Friday, July 10, 2020

The Romeo Arrangement by Nicole Snow ~ Excerpt & Giveaway

The Romeo Arrangement
Nicole Snow
Publication date: July 3rd 2020
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

From Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow comes a heart-wrenching, steamy, and laugh out loud funny standalone romance where one growly Romeo puts everything on the line to save his fake fiancée.

He never bothered with hello.
The shrieking hot stranger had me dizzy the instant he said we’re engaged.
Then he chased off the bully on our heels and dragged me back to his place for the night.
Pure insanity, right?

You don’t let pride do the talking when you’re homeless, on the run, and hauling around your sick father in a truck so old it must’ve been on Noah’s Ark.
You definitely don’t complain when Ridge Barnet takes charge.
(In)famous heartthrob. Stinking rich. Fed up owner of one angry rooster. Eyes set to permanent storm.

Of course, it doesn’t end there.
My unexpected Romeo doubles down on this ridiculous “fake fiancée” rescue scheme.
One blazing kiss shatters worlds.
I’m swept up in a small-town fairy tale, wishing I hadn’t lost my faith in wishes years ago.

He’s saving my life. Hero and done. Nothing more.
Prince Charmings don’t really marry pumpkin farmers from Wisconsin.
Give me strength.
Tell me his gaze doesn’t scream obsession.
Save me from his oh-so-believable growls.
Help me believe our little arrangement never, ever ends in “I do.”

Full-length romance novel with a Happily Ever After sure to blow some socks off. Two shattered hearts from opposite worlds find their forever. A damaged heartthrob takes control, lays claim, and protects his sassy stray.

Goodreads / Amazon


“Thanks, lady. You’re a lifesaver. I just wanted to drop by and say thanks for the Midas touch. You turned junk into gold.”

Her eyes ignite, twinkling pearl-blue stars as she laughs.

“Better not use the j-word around Tobin.”

“Already screwed that up a few times. I’m a better looker than I am a talker when it comes to furnishings, I guess.” I cock my head, mesmerized by her pretty face.

I can’t pull my eyes off her. She’s more than just this sweet wisp of a woman.

She’s adorable, natural, curves in the right places and a heart that never quits. The urge to kiss her, lay down the law on that strawberry-shaped mouth, hits me like a raging bull.


It’s not just her junk-fixing skills I’m thinking about. The thought of doing more than just kissing hits my junk hard.

It’s been awhile, yeah, but I’m not so blue in the balls I’ve turned into an antique myself just yet.

“Um, thanks again. I’m really glad you like it.” She breaks eye contact, glancing at the cabin. “I…I have to get inside, Ridge. Dad’s in the bath, and I told him not to get out until I was inside, in case he’s unstable.”

I don’t want her to go. “He felt good enough to take a bath?”

“Yep, he insisted.” Her chest plumps and then shallows again with obvious relief.

Holy melons. The things I’d love to do to those lush, palm-sized, maddeningly perky—

“Hold up. I’ll come with, see if he needs any help.” It just flies out of me.

I had to say something so I could get my fool brain unglued from her chest.

She grasps my arm. “No. He wouldn’t want that.”

She’s right. Seeing an old man in the buff isn’t my idea of fun, either, but I’m not ready to let her go.


“Night, Ridge,” she says, releasing my arm and quick-stepping her way back to the guesthouse. “Let’s talk more tomorrow about the designs.”

Damn it. It’s like she can sense the heat ray shooting out of my pants.

The fact that I can’t remember the last time a girl walked away when I was this riled just makes me want her ass under me even more.

But I can’t chase after her. Not tonight. Not ever.

Fuck, chase her? What am I even thinking?

I’ve never chased down a woman in my life, and I sure as hell don’t plan to start with a girl who needs more complications in her life like a hole through the head.

Sighing, I spin around and walk back to the house where I spend one of the most miserable nights of my life with balls bluer than Huckleberry Hound.

Author Bio:

Nicole Snow is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author. She found her love of writing by hashing out love scenes on lunch breaks and plotting her great escape from boardrooms. Her work roared onto the indie romance scene in 2014 with her Grizzlies MC series.

Since then Snow aims for the very best in growly, heart-of-gold alpha heroes, unbelievable suspense, and swoon storms aplenty. With over a million books sold, she lives for the joy of making two people fight with every bit of their soul for a Happily Ever After.

Current fan favorites include her Enguard Protectors series, accidental love novels, plus long beloved MC romance thrillers like the Grizzlies and Deadly Pistols.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub


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Thursday, July 9, 2020

Oops, My Bad by A.C. Pontone ~ Excerpt & Giveaway

Oops, My Bad
A.C. Pontone
Publication date: July 6th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

The rules were simple—don’t fall for the handsome vet. Oops! Some rules are meant to be broken.

The light turned red and suddenly my whole life changed. I found myself lying in the middle of the street with two little yellow eyes staring at me.

Then he appeared. Logan. Tall, sexy, built. I’d prayed that Superman would show up to save me, but Logan’s even better. Except that he seems more interested in saving the cat I almost ran over.

Since I can’t pay the vet bills for my unwelcome new guest, I’m forced to accept a job in his veterinary clinic as a receptionist. Not a great fit for someone who’s known since childhood that all animals have it in for her. And Logan seems to be more on their side than mine.

Of course, there’s nothing that says I can’t also unfurl my claws and be a sex kitten for the hot veterinarian. He’s got just one rule: don’t get emotionally involved.

Simple, no?

Not when the damn test comes back positive.

What can I say? Someone’s in trouble . . . and it’s not the cat.

Oops, my bad.

Goodreads / Amazon

Only 99¢ for a limited time!


I hate orange. I hate the cold. And I hate this stupid scooter.

Don’t get me wrong; usually I’m a sunny and positive person, but right now, with my butt frozen and a nose that’s redder than Rudolph’s, my positivity has vanished. Died. Disappeared. Been sucked into a big black hole. Or maybe been flushed down the toilet like the dead goldfish you have to quickly replace in order not to traumatize your little brother.

Not that I ever did that, you understand. Okay, maybe something like that might have happened once—or actually, ten times. I mean, it’s not my fault those dumb goldfish kept coming up to the surface with their creepy little mouths open. I thought they were hungry! Later I realized they’d decided on their own to put an end to their miserable little lives when they realized the grave error they’d made ending up in a bowl on a shelf above the dining-room table in the house where I also happened to live. So many tiny red Samurai soldiers committing seppuku, except with food instead of swords.

It was even kind of poetic. Except for the ending, where all that poetry ended up flushed down the toilet. The life of a goldfish is truly miserable. After the tenth suicide, my parents threw in the towel, something I would probably have done after the first one, and confessed to my little brother the tragic fate of his beloved pet.

I’m pretty sure he threw a thank-God-she’s-gone party when I finally left home to go to college. Now he has a whole aquarium full of multicolored fish. Oddly enough, none of them have ended up in the toilet.

Anyway, going back to the things I’m not happy with in my life, the color orange is probably first on the list. I mean, in what universe would a sane person willingly wear orange clothing? Stranger still, who came up with the idea that a pizza-delivery person should dress like a carrot that’s been regurgitated by Bugs Bunny? I admit I’ve looked worse, though. The Little Caesar’s uniform probably isn’t even one-tenth as hideous as the chicken costume I had to wear to advertise the chicken wings sold by—wait for it—El Pollo Loco! Quite an original idea, you must admit—dressing up as a chicken to promote the wings at Pollo Loco. Needless to say, I was fired before the end of my first week.

Anyway, now I’m a new version of myself. Now I’m a pizza-delivery person with a frozen ass and a stupid orange hat under my helmet. But as long as it pays the bills, I guess I can’t complain.

I have one last delivery to make and then I can finally go home, burrow under the covers, and sleep like a rock. If I manage to keep this job long enough to pay off my overdue bills, maybe in a couple of months I’ll even be able to take a shower with hot water! Or eat something that isn’t Cup O’Noodles. My mouth is watering already at the mere thought of getting to savor some real food. Maybe I can even splurge and buy myself a bottle of wine. I can already imagine myself lounging in my teensy bathtub submerged in bubbles, sipping a glass of Two-Buck Chuck.

With this comforting image in mind, I twist the accelerator and continue down Madison Avenue. The streets are almost deserted because there’s a blizzard blowing in right now, but the rich snobs on the upper East Side still want their pizza. They don’t care about the poor pizza delivery people, even though it’s January, for fuck’s sake, and cold as a witch’s tit.

What the fuck are they ordering pizza from Little Caesar’s for anyway? If I had enough money to afford an apartment in one of the most expensive areas of Manhattan, I would never order pizza from a place like Little Caesar’s. I’d have my own chef and eat delicious gourmet dishes every night. Shit, just thinking about food is making my stomach growl and my mouth water.

With a sigh, I accelerate even more. I’m not going to worry about speed limits on a night like this. Not that this scooter can go very fast anyway. At least I have my own transport—that is, during my shift. If I get a good tip on this last delivery I’ll go home on the subway. Otherwise I’ll walk from the pizza place to my apartment in East Harlem. Five blocks on foot, in January, at night, in New York City. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, literally.

Don’t make that face. I know I don’t exactly live in the most upscale neighborhood, but by this time you should have gotten the idea that I’m . . . probably poorer than the homeless man I just passed, sleeping on Fifth Avenue. The only difference is that I have a roof over my head—as long as I manage to keep this job, anyway.

I roar, or rather, putt up to an intersection. The light’s red, but there’s no one on the street and I really, really want to get this damn pizza delivered on time and possibly get a nice tip, so I floor it. Wouldn’t you know it, at that very moment a car appears out of nowhere. I jerk the handlebars and swerve, somehow managing to avoid crashing broadside into the door of the expensive SUV and becoming a large meatball squished against the window. There must be some invisible superhero watching over me.

The driver of the vehicle honks, shorthand for Look where you’re going, stupid bitch! Under other circumstances I might even apologize, but I really need that tip. So I turn my back on the big black SUV and putt-putt away.

The cold is making my eyes water and the scooter tires are skidding on the icy road. Right when I think I’ve finally arrived at my destination, two small yellow eyes suddenly appear out of the darkness right in front of me. I scream at them—to no avail, since the little beast doesn’t move. Instead, it sits down in the middle of the street and begins to lick a paw. Of course I’m driving too fast, and when I try to brake, I lose control and skid. Though I try to steer in the direction of the skid, I lose my balance and fall. I can’t tell if I hit the damn cat or not. All I know is that there’s a big rip in my uniform pants at the knee. I’m afraid to look; I’m pretty sure there’s a bad cut there as well. One side of my body is pulsating with pain, but at least my helmet served its purpose and protected my head. I’m alive, thank goodness, but I don’t see the cat anywhere. I can’t have the death of that poor feline on my conscience as well when I’m already haunted by the specters of those ten goldfish.

I feel tears pricking my eyes. I didn’t want to kill him! I’m not an animal-hater, really! I have nothing against them. They’re the ones that hate me. Still on the ground, the scooter lying on top of my leg, I begin to sob.

Then I hear it. A little meow right behind my head. It sounds mocking, contemptuous. The stupid cat is making fun of me. He’s safe and sound, while my ass is probably one big black bruise and I’ve got at least a dozen other scratches and bruises. “Aaarrgghh!” I scream like someone possessed. I have to get this fucking pizza delivered if I want to keep my job.

I need a miracle. Where’s Superman when you need him? I look around me and notice to my horror that the pizza box has opened up and spilled its contents onto the icy New York streets. Maybe if I can manage to get up and move my ass fast enough, I can shove it back into the box without anyone noticing that the bell peppers have flecks of asphalt on them.

Slowly and painfully I move the scooter off my leg. I can’t feel my toes, but I’m sure that’s more because of the cold than the accident. As I prepare to hoist myself to my feet, I see that the idiot cat has decided to sit down on top of the pizza. It starts to lick off the cheese, its little muzzle turning bright red from the tomato sauce. I realize I’m well and truly fucked.

Superman, where are you when I need you?

As if by magic, I’m suddenly bathed in light. A post-Christmas miracle? Either that or I’m dead, and this is the light at the end of the tunnel everyone talks about. Fuck, I’m going to die like a cat squashed on the highway, I think, because I know neither of those two possibilities describes what’s really happening. A hysterical laugh bursts from my chest. The irony of the situation doesn’t escape me as I sit there watching the car bear down on me. After all, I am lying in the middle of the street in the heart of New York City—what else did I expect?

Then something totally unexpected happens. I say a silent thank-you to my horrible orange uniform. I hate it, but I have to admit, it’s got the visibility of a neon sign in the darkness. I hear the sound of brakes, followed by a car door slamming shut. Turning my head to look, I blink and my jaw drops.

Oh. My. God.

It’s taken twenty-two years, but He finally heard my prayers.

He’s here! Superman is here!

Okay, maybe I hit my head and didn’t realize it. I must have hit it really hard because I could swear that standing before me is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Besides Superman, of course. This guy’s hotter than all the Marvel and DC superheroes put together.

“My hero,” I whisper as tears begin to fill my eyes and my heart rate accelerates.

“Poor kitten, are you okay?”

“What?” I guess I don’t mind that he’s already using a pet name for me, but isn’t it a little soon? I mean, we barely know each other.

His large green eyes rest on mine and he runs a hand through his thick dark-blond hair. A small wrinkle appears in the middle of his forehead and his eyebrows draw together.

Is he worried about me? My heart beats wildly as a dumb smile appears on my face. I can’t quite decipher the expression on his face, though. Is it fear? Concern? I blink a few more times, trying to focus. Then the truth dawns on me. He’s not concerned about me, he’s really pissed off at me. Superman . . . I think sadly.

“What the hell?” he barks suddenly. His voice is deep and masculine, one of those voices that makes you melt as soon as you hear it. “Be more careful next time!”

My eyebrows rise so high they collide with my hairline. “Are you talking to me?” I stammer, looking around like an idiot as if someone else might be there. Of course there’s no one. It’s just him, me, and the stupid cat. The cat that at this precise instant is rubbing itself against the ankles of my hero. What the fuck?

I watch as he bends over and tenderly gathers up the little monster in his big, capable hands. I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate that cat right now. He strokes it, then lifts it up and examines it carefully. The crease in his forehead deepens. Taking a deep breath, he holds the cat tighter, turns around, and heads back to his car.

“You can’t just leave me here!” I yell after him. He ignores me. My tears are threatening to spill over now. He opens the gate of his SUV and carefully puts the cat inside.

Then I hear him fiddling around with something. I close my eyes. What’s the point of looking? I just lost my Superman to a cat.

“Can you get up?” His voice is severe. I blink and see him standing in front of me again. So now he’s finally worrying about my health. I glower at him, cross my arms, and nod. “Well, come on, then.” My jaw drops again. “Hurry!” he barks over his shoulder as he heads toward his car.


He stops, one foot in midair. “No?” He turns back toward me. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting that answer. His frown deepens. “Would you prefer that I call the police?” he says challengingly. At the word police the blood freezes in my veins.

“Um, what?” I stammer, hoping I’ve heard wrong.

“I’m sure they’ll have something to say about the fact that you were speeding and running red lights. Oh, and that you hit a poor animal on the street.”

“I didn’t hit him!” I reply indignantly.

He shakes his head and exhales an impatient sigh. “You’re either coming with me or I’m calling the police.”

For a few minutes we engage in a Mexican standoff. I feel like I’m confronting one of those alpha males I’ve read about in my romance novels. I know that the first one to look away will be the loser. I have to be strong.

He raises an eyebrow in a silent challenge. He’s clearly telling me I’ve already lost. The fact that I suddenly sneeze, getting snot on the collar of my uniform shirt—as if I hadn’t humiliated myself enough already—proves that it’s not my fault I can’t win. The universe is clearly against me.

Heaving a defeated sigh, I wipe myself clean—so elegantly—using the sleeve of my jacket. I see him wrinkle his nose in disgust, then look away. He turns around again and heads for the car. “Let’s go,” he orders.

With a snort I throw my arms in the air. “All right,” I say peevishly as I pull myself to my feet, staggering a little for dramatic effect. I feel like a fragile little fawn entering the big bad wolf’s cave. And yes, I know I’m an idiot. “Wait a minute, I can’t leave the scooter here!”

He stops again and slowly turns back to me. I can see a vein pulsing angrily in his neck. I swallow. Maybe I can leave the goddamn scooter here. But then Mr. Animal-lover passes me without a word, walking over to my scooter. He plucks it up off the road as if it weighs nothing and heads for his car again.

“Anything else, your Highness, or do you think you could finally get into the fucking car?” he asks, his tone curt as he maneuvers the scooter into the back of the SUV.

“Um, I don’t think it will close now,” I babble, pointing at the back gate of the SUV. All I earn for my concern is another annoyed look.

“Get. In. The. Car.”

I hasten to the passenger side and climb in. A glance behind me shows me the cat is in a carrier in the middle of the back seat. It seems weird that a guy would just drive around with a cat carrier in his car, but I’m too intimidated to ask him why.

From the corner of my eye I see that he’s left the back gate open. I told him it wouldn’t close! My lips curve into a small smile of triumph—which rapidly morphs into a grimace of terror when Mr. Animal-lover climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Fasten your seat belt,” he barks in his usual tone which is somewhere between a dog growling and a lion roaring.

I swallow. My palms are sweating and the hairs on my arms slowly rise. I must have hit my head really hard, though, because instead of curling up in the corner of the seat and beginning to cry—something I’m quite good at—I turn toward him, raise my eyebrows and ask, “Are you always this much of an asshole or is it just me?”

I see his jaw go rigid, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns the key, presses on the accelerator, and we drive off. With an irritated snort, I look out my window and watch the city lights slide by. All this time waiting for my very own Superman only to discover that he’s actually a complete asshole.

Author Bio:

Angela Camilla Pontone is a USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Italy, in a town between Rome and Naples. She's been an avid reader since childhood. She prefers romance, but will gobble up pretty much anything that's available. She's always loved history and literature, so she obtained a Master's Degree in the fields of Italian and Romance Languages, Literatures and Philology, Historical and Musicological Studies, Latin Languages and Literatures, Ancient History, and Archaeology.
Camilla's secret desire was always to be a writer, but she never had the courage to pursue her dream until her life experiences led her to seek a way out of reality. Now, her dream is to continue to create great stories that her readers will love.

For all the latest news about her books and events, sign up now at to receive Camilla's newsletter.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook Page / Facebook Group / Instagram / Bookbub


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Swoon Thursday ~ 7/9/20

Who doesn't LOVE a good swoon?!  We love them for sure!  Check out our swoon below and then add to the fun.

Post anything that made you swoon, past or present read.  Include the cover, blurb and links.  Please no spoilers.


Welcome to Evermore Academy where the magic is dark, the immortals are beautiful, and being human SUCKS.

After spending my entire life avoiding the creatures that murdered my parents, one stupid mistake binds me to them for four years.

My penance? Become a human shadow at the infamous Evermore Academy, finishing school for the Seelie and Unseelie Fae courts.

All I want is to keep a low profile, but day one, I make an enemy of the most powerful Fae in the academy.

The Winter Prince is arrogant, cruel, and apparently also my Fae keeper. Meaning I'm in for months of torture.

But it only gets worse. Something dark and terrible looms over the academy. Humans are dying, ancient vendettas are resurfacing, and the courts are more bloodthirsty than ever.

What can one mortal girl do in a world full of gorgeous monsters?

Fight back with everything I have--and try not to fall in love in the process.

If you love reading about fated mates, enemies-to-lovers, snarky heroines, and everything Fae, then one click today and fall into this magical new series that's being called Vampire Academy meets The Cruel Prince!

P.S. This full-length story may leave you with a book hangover.
P.P.S. This Upper YA/NA series will eventually be four books and is intended for mature audiences. It contains cursing, sexual situations, and violence.

Definitely enjoyed the Winter Prince!  Loved this book.  Check out my review here.

That's our swoon this week!  What about you?  Leave us a comment & a link.

Wednesday, July 8, 2020

Diamond in the Rough by Skye Warren ~ Excerpt & Giveaway

Diamond in the Rough
Skye Warren
Publication date: July 7th 2020
Genres: Adult, Romance

I’m on my way to meet my birth parents when it happens. A white van. A dark hood. Every woman’s worst nightmare. Now I’m trapped in an abandoned building. The man who took me says I won’t be hurt. The man in the cell next to me says that’s a lie. I’ll fight with every ounce of strength, but there are secrets in these walls. I’ll need every single one of them to survive.

DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH is a new dark romance from New York Times bestselling author Skye Warren. Finding yourself has never been so dangerous…

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo


“What’s with the name?”



There’s a weighted pause. “It’s just a name.”

“Is it your real name? Or your pen name?”

“It’s my real name.”

“There’s more to this story.”

“What does it matter? I’m trapped by a man you won’t even tell me about.” Her frustration zips through the air like electricity, lighting me up from the inside out. I don’t want to be too weak for this, too weak to protect her, but it was not a goddamn game—not really.

“I’ll tell you how I ended up in here. You tell me about your name. Fair?”

A pause. “Fair.”

I lean my head back until it hits a shallow puddle. Christ. “It’s my job to stop this operation. It’s also my job to steal from it. So I did my job.”

“What kind of boss asks you to do that?”

The US government. “Not a very ethical one. So the other guys jump me. Five on one makes for some ugly bruises. I ended up in here, and shortly after that, you came in.”

That isn’t quite the whole story. Adam left me here with those bastards. One of them in particular, Peter, has a really nasty streak. I have the cigar burns and whip marks to prove it. Between the beatings, the torture, and the starvation, I’m weak as a kitten.

The truly interesting part, though, is that Adam was only gone for a full day. Around twenty-four hours. Barely enough time to fly to the States and then back. He probably didn’t even leave the airport there. Why? He’s so mercurial that it could be anything. Maybe he fancied a fuck with a flight attendant. Or maybe he had a hankering for plane food. Either way, he came back with this woman. Holland, she said her name was. Holland Frank.

“Fine,” she says on a long sigh. “Holland is my real name, but I only use it for legal documents. And for my books. It’s an awkward name that everyone asks me about.”

“Your parents like tulips?”

“Exhibit A.”

“Or was it some kind of commentary about tilting at windmills.”

“I think then my name would have been Spain.”

“And why Holland? I think Netherlands has more of a ring to it.”

“Are you done yet?”

“This is my only entertainment. I could literally go all night.”

“Since you insist on knowing, and you did hold up your end up the bargain, I’ll tell you. My parents named me Holland because that’s where I was conceived.”

“And your sister?”


“Wow. That’s kind of sweet. Until you think about it.”

“Exactly. It is kind of sweet until you realize it’s about where your parents had sex.”

“And then you just walk around, like a sex souvenir.”

“Aren’t all kids sex souvenirs really?”

“Yeah, but they aren’t all labeled with the city’s name.”

“So that’s why I go by Holly.”

“And your pen name?”

“They wanted me to use a male pen name. Or something ambiguous like H.D. Frank. Male pen names tend to sell better, for the same exact book.”

“So you went with Holland.”

“It’s not really a girl’s name. Imagine if I’d been conceived in Antarctica.”

“They wouldn’t have done that to you. Would they?”

“They love me, but they are really into the meaning of things.”

“Portugal? Britain?”

“I’m sure they would be fair game.” She doesn’t sound mad about it, though. She sounds wistful, as if she loves her family. As if she misses them. That’s one upside to having a bastard of a father. I could be tortured for years and never miss him for a second.

“My father was a cruel bastard, and even he wouldn’t name me Madagascar.” Not that he’d actually been to Madagascar or anywhere interesting. He would have had to call me Podunk, along with both my brothers, because that’s where we were conceived.

Her attention turns softer, more interested. “He was cruel?”

“There were three of us. Three brothers. I was the youngest, which means I was the one left behind when they enlisted.” Memories are black as night. “To say he was cruel is to call this cell cold. It can’t come close to describing the bone-deep chill.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I can’t imagine.”

“That’s a good thing. No one should know what it’s like.”

“I love my sister. We fought like crazy and then we would hug and go to sleep in the same bed, even when we were ten years old we slept on the same twin bed. No matter what my parents did they couldn’t get us to sleep in separate rooms. Until she discovered boys.”

“Your parents,” I ask gingerly. “Are they alive?”

“Oh yes.” Her voice turns soft. “Very much alive and well. After travelling the world, they settled in northern New York. Every other weekend they drive to Niagara Falls.”

“Do they know where you are?” It’s both a good and bad thing if they do.

“No,” she says. “My sister and I have a long-standing pact, going all the way from when we were little. We don’t tattle on the other one. We don’t get each other in trouble. We don’t make our parents worry if we don’t have to. For example, London never told them she found me with a boy outside the cathedral in Reims.”

I have this sudden memory, this recollection of tasting her.

You don’t know the way I have sex. It’s rough, Holly. It’s… disrespectful. Cruel. You deserve better than that, especially for your first time.

I’m embarrassed that I told her that. She was so innocent. Too innocent for me to even touch. What the fuck had I been thinking? I hope she found some kind, gentle person to take her virginity. Someone who would whisper sweet words and hold her afterward.

“He was cruel,” I say, though that’s an understatement.

It’s hard to explain for someone with loving, if quirky, parents. They can never fully understand what it’s like to know fear before you know love.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “Is that why you killed him?”

I was beaten and burned and battered to within an inch of death, but it didn’t hurt as much as the memory. Searing pain through my body that no amount of fighting or fucking ever really remove. I keep thinking that one more job will make me forget, but it won’t.

Soft hands move gently over my arm, my side, noting when I stiffen. She curls herself into the side of my chest like a cat seeking warmth. Or offering warmth. Her head rests on my shoulder. With shock I realize this is how it would have been—if I had fucked her eight years ago, if I had held her afterwards. This many years later, we’re having that moment of intimacy I’d been too afraid to take. And why? Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed her away. What would have happened if I’d told her everything about the Louvre and the diamond?


Author Bio:

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dangerous romance. Her new book ESCORT is out now!

“ESCORT is perfection only Skye Warren can deliver—a poetically erotic tale of exquisitely damaged characters, devastating secrets, revenge and redemption.” – Samanthe Beck, USA Today bestselling author

“Hypnotically romantic…this book reads like a sensual dream and I didn’t want to wake up.” – Tessa Bailey, New York Times bestselling author

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You May Kiss The Bride by Lisa Berne ~ A Stuck In Books Giveaway

In an unforgettable debut, Lisa Berne introduces you to the Penhallow Dynasty—men destined to marry, but hesitant to love.

Wealthy and arrogant, Gabriel Penhallow knows it’s time to fulfill his dynastic duty. All he must do is follow the 'Penhallow way': find a biddable bride, produce an heir and a spare, and then live separate lives. It’s worked so well for generations, certainly one kiss with the delectable Livia Stuart isn’t going to change things. Society dictates he marry her, and one chit is as good as another as long as she’s from a decent family.

But Livia’s transformation from an original to a mundane diamond of the first water makes Gabriel realize he desperately wants the woman who somehow provoked him into that kiss. And for all the ladies who’ve thrown themselves at him, it’s the one who wants to flee whom he now wants. But how will he keep this independent miss from flying away?

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Val has an advanced reader copy of this book to give away.

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Waiting On Wednesday ~ 7/8/20

This is our version of Waiting on Wednesday but with more cuddles, books we can't wait to cuddle for various reasons.

What are we waiting on this week?  THIS!

Ilona Andrews, #1 New York Times bestselling author, continues her spellbinding series set in the Hidden Legacy world where magic controls everything…except the hearts of those who wield it.

As Prime magic users, Catalina Baylor and her sisters have extraordinary powers—powers their ruthless grandmother would love to control. Catalina can earn her family some protection working as deputy to the Warden of Texas, overseeing breaches of magic law in the state, but that has risks as well. When House Baylor is under attack and monsters haunt her every step, Catalina is forced to rely on handsome, dangerous Alessandro Sagredo, the Prime who crushed her heart.

The nightmare that Alessandro has fought since childhood has come roaring back to life, but now Catalina is under threat. Not even his lifelong quest for revenge will stop him from keeping her safe, even if every battle could be his last. Because Catalina won't rest until she stops the use of the illicit, power-granting serum that's tearing their world apart.

 Why am I waiting?  I've wanted to read this series for a while now.  Need to binge read it when this one comes out.  What about you?  Have you read this series?  

What are you waiting on?

Leave us a comment. 

Tuesday, July 7, 2020

Stuck In Books Featured Releases & Giveaway

Now Available from Berkley...

Return to Alaska's Grizzly Harbor where danger strikes with arctic precision and love thaws the coldest hearts in the new romantic suspense from USA Today bestselling author Megan Crane.

After an explosion that should have killed her, Caradine Scott barely escaped her criminal family by leaving her old identity behind her. These days she runs the Water's Edge Café in a rugged little town on the edge of nowhere, vowing never to let anyone close to her again.

Isaac Gentry is back home after his career in the military, playing the part of an unassuming local in Grizzly Harbor, while also overseeing Alaska Force's special ops work as the leader and commanding officer he was in the Marines and beyond. He has better things to do than obsess over a woman who claims she hates him, but every glimpse he gets of the vulnerability beneath her prickly exterior is a distraction...and a challenge he can't ignore.

When Caradine's demons catch up with her, her café isn't the only thing that blows up. Her past pushes them together, and closer to a future that's been waiting for them all this time. They just have to survive long enough to enjoy it.

Take the ride of your life with the Torpedo Ink motorcycle club in this thrilling romance novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan.

Torpedo Ink is Aleksei “Absinthe” Solokov’s whole life. They’re his brothers, his family—his everything. But that doesn't stop him from wanting something that only belongs to him. That’s why the tough biker has spent the last six weeks at the library, reading every book he can get his hands on and watching the prim and proper librarian who makes his blood rush.

For the past six weeks, Scarlet Foley has been fantasizing about the handsome, tattooed man whose eyes follow her every move. She senses he's dangerous. She wants him to get close enough to touch. She wishes she could let him know the real woman, not the one she pretends to be. But Scarlet has a plan to carry out, and she can’t afford any distractions.

Absinthe is well aware that Scarlet is hiding something. She’s a puzzle he intends to solve, piece by intoxicating piece….

INT as long as you can accept an Amazon Gift Card

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