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CONNECT WITH CLAIRE RAYE
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CONNECT WITH EMMA LOUISE
BY JANICE M. WHITEAKER
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JANICE M. WHITEAKER
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CONNECT WITH
JEANNINE COLETTE
CONNECT WITH
LAUREN RUNOW
Most people wouldn’t touch short-term rental properties, but since my business partner took off with my client list, I need every deal I can get. Enter, one insanely sexy and completely exasperating Camden Reid.
The smug executive found fault with every property I showed him. Too cramped. Too feminine. Too far from a decent pub.
Somewhere between the first property and the zillionth, though, my attraction to Camden grew impossible to ignore.
Little did I know how addicted I’d become, or just how unforgettable my time with Camden would be.
After all, I knew we had an expiration date.
Except our ending was one I didn't see coming.
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JENNIFER WOODHULL
BY KATHRYN M. HEARST
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KATHRYN M. HEARST
BY KATHY COOPMANS
No woman wants to say those words. No woman who is still in love with her husband anyway.
Our marriage has been tested, repeatedly.
It’s been dragged through tabloids and rumors and fans that just won’t let us be.
Through it all, we’ve remained unbreakable.
We didn’t have the perfect marriage because perfection doesn’t exist.
But we had love. We had trust. We had chemistry that to this day sets everything inside me on fire.
Then one life-threatening statement creates a chain of lies that leaves me no choice but to say those horrible words.
I never thought I’d say them.
I never thought my husband would ignore me when I did.
I never thought the man I love would sever the vows we took.
I never thought I’d pack my bags and move from our home in L.A. to our getaway cottage in Hermosa Beach.
Then again, I never thought he'd choose the fate of his life over his fate with me.
BY NATALIE ANN
BY NICOLE S. GOODIN
BY T.L. SMITH
So, I do what any girl in my position would do. I tell him to get lost and take his arrogant, annoying smirk with him. I never expect to see him again. I certainly don’t expect to run into him that same night after one too many tequila shots.
Turns out that he’s kind of a big deal. Okay, fine, a really big deal. In fact, he might be the one person who can take my game to the next level.
Convincing him to help will be difficult.
Not throwing my club at his handsome face when he makes me work harder than I thought humanly possible will be excruciating.
But not falling for him will be the hardest thing of all.
I am kind of at a loss as to what I am feeling about this book. Which is really weird. I know my head is still at this very distracted place that is making it very hard for me to get lost in reading any book, but obviously I signed up to review these books because I was very excited to read them. So when they land on my kindle I get that little flutter but then I have to physically force myself to sit down and read. And a book I would normally inhale in a day is taking me two or three days to get through and it’s driving me nuts.
So while I read this and liked it, I was super distracted and part of that, i’ll be honest is that golf bores me to tears. But the majority of it is simply me. And sadly the distraction made me feel like I wasn’t hugely connected to the characters and the storyline. But I love Rebecca Jenshak’s Smart Jocks Series so much. And I really loved getting little nods to them in this book.
Lincoln wasn’t a character I loved. He was kind of a meh hero for me. I understand where he was coming from in holding back on a relationship with Keira but it annoyed me a little and if he were a heroine I would be screaming at him through my kindle. But I think since he was a man and he felt his justifications so deeply I kind of forgave him a little bit but I really wanted him to man up a lot sooner.
Keira was great. I loved her drive and dedication, she made me feel like a real slacker as I ate chips and drank wine and read about her busting her arse to improve her sport. And man did she work for everything she wanted. And I was right there cheering for her at all of her victories. I really wanted her coach to get hit by a bus but never mind maybe that can be in the next book ;)
I enjoyed the writing style and I love college, sports romances. It was nice to have a slight age gap, it added a bit of reality into the book and I really did feel like both characters were genuine people I could meet on the street, well maybe not me since I’ll be at home reading and don’t talk to strangers but you get my drift. I can’t wait to see where this series is going to go.
Disaster
Dakota Issacs
(Love in the Apple, #3)
Publication date: March 2nd 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
Outright Disaster
A chastity belt you can wear on your head.
All Audra wants is for the Salon Apprentice to try and fix it. When she refuses Audra has no choice but to write a review warning other New Yorkers away from this over hyped salon.
When the salon manages to pull down the review, Audra declares war.
It becomes her mission to post pictures of her bad hair on every photo share app she can find.
Then her enemy comes for her. Hamish Stuart: the hair whisperer himself. Over six feet of beautifully muscled Scotsman that’s used to having supermodels and A list Actresses fall at his feet.
Now that he’s met her he wants more than apologies. He wants her heart.
Excerpt
“I thought you deserved a little reward. You’ve had a rough couple of days. While you were sitting in my chair, I thought of some stress relief strategies we might try. This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to put your hands on the glass and steady yourself. Then you’re going to spread your legs and try to keep quiet. It’s one-way glass but the room isn’t soundproofed.”
“What are you….?” Her voice is a strangled whisper. She barely manages to push the words out.
“Simple. I’m gonna see how many times I can make you come in a half an hour lass. If that doesn’t sound appealing, you can always go sit back down in that chair. Otherwise spread your legs, put your hands on that glass, and try to stay quiet.”
“Is this some game you play with every woman who comes up to this room?”
I step in front of her so she can see my eyes.
“Never played this game with anyone but you lass. I don’t mix business, and pleasure. I’ve worked too hard to build all of this. I’m calling in the girlfriend exemption to my rule.”
“Girlfriend? I think you may be out of your mind.”
“Times a wasting.”
She shakes her head like she’s trying to clear it but then she turns around and puts her hands on the glass.
“Well done.” I stand behind her and slide both my hands under the robe till I reach her luscious ass. I give both cheeks a good squeeze and then start to massage it. I move my hands firmly up her ribcage, whispering compliments as I go.
How luscious her ass is, how perfect. How she’s so tiny yet curved in all the right places. How later when I can get her naked and take my time, my mouth will learn every inch of her skin.
While I’m talking, I’m running my hands over her body. She makes a sweet cry. I slide my hands under her shirt, and free her tits from the bra. They fit perfectly in my hands. I run my thumbs over her nipples. I lean down and sink my teeth into her neck. Give her a little love bite to increase the pleasure.
“Oh God, Oh God….”
“No, no, not God lass, Hamish and you’ve got to be quiet. Remember? I’ve barely touched you. What’s going to happen when I touch that beautiful cunt of yours, and stroke your clit? We’ve barely started.” This makes her cry out in earnest. My girl is responsive all right. The slightest touch makes her quiver.
I can’t wait any longer. I untie her robe, then I grip her yoga pants in each hand and firmly pull them down. She moans and I pull her panties down as well.
“Imagine if anyone knew what we were up to. You’re such a dirty girl, Audra. That lovely pussy on display. They have no idea you’re standing there watching them as you get finger fucked.”
Audra:
He’s crazy. Girlfriend. He’s known me what maybe four hours? Hell, if he’s crazy than what am I? Pressed up against the glass half naked, getting more pleasure from this stranger’s hands than I’ve ever gotten in my life. It’s so wrong watching those people downstairs go about their day while they have no idea what we’re doing. I know it’s wrong, yet this is the most intense experience I’ve had in my life.
“Oh my God,” his hand has slid down my leg and now he’s cupping my pussy.
“Shh… you’re dripping lass, completely soaked for me.”
I am and his dirty words only make me wetter. No one has ever talked to me like this and I love it.
One of his hands is kneading my ass and the other is doing the most wonderful things to my clit. I can barely catch my breath. I don’t just feel him on my clit. I feel him everywhere. Every particle of my body is aching and alive.
His hand leaves my ass and moves up to my pussy. He slips one of his big fingers inside of me and starts a slow assault, all the time rubbing my clit with the same steady circles. It’s too much. I come so hard my knee’s buckle. His strong arm catches me around the waist holding me up.
“Steady. Your time’s not up yet.”
He keeps an arm around my waist while his other hand wanders lower. This time I come so hard I see stars. He doesn’t relent. His fingers work me through the orgasm and push me higher and higher till I come screaming with Hamish’s hand planted firmly over my mouth.
“I can see right now we are going to have to work on your stamina, lass.”
Author Bio
I’m Dakota Issacs. I live in Manhattan with my husband where I drink too much coffee and read too many books. I love all sorts of romance from Historical to Contemporary. I write Contemporary Romances that are sweet with heat. You’ll always find a happy ending with no cliffhangers. If you want to talk books drop me a note at dakotaissacs@gmail.com. I would love to hear from you.
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“Fine,” I mouth, cupping my hands around my lips and shouting, “Go Eagles!” as loud as I can. The sheer volume of my own voice, the togetherness of this moment, all of it—it infects me. My smile quits being pretend, and I get caught up in my role. I have a part to play, albeit probably not as important as everyone thinks, but for the next three hours, I will be a superfan. For the next three hours, nothing matters more than winning this game and destroying some school from South Bend.
The young men on the field shout in unison, growling with testosterone and pounding into each other, smacking helmets to helmets and gripping at facemasks to amp up their game faces. They explode through the banner, confetti covering the corner of the field as it’s fired from a few cannons held by some of our cheerleaders. Lucas is the first to break through, holding an American flag as he sprints straight down the center of the field, his co-captains running behind him with two Eagles flags.
My All-American boy.
He was so much younger the last time I saw him run like this. He was a leader that seemed too small to lead, but now—now he’s the guy with the V that cuts down his abs and whose arms completely fill out the sleeves of his jersey; whose neck doesn’t seem so pencil-thin anymore. His sweaty hair is swept to either side, and the black lines swiped under his eyes somehow make him seem like this superhero.
A hero who abandoned me when he got popular and when my life fell to shit, I remind myself.
The team captains are met by one of the coaches at the fifty-yard line. He takes their flags to fold them while the boys huddle up to pray. It’s such a blatant disregard for the separation of church and state, yet it seems nothing could be more important than this bonding happening in front of us all. More than the quiet power of the moment, though, is that Lucas is the one leading the prayer. Arms over shoulders, circles standing within circles, these boys who I’ve seen do the most unchristian-like things give respect to his words. I wish I could hear him or be close enough to read his lips. Some of the boys look up to the sky, a few of them holding their helmets high while their heads lower. Lucas’s eyes are closed, and there’s an innocence in his features, that much I can see from here. They all start clapping and an echoing “Amen” accompanies their formation of a tighter circle until the clapping becomes thunder and soon . . . fuel.
Lucas is the last to walk away from this private spot on the field. His head down, I recognize the familiar invisible weight on his shoulders. Even as kids, he always felt so damn responsible for everything and everyone. Especially for me. He rode his bike through rain to sneak me my favorite candy bar when my parents were fighting downstairs. And he insisted we fall asleep still on our phone call to each other if I felt scared or off. He sensed things when I didn’t share. He took burdens from me, whether I wanted him to or not, and shouldered them until he was sure my smile was real again.
I miss him. I miss him so fucking much.
I press my palms into my eyes while my friends aren’t looking, and manage to stop myself from feeling all of this somewhere so public. In less than a minute, the game takes over and distracts me from anything other than the anticipation and hope that brews in my belly every time Lucas throws the ball. He’s gotten better. I understand why his opportunity window is so big. There’s an easiness to the way he moves, and it’s more than instinct. He has plenty of that, though, after throwing the ball down our street to his dad every night—a million which ways and for hours on end. They haven’t thrown since freshman year, but that’s probably because Lucas has outgrown what his dad can give him.
A sucker for a good romance, Ginger’s other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. (She’s also a sucker for a hot quarterback, catcher, pitcher, point guard…the list goes on.) Ginger has been writing and editing for newspapers, magazines and blogs for more than 15 years. She has told the stories of Olympians, politicians, actors, scientists, cowboys, criminals and towns. For more on her and her work, visit her website at http://www.littlemisswrite.com.
When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).
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