Monday, November 5, 2018

Such Violent Delights Cover Reveal

Such Violent Delights: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology



12 all new stories from your favorite paranormal romance authors. From Heaven to Hell, fae worlds, superheroes, and even through the looking glass, these holiday themed short stories bring a whole new meaning to the 12 days of Christmas.

All proceeds from the sale of the anthology will be donated to charity.

Featuring:

Stacey Marie Brown – Descending Into Madness (A Winterland Tale)
Chantal Fernando – Suck Me
Jessica Florence – Hero Holiday Trials
Amelia Hutchins – Oh, Holy Knight (Wicked Knights Series)
S.L. Jennings – Devil’s Darling (A Se7en Sinners Short)
Amo Jones – DYAVOL
Knox & Miers – Deck the Halls (A Halfblood Huntress Prequel)
Kim Loraine – On A Cold Winter’s Night
Anne Malcom – Buried Destiny
R. Scarlett – The Winter Solstice
Alice K. Wayne – The Nutcrackers (A Breed Christmas Short)

Cover Designer: Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art
https://www.facebook.com/Simply-Defined-Art-1622658254619778/

Release Date: November 13, 2018

Available at a special preorder price: books2read.com/SuchViolentDelights

Thursday, November 1, 2018

Review: I Bet You by Ilsa Madden-Mills!



IBY-SBPRBANNER-BT.jpg

She’s the one bet I can’t resist...

Wall Street Journal bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills returns with an all-new swoon-fest of a novel about what happens when you look beyond labels and take a chance on love.

I Bet You, an all-new sexy college romance standalone is available NOW!

I-BET-You-REALFINAL-3.jpg


Sexy Athlete: I bet you…
Penelope Graham: Burn in hell, quarterback.
The late night text is random but Penelope knows exactly who “Sexy Athlete” is. And why she shouldn't take his wager.
Ryker Voss.
Football star.
Walks on water and God's gift to women.
Just ask him.
His bet? He promises Penelope he’ll win her the heart of the nerdy guy she’s been crushing on. His plan—good old-fashioned jealousy. Once her crush sees her kissing Ryker, he'll realize what he's missing. Sounds legit, right? The only question is…why is Ryker being so nice to her?
Penelope Graham.
Virgin.
Lover of sparkly vampires and calculus.
His mortal enemy.
Penelope knows she shouldn’t trust a jock, but what’s a girl to do when she needs a date to Homecoming? And Ryker’s keeping a secret, another bet, one that could destroy Penelope’s heart forever.
Will the quarterback score the good girl or will his secret mean everyone loses at this game of love?


IBY-AN
Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/IBetYouIMM
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2vLgSkX

Darra's Review:

The story was quite interesting. I want to punch people in the face knowing the title of the book. I could not help to think about She's All That. Popular sports guys that have no care in the world. However Ryker proved me wrong. I am not a super fan of the sports characters but I have made and an exception for him. Penelope is trying to live her life on her own. Working, going to school and being involved with a sorority. So both characters do not want anything to get in their way. What can you do when you find the person you love?

You will find out. Two characters you hope that find each other. I rate the book a 4.4

Sunny's Review:

This book was a quick read and I enjoyed it. I liked both characters. Penelope was a typical college girl. She worked, was in a sorority and went to classes. She was not over the top nerdy or sorority girl. She just seemed pretty normal. Ryker seemed pretty normal too. He was a bit of a manwhore in the past but he had calmed down and was concentrating on his future. I loved that it was not an insta-love where he saw Penelope and just dropped all other girls. Ryker seemed very focused and mature even though he was doing some very juvenile tricks too. I liked the banter between the characters and it was a good story. 

I am giving this book 4.4 stars. Since it is getting cold in Texas this week, I recommend you get this book, snuggle in and get to reading!

Excerpt:

Penelope
I stand in front of the mirror in the restroom and gasp. Holy moly, I’m a total disaster. Red is on my shirt, my neck, my cheek, and there’s even a dab in my hair. I let out a heavy sigh as I wipe at it with a wet paper towel. At least my hair is auburn and the red will just blend right in. I scrub at the stain on my shirt, but all I end up doing is making a giant wet spot. “Forget it,” I mutter to myself a few minutes later as I straighten my lopsided messy bun and adjust my glasses. My makeup is faded, and I reach into my apron for a tube of cherry red lipstick then quickly swipe it over my mouth. Like that’s going to improve the situation. I need a makeover and new clothes stat. I walk out of the restroom and take in Sugar’s Bar and Grill, a restaurant in Magnolia, Mississippi. The dinner rush is over, but a few stragglers will come in, mostly college students. Only a block from campus, Sugar’s has a modern farmhouse feel with galvanized steel light fixtures, pale pine floors, and straight-back metal chairs, but the food…well, that’s what keeps the place hopping. It’s the only restaurant near campus to get anything you want served up with a side of fresh fried green tomatoes. Their menu also features Southern classics, such as chicken and dumplings or macaroni and cheese with bacon sprinkled on top. Just thinking about it makes my stomach rumble. I was so wrapped up in writing during my break that I forgot to eat. I sigh and head to the football table, where they promptly hand over the money. “Nice doing business with you, boys,” I say before flouncing off, feeling Ryker’s eyes on me the entire time. What’s his deal with me? I mean, you’d think he’d want to avoid me because of the article, but it’s as if his mission is to be around me as much as he can. In fact, I’m not even sure he knew who I was before I wrote it since we don’t run in the same circles. I suspect he’s torturing me. I push him out of my head and walk over to a table that needs bussing, picking up half-empty soda glasses and putting them on my tray. The door chimes, signaling that someone has come in, and I raise my head to see— Whoa. I freeze. Bring out the angels and cue the hallelujah chorus. Now that’s the kind of man I should be writing sexy scenes about. Standing at the door is Connor Dimpleshitz—yes, his surname is unfortunate, but his IQ makes up for it. I’ve been crushing on him since our sociology class last semester. Framed by a golden halo of sunlight as it glints through the windows, I decide he’s what would happen if Albert Einstein and Henry Cavill had a baby. “A hot genius. The perfect unicorn,” I murmur to myself. I chew on my lip, debating on whether to mosey up to him and say hi or hide. Hide wins. I know, I’m a little ridiculous, especially since we have calculus together this semester and he’ll obviously see me at some point in class. But then I’ll have good hair and ketchup-free clothes. I quickly survey the possibilities for my escape as the hostess seats him in another server’s section. My eyes land on the right side of the restaurant, where I could make a mad dash for the kitchen, but he’s bound to see me darting since I’d have to walk past him. Plus, I want to hang around and watch him without him knowing. I come to a decision. Wrangling the tray of half-empty sodas I cleared, I quickstep it over to the back left corner, the farthest away from the double doors of the entrance. I maneuver my body into an awkward hunkering position behind a huge potted plant with wide fan-shaped leaves. At least five feet tall with a gnarly brown trunk, the green monster is perfect camouflage. I peek around a big leaf that’s in dire need of a good dusting,judging by the motes floating around. Feeling paranoid that someone is a witness to my absurdity, I throw a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one’s around. Ryker. Shit. He’s staring at me from the football table, and there’s a glint in his gaze, as if he’s wondering what I’m doing. I scowl and stick my tongue out at him. He makes me feel so rebellious and flustered and…excited. I can’t even stop myself. Ugh. His expression deepens in amusement, and I grimace, realizing my butt is sticking out. His annoying eyebrow jacks up and says, What the hell are you doing? With eye telepathy I tell him to mind his own freaking business. I pointedly turn my back on him and focus on The Unicorn. A few seconds later, a familiar deep voice resonates from behind me, making me start. “You look a little flustered, Penelope. Spying on someone for your next story, perhaps?” I freeze. Blink. His voice is husky and lower than before when he was calling me garçon, the tone reminding me of languid summer nights under a starry Southern sky while he gives me deep, passionate kisses— Good Lord.Stop your daydreaming.Must. Stop. Reading. Romances. I heave out a sigh and turn around to face Ryker. What the hell does he want now? *** “I don’t submit to the Wildcat Weekly anymore,” I say. I worked for them most of last year, covering the home games and a few random articles. With a dad who was in the NFL, I know a lot about football, but when Sugar’s offered me more hours, I took it. “No more football stories, huh?” I shrug, my gaze taking in his chiseled cheekbones, the curve of his full lips, the hint of scruff on his jaw. Dammit, why is he so gorgeous? “What can I say? I covered the most fascinating story last semester—you. Guess I went out on a high note.” He nods, taking that dig. “I always noticed you at the games.” I scoff. “I didn’t think girls like me were on your radar.” “You sat near the third row at the fifty-yard line taking notes at every home game.” His eyes drift over me. “And I didn’t say you were on my radar.” “Really? Sounds like you did.” “Trust me, I have more discriminating tastes.” He shrugs. “Why, how sweet of you.” My Southern accent has thickened, the way it does when I’m sassy. It’s one thing to know he doesn’t like me, but for him to say I’m not up to his standards…well. “Did you pop over here just to be nice?” He exhales and rakes a hand through his hair, calling attention to the lighter strands that have been bleached by the sun. “Honestly, I’m not sure why I came over here.” A conflicted expression crosses his face as he tugs at his collar. My eyes stare at the myriad of curly blond chest hairs that are poking out from the V-neck of the light blue Oxford he’s wearing with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay from the ketchup getting all over you, but everything I’m saying is coming out wrong.” Oh. This is different. And not what I expected. “I’m fine, Baby Llama. No need to worry. You can go. Your girlfriends are waiting for you.” I tilt my head back toward the football table. He doesn’t budge. “Baby Llama?” An amused grin flashes over his face. I shrug. It’s been my private nickname for him since sophomore year when I stumbled upon him coming out of an upstairs bathroom at the Tau house after a shower with only a white towel wrapped around his trim waist. Some jersey chaser was with him. His hairy chest had both shocked my virgin sensibilities and excited me at the same time. The unruly curls just made him seem more naked, as if I’d seen his cock. Much to my dismay, I’d later dream about rolling around on that bed of golden curls. Seriously, who takes a shower with a chick in the middle of a kegger? Ryker Voss, that’s who. Because he can. And girls do whatever he wants. But not this one. I respect the game—even love it—but I don’t fall for football players, especially high and mighty quarterbacks who think they walk on water. My dad was the star player at Waylon twenty years ago, and trust me, I know how they operate. They get what they want and then they walk out, leaving broken hearts everywhere. “Have you ever seen a real llama?” he asks, continuing our conversation. It’s as if he’s actually trying to be nice. “I saw one at a safari park once. Little bugger tried to eat my hand off when I fed him, but he was cute. Maybe you need a poster of one in your room so when you see it, you’ll think about me. I’ll even sign it for you.” And there’s the cocky again. “Buy me one. I’ll throw darts at it.” “Damn, you never stop.” He huffs out a laugh, his eyes lingering on my neck. “Oh, there’s a bit of ketchup here too,” he says, reaching out to glide his finger across the top of my collar, his knuckles barely brushing against my neck. The feather-light touch is brief and not sexual, yet my body hums, tendrils of sparks racing over my skin. I suck in a breath and catch his scent, warm and spicy with hints of leather and sandalwood. He blinks and clears his throat. “Um, I actually have this cleaner stuff that I spray on my practice clothes. It’s a miracle worker. You’re welcome to borrow it. Of course, you’d have to come by the football dorm to pick it up. We could even do laundry together if you wanted?” He says the words softly, as if they’re nothing,and I’m staring at him full on. Do our laundry together? I suspect Ryker Voss is flirting with me, though not well. The pimply-faced checkout boy at Big Star has better lines than this. Yet… Something warm grows inside my stomach and then flutters around, the sputtering of newborn butterflies. He is the hottest guy on campus. Still, I remind myself he’s a player, gather my resolve, and shoot those butterflies down. “You’re being weird, Ryker.” “Because I’m being nice? Yeah. New year, new start. I want to forget all the bad stuff from last semester.” He pauses. “And the article you wrote.” “Is that right? Even the part where I said you dishonored the sport and were a disgrace to college players everywhere?” He stares down at his hands. “I had my reasons for what happened.” So I heard. He got involved in the fighting to help his friend and fellow teammate Maverick save his disabled sister. “Ah, well, I did write a follow-up article, but it wasn’t nearly as popular as the first one.” He shrugs, and somehow, he’s closer now. I stare into his thickly lashed cerulean eyes and blink at the force of them. His irises…God, someone should name a crayon after them. “So…do you want to do laundry together sometime?” This again? My mouth parts. “What? Like a date?” “Yeah.” I blink rapidly, my brain trying to wrap about this new Ryker. “No. I’m sure you already have jersey chasers lined up outside your dorm vying to do your laundry. I’ve heard they actually beg to rub your shoulders and do your homework. I imagine they even fight to be the one to suck your sweet little toes.” I come to an abrupt halt. Suck his toes? SUCK HIS TOES? OMG. Where did that random comment come from? I don’t have a foot fetish. I blame it on his presence and carry on. “And don’t worry about me—I don’t need your laundry advice. A little ketchup never hurt anyone.” Determination crosses his face and with a flurry of movement, he drops a small piece of paper onto the tray I’m holding. I stare down at it. Sexy as Hell Athlete is written in masculine handwriting with a phone number after it. I look back up at him, my eyes tracing the enigmatic half-smile on his face. “I wrote it down for you earlier and wanted to give it to you after the ketchup thing, but I chickened out.” Several seconds go by. “Will you give me yours?” he asks after a few moments of us just standing here. “My what?” “Number.” He grins. I indicate the tray and my obvious impediment. “I don’t have any paper on me.” “Just tell me. I’ll remember.” I’m flustered, and that’s the only reason I rattle off my phone number. He grins and repeats it back to me. He lowers his voice in a conspiratorial way. “So…you’re watching someone, I take it. Anyone I know?” Feeling bemused by his attention, I shake my head, quickly losing control of this situation. “For a writer, you seem to be at a loss for words. Do I make you speechless, Penelope?” I scoff. “No.” “I’m curious as to what has your attention back here.” He slides in next to me behind the plant, his shoulder brushing against mine. He’s a giant next to my slender frame, and all at once, I feel protected and safe, which is entirely wrong. It’s probably his male pheromones, lulling me into softness before the kill—and damn if it isn’t working. He murmurs something about us hiding together and spying on people, but I’m distracted because my face is up close and personal with the chest hair that pokes out of his shirt. I want to trail my fingers through it and see if it’s as soft as it looks. He smells like alpha male and sex. Hard, passionate sex that makes you orgasm fast and furious. Not that I have any firsthand knowledge of that, of course, but I have my fantasies. Gird your loins, Penelope. Resist the quarterback. But I’m getting sucked in. I blame it on the dimple that appears when he smiles. My stomach does that fluttering thing again, and this time, I can’t shoo the butterflies away. I’m weak. I move my eyes up the strong column of his tanned throat to meet his gaze. At least ten seconds go by as we take each other in. What. Is. Happening? “You’re pretty,” he murmurs. “Have I ever told you that?” “We don’t usually talk except for when I take your order.” His hand reaches up and briefly touches a piece of my hair that’s fallen out of my topknot. He rubs it between his fingers. “Your hair…it’s—” “Auburn,” I manage, clearing my throat. “It reminds me of a new penny, the way the amber color catches the light…” His voice trails off, and he bites his bottom lip. “God, that has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever said.” “You have worse lines. Tell me, is doing laundry code for sex?” I say, staring up at him. I’m itching to straighten my glasses, a nervous reflex, but my hands are holding the tray. “I only use lines on jersey chasers. You’re the kind of girl I have to work for.” “What about your discriminating tastes?” “Pure bluff. I think we have a real connection, Penelope.” His face is closer now, and I swallow, wondering how we must look to everyone else in the restaurant. I realize that in the process of talking, we’ve backed up to the wall behind the plant, and I figure the only table we’re visible to is the football one, but I don’t tear my eyes away from Ryker to check. “You smell like rainbows,” he says. My chest rises. I’m enjoying his full-court press. It’s…intoxicating. “What does a rainbow smell like?” “Sweet and delicious.” “It’s the suckers.” His eyes land on my lips, and it almost feels as if he’s touched them. Heat rushes over my skin. “The red ones are my favorite. I think they’re cherry or strawberry or raspberry…definitely not cranberry…that’s disgusting,” I say, rambling, feeling disoriented. “It’s crazy, but I really want to kiss you right now,” he murmurs. My eyes drift over his shoulder to where Connor’s table is. I can’t see his face, but I know he’s there, and even though I’m drugged by Ryker’s proximity, I remind myself he’s the one I should kiss. Not Ryker. Ryker is a player—just like my dad was. He watches the direction of my gaze and follows it. “You’ve been watching Dimples hitz, haven’t you?” he says, a frown line appearing on his forehead. “Are you into him?” My stomach dips. “Why would you say that?” “Because you hightailed it over here when he walked in and you’ve been hiding ever since. So, I figure he either did you wrong or you’re infatuated, and since I haven’t heard any gossip about you and him, I’m guessing you must have a thing for him.” Abort! Abort!He knows too much! Sanity slowly returns to my brain in small increments, and I take a deep breath, orienting myself as questions race through my head. What if he uses my crush against me? Maybe he wants revenge for the article. I don’t know! Flustered and unsure, my eyes dart around the restaurant, looking for an exit so I don’t have to answer his question. My gaze lands on the football table he came from, and I notice Archer watching us with focused interest, a calculating look on his face as he whips his eyes from me to Ryker. He leans over and whispers to Blaze, who turns to peer in our direction. I pause, my brain analyzing and decoding. Why is Archer suddenly interested in what Ryker is doing over here with me—especially when there’s a pretty co-ed sitting right next to him, tracing little circles on his bicep? Yet Archer’s eagle eyes are onus. Watchful. I notice all three players at the table have suddenly given us their attention, anticipation evident on their faces. Alarms go off in my head and things start to click into place. How nice he was to me. How we ‘have a connection’. Yeah, right. Mortification washes over me. How could I not have seen it sooner? God, I am an idiot.I was so distracted… I’m a bet. A stupid freaking bet. I feel like someone just punched me in the gut. My survival instinct tells me to get away from Ryker, and obviously,I could just walk away and hold my head high, but I want to make a point and show those football players they can’t toy with me. I release the tray I’ve been balancing for what seems like days in his direction. The contents of the glasses spill out and crash to the floor, watered-down soda and ice drenching us before dripping down to the floor. The plastic glasses make a horrible clattering noise on the wooden floors, and I imagine most everyone in the restaurant heard it. I don’t look to see their faces. I only glare at Ryker. He jumps back and stares down at the mess on his khaki pants then looks back at me. “Remind me to never bring up Dimpleshitz again.” “Stop your games, Ryker.” His face stills. “What games?” My teeth snap together. Enough.


Love football heroes and nerdy heroines?
Start the series of standalones today with I DARE YOU

Download your copy now or Read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/IDareYou
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/IDareYouHookUp
About the Author Wall Street Journal, New York Times, and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap. She's best known for her angsty, heartfelt new adult college romances. A former high school English teacher, she adores all things Pride and Prejudice; Mr. Darcy is her ultimate hero. She's also addicted to frothy coffee beverages, Vampire Diaries, and any kind of book featuring unicorns and sword-wielding females.
Join her Unicorn Girls FB group for special excerpts, prizes, and snarky fun!

Connect with Ilsa

Ilsa Logo

Stay up to date with Ilsa by joining her mailing list: http://bit.ly/2MkYqK4 Website: http://www.ilsamaddenmills.com/

Monday, October 29, 2018

I Bet You by Ilsa Madden-Mills is LIVE!!!!

IBY-SBPRBANNER-RB.jpg

She’s the one bet I can’t resist...

Wall Street Journal bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills returns with an all-new swoon-fest of a novel about what happens when you look beyond labels and take a chance on love.

I Bet You, an all-new sexy college romance standalone is LIVE!

I-BET-You-REALFINAL-3.jpg

Sexy Athlete: I bet you…
Penelope Graham: Burn in hell, quarterback.
The late night text is random but Penelope knows exactly who “Sexy Athlete” is. And why she shouldn't take his wager.
Ryker Voss.
Football star.
Walks on water and God's gift to women.
Just ask him.
His bet? He promises Penelope he’ll win her the heart of the nerdy guy she’s been crushing on. His plan—good old-fashioned jealousy. Once her crush sees her kissing Ryker, he'll realize what he's missing. Sounds legit, right? The only question is…why is Ryker being so nice to her?
Penelope Graham.
Virgin.
Lover of sparkly vampires and calculus.
His mortal enemy.
Penelope knows she shouldn’t trust a jock, but what’s a girl to do when she needs a date to Homecoming? And Ryker’s keeping a secret, another bet, one that could destroy Penelope’s heart forever.
Will the quarterback score the good girl or will his secret mean everyone loses at this game of love?

IBY-AN.jpg

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/IBetYouIMM
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2vLgSkX
Love football heroes and nerdy heroines?
Start the series of standalones today with I DARE YOU
Download your copy now or Read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/IDareYou
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/IDareYouHookUp


Ilsa Logo.jpg

About the Author Wall Street Journal, New York Times, and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap. She's best known for her angsty, heartfelt new adult college romances. A former high school English teacher, she adores all things Pride and Prejudice; Mr. Darcy is her ultimate hero. She's also addicted to frothy coffee beverages, Vampire Diaries, and any kind of book featuring unicorns and sword-wielding females.
Join her Unicorn Girls FB group for special excerpts, prizes, and snarky fun!
Connect with Ilsa
Stay up to date with Ilsa by joining her mailing list: http://bit.ly/2MkYqK4 Website: http://www.ilsamaddenmills.com/

Thursday, October 25, 2018

The Day The Jerk Started Release Blitz by Max Monroe

TDTJSF RB Banner.jpg

Rule number one: don’t fall for your best friend’s brother.

Rule number two: don’t fall for jerks.

But rules go out the window the day the jerk starts falling...

The Jerk Duet is complete!

The Day the Jerk Started Falling, the fun and flirty conclusion of The Jerk Duet, from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is LIVE!

                               BOOK TWO_JERK DUET_TheDayTheJerkStartedFalling_Cover.jpg
My name is Oliver Arsen, but my mates call me Ollie.
I live hard and love harder, and it’s love that usually gets me in the most trouble.
According to the greater population, I’m the ultimate jerk.
My affection tends to be short-lived—a quality I’ve been assured multiple times by the fairer sex isn’t becoming—and the leaving part of loving and leaving has always come natural.
At least, it used to.
Until her.
Luciana Wright.
She’s an American bombshell and my sister’s best friend—a woman so wrong for
me, it’s written in the waves.
And she’s the reason we’re all here.
The reason I have to go back to explain how it all went wrong.
To the day the jerk started falling.
TDTJSF AN FB.jpg
Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TDTJSF
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2IjtvbH
Start the Duet with The Day I Stopped Falling for Jerks!
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TDISFFJMM
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2Qcxk5z
About Max Monroe:
A secret duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads. Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
Connect with Max Monroe:

Friday, October 19, 2018

The Day I Stopped Falling For Jerks by Max Monroe is Now Available

TDISFFJ BT Banner.jpg

Everyone calls me Lucky, but when it comes to love, I’m anything but.

The Day I Stopped Falling for Jerks, the first in the fun and flirty Jerk Duet from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available NOW!

BOOKONE_JERKDUET_TheDayIStoppedFallingForJerks_FinalCover
I have a long history of dating the wrong men.
You know the ones I’m talking about.
The beautiful, charming guys who are quite literally too good to be true.
The ones who are impulsive in love and prefer short flings over long-term relationships.
I’m talking about the jerks.
The guys who taste so good, but are so very bad.
After going through the most ridiculous breakup in the history of breakups, I thought I’d learned my lesson. I officially put myself into jerk rehab and committed to changing my ways.
But, let’s be real here, love is never that easy.
Especially when an arrogant, charming, he-devil of a sexy alpha man gets involved.
Aussie accent.
Tanned skin.
Muscular, surfer bod.
Gorgeous brown eyes.
And the kind of sexy smile that brings women to their knees.
Oh, did I mention that he’s also my best friend’s brother?
Yeah. This story, my story, it’s a real doozy you guys.
The day I stopped falling for jerks, I met Oliver Arsen—the biggest jerk of all.

TDISFFJ AN FB-2

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TDISFFJMM
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2Qcxk5z
Preorder The Day the Jerk Started Falling today!
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TDTJSF
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2IjtvbH

Excerpt:
The Day I Stopped Falling for Jerks podcast Episode 1: “Is this thing on?” Hi, everyone. I’d like to welcome you to episode one of my very first podcast. [quiet, hesitant laugh] I’m a little nervous, so please bear with me as I try to figure out how to podcast. See, I’m more a writer of words than a podcaster of words, but what I’m about to tell you is honestly too damn big to fit into one of my columns. Way too big. It’s a real doozy, guys, but I have to get it out. And I’m hoping, once I finish recording this—since my boss says I might start feeling symptomatic of, say, poisoning, if I ruin this new venture—I’ll actually be able to upload it to Scoop’s website. Apparently, I’m told, podcasting is the wave of the future, and if we—meaning Scoop—don’t get our foot in the door first, we—meaning I—might as well find another room. Room meaning office. I’m pretty sure she’ll fire me, okay? Still, I figure pouring my guts out to a bunch of strangers has to be at least close to therapeutic, so consider my fingers and toes crossed that my technical inability doesn’t mean it’s for nothing. [mumble from producer] Oh, good. I’m told the uploading portion of this podcast will be taken care of by someone else. Smart move, guys. [laughs again] Okay, so where do I even begin? [long, audible sigh] Well, I guess my love life would be a good start, huh? I mean, it’s the whole reason I’m here, ready to pour my heart out to you. The past. The present. The future, as I’ve sworn and promised it to myself. They’re all kind of a hot mess, but it’s really the chaos I’ve gotten myself into this time that made me decide to take action. Think of a woman trying to stand up in a hammock during an earthquake, and then throw in a writhing pit of cobras dancing below it for good measure. Add in the task of juggling several oddly shaped objects and a horrible lack of hand-eye coordination, and you might have some idea of what I look like while trying to navigate lust, like, and love. Relationships, dating, finding love…God, you guys, it is so hard. I envy those people who manage to find the love of their lives on a first date or—even more mind-blowing—a chance encounter a la love-at-first-sight that blossoms into a long-term courtship. Like, how in the hell does that even happen? It feels like some trippy, magical unicorn kind of stuff or, worse yet, an evil consecration for those with a special, dark gift. And I’m not exactly comfortable exploring how many pagan gods I’d have to promise ill-willed deeds to in order to experience the easy road to love. Heck, even the hard road. As long as it didn’t end in disaster, I’d be ahead of where I am now—where I always seem to be. See, I’ve been a serial dater, a constant cultivator of bad relationships, for as long as I can remember. Even my kindergarten boyfriend, Kenny, is a prime example of what I’ve come to know as normal. He was a swoony little guy, even at the ripe age of nearly six, and I was a naïve five-year-old, hungry for pure love. We were happy for about a day and a half, but when another skirt-wielder, Amber Carter, ran by, the apparent love of his life—Kenny’s description of me—wasn’t the only twinkle in his mossy green eyes anymore. One push off the monkey bars, and my first official relationship promptly ended in what would be one of many breakups for me. Think of all the very worst guys to date—the players, the weirdos, the clingy momma’s boys, and the jerks…good God, picture the jerks. Do you have those men in your head? Well, I, Luciana “Lucky” Wright, have dated them all. It might sound like an exaggeration, but it’s not. I’ve been there, done that, written the book, and filmed the Lifetime movie. And all those good-for-nothing men left me with were weeks filled with Netflix binges fueled by ice cream and the same question rolling through my mind—Where are all the good men? You know, the men who are actually worthy of us. The men who know what they want and have good intentions to boot. The ones who know how to truly love a woman, one woman, for the rest of their lives. Are they underground somewhere? In one of those highly discriminatory bunkers from the movie Deep Impact, perhaps? Do I actually have to discover the meaning of life to get the password? I honestly don’t know. But I believe, in order for you to truly understand my frustration, I need to show you the final straw in my never-ending cycle of dating jerks. The moment that made me say “Sayonara, Jerks!” and write them off for good. It’s going to feel like some serious Romeo and Juliet kind of stuff, but I can tell you, a Shakespearean love story it is not. Keep listening. You’ll see.

About Max Monroe
A secret duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads. Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
Connect with Max Monroe
Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/newsletter

Thursday, October 18, 2018

Ridge by S.L Scott is Live and check out my Review

                       
Title: RIDGE
Author: S.L. Scott
Standalone Contemporary Romance
 
 
SYNOPSIS
The One didn’t exist.
Then I met Meadow.
The band's honorary little sister was off-limits. Too late for that. She says we’re “nothing serious,” but she’s gotten under my skin and I can’t stop thinking about her. And when I touch her, I know we’re meant to be.
Happy Endings don’t exist.
Not even with Ridge.
My big plans never included falling for a rock star. Too soon for that. He wants to make us a “thing,” and I can’t deny our chemistry is combustible. His persistence is wearing me down, making his proposition hard to resist.
If true love only exists in fairy tales, why am I beginning to believe that Ridge just might be my happily ever after?
This STANDALONE Second Chance Rock Star Romance by New York Times Bestselling Author, S.L. Scott, will have you falling in love with Ridge Carson while introducing you to his Sexy as Sin band mates—Jet, Tulsa, and Rivers Crow.
FREE in Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited Program
THE CROW BROTHERS SERIES
Rivers Amazon: https://amzn.to/2uPkkup
Spark on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/SparkGR
Tulsa on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/TulsaGR
Rivers Goodreads: http://bit.ly/RiversGR
Ridge on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/RidgeGR
**Series Cover Designs: RBA Designs**

Darra's Review:

Ridge is beyond amazing. He has the purest heart and it only belongs to Meadow. He is the most patient character and would wait for Meadow until she has achieved her goal in life.

This book started off when Ridge was already known as the guitarist for the Crow Brothers. His life has been altered forever. However, he is the same guy that Meadow met long ago. So down to earth and you will root for his HEA. He deserves it after his first bandmate ruined his past relationship.

Meadow is young and still trying to grasp what her plans are after college. She does not want her life to revolve around someone else. This is the work of her parents bitter divorce. No matter where she chooses to live, she can't help but continue to love Ridge. 

You can't get over Ridge. He is seriously the greatest guy plus a musician. Perfect combination.

I rate the book a 4.5 out of 5. 


   
   
                                             

  EXCERPT Prologue Dave “Ridge” Carson  

 Somewhere between El Paso and Tucson, I found my soul under the bright stars of the Southwest. Looking up, I drink her in. Meadow hates when I stare at her, but beauty like hers is rare. Her chin dips down, and she kisses my cheek, trailing more toward my ear where she whispers, “You feel so good inside me.” “You have it all wrong. You make me feel good inside you.” I capture her lips on the edge of a laugh and kiss her while she continues to rock on top of my lap. The sound of our bodies, our skin slick against each other becomes part of the hum of the desert outside the car. A night wind whistles through the cracked open window as the temperatures continue to fall well after sunset. We couldn’t wait—not for a hotel or a rest stop. When her hand dipped to my pants and she rubbed over me, causing my body to react, I pulled over. Time is our enemy. There’s never enough of it when I’m with her. Every time I’m with her, I want to drain every ounce of life from the seconds, minutes, few short hours we get to be with each other. My gaze rolls over the bottom of her jaw as her head tilts back, her mouth open, her bare breasts in front of me. I want to hold her still, hold her here, right the fuck here on top of me. I run my hands over her body as I make love to the woman who’s become an addiction of mine. I breathe better, easier when I’m with her. The music of our bodies together is the only melody I hear. She’s become my friend. My lover. My muse. Lifting up, she eases back down and then lifts again, gripping my shoulders and digging her nails into my skin. The pain is pleasure when doled out in provocative ways. “Dave,” she whispers on the end of a purr. No other name has been uttered in pure ecstasy like the way she says mine. I hold her by the hips in the back seat of the SUV taking in the full view. “Hey,” I say. She comes back to me, her eyes open, her soul exposed in such a vulnerable way, setting my heart on fire. “Hey.” She smiles, and I hold her still again, wanting this to last forever while equally wanting to rush the release. A few sips of the wine we’ve been drinking straight from the bottle make her eyes sparkle. Caught between want and need, her smile is even until the corners, which curve up. It’s a smile that both hurts and heals my heart when it appears. “Don’t leave.” Leaning down, she kisses my forehead, my nose, my mouth. With her lips against mine, she whispers, “I have to go.” I’ve been careful about making plans with her for so long that the words feel foreign to me even now when this feels more intimate than any other time before. Every time with her is like this—better than the last. “I want you to stay.” I fell for the free-spirited beauty long before we left Austin. But like all who are meant to soar, she can’t be caged by antiquated notions of romance. Meadow Fellowes has been clear about what we are or ever could be—nothing serious. But sometimes, when she looks at me, I see more hidden in the emerald pools of her eyes. I understand the yearning. She says, “My flight is tomorrow night.” We’ve been so good at keeping it casual, but nothing serious means we’re fucking because we want to have sex. This isn’t fucking, just like we’re not casual, not to me. “Can you change it? Give us another week. Another day. Give us a chance.” Leaning down, she kisses me and then sits back up. With her palms on my chest, she holds her smile. “I am. By leaving.” Her eyes close, and she starts moving on top of me again. So I grip her a little tighter, holding her while I can. I meet every one of her pushes with a thrust of my own. As she comes back to me, the lids are half-mast, but her gaze is fixed on me. She whispers, “Tell me what you’re thinking.” “I’m thinking how good this feels. Just us. Alone. In the desert, making love, having sex, fucking. All of it. All of you. You feel so good to me. Maybe we should be more to each other.” “You’re more than you know,” she purrs softly and then leans back as if our connection is too much before she starts a slow gyrate. God, she feels amazing. A hand rubs over my chest, and this time, my eyes meet hers, coming back from the hazy edge of release. “We’re not those people.” “What people are those?” “The kind of people who make plans.” Our bodies glide together as I say, “We’ve made plans before.” “Spur-of-the-moment plans. Those don’t count.” “They count.” They fucking count. I want to argue, but my mind clouds as our bodies move of their own volition. My eyes dip closed, and I swim in the moment, buried deep inside her. We fall, tipping over that line that keeps us safe and the one that will end us—heart, body, and soul. It’s where I prefer to be with her. If only we could stay in this place longer than it takes for our breathing to recover. My heart calms, and my breathing steadies. Meadow slides down with me still inside her and rests her head on my shoulder. Her fingers toy with the hairs on my chest before a kiss is placed on my neck. “Six months,” she says. “I’ll be back in six months.” I tighten my arms around her. I don’t care that my body’s too big for this back seat or that we’re covered in sweat. All that matters is that I have her in my arms for a short time, and I intend to savor every second until she boards that plane.

ABOUT S.L. SCOTT
Living in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados, beaches, and cooking with her kids. She's obsessed with epic romances and loves a good plot twist. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she's a pro.
~ Text “slscott” to 77948 ~
AUTHOR LINKS
S.L. Scott’s Facebook Reader Group: http://www.facebook.com/groups/slscottbooks
S.L. Scott Goodreads Reader Group: http://bit.ly/SLScottGRGroup

Thursday, October 4, 2018

The Jerk Duet Cover Reveal by Max Monroe

The Jerk Duet CR Banner.jpeg

The Jerk Duet, an all-new fun and sexy duet from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is coming October 18th, and we have the all new covers!

The Day I Stopped Falling for Jerks
Release Date: October 18th
                              BOOKONE_JERKDUET_TheDayIStoppedFallingForJerks_FinalCover.jpg
Synopsis
Everyone calls me Lucky, but when it comes to love, I’m anything but.
I have a long history of dating the wrong men.
You know the ones I’m talking about.
The beautiful, charming guys who are quite literally too good to be true.
The ones who are impulsive in love and prefer short flings over long-term relationships.
I’m talking about the jerks.
The guys who taste so good, but are so very bad.
After going through the most ridiculous breakup in the history of breakups, I thought I’d learned my lesson. I officially put myself into jerk rehab and committed to changing my ways.
But, let’s be real here, love is never that easy.
Especially when an arrogant, charming, he-devil of a sexy alpha man gets involved.
Aussie accent.
Tanned skin.
Muscular, surfer bod.
Gorgeous brown eyes.
And the kind of sexy smile that brings women to their knees.
Oh, did I mention that he’s also my best friend’s brother?
Yeah. This story, my story, it’s a real doozy you guys.
The day I stopped falling for jerks, I met Oliver Arsen—the biggest jerk of all.
Add The Day I Stopped Falling for Jerks to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2Qcxk5z
* * *
The Day the Jerk Started Falling
Release Date: October 25th
                               BOOK TWO_JERK DUET_TheDayTheJerkStartedFalling_Cover.jpg
Synopsis
My name is Oliver Arsen, but my mates call me Ollie.
I live hard and love harder, and it’s love that usually gets me in the most trouble.
According to the greater population, I’m the ultimate jerk.
My affection tends to be short-lived—a quality I’ve been assured multiple times by the fairer sex isn’t becoming—and the leaving part of loving and leaving has always come natural.
At least, it used to.
Until her.
Luciana Wright.
She’s an American bombshell and my sister’s best friend—a woman so wrong for
me, it’s written in the waves.
And she’s the reason we’re all here.
The reason I have to go back to explain how it all went wrong.
To the day the jerk started falling.
Add The Day the Jerk Started Falling to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2IjtvbH
The Day I Stopped Falling for Jerks
Publishing Date: October 18th

Model: Florian T
Photographer: Wander Aguiar

About Max Monroe
A secret duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads. Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
Connect with Max Monroe
Stay up to date by joining Max Monroe’s mailing list today: