Review :: The Manny :: Piper Rayne

Title: The Manny
Series: Dirty Truth #1
Author: Piper Rayne
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: October 19, 2017
Secrets and lies are a killer way to start any partnership—especially a horizontal one.


Now, I’m a glass half full kinda of guy, so, after the ‘you’re fired’ speech was directed at me, I figure now’s the time to be the screenwriter I came to sunny California to be. Unfortunately, there are about as many people trying to sell a script in L.A. as there are vegans in the pacific northwest. 


But lucky for me, a few weeks ago my agent found an investor for my script. Hooray, all my problems are solved! NOT.
Because the investor will only agree to fund my film if I use one specific actress. And that one specific actress? Well of course, it just has to be the same actress I screwed over only months before. But she doesn’t need to know about that one tiny detail, does she? All that matters is getting her to agree to do the film and I’ll do whatever it takes. We can leave the past, in the past, right?
I thought my charm would win her over. Never would I have been prepared for the terms she laid out on the table.
She needed a nanny.
I needed a lead actress.
Somehow I became The Manny.

I have really loved Piper Rayne and their stories but The Manny didn't do it for me. 

I wasn't a fan of how Vance decided to present himself. He touches Layla several times without even thinking. He was so overt and I was turned way off by it. Other than that, we got a typical romance story. 

Layla was trying to not only navigate Hollywood, but also newfound single-parenthood (which also bugged me because she wasn't officially divorced when they started sleeping together). Vance just wanted to please investors and get Layla to do his movie. They had no intentions of falling for each other but they did. 

At the end of this book, I was happy because they were finally able to be honest with each other. The series of miscommunications throughout the book were sky-high and so avoidable. Anyway, this one it getting a solid three from me because of reasons mentioned. 


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Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two established authors for the price of one. You might be wondering if you know us? Maybe you’ll read our books and figure it out. Maybe you won’t. Does it really matter?
We aren’t trying to stamp ourselves with a top-secret label. We wanted to write without apology. We wanted to not be pigeon holed into a specific outline. We wanted to give readers a story without them assuming how the story will flow. Everyone has their favorite authors, right? And when you pick up their books, you expect something from them. Whether it’s an alpha male, heavy angst, a happily ever after, there’s something you are absolutely certain the book will contain. Heck, we’re readers, too, we get it.
What can we tell you about ourselves? We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We're both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We're both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.
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Review + Excerpt :: From This Moment :: Melanie Harlow

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From This Moment, an all-new sexy and emotional standalone from USA Today Bestselling author Melanie Harlow is available NOW!

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From This Moment by Melanie Harlow

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Publishing Date: October 10th, 2017

It was like seeing a ghost.
When my late husband’s twin brother moves back to our small town, I want to avoid him. Everything about Wes reminds me of the man I lost and the life we’d planned together, and after eighteen long months struggling just to get out of bed, I’m finally doing okay. I have a new job, an amazing support group, and a beautiful five-year-old daughter to parent. I don’t want to go backward.
But I’m drawn to him, too. He understands my grief and anger and guilt like no one else—and I understand his. Before long, that understanding becomes desire, and that desire becomes uncontrollable.
He says he doesn't care what people think, and love can never be wrong. But life has taught me its cruelest lesson--love doesn't always win.
If only my heart would believe it.

Review: 

I love Melanie Harlow. I love her writing. I love her story telling. I love how she took this super fragile, falling apart woman and made her stronger, better. I loved the whole thing. 

The ONLY thing that bothers me is how they know each other and their history. I almost feel like it was too distracting from the story as a whole. 

Really, though, this book was fantastically written with lots of emotions and feelings and working through them. Loved it. 

Four solid stars.

Excerpt:

“Want to go out in the canoe?” he asked. “Okay.” I ditched my flip-flops on the small, beach-level deck, and we set our wine glasses and the bottle on the deck’s little round table. Wes was already barefoot. Together we dragged the forest green canoe from the tall beach grasses on the side of the deck down to the water’s edge and tipped it over. “Let me rinse it out a little,” Wes said, frowning at the dirt and spider webs inside. “Want to grab the paddles? They should be in the shed.” “On it.” I went to the small shed on the embankment, opened it up and grabbed the oars, which stood in one corner. On the shelves were life jackets and sand toys and deflated rafts that probably had holes in them, and scratched into the wooden door among other graffiti was WP + CB. Huh. I’d never noticed that before. Who was CB? I glanced over my shoulder at Wes, who’d taken off his T-shirt and tossed it onto the sand. My stomach full-out flipped. Quickly, I shut the door to the shed and brought the oars down to the canoe. Wes stood up straight and stuck his hands on his hips. He wore different sunglasses than Drew had worn, more of an aviator than a wayfarer. The body was similar, though Wes’s arms seemed more muscular, especially through the shoulder. Other things were the same and caused a rippling low in my body—the soft maroon color of his nipples, the trim waist, the trail of hair leading from his belly button to beneath the low-sling waistband of his red swim trunks. In my head I heard Tess’s voice. Arms. Chest. Shoulders. Skin. Stubble. Muscle. The smell of a man. The solidity of him. “What’s the law on drinking and canoeing?” he asked. What’s the law on staring at your brother-in-law’s nipples? I wondered, swallowing hard. What was wrong with me? “I think we’re okay,” I said, handing the oars to him. Our hands touched in the exchange. “Let me grab our glasses.” “Perfect. If you hold them, I’ll take us out.” I retrieved the wine glasses from the table and walked carefully across the sand to the lake’s edge, taking deep, slow breaths. A sweat had broken out across my back. I was wearing a swimsuit beneath my cover up, a modest tankini, but I didn’t want to remove it. Wading ankle deep, I attempted to step into the canoe, but it wobbled beneath my foot. “Whoa.” Wes took me by the elbow and didn’t let go until I was seated at one end, facing the other. “Okay?” I nodded. Despite the heat, my arms had broken out in goose flesh. “All right, here we go.” As he rowed us away from shore, the breeze picked up, cooling my face and chest and back. “Drew and I used to have canoe-tipping contests.” I snapped my chin down and skewered Wes with a look over the top of my sunglasses. “Don’t even think about it.” He just grinned, the muscles in his arms and chest and stomach flexing with every stroke of the oars through the water. Momentarily mesmerized, I allowed myself the pleasure of watching him. It was okay if we were both thinking about Drew, wasn’t it? In fact, it was only natural that I was intrigued by the sight of Wes’s body. He was my husband’s identical twin, for heaven’s sake, and I missed his physical presence in my life. I missed looking at him naked. I missed feeling the weight of him above me. I missed the feeling of being aroused by him, of my body’s responses to his touch, his kiss, his cock. Deep in my body, the rusty mechanism of arousal creaked to life. My nipples peaked, my stomach hollowed, and something fluttered between my legs. Oh, Jesus. I sat up straighter, pressed my knees together, and closed my mouth, which I realized had fallen open. Hopefully I hadn’t moaned or anything. After another sip of wine, I turned my head and studied a freighter off in the distance. My heart was beating way too fast. It’s only natural. It’s only natural. Wes stopped paddling and set the oars in the bottom of the canoe, their handles resting against the seat in the middle. “We’ll have to bring Abby out here.” “Definitely.” Did my voice sound normal? “She’ll love it. Here, want this?” I held his wine glass toward him and he reached out to take it. His fingers brushed mine, and I pulled my hand back as if the touch had burned me. “Thanks.” He tipped the glass up then looked along the shore. “I’d like to find a place on the lake. Maybe not along this stretch of beach, though.” I caught his meaning and smiled. “A little too close to home?” “Yeah. But I don’t want to be too far away. I’d like to get a boat too.” “What kind of boat? Drew always talked about it, but we never quite settled on one.” “Not sure. Maybe just a little fishing boat, something to ski behind.” “That sounds fun. Drew loved to ski.” “We’ll have to teach Abby.” I laughed. “You, not we. I managed to get up and stay up a few times, but I am not the expert.” “You can teach her to cook, I’ll teach her to water ski.” “Deal.” Separate activities seemed like a good idea. “Breakfast was incredible.” “Thanks.” I tucked a strand of hair that had escaped my ponytail behind my ear, but the wind blew it right back into my face. “I really like working there. I’m so glad Georgia suggested it to me.” “How long have you been there?” “Since spring, when they got busy. I’m not sure what I’ll do this winter when it slows down. I’m dreading it, actually. Abby will be in school full time, and it will just be me at home alone.” This was something else I hadn’t talked about with anyone, how worried I was that the gray skies and cold weather and silent hours would set me spiraling into depression. “I always thought I’d have another baby to take care of, but life saw things differently.” “You’re still young, Hannah.” I shook my head. “I’m really not. And I feel even older than I am.” Please don’t go Grief Police on me and tell me I’m being ridiculous, I begged him silently. This isn’t the life I chose. It was handed to me and I’m doing the best I can. But he didn’t say anything more, just sipped his wine and looked out at the horizon. I was grateful. “What about you?” I asked. “Think maybe you’ll get married now that you’re back? Have a family? Abby won’t have any siblings so she needs some cousins.” “That seems to be a popular topic of discussion around here,” Wes said, shaking his head, “but I really have no idea.” “Small town. We like to know everyone’s business.” I smiled. “Hey, what about CB? I saw your initials carved with hers on the door of the shed. Maybe she’s still around.” He groaned. “Is that still there? Jesus. That had to be twenty years ago.” Hugging my knees, I leaned forward. “First love?” “Not even.” He hesitated, as if he were trying to decide whether to confess something. “Come on,” I cajoled, carefully reaching out of the canoe, and splashing water toward him. “Tell me. I’ve been spilling my guts for an hour.” “First kiss.” I squealed. “And?” He cringed. “It’s too embarrassing.” “Wes, I had a completely humiliating breakdown in front of you last night. I got snot on my arm.” “This is worse.” “Get it out. You’ll feel better.” “Let’s just say it was a very awkward, very fast experience.” I gasped. “You lost your virginity to her?” “No. Just my dignity.” Laughing, I tilted my head back and felt the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, and something like joy in my heart. It had been a long time.

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About the Author:

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she's not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak. Melanie is the author of the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

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Twitter: @MelanieHarlow2
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Excerpt Reveal :: A Little Too Late :: Staci Hart

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A Little Too Late, an all-new romantic standalone from Staci Hart is coming October 24th!

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A Little Too Late by Staci Hart

Publishing Date: October 24th, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

I wasn't supposed to fall in love with the nanny.
When my wife left, she took the illusion of happiness with her, and I've been caught in a free fall ever since. For nine long months, I've been fighting to figure out how to be a single dad, how to be alone.
For nine long months, I've been failing.
When Hannah walked through the door, I took my first breath since I'd found myself on my own. She slipped into our lives effortlessly, showing me what I've been missing all these years. Because Hannah made me smile when I thought I'd packed the notion of happiness away with my wedding album.
She was only supposed to be the nanny, but she's so much more.
The day my wife left should have been the worst day of my life, but it wasn't. It was when Hannah walked away, taking my heart with her.

Excerpt:

Hannah The first time I saw Charlie Parker, I didn’t see one thing at a time; I saw all of him. It was an assault on my senses, an overwhelming tide of awareness, and for a moment, the details came to me in flashes over what was probably only a few seconds but felt so much longer. His hair was blond and gently mussed, his face long and nose elegant. I could smell him, clean and fresh with just a touch of spice I couldn’t place. I tipped my chin up—he was tall, taller than me, and I hovered just at six feet—and met his eyes, earthy and brown and so deep. So very deep. And then he smiled. He was handsome when he wasn’t smiling. He was stunning when he was. I was so lost in that smile, I didn’t register the flying gob until it whapped against my sweater. Tiny splatters of something cold speckled my neck. This was the moment the clock started again, and the sweet serenity slipped directly into chaos. A blond little boy looked up at me from his father’s side with a devilish gleam in his dark eyes. The spoon in his hand was covered in blood-red jam and aimed at me like an empty catapult. Several things happened at once. Charlie’s face morphed into embarrassed frustration as he reached for who I presumed to be his son. The boy—Sam, I guessed from the names I’d been given by the agency—spun around lightning fast and took off down the hallway, giggling. Another child began to cry from somewhere back in the house, and a bowl clattered to the ground, followed by a hissed swear from what sounded like an older woman. I glanced down at the sliding, sticky mess against my white sweater and started to laugh. Charlie’s head swiveled back to me, his face first colored with confusion, then in horror as he looked at the Pollock painting on my sweater. “Oh my God,” he breathed, his apologetic, wide eyes dragging down my body. “Jesus, I am so sorry.” I was still laughing, almost a little hysterical. I couldn’t even tell you why. I waved a hand at Charlie, and he took my elbow, guiding me into the house as I caught my breath. Another crash came from the kitchen, and a little girl came toddling out into the entry, leaving powdery footprints on the hardwood. Charlie’s face screwed up. “Sam!” he called, stretching the word, a drawn-out promise of consequences. A riot of giggling broke out in the kitchen. We both snapped into motion. I followed him as he scooped up his crying daughter and stormed toward the kitchen. The little girl watched me over his shoulder with big brown eyes, her breath hitching in little shudders and her small finger hooked in her mouth. Charlie stopped so abruptly, I almost ran into him. When I looked around him and into the kitchen, my mouth opened. I covered it with my fingers as laughter bubbled up my throat. A bag of flour sat in the middle of the floor, the white powder thrown in bursts against the surrounding surfaces and hanging in the air like smoke. The floor next to the bag was the only clean spot, shaped like a small bottom—the little girl’s, I supposed. A bowl lay upside down, its contents oozing from under the rim and slung in a ring from ceiling to cabinet to floor, as if it had completed a masterful flip on its way to its demise. And in the center of the madness stood an older woman with flour in her dark hair and dusted down the front of her. Clutched under her arm was a wriggling Sam, offending spoon still in hand. Her face was kind but tight with exasperation. “Please tell me this is the new nanny,” she said flatly. “I doubt we could convince her to stay at this point,” he said with equal flatness. ALTLpreorder.png

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About the Author

Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life -- a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can't forget that. She's also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She's been a wife, though she's certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She's also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she's been drinking whiskey. From roots in Houston to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she's not writing, she's reading, sleeping, gaming, or designing graphics.

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Cover Reveal :: Clutch :: SM West




Title: Clutch
Author: S.M. West
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: RBA
Photo: Regina Wamba, Mae I Design and Photography
Release Date: November 3, 2017



Blurb

Clutch – verb: to grasp and hold tightly; to seize; snatch.

Flighty. Stupid. That’s what my sisters think of me.
I’m tired of being misunderstood.
With a suitcase in hand and the ocean as my beacon, I’m charting my own path.

Yet, barely a day on the road, I almost crash and burn.
Running into Silas Palmer, a sexy-as-sin rock star, changes my life.

Silas makes me feel … Exceptional. Aimless.

He’s always known his course.
And even now, when he’s abandoning fame and fortune, he knows what he wants.
Me.

But life is never that simple.






Pre-order Links

99c pre-order price!



The price will go up on release and will go to Kindle Unlimited after release day.





Excerpt

Since Pansy’s come into my life, I’m brimming with song ideas, scraps of paper everywhere. So much so, half of me is eager to get in that studio and write, but the other half is reluctant to lose the limited time I have with Pansy, getting to know her.
“I love that. Is it new?” Pansy surveys me from the doorway in a faded black one-piece swimsuit that’s seen better days. All I see is her toned bronze skin, calling to me.
Crooking my finger, I beckon her, and she obeys. With each step to me, streams of sunlight flit across the crown of her head, deepening the warm, red tones of her long locks.
I pull her onto my lap, and her delicious bow-shaped lips curl up as her eyes widen, darkening to moss green. Her warm, almost bare back leans against my chest, and I swear our heartbeats are synchronized.
“Silas.” My name is almost a tremble on her lips.
“Hey,” I whisper, and she smiles.
I place her hands on the keyboard, my larger ones shadowing hers, and we play a few bars of the song I just wrote. The one she just overheard. It’s about her.
“Hypnotizing.” She sways with the beat.
“Very hypnotizing.” She sure is. 
Lightly kissing her shoulder, my tongue licks at her salty skin, and she shudders and sighs, sinking into me. With her surrender, my hands have a mind of their own, gripping her waist and lifting her to sit on the piano with her legs bent, her bare feet grazing the keys. 
“Silas,” she exhales, her hands latching onto my shoulders.
Seated at eye level with her sex, I glance at her, seeking permission. The tiny nod and nibble on her bottom lip is all the go-ahead I need. My fingers gently knead her thighs before pulling her legs wide apart. 
She gasps as my hands glide up the inside of her legs. Eager to taste and touch, my tongue kisses, nips, and licks at the soft, silky skin of her thighs, the sea salt mingling with a flavor that is undeniably Pansy. She tastes like fucking freedom.
I continue to rub my palms along her thighs, to the juncture of her legs and pelvis. I’m overwhelmed with desire, burning inside as my thumb slowly swipes her mound through the already-damp bathing suit. I’m not sure if it’s wet from the ocean or her excitement. 
She releases a breathy moan, dropping her head forward, her hair falling around us like curtains. Licking my lips, I plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss at the apex of her thighs and groan at her musky, intoxicating scent. She sucks in a jagged breath and curls her fingers and toes.






Author Bio


S.M. West is an indie author who writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, erotica and whatever her heart desires. 

She spends her time juggling ay day job, being a mom and wife, and writing. On top of that, she's a self-professed junkie of many things including a voracious fan of music, a born wanderer, a wine aficionado and chocolate connoisseur.  



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Giveaway

Review :: Character Flaws :: Sierra Hill




Title: Character Flaws
Author: Sierra Hill
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: October 17, 2017



Blurb

Joey:

They say you never get a second chance at a first impression. That is, unless you’re my gorgeous temporary neighbor.

My first impression of Theo Crawford was anything but wonderful. He was discourteous, anti-social, and a drunken mess.

My second impression wasn’t much better when he inconsiderately woke me on a Sunday morning. 

But by my third impression, my views toward Theo began to soften. Maybe he isn’t as bad as he seems.

And now? Well, let’s just say my defective heart doesn’t care that he’s gay, because I’ve fallen for him.

Theo:

Wait, what? 

I’m not gay. 

Where’d she get that impression?





Review: 

This story was light and fun and super cute and sweet. I loved how she thought he was gay and how they handled everything together.

I especially love how he came back from his disasterous meeting with his ex. That was an epic comeback if I've ever seen one. 
Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited






Author Bio

Since self-publishing her first erotic contemporary romance in 2014, Sierra's found her creative passion, writing about the fictional characters that live in her brain, who constantly shout for their own love stories to be told. Sierra is a sucker for cheap accessories, enjoys traveling to see live concerts, and loves good seafood. Sierra resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband of twenty years and her long-haired, German Shepherd. She is currently working on her next HEA.


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Release Blitz :: Sol :: Leslie McAdam




Title: Sol
Author: Leslie McAdam
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 15, 2017



Blurb


The army taught me discipline. Order. Control.

None of that matters the day I walk into her classroom.

Or her bedroom.

What's more important than my grade?

Not failing her.







Purchase Links

99c for a limited time

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU






Author Bio

Leslie McAdam is a California girl who loves romance, Little Dude, and well-defined abs. She lives in a drafty old farmhouse on a small orange tree farm in Southern California with her husband and two small children. Leslie always encourages her kids to be themselves – even if it means letting her daughter wear leopard print from head to toe. An avid reader from a young age, she will always trade watching TV for reading a book, unless it’s Top Gear. Or football. Leslie is employed by day but spends her nights writing about the men you fantasize about. She’s unapologetically sarcastic and notoriously terrible at comma placement (that’s what editors are for!). Always up for a laugh, Leslie tries to see humor in all things. When she’s not in the writing cave you’ll find her fangirling over Beck, camping with her family, or mixing up oil paints to depict her love of outdoors on canvas.


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