Friday, September 29

*** 5 DAYS OF NICOLA RENDELL *** So Good
























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On the roof of a house outside Truelove, Maine, master carpenter Max Doyle looks down through a skylight and sees the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. She’s naked, she’s gorgeous, and everything about her is perfect, down to the ball-busting tattoo of a rose that wraps around her hip. But it isn’t just any woman making his knees buckle. It’s his best friend, Rosie Madden. And as he stands there, mesmerized and precariously close to toppling off the roof, he knows he’ll never, ever be able to look at her the same way again.

Rosie can’t help but notice that Max is suddenly acting very strange—lots of long stares, totally tongue-tied, and not at all like the slightly cocky hunk she’s proud to call her best friend. She can’t figure it out, until later that night when Max rescues her from the world’s worst date, challenges her to a game of pool, and shows her just exactly what she’s got him thinking about. Repeatedly.

But life is complicated. Rosie’s cat, Julia Caesar, wants to eat Max’s dog Cupcake for an afternoon snack. A dream job threatens to pull them apart. And another glance through the skylight changes everything, one more time. Yet try as they might, they can’t go back to being just friends, because falling in love with the one you’ve always adored?

It feels so good.
















I couldn’t do it. I wanted to do it because he kissed with such passion and such aggression that I felt like every single bone in my body was saying, Rosie, this is a table, just lie down and let him have you. But this was Max. My Max. I didn’t kiss Max; I needed Max. But now here I was, liquored up on way-more-than-two margaritas, and losing all my freaking common sense.
Idiot. Idiot.

Summoning up all my strength, and resisting the gravitational pull of the pool table too, I pushed him away. I turned away and slipped off the rail. I grabbed my purse from the hook underneath the corner pocket and hustled for the door. I could hear Max saying my name, I knew he was trying to make a grab for me, but I had to get out of there. The taste of him had been intoxicating, disorienting.

It had been heaven. And he could not be my heaven.

He was the gallon of Rocky Road I should not have. He was the box of chocolates I should not eat.

So without saying goodbye to Fletcher, without even paying my part of our tab, I beat a quick exit for the door, or I tried to anyway. The place was packed, and I had to squirm my way through a whole slew of enormous fishermen, all broad shoulders and barrel chests, like extras from some Viking documentary kicking back after a long day of Hollywood pillage and plunder. Each step was perilous, all their steel-toed boots mere inches from crunching my bare toes. Finally, I did get to the exit and hurled myself out of the door into the dark quiet of the gravel parking lot. Chirping crickets and the buzz of a slowly dying Summer Shandy sign filled the air. The hot air of the bar was swept away by the warm breeze off the water. I inhaled hard, trying to clear my head.

My mind spinning and my feathers decidedly ruffled, I grabbed my keys and tottered to my Bug. But no sooner had I put my key in the lock than the bar door squeaked open and there was Max, coming for me. “No fucking way,” he said, pulling my keys from my hand. “Don’t you dare, Rosie. Don’t you dare.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me what I was doing. I couldn’t drive, for God’s sake. I wasn’t tumble-down drunk, but I was far too tipsy to be going anywhere at all. So I went for Plan B and started to march down the street.

“What are you going to do? Walk?”

“It’s not that far!” I swatted a huge mosquito that had attached itself to my arm like a jungle dart. “What is it, three miles? Four?” I flapped my hand in the air to say, It’s nothing! But honestly, I don’t think I’d ever walked three miles in my life. I’d have to call a cab. I’d have to hitchhike. Still though, still!

Max grabbed my hand and spun me into him. Our bodies collided, and I became acutely aware of his brawn. “Seven miles. Jesus. Let me take you home at least,” he said, his voice all growly and sexy and…

Rosie!

“I don’t want you out here by yourself,” Max said. “It’s not safe.”

“It’s Maine, for God’s sake! What’s going to happen? A moose going to mug me?”

“I know what these mosquitos do to you.” He swept his big, rough hand over my bare arm, letting his fingers move lightly along the bend in my elbow.

My breath got caught up in my throat. It was like a hiccup interrupted a cough. For the first time, I understood what it meant to have someone’s touch light you on fire. And not just that either: the kiss was still lingering, the taste of him still on my lips. Sweet and salty. Delicious. He trailed his fingers down the inside of my forearm and back up again. As proof of the fact he’d made alphabet soup of my brain, all I could think to say was, “I don’t know why they never bite you.”
He laughed a little and smiled as he stepped into me. “Because you’re way fucking sweeter.”
He kept his hand there, on my arm, and his other cradled me at the small of my back. Even in the semidarkness, I could see him perfectly, because I knew everything about him. His rarely seen right dimple, his smile lines, the salt and pepper that was starting to show in his sideburns. The necklace with half my name on it. The curve of his delicious bum. Even in the dark, I knew him. Even in the dark, I wanted him. But even in the dark, I knew it was a terrible idea.

So I stepped back again.

He raised his hands up, like a surrender. “Get in my truck. I won’t touch you.” The gravel crunched under his feet as he moved even farther away. He ran his hand through his hair and reached for his keys. “I’ll be good.”








































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Nicola Rendell writes dirty romantic comedy. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She grew up in Taos, New Mexico; after receiving a handful of degrees from a handful of places, she now works as a professor in New England. An Amazon bestseller, her work has been featured in USA Today's Happy Ever After and the Huffington Post. She is represented by Emily Sylvan Kim at the Prospect Agency.


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*** COVER REVEAL *** Field Tripped by Nicole Archer


Field-Tripped

Release Date: October 30, 2017
A new standalone holiday romance from Nicole Archer.
 
I was done with games. But playing with her is so much fun.
Ten years ago, I was all set to compete in the winter Olympics. Then I lost everything—my career, my best friend, and my girlfriend.
After that, I stopped playing games for good. I swore never to go back to Colorado. Too many bad memories. Plus, she’s still there.
Now I live a simple life as a creative director at Shimura Advertising in New York. All is good, until my boss cons me and my coworkers into spending two weeks in Colorado at Proton Sports’ sleep-away camp for adults, pitching their business. Turns out Proton’s idea of a pitch is making the agencies battle each other in a bunch of ridiculous winter games.
Guess who owns the rival company? Her. And she’s out to get me. I might just let her win.
FieldTripped by Nicole Archer full book cover

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***COVER REVEAL *** Rewrite by Stephanie Rose




Title: Rewrite
Author: Stephanie Rose
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
Photo: MaelDesign & Photography
Models: Josh & Shauna Meyers
Release Date: October 19, 2017



Blurb


Once upon a time, a girl loved a boy and he loved her back. They lived happily ever after.

But our story was never that simple.

I loved Josh with all I had, right until the day he left. Now, all these years later, he was back—and wanting me the way I’d always longed for him. Except now, I belonged to someone else. Someone who never left me the way Josh had. I figured that was the end of our story. I couldn’t alter the past.

I didn’t want to rewrite my future.

Brianna was always more than my best friend. She was the shining light in my black hole of an existence, and I loved her with every cell and bone in my body. I wasn’t good enough for her, though—more the villain than the hero in our fairy tale. When I had to leave, I vowed to come back a better man—for her. But when I finally did return, she wasn’t waiting for me anymore. She had someone new, her very own Prince Charming. Did that mean our story was over? I couldn't change our past.

It was time to rewrite our ending.







Excerpt

Brianna hadn’t uttered a single word since we stepped into the truck. Tension radiated off her entire body as she faced as far away from me as possible. I knew she was avoiding me. Our near kiss was too much for her to handle right now. I should’ve backed off and let her have her space, and I did for a few days. All we were doing was delaying the inevitable—whether she chose to admit it or not.
“I’m sorry we had to leave so soon. I would have liked to meet more of your friends.” I glanced her way, and Brianna nodded in response, still not looking at me.
“I saw Christal corner you at the bar.” Her voice was aloof but the ticking in her jaw said otherwise as she drew back into the seat.
Sick, my ass. I noticed her glaring at me and Christal tonight. She stared daggers into Christal’s back every time she touched me. She could act as aloof as she wanted. I knew she fucking hated it. My cupcake was in a losing battle with herself. She was going to make herself really get sick if she didn’t surrender soon.
“Yeah,” I chuckled. “Chatty little thing.”
Brianna nodded but wouldn’t look my way.
“She is. I’m surprised she didn’t slip you her number,” she scoffed.
“Oh, she did. In fact, she opened with that.” I fought a smile, picturing the wheels turning in her adorable little head.
Brianna’s head whipped to mine. “She did?”
“What’s wrong?” I asked with as much innocence as I could get away with. “You don’t like her?”
“No,” she offered a bit too abruptly. “I mean, she’s fine, I guess. You can talk to whomever you want.”
"So, if I take her out . . . you'd be okay with that?” I let Christal down easy and right away, but Brianna didn't need to know that. The prick in me wanted to see how this played out.
"Sure." She shrugged as she turned away from me again. "Do what you want." Her jaw clenched so hard, I thought she was going to chip a tooth as she focused on the Hudson River whizzing passed the car window.
Since we were kids, she had the worst poker face. I always knew the second she was pissed off, and judging by how her chest heaved, she was about ready to blow.
Traffic always bottlenecked around the same exit. We inched until we came to a full stop. I slid my arm around her and leaned in. She stiffened, but unless she jumped out of the car onto the side of the highway, she had nowhere to go.
I nuzzled her cheek. Fuck it, I was going for broke.
"And if I . . . take her home. You'd be . . ."
"Fine," she breathed out, her voice a mix of fury and lust. "Like I just said, do what you want."
I laughed, victorious. "Cupcake," I whispered as my lips grazed her cheek, “you are so full of shit."




Author Bio


Stephanie Rose grew up loving words and making up stories. Being able to share them with readers is her dream come true. This lifelong Bronx girl loves Starbucks, wine and 80s rock. Her voice often gets mistaken for a Mob Wives trailer.

She married her prom date and has a seven-year-old LEGO obsessed son. She believes there is nothing sexier than a good guy who loves with all his heart, and has made it her mission to bring as many as she can to the page.


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*** COVER REVEAL *** The Plan by Ella James

 

The Plan by Ella James

Release Date: November 6th
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Designer: Letitia Hasser from RBA Designs
Add to Goodreads:
     
SYNOPSIS
You’ve heard this story before. Woman feels her biological clock ticking and gets someone to knock her up.
Not for love, for baby.
Crazy, right?
That’s what I thought.
Then I found out my fiancé had a vasectomy. The life I thought I had? Nope. Suddenly I’m 33, and I don’t even have a kissing buddy.
When my mom’s health takes a turn and I wind up back in my hometown of Fate, Alabama, I tell myself to leave things up to…well, you know.
Then I see Gabriel McKellan. He’s Fate’s most famous son, a bestselling author who is beautiful, complicated, and living just below me. In addition to his plus-sized brain, Gabe’s well-endowed in other ways, and great in bed to boot. I would know. He's my ex husband.
When I suggest The Plan, I don't imagine that he'll take the bait. It's been ten years, and we don't work. But Fate has other plans for both of us.
     
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Thursday, September 28

*** 5 DAYS OF NICOLA RENDELL *** Just Like That

















































































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"I bet I can untangle you."

At an airport baggage claim, Penny Darling looks up from her knotted mess of ear buds to find the sexiest hunk of man she's ever seen. He's got a military haircut, a scar through his eyebrow, and he's rocking a pastel pink dress shirt like only a real man can. But Penny is on a man-free diet so she leaves the airport without succumbing to his delicious double-entendres...or his dreamy dimples.

PI Russ Macklin can't take his eyes off Penny. As she sashays out of the airport with hips swaying and curls bouncing, he suspects they may share more than just sweltering chemistry. That suitcase she's rolling along behind her? It looks a lot like his.

Because it is.

When he tracks her down, he holds her bag hostage in exchange for a date. Their night begins with margaritas and ends in urgent care, and Russ proves that Cosmo's theory about a very particular type of orgasm was oh-so-wrong.

In Penny, Russ finds a small-town sweetheart with a very naughty side. For the first time ever, he’s thinking about picket fences. Penny finds in Russ a loving, caring man who understands the power of massaging showerheads.

But Russ is only in Port Flamingo for a week. They agree it'll be a fling and nothing more. Because really, they can't fall ass-over-teakettle in love just like that...

Can they?














Jesus,”I groan into her ear. “You always this wet?”

“For you, I think so.”

I hoist her up onto the countertop, making a nearby teakettle clatter and slosh. She loops her arms around my neck, and I kiss her again, pressing her head up against the cabinets. I add another finger, feeling just how fucking tight she really is. I compress her clit and she rolls her pelvis into my palm. That tiny movement, the shifting of her pussy, her body saying yes, it sets off something inside me, as powerful as a fucking starting pistol, and I smack the cabinet behind her head, making dishware rattle and ding.

Her hands make their way down to my belt. I pull back from the kiss and watch her, her delicate hands working the leather, unthreading the end from the loops. With my thumb I press into the edge of her clit, which makes her freeze, buckle clasped in her hand. Her eyes flutter shut, and she goes slack in my arms.

I take over and pull my belt off. “So, listen,”I say, keeping my tone serious and dark. “I want you to tell me exactly what you want. You get that?”

“This is what I want,”she gasps, feeling me through my shorts. “Oh my God, you’re huge.”

“Think you can handle me?”

“If you teach me.”

Shit, how sexy is that? I tip her chin up toward my face. “Yeah, I’ll teach you. But I want you to be fucking explicit.”

“About what…”She trails off as I lick a line up her throat.

“About what you like and how you like it. I don’t know how long I’m going to be here, and I don’t want to fuck around.”I drag my tongue along the clamshell edge of her ear. “Be dirty, be rude. Tell me what you want and don’t hold back.”

Her neck arches, and her pussy clamps down around my fingers. So I give her a third. She pauses with her hands inside my waistband, her fingers inches from my cock.

“What do you want? Tell me, right now.”

She stares hard at me, like she’s trying to call my bluff. Like she thinks it doesn’t matter what she wants, not really. But how fucking wrong she is. What she wants, that’s everything.

Still though, she doesn’t answer. She gets to work on the buttons of my shirt, her small fingers undoing one after another until she’s got her hands on my bare chest.

Time to be even clearer with her, so I pin her head back and get right up in her face. “I can fuck you all night, Penny. I can fuck you until you beg for mercy. Or I can go slow and be sweet.”I pull off her shorts, working them down her legs, and drop them on the kitchen floor.

She runs her fingertips down my abs. “Can’t we do everything?”

Goddamn it, yes. “Everything and more.”








































AP  new -about the author.jpg

Nicola Rendell writes dirty romantic comedy. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She grew up in Taos, New Mexico; after receiving a handful of degrees from a handful of places, she now works as a professor in New England. An Amazon bestseller, her work has been featured in USA Today's Happy Ever After and the Huffington Post. She is represented by Emily Sylvan Kim at the Prospect Agency.


Author Links





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*** BLOG TOUR & REVIEW *** The Learning Hours by Sara Ney




He’s not a douchebag;
but that doesn’t stop his friends from
turning him into one.
  MY FRIENDS WANT ME TO GET LAID. So much so that they plastered my ugly mug all over campus, in bold printed letters: Are you the lucky lady who’s going to break our roommate’s cherry? Him: socially awkward man with average-sized penis looking for willing sexual partner. You: must have pulse. Text him at: 555-254-5551 The morons can’t even spell. And the texts I’ve been receiving are what wet dreams are made of. But I’m not like these douchebags, no matter how hard they try to turn me into one. THIS ISN’T THE KIND OF ATTENTION I WANT. One text stands out from hundreds. One number I can’t bring myself to block. She seems different. Hotter, even in black and white.   However, after seeing her in person, I know she’s not the girl for me. But my friends won’t let up—they just don't get it. Douchebags or not, there's one thing they'll never understand: GIRLS DON’T WANT ME. Especially her.

 

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  He’s seated at a table in the far corner when I spot him from the door. He’s not hard to miss—not with his purple t-shirt in a sea of black and yellow, and wavy mussed hair. He’s slouching, hunched over his table. Defeated. Tired. My stomach rolls with nerves, nerves that have me rooted to the spot in the doorway, watching him. Just watching. For the entire four minutes I stand here, he sits immobile, studying his laptop, eyes moving along the screen, completely transfixed by whatever he’s reading. Learning. “Just go over there,” I whisper to myself, blowing out a puff of pent-up air. I put one foot in front of the other and begin toward him, spine ramrod straight, steeling myself, prepared for another argument. Twenty feet. Fifteen. Eight. Two. “Hi.” No reply. “Do you mind if I sit here?” I lay my hand on the back of the wooden chair across from him, intending to pull it out. He stiffens but doesn’t lift his head. “Yes I mind.” “Would you mind if I sat at the table next to you?” I’m pushing his buttons, looking for a reaction, but he only spares me a brief glance. Shrugs. “Free country.” I bite my lip to hide a smile, glad he didn’t tell me to take a hike...   My Review  5 "So Sweet" Stars

Squeeeeeee.

That's me. All night. And then when I woke up this morning. I did not want to put this book down. I mean seriously. It was the sweetest book I have read in so long.

I smiled almost the whole way through (after that first 5% where I was like how is this going to work) and then I woke up thinking about it and still smiling. Just flipping perfect. I wish I had time to reread it right now because I would. I so would.

The Learning Hours was diffferent than the first two books. The whole Douchebag theme was still there of course but in a different way. This book kind of switched roles a bit and I really appreciated that. I was a bit nervous at the start because of the change but in the end, that was the best part.        Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series, and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances. Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced latte's, historical architecture and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colorfully, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British. She lives with her husband, children, and her ridiculously large dog. Facebook | Twitter | Instagram