Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Every Princess needs a Prince Charming…

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Every Princess needs a Prince Charming…

When a masked girl throws herself at Shawn Finch at a costume party, the hotshot football player assumes she’s just another girl trying to get his attention. Except she’s not just any girl. She’s his Cinderella, the nameless girl in the pale blue dress who got away.

Desperate to find her, Finch searches for his mystery girl with no luck. So, it must be fate when Finch’s grade point average drops and the school assigns him a tutor not knowing they just handed over his Cinderella.

After having a crush on Finch since the first time she spotted him on campus, one kiss was all she’d ever wanted. But Finch has other plans once he discovers the truth about his tutor

Cover Designer: Michele Catalano, Michele Catalano Creative,

Jillian Quinn is the international bestselling romance author of the Face-Off Series, the upcoming Men of Honor Series, as well as other sexy, sporty standalone romances.

Jillian loves sports, bad boys, dirty talkers, strong females, and books with plenty of heat—all of which you will find in her books. As a lover of all things bookish, she has a serious book hoarding problem and runs a blog in her free time. When she’s not reading, writing, or blogging, she’s obsessively fangirling over hockey players and can be found wherever she can catch the next hockey game.

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Coming September 18th Exes with Benefits!

Coming September 18th

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He wants a second chance. I want a divorce. To get what I want, I’ll have to give him what he does.

From New York Times & USA Today bestselling author, Nicole Williams, comes a new standalone romance in the same vein as Roommates with Benefits.

$10 Amazon Gift Card

A signed copy of Trusting You & Other Lies

Click HERE to enter

Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.

Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.

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Monday, August 21, 2017

Beard in Mind - 5 Star read!

I absolutely LOVED Beard in Mind. I was on pins and needles waiting for this book to come out and it didn't disappoint.

One of my favorite things about Penny's books is the reality of them. Yes, there is a love story, and there is humor, but what I love the most is the honest stories that everyday readers can relate to.

Shelly's OCD resonates with a lot of people who have the same diagnosis, but it also resonates with those who have a fear of others (or their touch) for one reason or another. It resonates with people who have daily struggles that most people can't relate too and it demonstrates so clearly that not everyone's struggle is a visible one.

I loved Shelly's strength and perseverance. She is truly a hero in my book and I hope she is viewed that way by ANYONE who reads this book.

Beau was an amazing hero as well. He had a patience and understanding that most people wouldn't have. He took the time to learn about Shelly's issues and how to do what was best for her. He didn't force her into any treatments she wasn't ready for and wanted to be what was there for her. And he felt the hurt that she did when she was struggling. He helped guide her with her family and into her recovery. He was a buffer when she needed it, gave her a push when she got stuck, and picked her back up when she fell. The love between them was so evident.

Penny creates this world of love and home that most other books can't even compare to. It's a delicate balance of romance, fiction, and realty and I am so glad I am able to jump into these worlds and enjoy her characters.

-until next time
J

Beard in Mind is LIVE!!! GO READ IT!

Beard in Mind, an all new standalone in the bestselling, romantic comedy Winston Brothers Series by Penny Reid, is available NOW!

All is fair in love and auto maintenance.

Beau Winston is the nicest, most accommodating guy in the world. Usually.

Handsome as the devil and twice as charismatic, Beau lives a charmed life as everyone’s favorite Winston Brother. But since his twin decided to leave town, and his other brother hired a stunning human-porcupine hybrid as a replacement mechanic for their auto shop, Beau Winston’s charmed life has gone to hell in a handbasket.

Shelly Sullivan is not nice and is never accommodating. Ever.

She mumbles to herself, but won’t respond when asked a question. She glares at everyone, especially babies. She won’t shake hands with or touch another person, but has no problems cuddling with a dog. And her damn parrot speaks only in curse words.

Beau wants her gone. He wants her out of his auto shop, out of Tennessee, and out of his life.

The only problem is, learning why this porcupine wears her coat of spikes opens a Pandora’s box of complexity—exquisite, tempting, heartbreaking complexity—and Beau Winston soon discovers being nice and accommodating might mean losing what matters most.

Excerpt:

She’d taken the sofa, in her own house, and given me the bed. That didn’t make a lick of sense. I crouched next to her, threading my fingers into the silky hair at her temples. “Honey.” “Mmm.” I bent to whisper, “Shelly.” “Hmm?” “I’m going to carry you to your bed. I’ll take the sofa.” “Mmm.” I grinned at her soft noises, at the untroubled expression on her face, and how her brow—even in sleep—still looked regal and stern. Sliding my arms under her legs and shoulder, I picked her up. And, unfortunately, that woke her up. She jerked in my arms. “What are you doing?” “I’m taking you to the bed.” “Don’t do that.” “I don’t mind, I’ll take the sofa.” Our mouths were just inches apart, and hers was distracting. She squirmed. “Put me down.” Sighing unhappily, I did. I set her on her feet next to the couch. The blanket pooled at her feet and I stepped back to give her some space. It was dark, but I could see her just fine, and that meant I had to force my eyes to remain above her neck. The woman was wearing two pathetic scraps of fabric as pajamas. A thin little tank top and shorts. That’s it. I set my jaw and turned to the side, waiting for her to walk past. “Where are you?” I glanced at her and realized she couldn’t see at all. She didn’t have a hand out, but the way her eyes were moving about the room gave away her blindness. “I’m here.” I didn’t touch her, because if I did, I wouldn’t want to stop. Shelly turned her head in my direction and took a deep breath. Still she didn’t reach for me. I didn’t know the specifics of what to expect after her Friday session, but I recalled Dr. West saying something about Shelly doing self-guided ERP exercises over this week. “Can you see?” She licked her lips, her voice sandpapery. “Because I can’t see at all. It’s so dark.” “I can see.” Unbidden, my eyes dropped to her body, to the swell of her breasts, the panel of bare stomach, the curve of her hips. Pinpricks of heat raised over my skin and I curled my hands into fists. She shuffled forward and I caught her before she bumped into me, setting my hands gently at her waist. “Let me take you to your room.” My voice was rough, for obvious reasons. Saying nothing, she brought her hand to my forearm, her body gently colliding with mine. And then her hand on my arm slid up my bicep to my shoulder. “Shelly.” I was running out of breath. “I like this.” “What?” “Touching you.” Oh fuck. I held still and endured her hands moving over my body, down the front of my shirt, stopping at the hem, then pushing it up. “Take this off.” I did. I pulled the T-shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor. We stood there, facing each other in the dark, not touching. Despite the session on Friday and the progress that had been made, I realized she wasn’t quite there yet. Dr. West was right, Friday was just a step, the first step. Shelly wasn’t able to initiate contact. Not yet. Her hands balled into fists and she swayed forward, her breath struggling little puffs. If anything was going to happen tonight, I had to initiate it. I had to be the one to touch first. God, how I wanted her. How I wanted her above me, beneath me, surrounding me. But how could I? “I know why I hesitate,” her voice was breathless, “but why do you hesitate?” “Lots of reasons.” “Give me one.” “I don’t want to you use you.” “I wish you would.” That pulled a laugh from me, just a small relief from the mounting tension. My eyes moved over her body, an undeniable impulse to devour the sight of her, her legs, stomach, chest, then up her neck to her lips. “You asked me on Saturday if sex was a big deal for me, or if it was you. The answer is both.” She held very still, and I got the sense she was holding her breath, straining to listen. “You are a big deal to me. I don’t want a fling. I don’t want a flirtation. I want promises.” “What can I promise you?” That you’ll love me. That I’ll be your priority. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. A spike of anxiety that she might leave me like this had me acting without forethought. I lifted my hands to her waist again and immediately, her fingertips skimmed over skin of my lower stomach in response, making my muscles tense in hot anticipation. She grew more assertive as she caressed my sides, abdomen, ribs, chest, shoulders, and then back down. Shelly stepped closer, a hint of thrilling contact between her breasts and my torso, and all the words and worries melted from my mind, died on my tongue, suffocated by the feel of her body, and the possibility of this moment. Her finger hooked in the waistband of my jeans. “Take these off.” Her hand turned, her fingers and palm cupping me over my zipper. Instinctively, I pressed myself into her touch even as I grabbed her wrist. “Beau, I promise—” She didn’t get to speak, because I kissed her, hard and wild, unbuttoning and unzipping my fly with one hand and bringing her palm inside my boxers with the other.

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(Free in Kindle Unlimited)

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Meet Penny Reid:

Penny Reid is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Winston Brothers and Knitting in the City series. When she’s not immersed in penning smart romances, Penny works in the biotech industry as a researcher. She’s also a full time mom to three diminutive adults, wife, daughter, knitter, crocheter, sewer, general crafter, and thought ninja.

Connect with Penny:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PennyReidWriter/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2lakzsD

Twitter: @ReidRomance

Newsletter: http://pennyreid.ninja/newsletter/

www.pennyreid.ninja

Thursday, August 10, 2017

THE LEARNING HOURS by Sara Ney

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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... 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