The words consumed me. You are supposed to be completely engulfed in the storyline. The pacing of the story allows you to not only fall in love with her words, but also her characters.
“You believe in those us who didn’t love you the way you’ve deserved. Why?”
“Because, I knew all that you could be, and I wished for it with all of me.”
A Thousand Letters was a touching and heartfelt read. Every word. Every moment. I will remember for a long time to come. The author imprints her words on your heart with this powerful and magnetic story.
Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life: a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can't forget that. She's also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She's been a wife, even though she's certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She's also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she's been drinking whiskey. Her favorite word starts with f and ends with k.
From roots in Houston, to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she's not writing, she's sleeping, cleaning, or designing graphics.
Title: After You
Author: Stephanie Rose
Release Date: Feb 21, 2017
Add to TBR
After You is the final STANDALONE novel in the Second Chances series.
I had the happily ever after . . . until it was gone.
Three became two. And I was alone.
Our time—my time—was over. Alone was the right way to be. The only way. Life was me, my son, and my memories. Until the day I met someone who turned my lonely existence upside down.
This man made me smile, made me laugh, made me ache for his touch.
But I couldn’t.
He shouldn’t awaken feelings I resolved to bury with my husband. But he did.
I couldn’t let his presence make my heart race. I couldn’t let him into our little world, where he fit so perfectly. I couldn’t want Nick.
But I did.
I rescued people. My family relied on me to lend a hand. Everyone thought of me as the fixer, but no one had the first clue how to fix me. Until Ellie.
The freckled beauty’s sorrow was like a well-worn shirt—easy and familiar, difficult to part with—and she wore it comfortably. And though I was hers from the moment our eyes first met, she’d never be mine. I loved her in the here and now, but how did I compete with a ghost?
How can there ever be anyone After You?
“Friend of the bride or groom?” I jumped at the deep timbre of the voice beside me. I was so into my thoughts I didn’t hear anyone approach.
“Um, both, I guess. Paige is family and Evan is a close friend.” I lifted my head to the man towering over me. The light was at his back, blocking the features on his face.
“Mind if I sit?” He motioned to the empty space on the bench beside me.
I shook my head and shrugged. “No, go right ahead.” He settled next to me, and I felt even smaller than usual. His large frame dwarfed mine.
“Nick … I’m a college friend of Evan’s.” He extended his hand, and I raised my eyes to him as I took it. Even in the dim lighting, I could make out his warm but striking dark eyes. “Seeing him finally marry Paige was worth a trip from Florida for me.”
I chuckled and nodded. “Ellie. Everyone seemed to know but her.”
Nick let out an exaggerated sigh. “If I had a dollar for every time I said ‘Just tell her,’ I’d be rich.” He shook his head and laughed. “So, what is a beautiful woman like you doing out in the cold all by herself?” He raised an eyebrow, then held his gaze on me as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The light illuminated the strong planes of his jaw and full lips. Despite being in the throes of my personal pity party, I couldn’t help but like what I saw.
I exhaled and stared at the ground. “I needed a little air, I guess.” I stuffed my hands under my folded arms, but it didn’t make one ounce of difference. I was freezing my lonely ass off.
“You’re shivering. Know where it’s nice and warm?” Nick cocked his head.
“Where?” I squinted my eyes and shrugged.
“The bar inside. Have a drink with me?” He rose from the bench and extended his hand to me. I jerked away on instinct.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, ‘No thank you, I’m married,’ but . . . I wasn’t, was I? And I’d spent enough time feeling sorry for myself tonight. My toes were frozen inside my high heels, and an alcoholic beverage with an attractive man who didn’t regard me with pity in his eyes sounded lovely.
“Sure.” I slipped my hand inside his and followed him inside. I craned my head around the mostly empty restaurant. Evan and Paige were long gone, starting their lives together. I hoped the rest of their lives were longer than the one I had with Jack.
I settled into a bar stool and dug into my purse. “I think the open bar ended when the bride and groom made a break for it.” Nick placed his hand over mine and shook his head.
“Put your money away. On me, whatever you’d like.” His mouth split into a wide grin as he settled next to me. He was good-looking enough outside under the soft lights. Inside and up close, he was gorgeous. He raked his hands through his short black hair before sliding into the stool next to mine. The dark suit he wore clung to his large muscular frame. Light brown eyes with longer lashes than any man had a right to fixed on me, and I was ashamed to admit I enjoyed it.
I pursed my lips and fought a smile. “Bailey’s on ice. Please.”
His smile grew even wider as he nodded. “You got it.” He called the bartender over to order our drinks as my eyes fell to my folded hands. My engagement ring twinkled at me, and I covered it with my other hand as I turned to face Nick.
“So, you said you lived in Florida?”
“Yes. Not too far from Tampa. I still have family in the Bronx; they live in Castle Hill. I took a long weekend to visit everyone.” Nick placed my drink in front of me, and I took a long sip from the thin black straw.
“Thank you. That’s nice. They must be happy about that.” I stirred the white liquid as my eyes darted from his. For some reason, it made me uncomfortable to hold his gaze for too long.
“They are. I try to visit as much as I can. My dad won’t admit it, but he hasn’t been feeling well lately, so I’ve been trying to visit more often. My grandmother will probably live to be a hundred.” Nick rolled his eyes and shook his head, making an unexpected laugh escape me.
“You only met Evan in college?”
“Yeah, two boys from the Bronx met in Philadelphia. He’s a great guy; I’m sure I don’t have to tell you.”
I nodded as a smile tugged at my lips. Evan was one of the best people I knew. “He sure is.”
We spent the next hour making small talk. Nick was charming and funny. It felt good to laugh and to not force a smile. My face ached from doing that for most of the night.
“So.” Nick put down his whiskey sour as his eyes bored into mine. “Were you . . . here with anyone tonight?”
I grimaced and looked away. “No. No, I’m wasn’t.”
Nick let out a long sigh. “I’m being too forward and making you uncomfortable, aren’t I?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m enjoying your company. I’m not uncomfortable, really.” I gave Nick a big smile, ignoring the pang of guilt at being unfaithful. Jack had been gone for almost a year; there was no one to be faithful to. My head was aware, but my heart vehemently disagreed.
Nick’s shoulders drooped with relief. “Good. You’re . . . really beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I whispered as I sipped my creamy drink. The heat coming from Nick’s stare was making me squirm a bit.
“Took me a while to work up the nerve to talk to you. I was sure you were with someone. How could you not be?” Nick’s voice dropped to a husky rasp as my eyes locked with his. I didn't know what to do with the sudden flip-flop in my belly from Nick’s words and undivided attention. It was time to put the brakes on whatever this was turning out to be.
Stephanie Rose was born and raised in the Bronx, New York and still lives there with her superhero-obsessed husband and son.
She has a Bachelor’s degree in Business and a day job in marketing, but she always has a story in her head. Her books are full of swoon-worthy men and feisty heroines.
This lifelong New Yorker lives for Starbucks, book boyfriends, and 80s rock. Her voice is often mistaken for a Mob Wives trailer.
Books by Stephanie Rose:
Always You: http://amzn.to/1j5N0X1
Only You: http://amzn.to/1SWdjM1
Finding Me: http://amzn.to/2jgcGRh
Always Us: http://amzn.to/2iVftml
We are so excited to share with you covers for GRIP and FLOW, the short prequel, by Kennedy Ryan!
FLOW releases on February 25th and will be totally FREE!
GRIP releases on March 2nd straight to #KindleUnlimited!
Celebrate the reveals with a $25 Gift Card GIVEAWAY (Winner’s Choice)!
ENTER HERE: https://www.facebook.com/KennedyRyanAuthor
➡Add GRIP on GR: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31207572-grip
➡Get #GRIPPED (Be notified by email about cover reveal & release):
Resisting an irresistible force wears you down and turns you out.
I’ve been doing it for years.
I may not have a musical gift of my own, but I’ve got a nose for talent and an eye for the extraordinary.
And Marlon James – Grip to his fans – is nothing short of extraordinary.
Years ago, we strung together a few magical nights, but I keep those memories in a locked drawer and I’ve thrown away the key.
All that’s left is friendship and work.
He’s on the verge of unimaginable fame, all his dreams poised to come true.
I manage his career, but I can’t seem to manage my heart.
It’s wild, reckless, disobedient.
And it remembers all the things I want to forget.
FLOW (The GRIP Prequel) – Releasing FREE a few days before GRIP, Feb 25!
If I could undo your kisses
If I could un-feel your touch
If I could unhook this heart from yours
But I’m trapped in the memory of what we were
Stuck with the reality of what we are
Tempted by the promise of a future
Afraid of possibility
I don’t know how our story ends, but this – this is where it started.
Kennedy loves to write about herself in third person. She loves Diet Coke...though she's always trying to quit. She adores her husband...who she'll never quit. She loves her son, who is the most special boy on the planet. And she's devoted to supporting and serving families living with Autism.
And she writes love stories!
For updates, new releases, giveaways and other adventures, subscribe to her newsletter: https://app.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/j9u8i3
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Title: P.I.T.A. (L.A. Liaisons, #3)
Author: Brooke Blaine
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: January 30, 2017
SynopsisAs one of the most prestigious wedding coordinators in Los Angeles, Paige Iris Traynor-Ashcroft is known for being classy, elegant, and the orchestrator of many happily-ever-afters. But in the words of Paige herself: “What a crock of shiitake.” Known affectionately (or not) as P.I.T.A. to those closest to her, she’s never been one to buy into the whole monogamy thing for herself. Sure, her BFFs are getting picked off by Cupid one by one, but his arrows have nothing on her semiautomatic. Richard “Dick” Dawson does his best to live up to his name. A long-time frenemy and manwhore extraordinaire, he thrives on pushing limits, pushing up skirts—and pushing every single one of Paige’s buttons. He’s the itch she can’t scratch, and doesn’t want to. Or does she? What happens when blazing-hot rage turns to crazy, unexplainable lust? Surely not...love? Because that would just be a total P.I.T.A.
Purchase your copy today!
How can I break this book down in simple terms? Ummm it's pretty easy.
READ THIS BOOK! Oh my goodness, I've been a fan of this series from day one, and this third installment has surpassed my expectations! You know how some authors decline when they have too many books in a series? NOT happening here! This book, PITA IS MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE! This is the third book in the L.A. Liaison's series and It's sexy, hilarious, hot, dreamy, sexy, hilarious again! Who doesn't love THAT! I suggest reading Licked and Hooker first, but that's just because I love them, this can totally be read as a standalone, TOTALLY. Just do it!
Paige and Dawson find themselves in a sticky situation. And as much as Paige wants to dissolve this problem she finds that her father has other plans in the form of blackmail. A deal is made and Paige and Dawson get stuck with each other, which should be fun since they want to kill each other. Like seriously, I would hide the kitchen knives around them. This is a story of frenemies to lovers that is delectably witty and decisively smart and in my mind, a great recipe for the PERFECT romcom! Not to mention that Brooke Blaine's writing was absolutely fabulous! It has everything you want and need and every page is filled with goodness! Like seriously every page, there was no skimming!
Paige Iris Traynor-Ashcroft is a wedding planner who ironically doesn't believe in marriage- go figure. She is also one of the most stubborn, hard headed women EVER, and you definitely don't want to cross her path on a full moon because she will rip you to shreds if she's in a bad mood. She has zero filter and will leave you in pieces if you let her, and it was an absolute treat reading her character because I just wished I could be that badass and get away with it!
Richard (dirty-dick) Dawson, but we'll just call him Dawson- on the other hand is more slick with his moves, more calculated, more Rico Suavé, Whereas Paige has no filter, Dawson knows exactly when to shut up or when to shut Paige up! He obviously loves a good challenge, because that's exactly what he gets when it comes to Paige. And ohhhhh boy is she challenging!
Both Paige and Dawson grew up as children of privilege and next door neighbors, but Paige got the short end of the stick when it came to parents so that's how their friendship begins. Unfortunately, something has soured their friendship along the way, and that has contributed to their spitfire attitudes towards one another. Their banter is hilarious with dry humor and quick witted comebacks, and I could not stop laughing! I kept thinking of Paige as a ninja because she was just so fast and quick with her dragon fire!
Paige is so mean to Dawson, and he just sort of brushes it off and gives it right back. I loved the way he handled Paige, because I'm not sure any other man could and I totally loved this dynamic in their relationship! Normally when you read books, it's the guy that's the problem child and you're reading along waiting for HIM to turn around and finally submit to his feelings. Not this time, Paige's nickname isn't PITA just because of her initials. She truly is a pain in the ass, and her and Dawson are so damn funny with their crazy ass version of foreplay!
There's also a perfect healthy dose of side characters who I just ADORE. Paige's best friends Shayne, Ryleigh and Quinn whom you've met if you read the first two books. They are hilarious together, and the book wouldn't be the same without out them--umm hello friendship goals!
This book will be on my top reads this year, without a doubt. I honestly can't say enough about it. I know I emphasized how funny it was, but it was also achingly romantic and there was this one scene that had me reading it over and over again because it was just so perfect that I had tears running down my face while holding my chest. And I don't cry easily while reading a book, damn you Brooke Blaine! I cried happy tears, I cried because I was laughing so hard tears, I cried sex tears, SO MANY types of tears! Everybody needs to read this book, it is honestly the perfect escape from just about anything! Now I just need Quinn's book to make it all perfect with a bow on top! I honestly can't wait for that!
I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
I seriously just finished this book with a huge smile on my face. While it was lighthearted and funny, there was an unexpected but much appreciated depth to the storyline. That sometimes love is right in front of us. Love doesn’t understand circumstance or timing. Love only knows where it belongs.
Paige Iris Traynor-Ashcroft (P.I.T.A.) is one of the most highly sought out wedding coordinators in all of Los Angeles. It’s too bad that she thinks marriage is a crock and something she will never partake in. Self-proclaimed ladies man, Richard “Dick” Dawson has known Paige since they were kids. They were quite close as where she lacked in family his parents were like her own. He knows he gets under her skin and he pushes harder anyway. They have that kind of hate hate relationship. Ha! No but really!
A night out results in their lives colliding in ways neither saw coming. And Paige is not ready to face the consequences. She is quite dismissive of Dawson, but he never lets up. She is never supposed to fall. This totally derails her plans! There is a push and pull until giving in is inevitable. But what happens when the one thing you’ve spent your life running away from is the one thing that you need the most? This author never recycles the typical storyline, and Paige and Dawson’s story continues this. She absolutely owns rom com as she puts her own spin on this genre with every book released in this series. There is an inherent vulnerability to these characters. They come across as genuine and their story is flawlessly executed in P.I.T.A. Surprisingly touching, yet laugh out loud funny this book was EVERYTHING!
Between the witty dialogue and clever storyline, this was easily a top read for me this year. Brooke Blaine is truly the queen of Rom Com! The author is a master at weaving a funny, sensual, yet passionate and endearing story that hooks you from the very beginning. I laughed. Loudly. I wiped away tears. Her talent of character development is simply unmatched. She writes with an intensity in that the sexual chemistry simply jumps off the pages! Engaging and sexy, I loved everything about this book!
P.I.T.A was simply one of the best romantic comedies I’ve read in such a long time. I am a huge fan of this entire series, but this story was impassioned as it was hilarious and I am still not over it. The author brilliantly balances heart and humor within a romantic comedy that is sure to make you a fan of hers for life.
About Brooke Blainehttp://www.brookeblaine.com/ ★ Facebook: www.facebook.com/BrookeBlaine.Writer ★ Twitter: https://twitter.com/BrookeBlaine1 ★ Instagram: www.instagram.com/brookeblaine1/ ★ Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/1i2g15S ★ Brooke & Ella's Facebook Group:https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheBrellas If you’d like to be the FIRST to know about a new release, sale, giveaway, or upcoming signings & events, make sure to join Brooke’s newsletter: http://eepurl.com/brxPkP And make sure to follow me on Bookbub! https://www.bookbub.com/authors/brooke-blaine
Read the series!
Licked (L.A. Liaisons, #1)
Hooker (L.A. Liaisons,#2)
Release Date: January 26th
Genre: Erotic Romance
Hosted by Chance Promotions
Add to your TBR: www.goodreads.com/book/show/33530055-tempt
They say age is nothing but a number.
Lucas Rockwell isn’t just ten years younger than me, he’s my deceased husband's son.
Tainted by secrets, everything about us is wrong and forbidden.
Like fire and gasoline, we're an explosion waiting to happen.
We're tempting fate with every touch.
A hand on my arm stirs me from my deep musings. “Lucas, are you okay?”
My head turns and I find Charlotte standing beside me. The first thing I notice are her large tits and how close they are to touching my arm. If I shift a fraction of a step to the side I could feel them press against me. My eyes move up over her delicate collarbones. I want to place a kiss between them and then lick my way up her graceful neck until I reach her red mouth. Fuck me. She has the mouth of a fucking porn star. I wonder if she sucks dick like one?
“Lucas.” She rubs my arm, pulling me back to the present.
My eyes leave her enticing lips and raise up to meet her enthralling blues and I finally find my voice. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I turn to face her, our gazes never breaking contact. With her heels she stands only a few inches shorter than my six foot one inch frame and the tips of her breasts are pointing at my chest. Being this close to her has my dick hard. I’ve never had such a strong reaction to a woman before. A few seconds in her company and my cock’s ready and waiting.
“Can I get you anything?” she asks, rubbing my arm again.
That’s a loaded question if I ever heard one.
“I don’t know. Can you?”
Her hand falls from my arm. “If you want something, I’ll get it for you.”
I inch forward until her tits are touching my chest. Her eyes go wide. “I want a lot of things Charlie.” I let my hand caress over the curve of her hip down to the top of her ass as I reach behind her to pick up the refill the waitress placed there for me a few minutes ago. I take a step back, lifting the drink toward my mouth. “Right now I just want another beer.” My lips close around the bottle and I take a large gulp. Jesus. I need a cold shower after being this close to her.
Her porn star lips open in a silent oh at my reply. She flashes me a tight smile and looks down at the diamond encrusted Rolex on her wrist. “The limo will be here in twenty minutes to pick us up.”
I nod my head before tipping back the beer. If I drink this one straight down I’ll have time for one more.
Charlotte takes a dainty step back still looking at me and then pivots around to walk back into the reception room. My eyes follow her, locked on the generous curves of her ass. Fuck. I no longer need to wonder or speculate about what my father saw in her. It’s the same thing every red blooded guy sees when he looks at her. SEX. Between her large rack, her full lips and her heart shaped ass, I don’t know which I’d like to bite more. But I’d sure like to find out.
About the Author:
Remy Blake is a male and female author duo, who paired up to have some fun writing steamy, short reads, with insta love/lust and a HEA. You can expect twice the debauchery in every novel they write.
By: L. Duarte
Publication Date: January 23, 2017
Publisher: LD Publishing LLC
Cover Designer: Okay Creations
Everyone has a story. Mine went like this: Once upon a time, I met a boy. He was the most handsome fella in the land. I fell in love. Together, we had cosmic chemistry. I believed I would live a life of unending bliss. Until he broke my heart. Shattered it to pieces. And I lived unhappily ever after instead. The end. Or so I thought. Life found a way to reunite us. But to change that unhappy ending, I had to learn how to forgive. And my heart seemed unable to do so. This is a love story. But it is also, much more. Itâs the story of how I coped with my shortcomings, my fears and rewrote my destiny. Everyone has a story. This is mine.
I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
âI never met anyone who could speak so much with silence.â
Superstar, singer and songwriter, Gray Davis cancels all of her tour dates and returns home to deal with family. She returns to a place that she never dreamed of coming back to. A place where she could run into him. Galel Asner. He broke her heart. Into pieces that never mended. And he has never forgiven himself. So when she sees him in the very exact spot where she needed him the most, she is taken back by how the feelings come rushing back, but her heart is not ready to forgive. And sheâs not sure it ever will.
âThe very absence of you in my life is the greatest source of pain. Being with you would never be oblivion.â
Gray and Galelâs story is unlike anything youâve ever read. Itâs seamlessly told between past and present, allowing the reader to see how their love came to be and how it fell apart. You are placed deep within their heartbreak. Without going into the detail of the plot, this book is heartbreaking, yet one of the most beautiful and heartfelt stories you will ever read. There are many twists and turns that you never see coming. There is a backstory to everything and nothing is at it seems. I found myself completely consumed by this book. Your heart will beat for this Gray and Galeâs story. It will move you. Itâs so much more than a story of lost love, hope and forgiveness. Itâs an experience.
âI flew through infinity. Time, space, became boundless because my soul, when united with Galelâs, became unlimited.â
Despite his actions so long ago, Galelâs love has never been so strong. So determined. The guilt he carries is heavy and you feel it throughout the book. And Grayâs reluctance to look at him the way she once did is unwavering. There is an intensity thatâs felt when these two get together. Even with what occurred in their past, their electricity still remains. And Galel wants nothing more for Gray to see how much heart still belongs to him. To feel how strong his heart still beats for her. His soul is tethered to hers. And you feel it with every declaration of love he makes. He loves Gray fiercely. His love protects. Covets. Consumes. But is love enough? Can his love overcome what kept them apart so long ago?
âThe feelings I had for Galel were more than love. They were a dependency, madness, sickness. Or perhaps it was true love defined. An unrepentant insanity that lurked inside the soul and could not be purged.â
I got lost in the words of this book. It reads like poetry. I was mesmerized. Completely engrossed within the story. The author writes in such vivid colors. You see everything she writes. Her words are loud when they need to be. And when they are silent, you still hear and feel everything. Her words and the emotions she elicits simply jump off of the pages. The author writes with such purpose and meaning. And this is felt with the thoughtful development of her characters and the execution of the story itself.
âAnd together, we were in unison with the infinite and massive universe. There was no beginning and no ending, for we were our very own alpha and omega.ââ
Flightless is a deep and poignant story. One that I will never forget and will stay with me for a long time to come. Even with darkness, there is light. Gray and Galelâs story is a testament to all that love can endure and overcome. Itâs a reminder that even when evil tries to destroy, love always prevails. Destiny always overrules. Everything. Every time. If I could, I would talk of this authors words forever.
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I stepped back. Not literally, just figuratively. I did that with every concert. I allowed my mindâs eyes to hover over me and my fans while I analyzed and dissected the unique relationship between us.
As I watched the multitude of peopleâa beautiful kaleidoscope of different races and social statusesâmy heart, in utter bliss, roared.
The audience held their hands upwards as if in an offering or a request. I never knew which. In perfect synchrony, their arms rolled in waves like the swaying of a stormy sea. Their voices cried out my name, and the smell of their sweat and the heat of their mingled bodies emanated from them, unfurling to me like the sweet perfume of incense.
I held the mic near my motionless lips and stared at them. At that moment, I became one with thousands. At that moment, I took back from the crowd all the energy I had fed them. And their vibe made me high and drunk. It was my personal Nirvana. The kind of rapture that can only be attained through uttermost intimacy. A oneness I had only felt with one other person. A person who had severed that connection and shattered my heart into a million shards of pain.
I worshiped them as they adored me. The exchange of atomic energy contained nuclear power. I was drained from giving. They were wasted from receiving. But we were both impossibly happy and satisfied.
My motionless lips finally moved, uttering the final words for the night. The parting words. âGood night, Sydney!â I waved a hand back at them. âYou looked beautiful tonight. All forty thousand of you.â
I bowed. They deserved my reverence. People had spent their time camped outside the venue waiting for a closer glance at me. They had spent their precious earned money to see my performance. They were worthy of my respect and gratitude.
Another wave of a hand. A kiss. Another bow. And I was out. Another show was done. Eight more to go.
I jogged backstage and gave the mic to Jeremy, my makeup artist, in exchange for a bottled water. He opened a portable case containing all the potions that would quickly improve my appearance for the meet and greet.
Before I took a swig from the bottle, Clara, my assistant, brusquely interrupted my post-concert ritual. She snatched the bottle from my hand and returned it to a confused Jeremy. âGray. With me,â she demanded, grabbing my elbow and urging me toward my changing room.
I glanced back at the stunned face of Jeremy. It was time for meet and greet with the VIPâs. I needed to freshen up. My makeup had all but melted under the stage lights.
Once inside the privacy of the room, I demanded, âWhatâs going on?â
She raised a finger and said, âWait.â
I opened my mouth to protest. Instead, I swallowed the words. Clara was usually a chatterbox; her clipped words quickly clued me in that something was seriously wrong.
As I waited, Clara dialed a number on her phone. Her silence became as unnerving as the red glare of an alarm light.
âBetty, I have Gray,â Clara said. Wordlessly, she shoved the device in my hand. The door closed with a thud after she exited in a flurry of silent drama.
âMama?â I asked holding the phone to my ear.
âHey, Puppy,â Mama said in a soft, almost regretful tone.
âWhatâs going on?â I asked. Silence filled the other end of the line, only increasing my concern. Mama knew I had just left the stage. She followed my tour from home. Minute by minute. It was unusual for her to call me so soon following a show.
âHow was, um, the, um, concert?â she asked.
âMama, did you call me to ask how the show went?â I furrowed my brows and every hair on my body stood at attention. Mama knew my routine during a tour. After a performance, I had a brief meet with fans and then I would go on hours of silence to rest my vocal cords. Although she knew she could call me at any time, she never called until at least ten hours following a show.
âMama?â I prodded after a long silence.
âI have cancer,â she said bluntly.
The phone connection was perfect. No static. But Mamaâs words hummed in my ear with a tunnel-like quality. Distorted, altered, garbled. My mind, however, had remained sharp and alert. Without much thought and after a brief pause, I uttered the words, âIâm coming home.â I hadn't said those words in over a decade. Somehow, they didn't taste as foreign as I had imagined they would.
âGray,â I said. The word hovered on my tongue, saturating my taste buds with an acrid taste. âGray,â I repeated, letting it roll off my tongue. I did that a lot. It was my name.
Often, I mused about my name. It hadnât been given to me because it was fashionable. Nevertheless, it had a history. My history.
When I was little, I liked to fancy its origin. The sky, I would think, was painted gray the day I was born. I loved the theory. The unattainability of the infinite mass of gray made it a great namesake. Whenever gray clouds hovered in the sky, I would lay on my back and stare at them, dreaming that when I grew up, I would build an enormous ladder, climb it, and touch the gray painted dome. It was all, of course, a foolish childâs dream, born out of vain imagination. I wasnât born during the day, nor was the sky gray. And it was most definitely not the inspiration behind the choosing of my name.
I was born in a graveyard. Serene Hills Cemetery, it was called, though its surface was flat. It was a fall night, October 20th, approximately 11 pm.
They found me covered in vernix. I used the term âtheyâ loosely. A dog found me. A female German Shepherd mix that went by the name of Sunshine. Her fur was golden. Shiny like sun rays. I had a newspaper cut-out of her. Itâs black and white, but it described her that way. In the shot, she looked straight at the camera, two vivid round eyes dotting a long and alert face. She had the knowing stare of someone who was aware she had done a good deed.
Obviously, I donât recall the details surrounding my birth. I was an infant. But I had Mama tell me the story so many times, which after a while, the images ingrained in my brain like the roots of a tree embedded in the fertile soil. They became so real in my imagination that it felt as if they were my recollections.
I was a born a preemie. Weak, small, and blotchy-faced. I was skin and bones with a mop of black spiky hair, and a bad case of a cold.
A miracle, they called me. But I knew I was no wonder. I happened to have the perfect concoction of healthy lungs and a loud cry. These, and the sharp canine sense of hearing and smelling had saved me. I didnât believe in miracles. Not anymore.
When they found me, decay from the trees covered the ground on a fascinating palette of colorsâan array of red, yellow, purple, brown, orange, golden, bronze.
I used to question why the leaves change colors and fall off the branches. According to a scientific explanation, leaves are a weak and feeble part of a plant. So, before the weather gets severely cold, the trees should toughen up to protect themselves. Or simply dispose of the leaves, the weak part.
Personally, I believe they turn colors before falling as revenge. A personal vendetta. And for that I applaud them. They turn their death into a poetic and alluring sight. That line of thought made me believe death was beautiful. It fascinated me. Itâs more interesting than birth, although similar.
I had been abandoned under a pile of dead foliage. According to the police investigation, it appeared my birth mother had buried me under the leaves. Hid me. Like a criminal attempting to cover its tracks. Supposedly, I spent the night under a cocoon of leaves. The treeâs decay was soaked with blood and amniotic fluid.
According to Sunshineâs owner, they were walking on the sidewalk by the cemetery when she heard a whizzing sound. Sunshineâs owner discarded the noise as being the cry of squirrels.
Sunshine didnât. At odds with her sweet nature, she became agitated and broke loose. She squeezed through a small gap in the fence and disappeared between the gravestones, leaving her owner in a frenzy.
Less than a minute later, Sunshine returned. Her mouth muzzled around my small waist, my umbilical cord dragging, rattling the decayed leaves.
I found my story fascinating, unique. Or so I told myself whenever I got teased at school.
The hospital staff called me the Graveyard Miracle. Soon after, Gray for short. It stuck.
I spent three months in the hospital. Thatâs where Mama worked. The graveyard shift. She fed me. She bathed me. She caressed my skin. âMy heart had not a chance. It fell madly in love with you,â she said, whenever she told me my story. Her pale hand, dotted with freckles, caressing my black, straight hair.
When I became her child officially, she quit the night job. âI had brought home my very own Graveyard Miracle.â
She found a day job at a pediatric clinic, occasionally helping at the hospital for extra income. She continued working at the clinic throughout my childhood, adolescence, and after I left home. She remained there until cancer said, âNo more.â Until cancer said, âI want your time. From now on, you are going to dedicate every waking hour to me. Iâm egocentric. I want it all. I want your flesh and the total sum of your soul.â
Thatâs why I was there, sitting in the back of a limousine Clara had rented to pick me up from JFK airport and take me home.
âWhen should I schedule your flight to LA?â she had asked. âOnly a one-way ticket for now,â I responded.
32 Lorelai Lane, my childhood home. It was a small Victorian-style house, built in 1929. The colorful foliage of a maple tree and an oak tree framed the dwelling as if it was extracted from the pages of a fairy tale book. When I was little, I used to fancy my house was lovely. The most enchanting place in all realms. Staring at the house, I discovered that I still thought that. It was the most magical place in the world because it was the place that humans refer to it as âhomeâ. And home is a thing of fairy tales. Rare and pure.
The car door was wide open, awaiting me. I climbed out. The driver stood straight as a pole. His hands perfectly folded in front of him, his face impassive. I wondered how long he had stood there, waiting for me, questioning my sanity. The luggage was lined up at the front porch. His face remained expressionless when I pulled a generous tip from my purse and handed it to him. âThank you,â I murmured.
He drove off, the sound of the engine trailing off into the quiet street. It was late at night. The crisp air smelled of burnt wood and autumn, reminiscent of bonfires and fireplaces.
I crossed the stone path leading to the front steps.
The hinges of the front door squeaked, and Mama slowly appeared as light spilled out from inside the house. She leaned against the doorframe, cocked her head, her eyes fixed on me. She knew me so well. She knew I needed the time.
I peered up, carefully examining Mamaâs face. It had been only two months since I had last seen her, but she appeared decades older. Even under the porchâs pale yellowed light, I could detect the lines circling her mouth. Small bags sagged under her eyes, and her plump skin appeared loose, dripping like melting wax. Her hair showed inches of gray and her usual square and proud shoulders were smaller, fragile. But what got my attention the most were her eyes. Their vivid green had turned opaque.
The grief and sorrow in her stare set my feet in motion, and I climbed the steps.
When mama stepped forward, the old wooden floor groaned and creaked under her feet. She came to a halt at the top of the stairs. Her lips curved into a small smile, and her arms spread open in an inviting hug.
As I stepped forward, my legs felt wobbly with the weight of so many years of absence.
I have found that there is only one thing better than reading, and that is writing. I am always torn between the two. I am also frequently torn between chocolate and coffee. However, I emphatically do not like the month of February, lies, and flies. For me, bravery is defined by the courage to do what we fear the most. I live in Connecticut with my husband and two children. Drop a few lines. I would love to hear from you.
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