Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Release Week Blitz, Review and Giveaway: HONOR by Jay Crownover


New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Jay Crownover returns with her most complicated hero yet, in the first book in the romantic suspense series The Breaking Point.


Don’t be fooled.

Don’t make excuses for me.

I am not a good man.

I’ve seen things no one should, done things no one should talk about. Honor and conscience have no place in my life. But I’ve fought and I’ve survived. I’ve had to.

The first time I saw her dancing on that seedy stage in that second rate club, I felt my heart pulse for the first time. Keelyn Foster was too young, too vibrant for this place, and I knew in an instant that I would make her mine. But first I had to climb my way to the top. I had to have something more to offer her.

I’m here now, money is no object and I have no equal. Except for her. She’s disappeared. But don’t worry, I will find her and claim her. She will be mine.

Like I said, don’t be fooled. I am not the devil in disguise… I’m the one standing front and center.



              I was in the Point for less than a day when I got word that the man that ran the streets wanted to see me. I like to lay low. I liked to blend in, but here it didn’t see like that was an option. Instead of desert sand, the battleground here was asphalt and concrete, and as soon as my presence was known, it was as if this place recognized the fight lying dormant inside of me. This city called to it. I don’t know why I instantly felt like I fit, but I did. So I went to see the man in charge, fully expecting to offer him the last of my cash in order to gain a foothold in the desolate kingdom. I was a survivor. I could do without money for a little bit. No man was more resourceful than I was. 

              I walked into a disgustingly gaudy strip club, offended by its crass ugliness. I was expecting to meet the ruler of the land, state my intentions, and let him know I would bow to no man here or anywhere else ever again. I was expecting a shakedown and maybe some strong-arming since I was obviously foreign and undocumented. I was technically legal since my mother had been an American citizen before she fell in love with an extremist, but I hadn’t really existed on paper since she handed me over to killers and radicals when I was just a kid. Mossad didn’t want me to be anything other than their trained attack dog, so they hadn’t offered up any proof of identity for me during my time at the end of their string. What I wasn’t expecting was that my cause, my reason, my purpose for living, and my something to believe in would be dancing nearly naked on a horrifically ugly stage, looking like she was going to cry at any second. She was so much more than freedom. 

              She was Honor. 

              She was beautiful, young, innocent, and so obviously resigned to her fate. It pulled at a heart I was stunned to find I still had buried somewhere deep underneath the brutal history that filled up the inside of me. It was the first time I felt it beat, and the pulse of its yearning scared and electrified me in equal measure.

              I started to move toward her like all those invisible gods I spent my life killing for were leading me directly to her when suddenly a man twice her age and triple her size leaped from his seat next to the stage and hurled himself up onto the platform directly at the girl. In the blink of an eye he was on top of her, rough hands all over her naked flesh. I heard her scream. I saw her long limbs flail and thrash under him. A red haze filled my vision and I forgot all about staying quiet and laying low. I forgot all about being a ghost, and realized that I could channel the fight that had been forged into my very soul, the fight that was slumbering restlessly inside me at that moment, into protecting something so innocent. She woke the fight up and she kept it alive.

Tanya's Review:
     The Devil finally has his book. Nassir has been a character in all the previous point books, and he was the dark devil in the story, I just thought he was evil but with each book he kept lurking and I wondered what is his deal and finally I know and I am in love with the Devil. This book had me from the prologue it sucked me in completely. I learned exactly where the devil came from and how he came to be in The Point and why he stayed. And well why he stayed it was her, Keelyn Foster. 

     " You aren't in my world, Key, you are the center of it. You always have been. That means I want to care for you, not control you, but my methods in everything are extreme."

Keelyn has tried to run from the Point, mainly run from Nassir.She knows he is trouble and has danced around him for years because she knows he could be her ruin. 

   " You're the opposite of a good man, Nassir, but that doesn't mean you aren't my man." 
     " You're my man, and my devil ...it depends on the day." 

Jay has created a wonderful story with these two characters, it is dark and gritty but full of such love that you know these 2 were made for each other. This I believe is the best book in the point series so far, I believe its because I have seen these 2 in previous books in the series and I know how far they have come.She did a great job bringing a character that I thought was a horrible waste of a human to one that my heart broke for and was rooting for him to rule the streets.  I recommend reading the other 3 books in the Point series (Better When He's Bad, Better When He's Bold and Better When He's Brave) before you read this one.  For those people that like dark and gritty this is a must read you will be hooked and want to know more about these people struggling in the Point. 

Honor:   4/5 stars

Order HONOR in ebook or paperback, releasing 10/18/16

Amazon US | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo

Amazon UK | Amazon Canada | Amazon Australia

Add to your Goodreads

  honor-rwb-teaser-2     jay-crownover-headshotAbout Jay Crownover: 

  Jay Crownover is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Marked Men, The Point,and the Saints of Denver series. Like her characters, she is a big fan of tattoos. She loves music and wishes she could be a rock star, but since she has no aptitude for singing or instrument playing, she’ll settle for writing stories with interesting characters that make the reader feel something. She lives in Colorado with her three dogs.        

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads


Thursday, September 29, 2016

Review and Giveaway: The Trouble With Mistletoe by Jill Shalvis



From New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis comes a captivating story of love, second chances and new beginnings...

We are thrilled to bring you the review & excerpt tour for THE TROUBLE WITH MISTLETOE, the second standalone novel in Jill Shalvis's Heartbreaker Bay Series! Check out each stop on the tour and grab your copy of this fantastic new novel today!


If she has her way…

Willa Davis is wrangling puppies when Keane Winters stalks into her pet shop with frustration in his chocolate-brown eyes and a pink bedazzled cat carrier in his hand. He needs a kitty sitter, stat. But the last thing Willa needs is to rescue a guy who doesn’t even remember her…

…He’ll get nothing but coal in his stocking.

Saddled with his great-aunt’s Feline from Hell, Keane is desperate to leave her in someone else’s capable hands. But in spite of the fact that he’s sure he’s never seen the drop-dead gorgeous pet shop owner before, she seems to be mad at him…

Unless he tempers “naughty” with a special kind of nice…

Willa can’t deny that Keane’s changed since high school: he’s less arrogant, for one thing—but he doesn’t even remember her. How can she trust him not to break her heart again? It’s time to throw a coin in the fountain, make a Christmas wish–and let the mistletoe do its work…

Laura's Review:

Jill Shalvis can do no wrong when it comes to sweet, heartwarming tales of love. 
As we've come to expect, she provides us with two very likable main characters, with just enough flaws to make them realistic. The same charming, close-knit group of friends we met in the first Heartbreaker Bay novel are back with their usual antics; perhaps a bit too meddlesome for my taste, but they certainly propel the story forward when needed and provide some humorous moments, too. And I'm a sucker for any book featuring a four-legged friend (or two), so all that added up to one very enjoyable read! 

4/5 stars. 

Order THE TROUBLE WITH MISTLETOE in ebook or paperback

Amazon | iBooks | Kobo | B&N

Add to your Goodreads


And don’t miss the first novel in Jill Shalvis’s Heartbreaker Bay Series, SWEET LITTLE LIES, now available! Grab your copy HERE!


Don’t Miss each stop on THE TROUBLE WITH MISTLETOE Review & Excerpt Tour!

September 26

2 One Click Chicks – Review & Excerpt

A girl and her books – Review

That's What I'm Talking About – Review & Excerpt

Adria's Romance Reviews – Review & Excerpt

Book Readers Anonymous – Review & Excerpt

Bridget's Book Bungalow – Review

Four Chicks Flipping Pages – Review

Melissa's Eclectic Bookshelf – Review & Excerpt

This Wacky Momma Reads! – Review & Excerpt

September 27

Book Angel Booktopia – Review & Excerpt

Red Hot + Blue Reads – Review & Excerpt

Bookaholics Reading Haven – Review

Booknerd1107 – Review & Excerpt

Renee Entress's Blog – Review & Excerpt

East Coast Book Chicks – Review & Excerpt

I Love Romance – Review & Excerpt

SBB Reviews – Review & Excerpt

September 28

21st Century Once Upon A Times – Review

Bookworm Dee Reads – Excerpt

Delish, Devine and All Mine – Review & Excerpt

Embrace the Romance – Review & Excerpt

Reviews from the Heart – Review & Excerpt

Queen of All She Reads – Excerpt

Kelsey's Corner Time – Review & Excerpt

Theory of A Dreamer – Review & Excerpt

September 29

Bea's Book Nook – Review & Excerpt

Beneath The Covers Blog – Excerpt

Brittany's Book Blog – Excerpt

Reading in Pajamas – Review & Excerpt

The Revolving Bookcase – Review

Rock Out With Sweet Reads – Excerpt

Romanticamente Fantasy Sito – Excerpt

September 30

Aly's Miscellany – Excerpt

Book Munchies – Review & Excerpt

Lea's Book Blog – Review & Excerpt

Mistress of Romance – Review & Excerpt

The Readdicts – Excerpt

Socially Awkward Book nerd – Review & Excerpt

Shannon's book blog – Review & Excerpt

October 1

b i n i b i n i – Review

Books,Dreams,Life – Excerpt

Nose Stuck in a Book – Review & Excerpt

JordansBookReviews – Excerpt

Maari Loves Her Indies – Excerpt

The Heathers Blog – Review & Excerpt

October 2

A Literary Perusal – Review

Sweet & Spicy Reads – Review & Excerpt

The Geekery Book Review – Review & Excerpt

WTF Are You Reading? – Review & Excerpt

My fictional escape – Excerpt

Romance Reviews and More – Review & Excerpt

The bookworms obsession blog – Review

October 3

Books, Coffee & Passion – Excerpt

Ellesea Loves Reading – Review & Excerpt

Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents – Excerpt

EskieMama Reads – Review & Excerpt

Writing My Own Fairy Tale – Review & Excerpt

Southern Yankee Book Reviews – Review & Excerpt

Talking Books Blog – Review & Excerpt

October 4

Books and Things Blog – Review & Excerpt

Two Book Pushers – Review & Excerpt

Jax's Book Magic – Review

IrishdaisylovesRomance – Review & Excerpt

The Girl with the Happily Ever Afters – Review & Excerpt

With Love for Books – Review

October 5

BFF Book Blog – Review & Excerpt

Adventures in Writing – Excerpt

Oh My Shelves – Review

Once Upon a Book Blog – Review & Excerpt

Lightning City Book Reviews – Review

October 6

BJ's Book Blog – Review & Excerpt

KT Book Reviews – Excerpt

I Heart YA Books – Review & Excerpt

The Travelogue of a book addict – Review

Read-Love-Blog – Review & Excerpt

October 7

Books Need TLC – Review

Ripe for Reader – Review & Excerpt

Ramblings From This Chick – Excerpt

What Is That Book About – Excerpt

Romance Readers Retreat – Review

October 8

Alphas Do It Better Book Blog – Review

books are love – Review & Excerpt

Fangirls Ahead! – Review

Wrapped Up In Reading – Review

Rustys Reading – Review

About Jill Shalvis: New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jill Shalvis lives in a small town in the Sierras full of quirky characters. Any resemblance to the quirky characters in her books is, um, mostly coincidental. Look for Jill’s sexy contemporary and award-winning books wherever romances are sold and click on the blog button above for a complete book list and daily blog detailing her city-girl-living-in-the-mountains adventures.      

Monday, September 26, 2016

Release Day Spotlight and Review: Sex Machine by Marie Force

Marie’s first standalone title in five years!

He’s good for one thing and one thing only—and she wants it bad.
Honey Carmichael has never had a decent orgasm, and she’s out to change that with the one man in town known for his superior skill between the sheets.

Blake Dempsey is happy to help Honey with her “problem” as long as she knows he’s only interested in sex. His heart was broken when his high school girlfriend was killed in the car he was driving, and he has nothing to offer other than more orgasms than Honey can handle.

Which is just fine with her—until fantastic orgasms aren’t enough anymore for either of them and unexpected feelings turn hot sex into messy entanglement—and that most definitely wasn’t in the plans.
But you know what they say about plans…

A sexy, dirty stand-alone romance intended for MATURE audiences. If you can’t take the heat in Blake’s bedroom, stay out or you might get burned. You’ve been warned!

Author Bio: 
Marie Force is the New York Times bestselling author of more than 50 contemporary romances, including the Gansett Island Series, which has sold more than 2.3 million books, and the Fatal Series from Harlequin Books, which has sold more than 1.2 million books. In addition, she is the author of the Green Mountain Series as well as the erotic romance Quantum Series, written under the slightly modified name of M.S. Force. All together, her books have sold more than 5 million copies worldwide!

Her goals in life are simple—to finish raising two happy, healthy, productive young adults, to keep writing books for as long as she possibly can and to never be on a flight that makes the news.

Join Marie’s mailing list on her website at marieforce.com for news about new books and upcoming appearances in your area. Follow her on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/MarieForceAuthor, on Twitter @marieforce and on Instagram at www.instagram.com/marieforceauthor/.

Marie's Social Links: 

Sex Machine Buy Links:


Chapter 1
“I want you to fuck me.” I’m proud of the fact that I never blink as I stare into the baby blues of the man I just blatantly propositioned. In public, no less.
Blake Dempsey chokes on a mouthful of beer, his eyes watering as beer meets lungs in an unholy alliance.
For the first time since I walked into the dark, dank bar, my resolve begins to waver as I question the wisdom of this mission. But if I don’t take the bull by the horns, literally, I might never know why everyone else makes such a big freaking deal about sex. My best friend, Lauren, has assured me that Blake Dempsey is the answer to my most pressing problem. And she speaks from experience.
Tentatively, I pat him on the back, hoping to get him breathing again so we can get back to our conversation, such as it is. Let’s face it—he’s no use to me dead.
As he continues to hack beer out of his airway, people begin to take notice of us, which is the exact opposite of what I wanted. I’d planned to come into the dive bar where Blake has his end-of-the-day beer at exactlysix thirty every night before heading home—alone—make my proposition and walk out of there with him.
I hadn’t counted on him choking on his beer or having the eyes of every man in the place on me as I wait for him to recover and give me an answer. What if he says no? Men never say no to Honey Carmichael, which is part of my problem. I have a reputation for attracting them like bees to. . . well, honey. But I’ve never been tempted to keep one of them, thus my well-earned reputation as a love ’em and leave ’em kind of gal.
It’s not my fault that I’m blessed with thick honey-blonde hair, brown eyes that made the boys start simpering over me in fifth grade and a rack that’s been getting me in trouble since high school. Not to mention the long legs that somehow manage to stay tanned year round and an ass that Tommy Lonergan once referred to as a work of art. So I’ve had my share of men. So what? The one thing I’ve never had is a decent orgasm with a man, which is why I’m still alone at almost thirty and happy that way. Most of the time.
Blake finally quits sputtering long enough to look up at me with eyes still watery from coughing. “You wanna run that by me again?”
“You heard me right the first time.” I resist the urge to fidget and hold his steady gaze.
His steely blue eyes seem to look right through me, as if searching for the truth behind my blatant invitation. As he runs his fingers through a short crop of dirty blond hair, his entire torso ripples with muscles.
My mouth waters at the thought of all those muscles wrapped around me. I lick my lips as my nipples stand up to take notice and my pussy clenches in anticipation. From what I’m told by a reliable source named Lauren, Blake has the biggest cock in town and knows how to use it. That thought causes the throbbing between my legs to intensify. When desperate times call for desperate measures, I believe in hiring the best man for the job. And these are most definitely desperate times.
“What brought this on?” His sexy drawl and the relaxed way he occupies the bar stool belie the intensity of his stare. To look at him, filthy from a day of hard, physical labor, one might dismiss him as just another working man.
One would be mistaken.
Blake runs the most successful construction and renovation business in the area, and judging by his grimy appearance, he works as hard as the many men he employs. On him, the grime only makes him more appealing.
“Did you finally run out of guys to fuck in this town? No one left but me?”
I can’t deny that I’ve probably had too much sex, looking for the elusive something that has other women waxing poetic about the act. To me, it’s nothing special, two bodies coming together to expend some energy. Big deal. I’ve never understood what all the hoopla is about, a sentiment I recently shared with Lauren. After she finished laughing at me, Lauren had said, “If you want to know what the hoopla is about, you need to fuck Blake Dempsey.”
Lauren ought to know. She’d been Blake’s fuck buddy for a short time years ago and had declared him an absolute machine in bed. Lauren assures me that doing the deed with Blake will result in nonstop orgasms and pleasure unlike anything I can possibly imagine. “One night with him,” Lauren had said, “and you won’t wonder anymore.”
“You wouldn’t care?” I’d asked my friend.
Lauren had shrugged. “It was just sex between us. That’s all he’s capable of. Everyone knows that. A girl would be a fool to fall for him, so I took what I could get, and when it was over, it was over. It was a long time ago. Have at him and The Cock.”
Even though I’ve known Blake all my life and have never once considered him boyfriend material—mostly because my best friend dated him ages ago—I’m desperate enough to know what I’ve been missing out on to walk into a bar and utter a sentence that no doubt has my dear, sweet grandmother rolling in her grave.
I can’t think about what Gran would have to say about me unashamedly propositioning a man. All I can think about since the conversation with Lauren a week ago are the words “machine” and “nonstop orgasms.” The best orgasms I’ve ever had are the ones I’ve given myself, thus my need for Blake and his legendary cock.
“Are you gonna answer the question?” Blake drawls.
I snap out of the fog to realize I’ve been staring at him while he waits for me to answer him. “What was the question again?”
“Did you run out of other guys to fuck? Is it down to me?”
I hold back a wince at his judgmental tone. I’m not proud of the number of men I’ve test driven, seeking the hoopla. “What do you care?”
“I don’t.” It’s a well-known fact that Blake Dempsey doesn’t care much about anything other than his family, his business, the people who work for him and a few select friends. He shrugs as he drains the beer bottle and puts it on the bar next to a ten-dollar bill. “It’s your business, not mine.”
When he stands to his full six-foot three-inch height and looks down at me, I nearly swallow my tongue. My nipples stretch against the confines of my bra and tank top, as if they’re reaching for him. I hold my breath waiting to see what he will do.
He brings his head down close to my ear. “Follow me home.” His tone is gruff and sexy and authoritative.
I shiver as my heated core weeps in anticipation. My eyes travel from broad shoulders to lean hips and below where the outline of that legendary cock has me licking my lips once again. Soft faded denim hugs him in all the right places, and it’s all I can do to refrain from reaching for the button and giving it a tug to get things started.
My mouth waters as I pictured his big cock springing free of his clothes, ripe for my mouth, my pussy and anywhere else he chooses to put it.
Once again I shake off the sexual stupor and force myself to meet his gaze. If thinking about sex with him gets me this hot, I can’t imagine what the actual deed might entail.
“Are you coming?”
Even though Lauren had assured me he wouldn’t say no, I’m still insecure enough to be surprised that he accepted my offer. Oh my God, I’m really going to have sex with Blake Dempsey. Resting a hand on his sculpted chest, I say, “Oh yeah, I’ll be coming, and so will you, big boy.” The cocky statement, exactly what he expects from me, covers the quaking going on inside.
A throbbing pulse in his chiseled jaw is the only sign of emotion in his otherwise blank expression as he takes me by the hand and heads for the door.
Mindless of the prying eyes of the other customers, I scramble to keep up with his long-legged stride.
“Where’s your car?” he asks when we’re outside in the fading sunlight.
Heat from the long summer day rolls off the blacktop in scorching waves, but I shiver from the almost predatory way he looks at me. “There.” I point to my tiny silver car with the decal on the side hawking my photo studio.
“I’ll wait for you.” He drops my hand and stalks to his big black truck with his own company emblem on the side. His long strides eat up the pavement. I watch him go, fascinated, by the way his jeans hug his muscular ass. I can’t wait to see if his ass looks as good naked as it does in denim. Who am I kidding? It’ll look even better.
I order my quivering legs to move. They finally get the message, and I rush to my car, managing to drop my keys in the dusty dirt parking lot. I bend to get them and am scorched by awareness. As I stand up, I venture a glance at his truck and find him watching me intently, his entire focus on my ass. The quaking begins anew as I get into the car and fumble some more with the keys before managing to get the car started. At this rate, I’ll need an insane asylum before I ever get what I want from Blake.
His truck leaves a cloud of dust in its wake as he pulls out of the parking lot onto Highway 90, heading out of downtown Marfa, Texas. The sun is a ball of fire in the sky as I follow him at a safe distance. The last thing I need is to smash into his back end because I’m such a nervous fool. It’s not like I’ve never come on to a guy before. I have. Too many times, but this guy has always been so remote and off-limits that it took all my courage to walk into that bar and say the line that Lauren and I rehearsed until I got it just right. My hands are trembling and sweaty as I reach for my phone.
“What’d he say?” Lauren asks when she picks up on the first ring.
“I’m following him home.”
“To his house?”
“This is huge! He never takes women to his place.” Lauren lets out a shrill squeal. “I’m so jealous!”
Instantly alarmed, I swerve before I right the car. “You said you didn’t care!” I can’t lose Lauren, the closest thing to family I have left. “I’ll call it off right now if you don’t want me to go with him.”
“I’m not jealous about him. I’m jealous that you get to be with The Cock.”
I swallow hard. “It can’t be that different from all the others.”
Lauren’s dirty chuckle comes through the phone. “Oh, Honey. . . You have no idea what you’re in for. Tomorrow, when you’re walking bow-legged, remember I told you so.”
A bead of sweat slides down my backbone. Propping the phone between my ear and shoulder, I turn the AC on high and follow the black truck as it hangs a left onto Antelope Hills Road. “You always did exaggerate, Lo.”
Lauren snorts with laughter. “You’ll know soon enough that I’m not exaggerating. Call me in the morning. I want every, single detail. In fact, if you could take notes, that’d be great.”
“Shut up.”
“Honey. . .”
The unusual seriousness in Lauren’s voice has me immediately on guard. “What?”
“Ever since your Gran died, you’ve been looking for a place to call home again. It’s not going to be with him. No matter what happens, don’t forget that. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
Blake’s story is well known around town. He blames himself for the car accident our senior year of high school that had claimed the life of his girlfriend, Jordan Pullman, who’d also been a friend of mine and Lauren’s. The loss of Jordan had rocked our entire class, but no one more so than Blake. Even after the police ruled that the accident was the fault of the other driver, Blake continued to blame himself. He’d kept his distance from people—especially women—ever since, throwing his considerable energy into his business. Occasionally, he took a lover, but he never kept her for long.
My story is equally well known. Abandoned at the church when I was days old, Nora Carmichael, who’d never married, took me in and raised me as her own. Because Nora was in her early sixties when I came to live with her, I always called her “Gran.” She died ten years ago when I was only twenty, leaving me to fend for myself in an unforgiving world. I’ve done okay, all things considered, but it’s been a struggle.
“Call me in the morning?” Lauren says.
“I will.”
“Remember: Only sex.”
“I gotcha.”
“Did you use the ‘I want you to fuck me’ line?” Lauren asks. We’d debated a number of ice-breaking lines and had settled on the most direct of the many choices.
“Sure did.”
“I need to try that one on Garrett.”
Poor Lauren has been lusting for years after Garrett McKinley, accountant to Blake’s company and most of the other businesses in town. “What’s stopping you?”
“Um, only the fact that he thinks I’m a brainless floozy.”
“You’re neither brainless nor a floozy. Look at what a booming business you’ve made of the flower shop. How can he think you’re brainless?”
“Maybe because I act that way any time he’s in the same zip code as me?”
“I still say you should hire him to do your books. Then he’ll find out how full of brains you really are.”
“Not happening. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.”
I watch Blake pull into a driveway a block in front of me. The door on a two-car garage goes up and Blake pulls in. “I gotta go. We’re at his house.”
“Just sex,” Lauren says one more time.
“I heard you the first ten times. Bye, Lo.” Ending the call, I repeat Lauren’s refrain. “Just sex.” The last place in the world I’m going to find my home is in the arms of the most remote man I know. Determined to take this one night, and only this one night, with him and “The Cock”—a thought that makes me giggle nervously—I follow Blake’s hand signal to pull into the empty half of the two-car garage.
By the time I make it out of my car and into the laundry room that adjoins the garage, he’s removed his work boots and stripped down to boxer briefs that hug his tight ass.
I stare at the muscles on his back that taper down to that most excellent butt—and wonder if we’re going to get busy right here. I clear my throat to remind him I’m here.
He seems in no particular rush as he tosses his clothes into a front-loading washer, adds detergent and starts the cycle. Then, as if I’m not there, he goes into the kitchen.
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to follow him, but I do it anyway.
He hands me a piece of paper. “Tell them to send my usual and get whatever you want.”
I somehow manage to tear my gaze from the most lickable male chest and ripped abs I’ve ever seen to glance at the red and green print on the paper. I recognize the logo of Pizza Foundation. “They don’t deliver.”
“They do for me. I pay extra.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He shoots me a meaningful look. “I worked all day, and if I’m going to be expected to work all night, too, I need fuel—and so do you.”
A burst of heat creeps from my chest to my face as the implications of his statement settle on me. All nightWhoa.
“Make the call. I’m going to grab a shower. There’re drinks in the fridge. Help yourself.”
For a long moment after he leaves the room, I stand motionless in the middle of a nicer-than-expected kitchen. What the hell am I doing here? Did I really go to the bar Blake Dempsey frequents and ask him to fuck me? “You’ve lost what’s left of your mind.”
I could cut my losses and leave while he’s in the shower. Sure, the few times a year that I run into Blake at the grocery store or post office or at the home of a mutual friend would be awkward from now on, but I can live with that if it means saving some face.
My cell phone chimes with a new text message that jostles me out of my temporary paralysis. Digging into my purse, I pull out my phone. From Lauren: No matter what, don’t chicken out. You’ll be sorry forever if you do. Trust me on that!
As always, Lauren’s timing is impeccable. Sucking in a deep breath and releasing it, I call in the pizza order and then take a beer from the fridge. If there’s ever been a time for liquid courage, this is surely it.

Laura's Review:

I'm kind of liking this trend in romance of character-driven stories that are refreshingly honest and unabashedly unashamed in their desires and how to get them fulfilled. Don't let the title and tagline fool you - this isn't just some naughty bit of erotica masquerading as romantic fiction - it's a wonderful, heartwarming story with beautiful characters that just happen to like sex a whole lot. There's potential for a spin-off here, and I certainly hope Marie Force continues along these lines with her next book!

4/5 stars

Note: A copy of this book was provided in exchange of this honest review.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Release Blitz and Giveaway: Playing it Cool by Amy Andrews



"Score one for the curvy girls"
Playing it Cool by Amy Andrews!
Standalone. Sports Romance.

Pre-order NOW!

playing it cool cover.jpg

Score one for the curvy girls!

Harper Nugent might have a little extra junk in her trunk, but her stepbrother calling her out on it is the last straw... When rugby hottie, Dexter Blake, witnesses the insult, he surprises Harper by asking her out. In front of her dumbass brother. Score! Of course, she knows it's not for reals, but Dex won't take no for an answer.

Dexter Blake's life revolves around rugby with one hard and fast rule: no women. Sure, his left hand is getting a workout, but he's focused on his career for now. Then he overhears an asshat reporter belittle the curvy chick he'd been secretly ogling. What's a guy to do but ask her out? It's just a little revenge against a poser, and then he'll get his head back in the game.

But the date is better than either expected. So is the next one. And the next. And the heat between them...sizzles their clothes right off.

Suddenly, this fake relationship is feeling all too real…

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Laura's Review
This was a quick, fun read - I read the whole thing in one sitting on a plane ride from Denver to New York. It had enough substance to keep it interesting without being overly angst-ridden. I love it when guys appreciate curves, but I love it even more when they stand up to bullying family members (for whatever reason.) There might have been just a little too much discussion about those aforementioned curves - I would love for a book to feature a bigger heroine without making it a main storyline that a hot guy could be attracted to that. Overall, a very enjoyable read which made me want to enter the giveaway to get my hands on more Amy Andrews' books (see below to enter!)

Playing it Cool: 4/5 stars

Dexter Blake liked a woman with some junk in her trunk. And the tall, curvy chick on the sidelines was packing a whole lot of booty. She had one of those itty-bitty waists, too. And her cups floweth’d over.
Staring at her chest was practically a religious experience.
Unfortunately, she only had eyes for Chuck Nugent, the pretty boy sports reporter for Channel Five. He was currently doing his sycophantish spiel on the field, a cameraman following him around as he interviewed the players still milling around for their obligatory post-match interviews.
She was impatient for his attention, too, if her pacing was anything to go by.
Lucky bastard.
As far as Dex was concerned, she could keep pacing. Watching everything jiggle was the cherry on the top of his pie tonight. There was nothing better than winning a hard-fought game of rugby union. But watching a fine-looking woman strutting her stuff came a very close second.
“I’d say don’t look now, booty at six o’clock, but I can see you’re ahead of me.”
Dex smiled at Tanner Stone, the captain of the Sydney Smoke and his good mate, as he pulled up beside him then dropped at the waist to stretch out his hamstrings.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Hey, Dex,” Bodie Webb said as he pulled up on the other side. “Your kinda ass on the sideline.”
A low whistle came from behind them. “I hope you’re planning on hitting that, Dex,” Lincoln Quinn murmured as he also appeared, casually waving at some teenage girls hollering at him from the dispersing crowd.
Dex chuckled. “Since when did you all turn into pimps?”
Linc clapped him on the back. “Just lending a hand.”
“Thanks. I can get my own ass.”
And, sadly, as much as sideline-chick ticked every box, her ass was off-limits. One look at her told him she was the kind of girl a guy loved. Got into a relationship with. The kind he married. Made babies with.
She was the commitment type.
Over a decade of avoiding romantic entanglements had alerted Dex to the signs, and this woman had I don’t do casual written all over her.
And he didn’t do commitment. His career came first. He’d fought hard for his place on the team, and at thirty, he probably only had a few good years left. He couldn’t afford to take his eyes off the ball for a second. He knew how easy it was to lose everything. To have it all go to shit when you least expected it.
He was never going back to Perry Hill.
There would be time for commitment later. Rugby was it for now.
“But you don’t,” Tanner said.
“Just because I don’t walk around with a permanent hard-on like Linc—”
Everyone ignored Linc’s half-hearted protest. The cocky back rower wore his horniness like a badge of frickin’ honour. “—doesn’t mean I go without.”
And if he did—it was none of their damn business.
Chuck finished his interview with the skipper of the losing team and, spotting Tanner, headed toward them.
“Christ,” Dex said. “Dickhead approaching.”
Tanner sighed. “Best to just think of our contracts and smile for the camera.”
“Ooh, helllllo,” Bodie purred. “She’s on the move, too.”
Dex’s gaze flicked to the woman again, tracking her progress as she hurried after Chuck. Her hips swung enticingly and her chest moved interestingly beneath her T-shirt.
Christ, it was a turn-on.
“Chuck,” she called, hurrying to catch up with him.
Idiot. Dex would never let a woman trail behind him like that. Not when she could walk in front and he could check out her luscious ass.
“What in hell does she see in that guy?” Bodie asked.
Dex had no idea, but the urge to throttle the smarmy reporter—something that was never far from the surface—spewed like the sudden rush of a geyser in his chest.
“Chuck,” she called, louder this time, almost caught up with him.
Dickhead stopped. Turned. Then glared before looking around him as if he was embarrassed. He hissed, “What the fuck, Harper?” He’d kept his voice low, but the edge of fury carried it farther than Dex was sure Chuck would have liked.
“I told you to stay in the stands, not embarrass me by running onto the goddamn field in a pair of jeans you’ve barely managed to squeeze your lard ass into. I have a certain image to maintain, and it does not involve being followed around by fat chicks.”
Dex’s jaw clamped tight as the hackles rose on the back of his neck. Fat chick? He could see the stain of red creeping up her neck from here, and the spewing geyser in his chest turned viscous, like lava.
“God, he’s a fuckwit,” Bodie whispered.
“Excuse me,” Dex growled.
Lava burning in his chest, he strode purposefully toward Chuck and the woman, who was hissing something back at the reporter Dex couldn’t quite hear. He was sweaty and dirty and every damn muscle bitched at him, but Dex paid none of it any heed.
The urge to deck the smarmy front man rode him hard, but by the time he pulled up beside Chuck, Dex had another plan.
A better plan.
One that involved less potential penalty. And more potential booty.
“Hey, Chuck,” he said, forcing himself to smile as he clapped the reporter hard on the back. It was satisfying to hear a strained, involuntary cough from the man.
“Oh Dex, hi,” Chuck said, sleazy smile in place, turning as if he were trying to block the woman from Dex’s view.
No chance with those puny coat hanger shoulders.
“Great game tonight,” Chuck enthused. “If you could just give me thirty seconds, I’ll be right over.”
“Actually, Chuck,” Dex glanced at the woman and smiled at her. She was even more magnificent up close, with a whole lot of pissed-off glittering in the depths of her Marsala brown eyes. “I was hoping you might introduce me to the lady.”
It was amusing to watch the pretty boy almost choke on his tongue. For a moment, Dex thought he was going to say lady, what lady? But he finally turned to acknowledge the woman behind him. “Of course. This is Harper…Nugent. My…”
The woman—Harper—folded her arms across her chest, and all the blood rushed from Dex’s big head to his little one. “Come on, Chuck, you can say it,” she said, her voice dry with amused sarcasm. “It starts with S. Ssssister.”
Something eased in Dex’s chest. So she was not getting naked with Pretty Boy. There was a God.
“Step!” Chuck said quickly, his voice sharp.
She rolled her eyes as she smiled at Dex and offered her hand. He absently noted there were streaks of paint on her fingers. “Nice to meet you.”
Dex was a tall guy. Big. Not as big as some of the team’s front row, but he was still six foot and had trouble buying shirts that weren’t tight in the shoulders. This tall—hell, Amazonian—woman could look him straight in the eye. He’d never met a woman who could do that in a pair of flats, and it was a strange kind of turn-on.
“The pleasure’s entirely mine,” he murmured, returning her firm and sure grip with one of his own.
He liked a woman who could handshake like a boss.
“Yes…anyway,” Chuck said, his expression pained, as Harper’s hand fell away. “Harper has to run. A girlfriend crisis or something.”
Dex’s eyebrow kicked up. A girlfriend crisis? A crushing sense of disappointment slugged him in the chest.
She was a lesbian?
She laughed and shook her head. “Not that kind of girlfriend.”
His gaze was drawn to her mouth, a plush, sexy crescent in the midst of her flawless olive complexion. He didn’t think she was wearing any makeup, but she was sporting some kind of clear lip gloss that emphasized the luscious curve of her lips.
They glistened, wet and tempting.
Dex laughed, too, as relief flowed like champagne bubbles through his veins. “I am so pleased to hear that.”
Chuck cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. I have to interview the team.” He looked pointedly at his sister.
“Fine. Just don’t forget to pick up Jace and Tabby after you’re done. They’re fine in the stands with Jenny while you wrap up, but she can’t take them home and I’ve told your mother that you’re bringing her kids now instead of me.”
“I’m not going to bloody forget them, Harper,” Chuck replied testily.
She shot an apologetic smile at Dex then turned to go. He and Chuck watched her. The outline of her sexy, rounded butt in the denim of her jeans actually made Dex a little light-headed. It was a sight to behold.
“God, she has a fat ass,” Chuck muttered, disgust colouring his voice.
Dex’s hands tightened to fists. What a monumental wanker. He opened his mouth before he engaged his brain. “Harper! Wait up.”
She looked over her shoulder, a puzzled expression drawing a crease between her brows. “Dex,” Chuck said, putting a hand on Dex’s arm as he took a step in Harper’s direction.
“Tanner’s waiting,” Dex said, shaking off the hand before jogging the short distance to where she’d stopped.
“Hey,” she said, tossing the long strands of her rich dark hair behind her shoulder, clearly still puzzled.
He smiled. “I was hoping you might like to go out with me one night.”
She blinked, the crease between her eyebrows almost cavernous now. “Oh.”
Dex chuckled. It wasn’t the standard response he got from women. Normally, they were tripping over themselves to be asked out by him. Hell, most of them didn’t wait to be asked. It was well known that he didn’t generally date, so they were more than happy to do the asking.
A man with a less healthy ego might have been insulted by Harper’s tepid response. But he could sense her reticence was real as she glanced at the guys to her left, all gawking and smirking, clearly talking about them. Her gaze travelled over his shoulder to where Chuck stood—glaring, if the prickle between Dex’s shoulder blades was anything to go by.
Her gaze returned to him. “Um…”
Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought. He looked pointedly at the mobile she held. “Give me your phone.”
She glanced at it for a moment, frowning some more. “Why?”
Dex gave an exaggerated sigh and plucked it out of her unresisting hand. “It’s okay,” he assured her as she murmured a protest, and his fingers busily navigating to her address book. “I’m just going to put my number in because obviously I don’t have my phone available to put yours into mine.”
She crossed her arms as she watched him enter the details, and it took him twice as long.
“There,” he said, passing the phone back to her.
She glanced at the entry, and his heart tap-danced in his chest as a smile pulled at the curve of her mouth. She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Dex the Stud?”
He grinned and shrugged. “What can I say?”
“And what do you expect me to do with this?”
“As soon as you’re done with your girlfriend thing, give it a ring and we can set up a time and a place for our date.”
“Well, that’s a step up from the last guy, who put his number into my phone hoping I’d send him nude photos,” she said, her tone flippant.
Dex blinked. What the actual fuck? “Absolutely no class.”
“Well, to be fair, he did request arty ones.”
He laughed. “Hey.” He held his hands up in faux surrender. “Never let it be said that I stand in the way of artistic expression, if you feel so inclined with my number. But definitely lose his.”
She laughed back, and it grabbed him by the balls. Like everything else about her, it was big and rich and real. But then her gaze flicked over his shoulder again, and her smile slowly slipped from her face.
Dex gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re not going to ring it, are you?”
She shook her head, a glossy smile playing on her glossy mouth. “No chance in hell.”
She glanced at her stepbrother again. “Some things just aren’t worth the hassle.”
Dex couldn’t agree more. But he didn’t think Harper Nugent was one of them. Undeterred, he grabbed for her phone again, his reflexes lightning fast after a decade of professional rugby. “You leave me no choice,” he chided as he quickly rang his own number.
“Hi, Dex the Stud,” he said as the ring tone eventually gave way to his message bank. “It’s Dex.” He waggled his brows at Harper, and she smiled and rolled her eyes. “I’m ringing to remind you to call Harper Nugent on this number and ask her on a date again. Do not take no for an answer. Even”—he grinned at her—“if she offers nude arty photos in lieu.”
Dex hit the end button and passed the phone back to her. “There now. You’re in my phone. And I will be ringing you.”
She glanced at the phone then at him before flicking a look at the guys again. Linc was grinning like a loon as he shot Dex two thumbs-up.
“Sure you will,” she said, the tight, polite smile on her face making Dex want to slap Linc upside the head.
She bade him farewell and walked away, and for the first time in his life, Dex looked forward to something other than rugby and inflicting bodily harm on Linc.
Harper’s phone rang three hours later. She was a bottle of wine down with her best friend Em, who was in the middle of a boyfriend-number-sixteen crisis. Em was cute, peppy, and up for anything.
She just had really lousy taste in men.
When Em went into a relationship, she went all in, something which Harper had always admired even if her friend consistently chose the wrong guys to be “in” with. The type who were only out for a good time, not a long time. But she always sprang back, and Harper was in awe of her friend’s tenacity and absolute conviction that the right person was out there for everyone.
Although not tonight. While Harper was drinking wine, Em’s breakup booze of choice was butterscotch schnapps, and tonight it was leading her to seriously consider becoming a nun. To prove her seriousness, she was currently Googling how to re-virginise.
So, Harper was both tipsy and completely distracted when she answered the phone.
“Hi,” she said as Em made gagging noises at pictures on a website she was skimming.
“Hey, Harper.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up in instant awareness as they had earlier tonight when Dexter Blake had singled her out for a bit of attention.
Her mind went blank for a beat or two. He rang?
Of course he had. She had clearly been some kind of bet or dare or something with his team buddies. At twenty-three, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d been the butt of some douche’s idea of a good time. I dare you to ask the fat chick out. Snigger, snort, backslap.
Some men were such assholes.
But it had been so good, even momentarily, to put her sanctimonious step-brother in his place.
“Harper? It’s Dex the Stud. Remember me?”
His voice was warm and rich with amusement, and Harper shut her eyes. Remember him? She’d relived him asking her out about a dozen times, no matter how much she’d told herself it had all been some sick joke. It had been the first thing she’d told Em after her friend had stopped crying and asked for something happy to cheer her up.
Then they’d Googled him.
His voice was sharper this time and Harper pulled herself together, sitting straighter in the chair. “Yes. Of course… Hi.”
“You sound kinda…outta it.”
Harper eyed the empty wine bottle and the full one she’d just cracked open. “Well…I’m kinda drunk, so that’s probably why.”
His low chuckle slid seductive fingers down her neck. “The girlfriend emergency?”
Em looked over her shoulder. “Who is it?”
Her eyebrows practically hit her hairline. “The rugby dude?”
“Is that the girlfriend?” Dex asked in her ear.
“Yup,” she said to them both.
“Ask him if he knows how to re-virginise.”
Harper shook her head. “I’m not asking him that.”
“Asking me what?” His voice sounded delicious when it was amused. Thick and gooey, oozing all over her body. Like chocolate topping.
God, she loved chocolate topping.
“You should totally ask me whatever it is.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“Are you kidding?” Em interrupted. “He’s a professional rugby star. Everyone knows they get laid all the time. What he doesn’t know about a woman’s anatomy probably isn’t worth knowing. He’ll know about re-virginising.”
Harper thought it more likely he’d know about de-virginising.
“Did she just say re-virginising?”
Had Harper been sober, she would have paid more heed to Em’s sage words about the mating habits of professional sportsmen and not the sweet seduction of a chocolate-topping voice. She sighed. “Yup.”
“Why would anyone want to re-virginise? Hell… Can someone re-virginise?”
“I don’t know and yes, apparently, according to the internet. Spiritually and surgically.”
“That sounds…painful.”
Harper laughed. “Yes. For both.”
“And seriously, would you want some strange dude with a scalpel down near your lady parts?”
She shuddered. “I can think of better uses for a dude down near my lady parts.” His bark of laughter was loud in her ear, and she realised what she said. Her face flamed. “Oh God, sorry. I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“You certainly did, Harper Nugent.”
“I take it back.”
“Oh no,” he chuckled some more. “You can’t take that back.”
Harper groaned internally. Jesus. Where was her filter? She glanced at the wine bottle. Somewhere at the bottom of that, no doubt.
“Fine. Ignore it then. It’s the booze. White wine makes me mouthy.”
“I can’t wait to see that.”
His voice had dropped an octave and roughened with the merest hint of a promise. It went straight to those aforementioned lady parts, and Harper actually squirmed in her chair to ease the sudden ache.
“She’s not serious, is she?”
It took her a moment to realise he’d moved on, and she leaped at the opportunity gratefully. “No. She’s pissed. Both at men and in the alcoholic sense.” Em had already been several shots of Schnapps down when Harper arrived. “Re-virginising is just one of many options we’ve already discussed tonight. I think she wants to make a voodoo doll next.”
He laughed again. “I like the sound of her.”
Harper sighed, looking at the gorgeous mop of caramel curls and the alabaster wedge of cheekbone making up Em’s profile. She looked like one of those babies from old-fashioned adverts for Pears soap. Only all grown-up.
“She’s gorgeous. You should ask her out. You’d make beautiful babies.”
There was a long pause. Long enough to make Harper think, somewhere in her alcohol-addled brain, babies were not on Dexter Blake’s agenda.
“Thanks,” he said, voice low and amused. “I think I’ll stick with my original plan, though.”
“You and me. A date.”
“Oh.” Harper’s stomach tightened. She’d seen the way his teammates had been watching them tonight. The way the younger guy had given the thumbs up. She could have kissed Dex for his timing, but a girl had her pride, right? Plus she never wanted to be one of those people who were gossiped about for punching above her weight.
“Look. I’m very flattered that you want to go out on a date with me, but—”
“You should do it,” Em interrupted.
Harper blinked at her best friend. “What?”
“I told you I liked the sound of her,” Dex said in her ear.
Em shrugged. “It’d be worth it just to piss off Chuckers.” If it was possible, Em disliked Chuck more than Harper did.
Harper considered that angle for moment, her head still spinning a little. It was a powerful argument. Why not? If Dex was using her to win some kind of ridiculous frat boy dare, why shouldn’t she use him, too?
“Okay, fine.” Clearly there was a level of drunk where pride rapidly diminished. “But I’m not sleeping with you. Or letting you anywhere near my lady parts.”
That low chuckle again. It ruffled seductively along flesh and nerve endings, and Harper fought the urge to stretch. And purr.
“You know you said that out loud, too, right?”
The lazy smile in his voice ruffled things even lower. “Yes. I know.”
“I will be on my best behaviour. I promise I won’t even bring condoms.”
Sober Harper nodded, pleased with the concession. Drunk, uninhibited Harper knew full well he could ruin her without the aid of a condom, and she seemed perfectly fine with that, too.
Uninhibited Harper was dangerous. She was going to have to cut that bitch off at the knees.
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About the Author
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Amy Andrews is a multi-published, award- winning author of 50+ romance novels across both traditional and digital platforms. She writes for Harlequin Mills and Boon, Entangled, Harper Collins Australia, Momentum Publishing, Escape Publishing and Tule. She's sold in excess of a million books worldwide and has been translated into over a dozen languages. In her spare time she is a PICU nurse and mother of two teenagers. She lives on acreage on the outskirts of Brisbane, Australia but secretly wishes it was the hillsides of Tuscany.

If you want to keep utd with all her latest releases and exclusive content you can sign up for her newsletter here - http://www.amyandrews.com.au/newsletter.html

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