Wednesday, 20 June 2018

THAT GUY RELEASE BLITZ
That Guy by Kim Jones Releasing June 18, 2018 Genre: Romantic Comedy
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Synopsis: He’s That Guy.
You know, the hero in almost every romance novel.
The super-rich, powerful CEO who is beyond sexy. Lives in a penthouse. Is wicked in bed. Has massive…feet. Is kind of a jerk, but really he’s not because he harbors some major secret that, once revealed, explains why he is the way he is—therefore completely redeeming himself and making all the readers who hated to love him swoon….
Yeah. That one.
Well, I found him.
I’m a writer who has spent years searching for the perfect muse.
Now that I know he exists, I have a mission.
To make him fall in love with me.
This should be easy. I mean, I have issues, but above all, I’m a great catch.
Problem is, I did a stupid thing.
And now he hates me.
Unfortunately for him, he’s my That Guy.
And he’s going to love me….
Whether he wants to or not.
THAT GUY AVAILABLE NOW
Read Today!
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2LWIusX Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2ymvjiR iBooks: Coming Soon Nook: https://goo.gl/uSZxEo Kobo: https://goo.gl/XejH1H Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2ld2NH5
Excerpt:
His lips are smooth, but not soft. They’re too powerful. Too demanding. Too dominant to be considered soft. His tongue? It’s soft. He drags it across my bottom lip. Then my top. Bypassing my teeth because unlike me, he’s not an enamel licker. And unlike him, I’m not an asshole. So I take the hint and open my mouth wider so he can devour me. And taste me. And I can taste him. And guess what…
He tastes like whiskey and mint.
I don’t know where the mint came from, but trust me the cool hint of spearmint is there. I make a mental note to see how much a bottle of that twenty-four-hour mouthwash he uses runs on Ebay.
I whimper when his hand slides into my hair. He growls at the noise. Tightens his hold. Curls his other hand around my waist and pulls me closer to him. This time when I stumble, he catches me. Or should I say his chest catches me. Either way, I’m pressed against that unyielding, concrete slab he wears beneath his shirt.
Slow.
He kisses me so slow. How can something so languid, so tantalizing, so consuming be so damn passionate? Hell if I know. But this guy? He can do it.
I never want it to stop. God please don’t let it stop. His hand slides to the side of my neck. Cups my cheek. Thumb rubs along my jaw. He pulls his tongue back but keeps his lips on mine. Pressing soft, sweet kisses across the swell of my bottom lip. I fight the urge to jab my tongue back into his mouth because I know the kiss is coming to an end.
I’m boneless when he pulls his mouth from mine. But he keeps me pinned to him. So close I can still feel his warm breath on my bruised lips. My eyes flutter open and I gaze up to meet his. Those whirlwinds of color darken by the second with some unspoken promise that I pray is something dirty and erotic.
“That, Penelope, was a kiss.”
THAT GUY TEASER
Meet the Author:
Kim Jones is a writer with big dreams. Inspired by her personal experience inside the MC life, she’s chosen to write biker romances that are authentic—expressing the true meaning of brotherhood and the lifestyle of motorcycle clubs. She resides in south Mississippi with her husband, Reggie, two dogs, a cat and a donkey.

Friday, 15 June 2018
























From the author who brought you A Thousand Boy Kisses comes the new emotional novel, A Wish For Us.
A story of music. A story of healing. A story of love conquering all.






Nineteen-year-old Cromwell Dean is the rising star of electronic dance music. Thousands of people adore him. But no one knows him. No one sees the color of his heart.

Until the girl in the purple dress. She sees through the walls he has built to the empty darkness within.

When Cromwell leaves behind the gray skies of England to study music in the South Carolina heat, the last thing he expects is to see her again. And he certainly doesn’t expect that she’ll stay in his head like a song on repeat.

Bonnie Farraday lives for music. She lets every note into her heart, and she doesn’t understand how someone as talented as Cromwell can avoid doing the same. He’s hiding from his past, and she knows it. She tries to stay away from him, but something keeps calling her back.

Bonnie is the burst of color in Cromwell’s darkness. He’s the beat that makes her heart skip.

But when a shadow falls over Bonnie, it’s up to Cromwell to be her light, in the only way he knows how. He must help her find the lost song in her fragile heart. He must keep her strong with a symphony only he can compose.

A symphony of hope.
A symphony of love.
A symphony of them.

REVIEW 
5 massive star read. 
Now this is a really hard review to write without giving anything away so I will keep it quite short and sweet and not go into any real detail of the plot as there's to many things that I could easily give away. 
So where do I start except to say you need to read this book. Tillie is an author I've always loved and this book although different from some of her other books, was great in its own unique way. Such an emotional and gripping read that even now, a few days after I finished it, it's still with me. I'm still thinking about it as if I've just finished reading it and that is the sign of not only a great story, but a great author to. It will capture your heart and stay there for a very long time after you've finished reading it. I have read a few mixed reviews about this book, some quite low ratings, but for me I loved it and couldn't get enough of their story.
Another thing that blew me away was the cover. This is my favourite cover I've seen for a long time and fits this book perfectly. If I hadn't read this authors work before and so knew I'd want to read this book I still would have picked this book up just on the cover alone. When you read as many books as me you need a cover like this to grab your attention and make you want to read it.
This is Bonnie and Cromwell's story. They don't have the best of first impressions of each other, and yet you can feel the chemistry from them both straight away. I'm actually not going to say anything about the characters or even how they meet, I will leave that to all be experienced when you read this amazing book. I will say that I loved the characters and their emotional story, you go on their emotional rollercoaster of a journey with them and feel every emotion they feel. I can't wait to see this author's next work.


I let the rush of nicotine fill my lungs and closed my eyes. As my eyelids shut, I heard quiet music playing somewhere nearby. Classical. Mozart. My drunken mind immediately drifted off to when I was a little kid . . . “What do you hear, Cromwell?” my father asked. I closed my eyes and listened to the piece of music. Colors danced before my eyes. “Piano. Violins. Cellos . . .” I took a deep breath. “I can hear reds and greens and pinks.” I opened my eyes and looked up at my father as he sat on my bed. He was staring down at me. There was a funny expression on his face. “You hear colors?” he said. But he didn’t sound surprised. My face set on fire. I ducked my head under my duvet. My father pulled it down from my eyes. He stroked my hair. “That’s good,” he said, his voice kind of deep. “That’s very good . . .” My eyes snapped open. My hand started to ache. I looked at the bottle in my hand; my fingers were white as they gripped the neck. I sat up, my head spinning from the mass of whiskey in my body. My temples throbbed. I realized it wasn’t from the Jack, but from the music coming from further down the beach. I pushed my hair back from my face then looked to my right. Someone was only a few feet away. I squinted into the lightening night, summer’s early rising sun making it possible to make out the features of whoever the hell it was. It was a girl. A girl wrapped in a blanket. Her phone sat beside her, a Mozart piano concerto drifting quietly from the speaker. She must have felt me looking at her, because she turned her head. I frowned, wondering why I knew her face, but then—“You’re the DJ,” she said. Recognition dawned. It was the girl in the purple dress. She clutched her blanket closer around her as I replayed her accent in my head. American. Bible Belt was my guess, by her thick twang. She sounded like my mum. A smile tugged at her lips as I stayed mute. I wasn’t much of a talker. Especially when my gut was full of Jack and I had zero interest in making small talk with some girl I didn’t know at four in the morning on a cold beach in Brighton. “I’d heard of you,” she said. I stared back out over the sea. Ships sailed in the distance, their lights like tiny fireflies, bobbing up and down. I huffed a humorless laugh. Great. Another girl who wanted to screw the DJ. “Good for you,” I muttered and took a drink of my Jack, feeling the addictive burn slide down my throat. I hoped she’d piss off, or at least stop trying to talk to me. My head couldn’t take any more noise. “Not really,” she shot back. I looked over at her, eyebrows pulled down in confusion. She was looking out over the sea, her chin resting on her folded arms that lay over her bent knees. The blanket had fallen off her shoulders, revealing the purple dress I’d noticed from the podium. She turned to face me, cheek now on her arms. Heat zipped through me. She was pretty. “I’ve heard of you, Cromwell Dean.” She shrugged. “Decided to get a ticket to see you before I left for home tomorrow.” I lit up another cigarette. Her nose wrinkled. She clearly didn’t like the smell. Tough luck. She could move. Last time I checked, England was a free country. She went quiet. I caught her looking at me. Her brown eyes were narrowed, like she was scrutinizing me. Reading something in me that I didn’t want anyone to see. No one ever looked at me closely. I never gave them the chance. I thrived on the podium at clubs because it kept everyone far away, down on the dancefloor where no one ever saw the real me. The way she was looking at me now made nervous shivers break out over my skin. I didn’t need this kind of crap. “Already had my dick sucked tonight, love. Not looking for a second round.” She blinked, and even in the rising sun, I could see her cheeks redden. “Your music has no soul,” she blurted. My cigarette paused halfway to my mouth. Something managed to stab through my stomach at her words. I shoved it back down until I felt my usual sensation of numbness. I sucked on my cigarette. “Yeah? Well, them’s the breaks.” “I’d heard you were some messiah or something on that podium. But all your music comprised was synthetic beats and forced repetitive bursts of unoriginal tempo.” I laughed and shook my head. The girl met my eyes head-on. “It’s called electronic dance music. Not a fifty-piece orchestra.” I held out my arms. “You’ve heard of me. Said so yourself. You know what tunes I spin. What were you expecting? Mozart?” I glared at her phone, which was still playing that damn concerto. I sat back, surprised at myself. I hadn’t talked that much to anyone in . . . I didn’t know how long. I took in a drag, breathing out the smoke that was trapped in my chest. “And turn that thing off, will you? Who the hell goes to hear a dance DJ spin, then comes to a beach to listen to classical music?” The girl frowned but turned off the music. I lay back on the cold sand, closing my eyes. I heard the soft waves lapping the shore. My head filled with pale green. I heard the girl moving. I prayed she was leaving. But I felt her drop beside me. My world darkened as the whiskey and the usual lack of sleep started to pull me under. “What do you feel when you mix your music?” she asked. How the hell she thought her little interview was a good idea right now was beyond me. Yet, surprisingly, I found myself answering her question. “I don’t feel.” I cracked one eye open when she didn’t say anything. She was looking down at me. She had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen. Dark hair pulled off her face in a ponytail. Full lips and smooth skin. “Then that’s the problem.” She smiled, but the smile looked nothing but sad. Pitying. “The best music must be felt. By the creator. By the listener. Every part of it from creation to ear must be wrapped in nothing but feelings.” Some weird expression crossed over her face, but hell if I knew what it meant. Her words were a blade to my chest. I hadn’t expected her harsh comment. And I hadn’t expected the blunt trauma that she seemed to deliver right to my heart. Like she’d taken a butcher’s knife and sliced her way through my soul. My body itched to get up and run. To pluck out her assessment of my music from my memory. But instead I forced a laugh, and spat, “Go back home, little Dorothy. Back to where music means something. Where it’s felt.” “Dorothy was from Kansas.” She glanced away. “I’m not.” “Then go back to wherever the hell you’re from,” I snapped. Crossing my arms over my chest, I hunkered down into the sand and shut my eyes, trying to block out the cold wind that was picking up and slapping my skin, and her words that were still stabbing at my heart. I never let anything get to me like this. Not anymore. I just needed some sleep. I didn’t want to go back to my mum’s house here in Brighton, and my flat in London was too far away. So hopefully the cops wouldn’t find me here and kick me off the beach. With my eyes closed, I said, “Thanks for the midnight critique, but as the fastest-rising DJ in Europe, with the best clubs in the world begging for me to spin at their decks—all at nineteen—I think I’ll ignore your extensive notes and just keep on living my sweet as fuck life.”






Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.

After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.

Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.

Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.

When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.


Author Links












Tuesday, 12 June 2018

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Knocked Up by Stacey Lynn Publication Date: June 12th, 2018 Genre: Contemporary Romance
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First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes baby in a baby carriage. Just not necessarily in that order....
Braxton: I should probably be dead or in jail right now. Instead, thanks to some tough love, I worked my ass off and now I own a string of tattoo parlors throughout the Pacific Northwest. And yet the one thing I’ve always wanted—a family—still seems out of reach. When my best friend gets married, I’m just hoping to blow off some steam with the super-hot maid of honor. But after Cara Thompson tracks me down to tell me she’s pregnant, she’s more surprised than I am when I tell her I’m all in.
Cara: For the first time in my life, I’m living for myself—not for my parents and their ridiculous expectations. I gave up on my MBA, dropped out of the Ivy League, and moved to Portland to pursue my dream of becoming an artist. And what’s the first thing I do? Get knocked up. For a tatted-up sex god, Braxton Henley seems way too eager to “be there for me.” Is this guy serious? Maybe. He sure is patient. Because he won’t back down until I admit what I know in my heart: that our one night stand might’ve led me to the one.
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About the Author
Stacey Lynn Author Photo
Stacey Lynn currently lives in Minnesota with her husband and four children. When she’s not conquering mountains of laundry and fighting a war against dust bunnies and cracker crumbs, you can find her playing with her children, curled up on the couch with a good book, or on the boat with her family enjoying Minnesota’s beautiful, yet too short, summer.
She lives off her daily pot of coffee, can only write with a bowlful of Skittles nearby, and has been in love with romance novels since before she could drive herself to the library.
If you would like to know more about Stacey Lynn, follow her here:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/staceylynnbooks Twitter: @staceylynnbooks Website: http://www.staceylynnbooks.com BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/stacey-lynn Amazon: https://amzn.to/2JrBDLk Stay up to date on Stacey’s latest news! Subscribe to her Newsletter today! http://www.staceylynnbooks.com/contact

Friday, 8 June 2018

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Dirty Exes by Rachel Van Dyken Publication Date: June 5th, 2018 Genre: Contemporary Romance
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They’re serving up some red-hot revenge. A sizzling series from #1 New York Times bestselling author Rachel van Dyken.
Blaire has never quite gotten over Jessie Beckett, the ex–NFL star whose kisses were hot enough to ignite the entire Eastern Seaboard. When he chose work over her, Blaire was left brokenhearted. Why else would she have married a skeezy two-timer, just to divorce him less than a year later?
Now Blaire is getting even by becoming one half of Dirty Exes, a PI firm fully committed to humiliating cheating jerks. If only the new jerk she’s been hired to uncover wasn’t Jessie Beckett himself.
Exposing Jessie isn’t going to be easy, especially when she still daydreams about his sexy smile. Further complicating matters is Colin, Jessie’s best friend. He’s gorgeous, a little bit cunning, and willing to help Blaire get the inside scoop on Jessie—for a price.
Now caught between two men—one totally right and the other totally wrong—Blaire will need to decide just how much she’s willing to risk…and whom she’s willing to risk it for.
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Read Today! FREE in Kindle Unlimited Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2J1J7n6 Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2x6YTIE
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2kiJtYA
 
Excerpt:
  It ended there. Right. Forget about his mouth. Or the way I sighed when he touched my shoulder. The way my body quivered when his skin pressed against mine in the car. “Stop!” I gritted my teeth and searched the kitchen. Cheaters often hid things in places that their spouse wouldn’t expect, like pantries and junk drawers, places that seemed obvious but weren’t. I’d once found a second cell phone in a cereal box. Cheaters were like drug addicts. They knew the perfect place to hide the drugs. I shuddered. Dirty. Toilets. Not the best day I’d ever had, but marginally better than the sewer. I spent the next thirty minutes with plastic gloves searching every crevice of that kitchen, patting down the inside of drawers, digging through trash. Nothing. The guy was either a saint . . Or we had a serious Dexter situation going on, and he knew exactly how to dispose of incriminating evidence. Sexy male laughter jolted me from my search. I freaked, ran into the pantry, and shut the door just as Jessie’s face came into view. Sweat trickled down my back. Shit, shit, shit! Oh, this was bad, so bad. What man didn’twant to eat after coming home from the gym? “Nice, man, she keeps the book on the bar?” Colin’s mocking voice at least made me feel like I wasn’t the only one who thought it was strange. “Fams always so classy.” “Yeah,” Jessie agreed. “I think maybe it’s her way of reminding me how happy we were that one year.” He hesitated. “You know, the one where we actually did normal things like stay home and make dinner, and watch movies instead of going out all the time. That went to hell fast.” Colin sighed. “She writes a book about our best year, and then turns into this greedy person I don’t recognize and dream about murdering in her sleep.”
  • “Hey,” Colin warned. “I get it, I do, but she’s still my—”
“Sorry, man.” “It’s fine, like I said, I get it.” I plastered my ear to the door to listen harder. What did Colin mean? Why was he defending her? Why was Jessie saying sorry? I made a mental note to purchase the book and torture myself by reading it cover to cover. “You contemplate murdering her while she sleeps,” Colin said in a weird tone, “and yet she’s still living here in this house with you? Tell me how that makes sense? You say she’s not the same person, but she never really was the person you thought she was. When are you going to get that?” “She was different then, man. She was.” Jessie came to her defense so quickly I almost fell backward. He sounded like—he still had feelings for her. I turned my attention back to the door as footsteps neared the pantry. Oh hell. Not good. I needed to get out. Fast. I grabbed my cell and texted Colin. And seconds later heard a ping. “Another one of your sex buddies?” Jessie teased. Colin paused and then, “Oh yeah, but this one’s been really hard to tame. You know the type, a bit schizo but so hot you don’t care that she asks to twist your nipples while she licks your nose.” “Seriously?” Jessie choked. “She likes noses. And snake tattoos, loves them.” “Lucky for you.” “I think it reminds her of the size of my dick, you know?” I made a gagging noise, shifted on my feet, then texted again. Me: Seriously! Trapped! And your dick can’t be the size of that python on your arm because that would mean you actually impale women on a daily basis. Colin: Just call me Dracula. I frowned. Colin: Get it? The impaler. Me: Look at that, basement dweller can joke! He’s got jokes! Meanwhile I’m going to starve to death in this pantry. Colin: You mean around all that food? “Wow, this girl must have skills if you’re that focused on your texts . . .” Jessie trailed off. “She’s . . . unique,” Colin finally said. My eyes narrowed. Was that a compliment? Did it matter? Why did I care? And why the hell did Jessie have ten different kinds of cereal—and all the boxes were full. And alphabetized? Starting with Apple Jacks? Really? Not that I’d resorted to more snooping. Okay, so I’d resorted to more snooping. But the fact that they were full was emotionally distressing. A full cereal box at my house lasts about one hot minute before I get a craving for Cheerios that even wine can’t cure. “Hey”—Colin cleared his throat—“I need a favor.” “Anything,” Jessie said quickly. “I need a nice shirt for a date tonight, something . . . classy.” Jessie laughed. “What? You can’t wear your own clothes?” “You know I like your style better.” I rolled my eyes, has he seen that man’s closet? His white shirts are all ironed to within an inch of their lives. “Plus I want to impress this girl and I don’t have time to go grab a new shirt, we’re going on a late lunch date and I’m sweaty as hell, so please? Let me borrow a shirt, I’ll go home and shower, pair it with some nice jeans, and be inside her in no time.” I glared at the door. Like I could actually see Colin’s smug expression. Why was my heart thumping? Why was I breathing like I was having trouble sucking in air? He could date whomever he wanted. I shifted on my feet as my face heated. He was an attractive, successful man. I crossed my arms. Then uncrossed them nervously. “Yeah, yeah,” Jessie finally said. “I’ll be right back, try not to burn down the kitchen or set the book on fire.” “Shit, you read my mind,” Colin joked. The sound of footsteps faded as Jessie walked toward the bedroom. And then pantry door was jerked open. I blinked up at him. “Thank you.” “People . . . they pay you,” he said, leaning his large frame against the door while his muscles bulged beneath his sweat-soaked shirt, “for this?” My eyes narrowed. “Yes! And I’m good at it.” His smirk was wicked as he glanced behind me and then locked eyes. “Obviously.” I shoved his chest. “I miscalculated the time, that’s all.” I tried squeezing past him, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the pantry and closed the door. “What the hell are you doing?” I hissed as he pressed me against the wall. “He’s going to find me!” “A favor for a favor, spy girl.” Colin’s grin turned menacing. “I got Jessie out of the house, gave you my car, and saved your sorry ass. I get a favor.” “I’m not sucking your nose and licking your tattoo, you psycho,” I said, repeating what he’d said earlier. “Don’t knock it, you may love it.” He winked, and then stood his ground. “One favor.” I sighed and gritted my teeth. “Fine.” “A date,” he said triumphantly. “I want a date.” “A date,” I repeated in a slightly panicked voice. “Like to dinner?” “No, I was thinking the drive-in, we could make out, eat popcorn, I’d feel you up a bit—yeah, dinner.” I smirked. “If I go to dinner with you . . . you’ll get me out of this godforsaken pantry with the full boxes of cereal?” “Noticed that, did you?’ “He’s clearly not human.” “I steal his Cocoa Puffs every chance I get.” I nodded seriously. “I think my respect for you grew just now.” “Ah, she likes cereal.” “She’d also like to not get caught!” “Go.” He shoved me toward the pantry door. “Run out the back and try not to trip and ruin your escape.” “I don’t trip.” Of course, at that moment, I tripped over my own feet and almost face-planted into his lips. He sighed, his expression worried and a bit stunned as Jessie’s voice carried to the kitchen. “Black okay?” “Go.” Colin shoved me again. “Oh, and you’re picking me up. It seems I’m down a car.” He winked. “I’ll text you.”
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Meet the Author:
Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!
Connect with the Author:

Thursday, 7 June 2018


Blurb:
 There are some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed.

My girlfriend kicked me out. Then, even my dog didn’t want me, so he ran away. My boss fired me when I called to let him know I was going to be late. And to put the cherry on top of the crap sundae, I accidentally doused a woman in water who had more followers than brain cells.

As if becoming one of the most hated men in Queen City wasn’t bad enough, some lunatic was stalking the popular life coach I had soaked. The fucker should be running from Zoey, not watching, especially with me protecting her. Some fuckers must learn the hard way, and I’m going to be the one to teach him. You don’t mess with anyone who belongs to a Predator.



It was a perfect day … until I met Stump.

I found a new friend, reached half a million followers, and was on the brink of putting my past behind me when the crazy biker accused me of stealing his dog. To make matters worse, he then blamed me for people hating on him. He did that with no help from me. I don’t blame the dog for running away. I would, too, if I belonged to him.

My skills as a life coach don’t work on him. I might not be able to change the irritating Predator, but I’m not above using him to catch the one who wants me dead.

*WARNING*
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if strong sexual situations, multiple partners, violence, child abuse, and explicit language offends you.


Review:
I actually don't know where to start with this or how to start it. I'm so disappointed that I'm actually really gutted. Jamie is my favourite MC author's out there, I love her work and her unique writing style that has made me fall in love with her books and her as a author. Every one of her books has been a 5* read for me but this book felt to me like it was wrote by a completly different author. Jamie's signature style was nowhere to be seen and the book was all over the place. I rarely write bad reviews, I will sometimes as I know sometimes all types of reviews are needed, but especially if it's a author I love I just find it really hard to do. But with this book I felt I had to write this review. Apart from it been far apart from this authors other work it was full of typo's, just general mistakes, and felt like it had been rushed which meant the whole story was lacking. The characters had no depth and weren't connectable, I just feel like I've stepped into another authors work and not Jamie's and if you've read any of this authors other MC books then you'll see where I'm coming from.
It was full of weak writing and for that I fell like I needed to write this review. I really hope that by the next book this author goes back to the style of all her other books as if the next book is like this one I won't be buying anymore and that really upsets me even writing that as this authors work has got me through some really low times. 

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Tuesday, 5 June 2018

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Him & I, an all-new sexy, standalone romance from debut author Melody Eve is available NOW!Him&I-FINAL-AMAZON

Love is a risk.
Roman has never been willing to take those odds, until now.
A beautiful stranger, overheard telling the desk clerk she’s on her honeymoon alone, arouses something in him. Something primal. Something protective. He finds himself doing and saying things he swore he never would in an effort to understand the pain in Aria’s sensual eyes.
His scars are so deep, they may never heal. His need for control is ingrained. His desire for her is unparalleled.
The challenge of winning her may be the biggest risk of all.
Him&I-FINAL

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Him & I is available for $0.99 for a LIMITED TIME!

Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US I Amazon Universal

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Meet Melody

Melody Eve 
Melody Eve is a Midwestern mother of five children and five fur babies. She is a contemporary romance author who loves writing sexy Alpha male heroes and smart, passionate heroines. Keep your eyes open for Melody's new release, Him & I on Amazon in 2018.

Connect with Melody

Monday, 4 June 2018

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The Lies I’ve Told by J.L. Berg Publication Date: June 4th, 2018 Genre: Contemporary Romance
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Synopsis: From USA Today bestselling author J.L. Berg comes a brand new By the Bay stand-alone novel...
Everything was going according to plan...
After years of working my way up the corporate ladder, it was finally my time to shine. I was about to receive the promotion of a lifetime.
But just like that, my life was destroyed with a single career crushing email.
Now, I am headed back home to North Carolina, under the ruse of an extended vacation to help run the family inn while my sister is on maternity leave. After all, what is family for? Plus, a few days at the beach could definitely help uncomplicate this crazy life of mine.
Enter Aiden Fisher.
Aiden is a guest at my sister’s inn. He’s wicked hot, a huge flirt and has one of the sexiest British accents I’ve ever heard. But beyond all that, I see a darkness in his soul, as if he’s carrying a great weight upon his shoulders.
I find myself pushing back my trip home to Florida in hopes that maybe I’ll look into those hazel brown eyes and finally see truth shining back instead of lies. That maybe he’ll stop running and tell me the truth for once.
But you know what they say about liars? It takes one to know one and I’ve been telling the biggest lie of all – I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with Aiden.
And isn’t that the scariest truth of all?
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Read Today!
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Meet J. L. Berg:
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I’m a California native, who lives in the South – Virginia to be exact. I still prefer sushi to fried chicken, avocados to okra, and I absolutely loathe humidity. I do love watching the seasons change though. My husband and I have been here for over a decade, and I still get giddy like a school girl every time it snows. It’s magical!
I’m married to my high school sweetheart, and we’ve been blessed with two beautiful daughters and two rescue pups I like to call my “coworkers”. I’m obsessed with chocolate, minions, anything Harry Potter and I love to watch re-runs of Friends and Gilmore Girls!
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