Review – I Wish You Were Mine by Lauren Layne

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I WISH YOU WERE MINE

Oxford #2

Lauren Layne

Released on February 2, 2016

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Perfect for fans of Alice Clayton and Emma Chase, Lauren Layne’s Oxford series heats up in this story of forbidden desire as a brooding jock hoping for a comeback falls for a woman who’s strictly off-limits.

A year ago, Jackson Burke was married to the love of his life and playing quarterback for the Texas Redhawks. Now he’s retired, courtesy of the car accident that ruined his career—and single, after a nasty scandal torpedoed his marriage. Just as he’s starting to get used to his new life as a health and fitness columnist for Oxford magazine, his unpredictable ex shows up on his doorstep in Manhattan. Jackson should be thrilled. But he can’t stop thinking about the one person who’s always been there for him, the one girl he could never have: her younger sister.

Mollie Carrington can’t say no to Madison. After all, her older sister practically raised her. So when Madison begs for help in winning her ex-husband back, Mollie’s just glad she got over her own crush on Jackson ages ago—or so she thought. Because as Mollie reconnects with Jackson, she quickly forgets all her reasons to stay loyal to her sister. Tempted by Jackson’s mellow drawl and cowboy good looks, Mollie is sick and tired of coming in second place. But she can’t win if she doesn’t play the game.

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BFF K’s Review

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Jackson Burke finds comfort in the one person who is so off-limits. For years, Mollie Carrington has carried a torch for Jackson Burke. Besides their mutual obsessions, Jackson and Mollie have another thing in common, Madison. She is Jackson’s ex-wife, Mollie’s older sister, and a completely evil and manipulative B%^&*!

Jackson and Mollie have a shared history through Madison, but they also have their own relationship. As Jackson’s marriage was falling apart, he found a friend in her younger sister. Jackson confided in Mollie his ambitions and day-to-day frustrations. Mollie relied on Jackson also as a confidant and supporter. When Jackson finds himself in New York, he realizes how much he has missed Mollie and her company. But, Madison is like a bad rash that just keeps coming back. Lauren Layne has created a fantastic villain. I despise Madison, and it is so much fun to hate a truly nasty villain!

I really liked Mollie and Jackson. I was rooting for them to find their happy ending. This book is angsty – way more than I was expecting! When they were struggling with their relationship and their own feelings, I could literally feel my heart hurting for them. My tummy filled with butterflies from all of the romance and steamy scenes. One of the best parts of I Wish You Were Mine, and this series, series is the Oxford-Stiletto gang. It was great to check-in with Penelope and Cole. I love how this group has formed friends/family bonds and how fiercely they care for one another. (I’m dying for Lincoln’s book! I can’t wait to uncover his back-story!)

I’m becoming a BIG fan of Lauren Layne! The Oxford Series books have everything I hope for in a romance novel. I Wish You Were Mine is well written, emotionally charged, character driven, passionate and delightfully sentimental. I’m anxious for the next book in this series and one of these days, I’m going to fit the Stiletto series into my TBR. If you love a really enjoyable, character-fueled romance, you should definitely one-click this today!

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An Advance Copy was received in exchange for an honest review.

Excerpt

Jackson took a sip. Perfection. Although what did it mean that Jackson’s life had turned into one where the highlight of his day was a well-made cocktail?

It wasn’t that Jackson needed the booze. He enjoyed it, certainly. Had relied on it more than he probably should have in those first few days when he’d gotten out of the hospital and come home to a whole lot of nothingness.

But these days he could take it or leave it.

Tonight, however, he was taking it. Sobriety had no place when you had to sit across from the most off-limits woman on the planet.

Knowing that didn’t stop the anticipation, however. He hadn’t seen her since she’d shown up in his hospital room to deliver a bag of Gatlin’s BBQ and . . .

His divorce papers.

That had been eight months ago.

He’d avoided her ever since, and he couldn’t even say why except that he’d avoided pretty much everyone. Jackson still spoke with his parents every Sunday, but everyone else—all the old teammates, the old neighbors—had eventually stopped calling.

Mollie hadn’t, though. Mollie had never given up on him. Until today, he hadn’t responded to a single text, a single email, and yet she hadn’t stopped sending them. That was Mollie for you. Fiercely loyal to both him and Madison, even when things had started to go to hell.

Mollie had been accepted to Columbia just about the time that he and Madison started coming apart at the seams. In hindsight, he was grateful that Mollie had been in New York when things started to go to hell in his marriage. That she hadn’t seen him at his worst.

At the time, however, he’d been hit with an unfair sense of abandonment. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on the much younger Mollie to mediate things between him and the volatile Madison until she was in a different time zone.

Even now, more than a decade since first meeting Mollie, he struggled to reconcile the fact that she and Madison had come from the same parents. Madison was perfectly coiffed, charming only when she was in the mood, and manipulative as all hell. Mollie, on the other hand, was adorably awkward—a brainy research assistant who cared a hell of a lot more about her scientific journals than her manicure.

But somewhere along the line, Mollie Carrington had ceased to be that awkward kid who talked about bugs at inopportune times. Somewhere along the line, she’d become his rock. The one person in the world, save for perhaps his parents, who always knew the exact right thing to say to make him feel like a human whenever he’d started to feel like a caricature of himself.

For years he’d tried to tell himself that it was just sibling affection—that he cared about her the way he would a sister. But then things had gotten worse with Madison—way worse. And Jackson had been hit upside the head with the truth: that maybe he’d married the wrong sister. That he didn’t want to spend the rest of his days married to the beautiful, brittle Madison.

He wanted someone who made him laugh. Who listened. Someone who cared more about people than she did about hair appointments.

Someone like Mollie.

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About the Author

Lauren Layne is the USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance.

Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and web-marketing. In 2011, she and her husband moved from Seattle to New York City, where Lauren decided to pursue a full-time writing career. It took six months to get her first book deal (despite ardent assurances to her husband that it would only take three). Since then, Lauren’s gone on to publish thirteen books, including the bestselling Stiletto series, with several more on the way in 2015.

Lauren currently lives in New York City with her husband and spoiled Pomeranian. When not writing, you’ll find her at happy hour, running at a doggedly slow pace, or trying to straighten her naturally curly
hair.

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Oxford Book One

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Review – Happily Ever Ninja by Penny Reid

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Happily Ever Ninja
by Penny Reid
Publication Date:
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Humor

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From the USA Today Best Selling Author of ‘Truth or Beard’

There are three things you need to know about Fiona Archer… I would tell you what they are, but then I’d have to kill you.

But I can tell you that Fiona’s husband—the always irrepressible and often cantankerous Greg Archer—is desperately in love with his wife. He aches for her when they are apart, and is insatiable when they are together. Yet as the years pass, Greg has begun to suspect that Fiona is a ninja. A ninja mom. A ninja wife. A ninja friend. After fourteen years of marriage, Greg is trying not to panic. Because Fiona’s talent for blending in is starting to resemble fading away.

However, when unexpected events mean Fiona must take center stage to keep her family safe, her response stuns everyone—Greg most of all. It seems like Greg’s wish has come true.

Except… not.

When all is said and done, can Greg handle this new version of his wife? Will his irrepressible cantankerousness push her away? Or can the couple find a way forward without either being forced to step back into the shadows?

This is a full length, 100k word novel, and is the 5th book in the Knitting in the City Series. All books in the series can be read as a standalone except book #1.5

BFF K’s Review

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Penny Reid warns readers that this is an “odd book” in fact, all of her books are a little weird and that’s really what makes them so wonderful. Happily Ever Ninja is unlike anything else that I have read. The story centers around a married couple, their life, love and marriage. The tension in the book does not stem from a death or an illness or an affair. Penny Reid says, this is a book, “about a married couple with none of the cheating, divorcing, or standard plot-lines/tropes.” So, I wondered what it could possibly be about….

Happily Ever Ninja is a stunning, heart-warming, introspection of marriage. While Fiona and Greg may not be like every other married couple; she’s former CIA, and he works away from home months at a time. There are many, many parts that seem like a snapshot of my marriage and countless others that I know. It feels as though this book is a tribute to marriage, a hymn of praise dedicated to the ups and downs of these complex and essential relationships. I believe it is impossible to read this book without turning the looking glass to your own life. Those in a marriage will see common struggles and successes. Those who are searching for a happy marriage will find a realistic and honest look at the kind of relationship worth striving toward. Happily Ever Ninja does an amazing job of reminding us why the conquest is worth the struggles.

“But, I’ve yet to meet a monogamous person who is an expert on sex, nor have I ever met a polygamist who is an expert on love. Each marriage is a living thing, just as complex as the two individuals within it.”

Fiona is a fantastic heroine. While I was frustrated with Greg’s propensity to “save” Fiona when she is clearly more than capable; he has some seriously swoon-worthy moments. His quick wit, overwhelming devotion and that bloody British accent are almost too much. I love being able to check in with all of the amazing women from the Knitting in the City series. It feels like meeting up with a group of girlfriends I haven’t seen in months. Every book in this series leaves me more anxious for the next.

Penny Reid is a master of writing relationship-driven romance novels that are smart, funny, unique and completely unexpected. Happily Ever Ninja is another book on my list of ‘must reads’ and I will continue telling everyone about this wonderful, witty, unorthodox look at romance, commitment, love and marriage.

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An Advance Copy was received in exchange for an honest review.

Excerpt

I tucked my fingers under her chin and lifted her face to mine, stealing a kiss; true distress clawed at my chest, traveled like a spike down my spine. I didn’t want to guess, or entertain any possibilities. Inevitably, my mind always jumped to the worst possible conclusion whenever I saw her inexplicably sad (i.e. brain tumor).

Even so, I attempted to keep my tone level and calm. “What could be too important for the greeting card aisle? It’s the perfect place to tell me anything and everything. There’s likely a card we can buy afterward for the occasion.”

She huffed a laugh, laughed a bit more, and then began crying again.

Her laughter was a good sign, so I went with it.

“Let’s see . . .” I shuffled us both to the rack and plucked a greeting card from it. “You tell me if this one describes your situation.” I cleared my throat and began to read, “Dear Brother, Many blessings on your fortieth birthday. May your girlfriend bring home that hot girl she works with and suggest a three-way.”

Fiona began laughing in earnest, burying her face against my chest.

I returned the original card, walked us a few steps farther down the aisle, and selected another card at random. “Here’s another. Dear Friend, Thank you for your thoughtfulness. I am so lucky to have you in my life, especially after that time I hit you with my car and salted the earth around your house.

I cracked a smile as I grabbed another card. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

“Dear Co-worker, Get well soon. Sorry about the scorpions in your bed. And the leprosy. And the chlamydia.”

“Stop! I can’t- I can’t breathe.” Fiona gripped the front of my shirt as though she needed my solid frame to remain upright.

I took one more step and picked a new card. “Dear Dad, Happy Father’s Day. I know I’m not your favorite child, but I hope you will . . . you will . . .” I stopped reading because Fiona had stopped laughing.

In fact, she’d grown eerily still, though her fists remained anchored in my shirt. I don’t think she was even breathing.

“Fe?”

She released an audible exhale—as though bracing herself—and titled her head back. New tears shone in her eyes and she looked . . . emotional.

Not sad. Not worried or scared. Just emotional.

And I knew.

“I’m going to be a dad,” I said.

She nodded, her mouth wanting to smile but her eyes betraying the disordered chaos of her thoughts.

I had no idea what she was thinking.

I had no idea what I was thinking.

But I felt like I’d just been punched, slapped across the face. And it felt scary. And good.

I felt like I was the king of the universe, the luckiest man alive.

I felt panic, because I didn’t know how to be a dad, at least not the kind I wanted to be.

I felt a bizarre surge of pride, of accomplishment.

I felt a heady wave of possessiveness, for this woman I loved, for the child we’d made. I felt responsible.

But I did not feel burdened.

And I knew nothing would ever be the same.

About the Author

SEX! It all started with sex, between my parents. Personally I don’t like thinking about it, but whatever works for you is a-ok with me. No judgment. The sex happened in California and much of my life also occurred in that state until I moved from the land of nuts (almonds), wine, silicon… boobs, and heavy traffic to the southeast US. Like most writers I like to write, but let’s get back to sex. Eventually I married and gave birth to 2 small people-children (boy-6, girl-4 as of this writing).

By day I’m a biomedical researcher with focus on rare diseases. By night I’m a knitter, sewer, lino block carver, fabric printer, soap maker, and general crafter. By the wee hours of the morning or when I’m intoxicated I love to listen to the voices in my head and let them tell me stories. I hope you enjoy their stories.

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New Release – Clutched by Elizabeth Lee

Chayse McCade learned along time ago that the only person she can depend on, both on and off the motocross track, is herself. Her parents disappointed her on more than one occasion and every relationship she’s ever had—platonic, professional, or romantic—has ended in disaster. When a sponsorship offer from Throttled Energy comes along she worries that it’s too good to be true. Especially when she meets the know-it-all riding coach they are insisting she work with.
Hoyt Travers is a lot of things. Level headed, discerning, intelligent, patient, or so he thought. That is until his new riding student rolled into his life. She’s wild, unpredictable, and gorgeous—all of which she uses to get under his skin in every possible way.
The two of them have undeniable, explosive chemistry that threatens to burn both of their dreams to the ground. Once Chayse let’s Hoyt in, she can’t seem to keep her protective walls up anymore. Too bad there’s a hard rule about them being anything more than colleagues. Hoyt never steps outside the lines but Chayse will push him in more ways than one. Lines will be irrevocably blurred in the final installment of the Wild Riders series.

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Excerpt

“I don’t know, Hoyt,” I replied, matching the asshole-ish tone he’d just used on me. “Maybe because I like taking the turns high. I feel more in control on the top.”

The second I said it, I imagined myself taking control of the wound-tight man sitting in front of me. His eyes widened as if he were picturing something similar to the sexy scenario playing out in my head. I wanted to step over to the chair he was sitting in and slip onto his lap. I’d take those glasses he wore when we were watching films and toss them across the room. Or, maybe I’d leave them on. I wanted to make sure he saw exactly how capable I was. Sure, Hoyt was attractive in that thinks-he-knows-what’s-best-for-you kind of way, but I honestly hadn’t thought much about it as of late. Now though, all I wanted to do was find out what it would be like to catch him off guard. I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and shut him up with my tongue. I wanted to show him that I was capable of many things, on and off the track. “Is that really that big of a damn deal?” I asked, letting my eyes narrow in on his.

“You’re impossible,” he said, abruptly standing. “Why am I even here if you aren’t even going to try and make this work? You want to go ride your new bike… go,” he snapped, nodding his head toward the door. “I’m over it.”

This is exactly what happens when I try to do right. I’d been a model riding student. Working out all the time. Watching everything he turned on in front of me. Riding the track the way he wanted me to. Not to mention… no drinking. No bad food. No sex. That was where I went wrong. I’d given up all my vices at once, trying to prove that I wanted this sponsorship and now I was standing there contemplating jumping the one guy that seemed pissed off at me daily. I needed to get out of this place, get a drink, and get laid. In that order.

He was over it? Well that made two of us. He’d just forced me to watch a video with my father in it and stirred up a bunch of shit I’d buried long ago. Not to mention, all I wanted to do was get on my dirt bike and he was hell-bent on keeping me from it.

“I’m not sure exactly what has your panties in such a twist today,” I bit out, standing up to face him. “All I’ve done is exactly what you’ve told me to. The past week I’ve been on time, I’ve done every workout, I’ve watched every film. Even the ones of my deadbeat dad, thank you very fucking much for that, by the way. All I asked was how much longer you planned on making me watch other people ride when that’s exactly what I should be doing. Riding.”

I could see the remorse in his eyes but his stubborn stance remained. “Oh, you’re a coach now?”

“I don’t know. Are you?” I couldn’t stop the words if I’d wanted to. This guy had been pushing my buttons and I’d had enough. I felt my nails bite into my skin as my hands balled into fists at my side. “You helped your brother. Big deal. You’ve got about as much experience coaching as I do.”

He shook his head and huffed out a breath.

“If I was coaching a rider, I sure as shit wouldn’t expect the person I was hired to help to sit on her ass all afternoon and waste daylight. The whole point of a riding coach is to be a coach while riding. Why that’s such a hard concept for you to understand, I’m not sure.”

“Oh I understand the concept, sweetheart,” he assured me, pushing the chair that was separating us to the side. I felt my chest heave with the effort of taking in oxygen when he stepped toward me. His eyes looked like laser beams about to cut completely through me. “The problem is, the second you fire up your bike, you stop listening. You stop paying attention to the words that are coming out of my mouth. At least in here, sitting on your ass, you’re paying attention.” He reached up and tapped my forehead with his finger. “If you could get your brain to stop pretending that it knows everything then maybe I’d be more inclined to let you ride.”

I fought back a laugh. A laugh that was brought on by the fact that I was so utterly pissed at him that my only option was to laugh, cry, or punch him in the face. I never pretended to know it all. I never even pretended to know half of it.

“Well, maybe if you’d get this,” I reached up between us and tapped my finger against his forehead the same way he’d done to me. “Out of your ass and actually acted like a coach instead of a drill instructor, I’d be more inclined to listen.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. He stood there with his jaw clenched and his eyes still locked on mine. I’d expected him to say something. To argue that I was wrong. Hell, a tiny little part of me actually even thought he might apologize. Instead, he did nothing.

Glaring and breathing—that was all we were both capable of at that particular moment.

About the Author:

When I’m not writing or playing the part of wife and mom, you can find me dancing back-up for Beyonce, singing back-up for Miranda, or sunning myself on the beach with a drink in hand. Here’s the thing about being born and raised in a small town–you have a very vivid imagination! Now, I channel it all to create stories where the girl always ends up with the right guy, first kisses are magical, and a happy ending is just that!

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Cover Reveal – Where Lightning Strikes by A.L. Jackson

The BFF’s are excited to bring you the Cover Reveal for A.L. Jackson’s upcoming WHERE LIGHTNING STRIKES releasing March 22, 2016. We can’t wait for you to fall into this sexy emotional novel!

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Do you know what it feels like right before lightning strikes? How you can feel the current running through your veins? The trembles of warning that ripple through the air? It was a thrill Tamar King chased all her life until it became the very thing she had to escape.

For the last four years, Tamar King has hidden herself in an isolated world she created. She was safe. No one could touch her. Until Lyrik West walked through her door.

He’s the lead guitarist for Sunder and everything she can never have. The dark and beautiful rock star becomes everything she craves.

Lyrik’s life has been devoted to his band and that success has cost him. Bitter, hard, and filled with regret, he refuses to lose himself again, but from the moment he sees her, he wants one night with Tamar King.

The gorgeous bartender is more than he bargained for. Their attraction is consuming. Their desire overpowering. With one touch, they ignite.

But is it worth the cost of getting burned?

She’s a gorgeous nightmare and he’s a wicked dream…

WHERE LIGHTNING STRIKES, a Bleeding Stars Stand-Alone Novel

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Check out BFF K’s Review for A Stone in the Sea, Book #1 in the Bleeding Stars Series

Check out BFF K’s Review for Drowning to Breathe, Book #2 in the Bleeding Stars Series

About the Author

A.L. Jackson is the New York Times bestselling author of contemporary and new adult romance.

She first found a love for writing during her days as a young mother and college student. She filled the journals she carried with short stories and poems used as an emotional outlet for the difficulties and joys she found in day-to-day life.

Years later, she shared a short story she’d been working on with her two closest friends and, with their encouragement, this story became her first full length novel. A.L. now spends her days writing in Southern Arizona where she lives with her husband and three children.

Connect with A.L. Jackson online:www.aljacksonauthor.com

To stay up to date with important news on A.L. Jackson, including new releases, sales, and exclusive specials and excerpts, text “jackson” to 96000 to subscribe!

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Cover Reveal – Some Sort of Love by Melanie Harlow

Title: Some Sort of Love

Series: Happy Crazy Love #3

Author: Melanie Harlow

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Cover Design: Jenn Watson, Social Butterfly PR

Cover Photo: Love N. Books

Cover Model: Franggy Yanez

Release Date: February 9, 2016

On the surface, I have it all—a career I adore, a loving family, the Nixon metabolism but not the Nixon ears, and a salary that supports my lavish taste in designer shoes, fine wine, and lacy lingerie…but I have no one to share it with.

Until the day I run into him—my one night stand from college with the cocky smile, let’s-get-out-of-here eyes, and dirty, dirty mouth.

Levi Brooks is six feet four inches of hot bearded fantasy. A sexy single dad with broad shoulders, strong hands, and a fantastically big…heart. (I mean, it’s massive. And generous. And it pumps so hard… um. Sorry. Lost my place.)

But he lives for his son, and he’s keeping me at a distance because he thinks I deserve someone better—a man who can give me more time, more attention, more of himself. He doesn’t believe he could ever be enough.

But he’s wrong.

He’s everything.

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Excerpt

“So.” I glanced out the windows to the patio. “You want to go back out there?”

“Not really,” she said.

“You want to get out of here?”

She grinned. “Yeah. I do.”

I watched her rush up the stairs to get her things, and as soon as she was out of sight, I adjusted myself in my pants. My dick had jumped to life the second she said yeah, I do, as if the question had been you want to get naked and fuck? rather than something much less suggestive. Not that I didn’t want to get naked and fuck—hopefully I’d last a little longer than I had in the broom closet eleven years ago—but I didn’t want to make her feel like that’s what I expected. She wasn’t a horny nineteen-year-old college student anymore; she was a doctor, for fuck’s sake. She was beautiful and smart and mature and sophisticated, and a woman like her did not want some Neanderthal who probably needed a haircut and a new pair of shoes to throw her up against a wall for a five-minute fuck.

A woman like that deserved attention all night long. She deserved someone who would undress her slowly and delight in each new inch of her skin as it was revealed. Someone who would run his hands all over her body and find out where she liked to be touched, how she liked to be touched, what she wanted to hear whispered to her in the dark. Someone who would wrap those gloriously long legs around his neck and use his tongue until she begged for his cock, then use his cock until she begged for mercy.

Fuck. I could be that guy.

Except I couldn’t be. Not tonight. Because I wasn’t a horny college student anymore either—I was just a horny single dad who didn’t have the luxury of taking a woman home and lavishing all my time and attention on her the way I wanted to.

As soon as I had the thought, I felt guilty. Scotty was the love of my life and always would be, and whenever I felt the slightest bit resentful about something I couldn’t do because of him, that resentment was immediately crushed by shame. He didn’t ask to be born wired differently, into a terrible relationship, to a mother who would decide she couldn’t handle being a parent, to a father who wasn’t prepared for any of it. He was completely innocent, and he needed me to be a better man.

Running a hand through my hair, I exhaled and wondered if I should ask Jillian for a raincheck on a night when Scotty’s usual sitter could be there. If he woke up again and I wasn’t home yet, he might never get back to sleep. We’d be up all night, tomorrow would be miserable, and the whole start to the week would be off.

But she was so beautiful. And I hadn’t been this attracted to someone in so long.

“Fuck,” I muttered, checking my watch. What was the right thing to do? If she were a different sort of woman, if her brother-in-law weren’t my friend and client, if we lived three states apart…if any number of circumstances were changed, I’d grab her hand, drag her out to my car, and spend the next thirty minutes fucking her brains out in the back seat. It would feel so good to take control that way, to lose control that way, to release some of this fucking tension. But was that fair to her?

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

“Hello?”

“He’s up again.” Monica’s voice was strained, and in the background I heard the familiar keening of a nighttime meltdown. My chest hurt, the way it always did when Scotty was upset.

“Shit. OK, I’m on my way. Twenty minutes, OK? Thirty at the most.”

“OK.”

“Tell him he can play on his iPad.”

“That’ll just rile him up more. He’s tired. He needs to go to sleep.”

I clenched my fist. “Just do it, OK? It will help calm him until I get there.”

As I ended the call, I heard footsteps above, and then Jillian appeared at the top of the stairs carrying a small suitcase. I watched her descend, the tightness in my chest growing. Also the tightness in my pants. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, her face concerned as she reached the ground and saw my expression. She set down the suitcase. “What’s up?”

Sighing, I put my phone back in my pocket. “I have to get home. Scotty woke up and he’s upset.”

“Oh.” She tried to hide it, but I saw the disappointment in her eyes.

“I’m really sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“That’s OK. I understand.”

“Can I call you?”

“Of course.” She smiled, and her lips looked so soft and inviting, I took a step closer.

If you kiss her, it will be that much harder to leave.

I knew it was the truth, but I couldn’t help myself. One kiss. Just one. And then I’ll go. I moved even closer and took her head in my hands.

The curve of her smile deepened. “What are you doing?”

“I’m thinking about kissing you.”

“Stop thinking.”

I lowered my lips to hers and let them rest there, fully intending the kiss to be short and sweet, just a goodnight.

But I couldn’t break it off. I wanted more—I wanted to taste her. Slanting my head, I changed the angle of the kiss, teasing her mouth open with mine, slipping my tongue between her lips. A little sigh escaped her, and my dick jumped to life again.

You have to go, you have to go, you have to go.

But her hands were moving up my chest and my fingers were sliding into her soft brown hair and I could smell something sweet and citrusy on her skin and it mingled with the taste of whiskey on my tongue and oh God, I wanted my tongue everywhere on her body. I wanted make her come with it just so I could hear that little sigh again and again and again. And I wanted to feel my hands in her hair just like this while she got on her knees and took my cock between her lips, looking up at me with those big blue eyes…

Groaning, I forced myself to take my lips off her before I completely lost my senses. “God, I wish I could stay,” I said, resting my forehead against hers. “I wish a lot of things.”

“I know.” She played with my tie again. “I wish I was taking this tie off you, not straightening it.”

“What a coincidence, that’s one of my wishes too.”

She laughed and kissed me quickly. “Another time, maybe. You better go.”

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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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Cover Reveal – Bend Me, Break Me by Chelsea M. Cameron

BM_Cover

The BFF’s are revealing the cover for BEND ME, BREAK ME by Chelsea M. Cameron. This book is a New Adult Romantic Suspense title. Release date will be announced soon.

BendMeBreakMe

One girl.

Lonely.

Broken.

Lost.

One boy.

Determined.

Guilty.

Lost.

Two hearts.

One terrible secret.

It will either bring them together or tear them apart.

ADD BEND ME, BREAK ME TO GOODREADS

Excerpt

“I get it,” she said. “I finally get it.” She wouldn’t look up at me, instead concentrating on her hands. There were a few freckles on the backs of them. I wanted to take one of her purple pens and connect them to make constellations on her skin.

“Get what?” I asked. Her eyes came up to my face.

“Why you’re so obsessed with me.” I raised both eyebrows, but inside, I was panicked. What if she figured me out? That would be disastrous. It would be the end.

“And why is that?” I said, trying to be playful.

“I’m mysterious,” she said, she wiggled her fingers in front of my face and the right side of her mouth drew up. Was that a smirk? Did Ingrid just smirk at me?

“Oh, is that what you think it is?” After so many intense moments, this moment of levity was like a cool drink for a parched throat.

“Definitely. What else could it be?” I wasn’t going to answer that.

“You got me,” I said, putting my hands up as if I surrendered. “I’m a sucker for a mystery.”

She nodded and I thought I spotted another smile, but it was gone quickly, stuffed away behind rigid lips.

“Thank you,” she said, so quietly that I almost didn’t catch it.

“You’re very welcome, Ingrid. Anytime.” I got up and brought her some pizza and another glass of water. I had the feeling she hadn’t been eating much recently.

She carefully ate two slices and had two water refills. It made the color in her cheeks come back.

“You must think I’m crazy,” she said.

“No. I don’t think that at all.” I wouldn’t think that about anyone, least of all her.

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying. Look at me.” I would never get used to the way her eyes seared into me.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Ingrid. Not even a little bit.” Her eyes narrowed and I could tell she was assessing if I was telling the truth or not.

“Okay,” she finally said. “I believe you.”

“Good.”

About the Author:

Chelsea M. Cameron is a New York Times/USA Today Best Selling author from Maine. Lover of things random and ridiculous, Jane Austen/Charlotte and Emily Bronte Fangirl, red velvet cake enthusiast, obsessive tea drinker, vegetarian, former cheerleader and world’s worst video gamer. When not writing, she enjoys watching infomercials, singing in the car, tweeting (this one time, she was tweeted by Neil Gaiman) and playing fetch with her cat, Sassenach. She has a degree in journalism from the University of Maine, Orono that she promptly abandoned to write about the people in her own head. More often than not, these people turn out to be just as weird as she is.

AUTHOR LINKS:
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SALE & Excerpt – Irresistibly Yours by Lauren Layne

IRRESISTIBLY YOURS

Oxford #1

Lauren Layne

Released Oct 6th, 2015

Loveswept

Meet the men of Oxford magazine! In the first captivating spin-off of Lauren Layne’s Sex, Love & Stiletto series, a not-so-friendly battle of the sexes turns into a scorching office romance.

Hotshot sports editor Cole Sharpe has been freelancing for Oxford for years, so when he hears about a staff position opening up, he figures he’s got the inside track. Then his boss drops a bombshell: Cole has competition. Female competition, in the form of a fresh-faced tomboy who can hang with the dudes—and write circles around them, too. Cole usually likes his women flirty and curvy, but he takes a special interest in his skinny, sassy rival, if only to keep an eye on her. And soon, he can’t take his eyes off her.

Penelope Pope knows all too well that she comes off as just one of the guys. Since she’s learned that wanting more usually leads to disappointment, Penelope’s resigned to sitting on the sidelines when it comes to love. So why does Cole make her want to get back in the game? The man is as arrogant as he is handsome. He probably sees her as nothing more than a barrier to his dream job. But when an unexpected kiss turns into a night of irresistible passion, Penelope has to figure out whether they’re just fooling around—or starting something real.

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Excerpt

“First game?” he asked.

Brown eyes flicked to him, barely. “What?”

“First baseball game?”

That got her attention. For the first time, she seemed to really look at him. Her eyes drifted over him slowly, before returning to his, her tone just slightly annoyed. “No. Not my first game.”

“Ah,” he said, already mentally maneuvering into a backpedal. “Bad assumption of me. You were just so into the game . . .”

“So you figured I must be trying to figure out how it all worked?” she asked. “That I must be trying to understand why some of the field is green and some is brown, and whatever could those white squares on the dirt be, and why-oh-why are those men running toward the white squares, but only sometimes . . .”

“All right,” Cole said with a laugh. “I’m an ass. You know baseball.”

Her smile was quick and easy, and he was relieved to see that she wasn’t one of those snippy, hold-it-against-him-forever types. “I know baseball.”

Is that what’s in your notebook? Baseball stuff?

She took a huge bite of her hot dog, completely unabashed at her bulging cheeks, and Cole hid a smile, pretending instead to be fixated on the game.

Hell. When had he ever had to pretend to be fixated on the Yankees?

“You were partially right,” she admitted, after swallowing.

He glanced at her. “Oh yeah?”

She grinned. “This is my first Yankees game.”

“I knew it,” he said, matching her grin full on. “I knew there was something virgin about you. But tell me, how come a baseball fan like you never made it to Yankee Stadium until now?”

“Well . . .” She licked a spot of mustard off her finger, but not in the slow, deliberate way that most women he knew would have done it. “It’s a long way from Chicago . . .”

Cole tore his eyes away from the way her lips closed around her thumb, sucking off that mustard. “You’re from Chicago?”

“From there, yes,” she said. “But let’s just say that as of two weeks ago, I’ll be spending a lot more time here than at Wrigley.”

“Ah. You’re new to New York.”

“Quite.”

“How do you like it?”

She hesitated. “It’s . . . intense.”

“Meaning . . . we New Yorkers are scary as hell?”

She smiled. “Well, it’s not as hostile as I’d been warned, but yeah. We Chicagoans are a bit more openly friendly than you New Yorkers.”

“I’m friendly,” he countered.

Tiny Brunette laughed. “No. You’re just incredibly charming. And a smidgen good-looking.”

He gave her his best bedroom look. “Am I?”

She smiled. “You know you are.”

Their eyes held for a moment, and Cole was startled to realize it was the most relaxed—the most himself—he’d felt around a woman in . . . hell . . . he didn’t know.

Mostly he was used to throwing out a couple of witty lines, a few slow smiles, and watching women counter with moves of their own.

There were no moves with this woman. She merely was.

Cole realized he didn’t even know her name.

“So tell me, as a Chicago baseball fan, are you Team Cubs or Team White Sox, Ms. . . .”

“Pope,” she said. “Penelope Pope. And both.”

Cole’s subconscious acknowledged that Penelope Pope was somehow exactly what this woman’s name should be. Perky and alliterative. His consciousness, however, latched on to another fact. “Both?”

It was not a typical answer. Most people had one baseball team, even if you were from a city with two teams, as Penelope was.

She shrugged. “Baseball’s not about who wins. It’s not even about who’s playing. It’s about the game. The consistent flow of it, the smack of the ball against the glove when you’re lucky enough to be sitting along one of the baselines, instead of stuck up here in this stuffy box—”

He stared at her. The words so closely echoed his own thoughts from just moments before that he wanted to kiss her.

She might just be his dream woman.

“That explains the hot dog,” he said.

“What?”

He nodded his chin at the last bite of hot dog, ignored in her left hand. “The hot dog. You’re in a luxury suite in Yankee Stadium with a whole buffet of gourmet foods, and yet you went and fetched the most basic hot dog you could find.”

She grinned. “Guilty.”

Cole turned his body all the way toward her now. “Tell me, Penelope Pope, what brings a Cubs and White Sox fan all the way to New York where you’ll face a whole new dilemma of choosing between the Yankees and the Mets . . .”

Tiny Brunette never got to answer.

The shadow of someone coming up behind their seats caused them both to turn. It was Alex Cassidy, Oxford’s editor in chief, looking down at them with a half-amused, half-worried expression.

“Cassidy,” Cole said. He lifted an eyebrow and silently added, Nice of you to show up.

“Sorry I’m late,” Cassidy said, not really sounding sorry at all. “I got held up.”

Automatically, Cole’s eyes scanned the luxury suite until he found the pretty woman he knew was likely to be somewhere around here . . .

Yup, there she was.

Emma Sinclair, Cassidy’s long-ago runaway bride, with whom he’d recently reconciled, was surreptitiously wiping smudged lipstick from the corner of her mouth.

His eyes returned to his boss, this time looking closer . . .

“Third button, dude,” Cole said wearily.

The always polished Cassidy glanced down, and without so much as wincing, fixed the misaligned buttons of his shirt.

Cole should have known. A naked Emma Sinclair was the only thing that could throw Alex Cassidy off his rigid timetable.

But Emma and Cassidy’s sex life was where the predictable part of the evening ended, because Cole was absolutely not prepared for Cassidy to reach out a hand to Tiny Brunette, a polite smile on his usually impassive face.

“Alex Cassidy. I’m so sorry I’m late, Ms. Pope.”

Cole glanced between the two of them. They knew each other?

“Not a problem,” she said, turning an easy smile on Cassidy. It was the exact same friendly smile she’d given Cole, and it very much made Cole want to punch his friend in the mouth.

“It’s refreshing to see you two playing so nicely,” Cassidy said with a droll look at Cole.

He narrowed his eyes at his boss, not sure what he was missing, but certain that he was missing something.

Cassidy answered Cole’s silent question with his usual professional businessman smile. “Cole, this is Penelope Pope.”

“We’ve met,” Cole said slowly.

“Excellent. So then you know that Penelope is our late-stage applicant for the sports editor role at Oxford?”

Very slowly, Cole turned toward Tiny Brunette. Took in her friendly smile even as he took in the sorry-not-sorry glint in her eyes.

This was his competition. This was the person standing between Cole and the job he so desperately wanted.

“I suppose I should have been more thorough when I introduced myself,” she said sweetly. “Penelope Pope. Sports editor.”

Plus side? At least now Cole knew what was in her damn notebook.

The downside? Everything else.

About the Author

Lauren Layne is the USA Today Bestselling author of more than a dozen contemporary romance novels.

Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and web-marketing. A year after moving from Seattle to NYC to pursue a writing career, she had a fabulous agent and multiple New York publishing deals.

Lauren currently lives in Manhattan with her husband and plus-sized Pomeranian. When not writing, you’ll likely find her running (rarely), reading (sometimes), or at happy hour (often).

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Book Two in the Oxford Series

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