Feature Tour – The Collectors’ Society by Heather Lyons

The BFF’s are thrilled to participate in this feature tour for The Collectors’ Society by Heather Lyons! This is one of our most favorite series by one of our most favorite authors! Make sure you read to the end for a special excerpt from The Lost Codex, The Collectors’ Society #4.

THE COLLECTORS’ SOCIETY (The Collectors’ Society, #1)

From the author of the Fate series and The Deep End of the Sea comes a fantastical romantic adventure that has Alice tumbling down the strangest rabbit hole yet.

After years in Wonderland, Alice has returned to England as an adult, desperate to reclaim sanity and control over her life. An enigmatic gentleman with an intriguing job offer too tempting to resist changes her plans for a calm existence, though. Soon, she’s whisked to New York and initiated into the Collectors’ Society, a secret organization whose members confirm that famous stories are anything but straightforward and that what she knows about the world is only a fraction of the truth.

It’s there she discovers villains are afoot—ones who want to shelve the lives of countless beings. Assigned to work with the mysterious and alluring Finn, Alice and the rest of the Collectors’ Society race against a doomsday clock in order to prevent further destruction . . . but will they make it before all their endings are erased?

* This is the first book in the adult romance/fairy tale Collectors’ Society series.

The Collectors’ Society Review

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THE HIDDEN LIBRARY (The Collectors’ Society, #2)

Sometimes, the rabbit hole is deeper than expected . . .

Alice Reeve and Finn Van Brunt have tumbled into a life of secrets. Some secrets they share, such as their employment by the clandestine organization known as The Collectors’ Society. Other secrets they carry within them, fighting to keep buried the things that could change everything they think they know.

On the hunt for an elusive villain who is hell-bent on destroying legacies, Alice, Finn, and the rest of the Society are desperate to unravel the mysteries surrounding them. But the farther they spiral down this rabbit hole, the deeper they fall into secrets that will test their loyalties and pit them against enemies both new and old.

Secrets, they come to find, can reveal the deadliest of truths.

* This is the second book in the adult romance/fairy tale Collectors’ Society series.

The Hidden Library Review

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The Forgotten Mountain (The Collectors’ Society #3)

After years spent in Wonderland, Alice Reeve learned the impossible was quite possible after all. She thought she left such fantastical realities behind when she finally returned to England.

Now Alice has become a member of the clandestine Collectors’ Society, and the impossible has found her again in the form of an elusive villain set on erasing entire worlds. As she and the rest of the Society race to bring this mysterious murderer to justice, the fight becomes painfully personal.

Lives are being lost. Loved ones are shattered or irrevocably altered. Each step closer Alice gets to the shadowy man she hunts, the more secrets she unravels, only to reveal chilling truths. If she wants to win this war and save millions of lives, Alice must once more embrace the impossible and make the unimaginable, imaginable.

Sometimes, the rabbit hole leads to terrifying places.

The Forgotten Mountain Review

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THE LOST CODEX (The Collectors’ Society, #4/coming soon!)

Allies, once inseparable, splinter until they break apart.

An insidiousness carves its way through Wonderland, challenging the land’s very existence.

Battle lines will be drawn as pages, long languishing in darkness, are finally illuminated.

Swords will clash, blood will be spilled, and lives will be lost.

For what is written can still be erased.

Buy Links coming soon!

Excerpt

“You mentioned the need to take a symbolic object within the dream,” I say as I hover over his work, “one I must destroy. Yet, you have given no instruction on what that object must be.”

He nudges his half-moon glasses up his bulbous nose, barely sparing a glance toward me. “I did.”

Which means I must figure it out myself. I do not bother asking how one even brings an object into their dream, as I can already guess his answer.

What, then, would sufficiently constitute symbolic for a series of dreams I cannot remember? In place of images, all I possess are deep-seated emotions that refuse to relinquish their hold on me. Including a maddening sense of love . . . love for a nameless man whose face I cannot conjure.

Why can I not recall his face?

Perhaps a blank mask will do? Destroy the mask, terminate a passion for an imaginary person for whom I have assigned preposterous feelings for.

About the Author

Heather Lyons writes epic, heartfelt love stories and has always had a thing for words. In addition to writing, she’s also been an archaeologist and a teacher. She and her husband and children live in sunny Southern California and are currently working their way through every cupcakery she can find.

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Review – Bad Judgment by Meghan March

He’s so arrogant.

She’s so self-righteous.

I can’t stand him.

I want her.

He’s a distraction I don’t need.

She’ll say yes eventually because I’m not giving up.

Justine Porter is stuck between a rock and a stripper pole. She lost her law school scholarship, which means she has two choices to keep her life on track: strip for her tuition or tutor the most distractingly sexy guy in her class—the one she’s been turning down for two years straight. It should be an easy choice, but tutoring Ryker Grant could derail her plans to graduate with honors faster than two-for-one night at the Déjà Vu. Then again, topless has never really been her color.

She could take the easy road, just this once . . . but the deal has enough loopholes to trip anyone up.

Who knew they taught bad judgment in law school?

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BFF K’s Review of Bad Judgment

Bad Judgment is a terrific new adult book and the law school setting is intriguing in both place and purpose. Knowing that the author is a former attorney makes the book even more interesting.

Ryker and Justine are the perfect hero and heroine for this delicious enemies-to-lovers storyline. I absolutely loved both of the main characters and all of the supporting characters. Bad Judgment is a quick read, but full of goodness! I don’t want to give away any of the narrative, but know that the book brings everything promised in the synopsis and so much more!

Bad Judgment delivered everything I’ve come to expect from Meghan March! It’s smart, well-written, full of endearing characters and unique plot twists. There are plenty of steamy scenes, but they’re built around the plot and just perfect for the story. Meghan March is an absolute one-click author for me; she never disappoints. Bad Judgment should absolutely be at the top of your TBR list!

An advance copy was received in exchange for an honest review.

Excerpt

“I’ve got some things I need to say to you, and you’re going to let me.”

Her brown eyes snap up to mine, surprise clear in them. “Why should I?”

“Because you’re nothing if not curious, and you want to know what I have to say.”

She steps backward, and I let my fingertips trail across her skin before they drop away. Justine adjusts the straps of her backpack on her shoulders and tucks Chewbacca into a side pocket.

“You know you want to hear the rare sound of me apologizing, don’t you?”

Justine purses her lips, and all I can think about is the dreams I had all weekend of her staring down at me from a stage while she danced and stripped. My own private show. I’m not going to admit how many times I jacked off to the mental picture. I need the real thing, and I won’t have another shot if she won’t even give me a chance to talk to her.

I don’t know what changes her mind, but she relaxes her posture and relents. “Fine. You’ve got five minutes. This better be good.”

It’s not much, but I’ll take it. I lead the way out of the classroom, slipping out the side door I used to make my unobtrusive entrance. Or at least, it was unobtrusive until I decided to share my strike-out history with the entire class at Professor Turner’s invitation.

Glancing behind me, I’m marginally surprised to see Justine actually following. I head for the third-floor doors to the library, where the private rooms are. This conversation isn’t for public consumption.

The first private room on the right is empty, so I push the door open. Justine trails me inside, and I shrug off my backpack and drop it on one of the four chairs.

She closes the door behind her and leans against it, her arms crossed over her chest. I’m guessing she wouldn’t stand that way if she realized how it draws attention to her chest. I force my eyes back to her face. I’m not about to fuck this up.

“Wow, you must really plan on groveling if you need privacy,” she says, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Maybe I just wanted to get you alone.”

She rolls her eyes. “And I’m already getting bored.”

“You love to bust my balls, don’t you?”

“I don’t really like to think about your balls, if you want to know the truth.”

I try on my charming smile, the one that has dropped panties for years. “I’m calling bullshit on that. You’ve thought about me at least once.”

She pushes off the door and turns halfway to reach for the handle. “And if that’s all you wanted to say, then I think we’re done here.”

“Wait.”

I’m shocked when she listens.

Justine rubs her hands over her face, her every move revealing her frustration. “You ask me out for two years, practically blackmail me into a kiss, then you blow me off completely, and now you’re all up in my business again. What the hell do you want from me?”

Her confusion punches me in the gut, making me wish I could tell her why I wasn’t there the morning I promised to help her move. It wasn’t for any reason she thinks.

I stride toward her, pressing one palm against the door beside her head. “I’m not blowing you off, and I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.”

“Then why—”

I can’t give her the explanation she wants, so I try something different.

Lowering my head, I catch the next words out of her mouth on my lips. They’re just as soft as I remember, and I drop my other hand to her hip, drawing her against me. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my T-shirt, almost reluctantly, but she’s not pushing me away.

I take her mouth, my tongue diving between her lips to taste her again—finally, but the pulsing of my dick against the zipper of my jeans forces me to back off. If I don’t, I’ll be laying her out on the table behind us, and that’s not what this is about. At least, not all of what this is about.

With her face flushed and her hair messy from my fingers, Justine shutters her expression. She’s rebuilding her walls brick by brick.

That’s not going to work for me.

“What’s it going to take, Justine?” I remember asking her the same question at the bar.

Her dark eyes fill with confusion. “What’s what going to take?” The words come out defensively.

“With you. To get a second chance. I fucked up once, but doesn’t everyone deserve another shot?”

About the Author

Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had. She loves hearing from her readers at meghanmarchbooks@gmail.com.

Excerpt – Dirty Talk by S.L. Scott

One month.

One movie.

One shot at a second chance.

I fell madly in love at first sight with Jane Lewis.

The girl with bright blue eyes, a pretty smile, and great ass owned my heart. I thought she was happy with the status quo, but ten years later, I foolishly let her go. Despite dating other women, no one compares to my first love. We are meant to be together, and I’m going to try my damnedest to convince her of that.

Luke Anders tricked me. The deal was sealed before I knew he was behind it.

We agreed to be just friends. Simple. Easy. But it’s not just the weather that’s hot in Texas. I was a fool to think I could resist him. He knows how to work his charms and those kissable lips, that great jaw, and biceps. We are here to work, but he has become downright distracting.

I’m strong. I can handle one month of his flirtatious sexual torture. But if I happen to fall in bed with that sexy bastard for a night, or three, does that make me weak? Asking for a friend, of course.

I guess I’m about to find out when love gets messy, it’s not just the talk that’s dirty.

Because first love deserves a second chance

Standalone Contemporary Romance

From the New York Times Bestselling Author of The Resistance comes TWO sexy and funny standalones.

Dirty Talk will release on September 1st.

Add Dirty Talk to your Goodreads TBR

Sweet Talk aka Models On Top – Danny is AVAILABLE NOW & FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

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Excerpt from Dirty Talk

Luke Anders

“What if I touched you right where you want to be touched?” I slide my hand up her thigh, inching her skirt up slowly. Her breath catches, the quiet gasp making me smile. “What if I touched you right where you pretend to be so protective? I know you. I know you like it dirty . . . maybe even a little rough.”

She finds her voice, though it’s affected, sexy. “A lot.”

“What is that?”

Clearing her throat, she says, “I like it rough. Really rough.”

The right side of my mouth curves up, my hand stalling just below the apex of her thighs when my phone buzzes. I release a sigh. Grabbing the phone from my pocket, I sit up and read the text: Let’s get the fuck out of here. I look back at the black-haired raven I’ve left squirming on the metal barstool next to me. I’d like to explore exactly how she likes it, but duty calls. Standing up suddenly, I grab my wallet and slap some bills down for the drinks.

“What are you doing?” she demands, desperation lacing her tone as her eyes go wide.

I tuck my wallet back into the inside pocket of my Vittori suit jacket and kiss her on the cheek. Since I’m there, I add with a wink, “I bet we’d be so fucking good together.” Straightening upright, I smirk. “My apologies. I hate to run, but unfortunately, I have a prior engagement I can’t get out of. Maybe we can pick this up another time. I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

She huffs. “You’re a playboy bastard, Luke Anders,” rolls off her tongue in frustrated anger as she spins back to the bar.

I know. Not turning back, I nod. It’s not the first time I’ve been called a playboy or a bastard. Name-calling doesn’t bother me. Not getting laid tonight does.

Pushing open the exit door that leads to the alley, my asshole friends are waiting near the car they’ve pulled around.

The rusting red door slams shut, the click of the lock heard loudly behind me. The alley is quiet compared to the loud music that blares inside the club. “Fuckers.” With my arms out wide, I yell, “What the fuck? Where’s the fire? I was closing the deal.”

“We were saving you, man. Trust me on that.” My best friend is standing in front of the car with his arms crossed over his chest. Danny Weston is one of the best people I know, but right now, he’s pissing me the fuck off.

“Saving me from what?”

“Ask Blaise. He has firsthand knowledge.”

When I shoot an annoyed look in Blaise’s direction, he clams up. With hands up in surrender, he backs away toward the driver’s door. “I can’t help that the ladies love me.” Thus confirming he’s already hit that pretty kitty.

I walk to the passenger’s side of the car, punching Danny on the arm when I pass him. “Shit, man, just give me a heads-up next time. I wasted some of my best lines on her.”

Danny claims the front seat, so I duck into the back seat of a restored 1969 black Gran Torino. Cocky behind the wheel, Blaise takes off before we even have our seatbelts on, and says, “Stop hitting on everyone that takes pity on you then.”

“Fuck you. I can get any woman I want. No one’s taking pity on me.”

Danny breaks into the argument, “You guys really need to find a new hobby.”

“One-night stands are plenty entertaining,” Blaise retorts, smiling.

Danny puts his arm on the back of the seat and turns toward me. “I’m not going to lecture you—”

“Again,” I add.

“Again,” he repeats while rolling his eyes. “But we’ve talked about this a fuck ton of times. She’s not Jane and until you figure out what the hell is going on there, or if anything is going on there, these women are all the same—just another disappointment you’re going to have in the morning because they’re not her.”

Blaise verbally steps in, “Damn, dude, why so deep? You’re bringing me down.”

Danny laughs. I don’t. We’ve been friends for many years now, so Danny knows my game. He knows me well enough to know what I’m doing. Until I sort out this mess with the first woman I ever loved, the rest are just regrets waiting to happen, along with the regrets I can’t take back.

But I know him well too. We relate in a way that Blaise doesn’t understand, on a level that one day he’d be lucky to experience. No matter what I’ve been through with Jane, I’ve loved, hard. I know what it means to love and to be loved. I have no regrets when it comes to Jane, except one: letting her go.

Available Now – Sweet Talk (aka Models on Top – Danny)

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Read BFF K’s Review of Sweet Talk

Everything you’ve heard about modeling is true, and you haven’t heard the half of it.

It’s glamorous.

It’s sexy.

And yes, the line between work and reality often blurs.

We’re not just prototypes of perfection. Models have feelings and desires, too. We may be genetically gifted, but we’re still human.

I’m only human. Yes, an extraordinary specimen that earns more in a day than most make in a year, but this eight pack didn’t create itself. I spend hours working on this body. The good looks just come natural. *Winks* Thanks, Mom and Dad.

I’m Danny Weston, Supermodel.

But one path was traded for another when I chose this career. Ten years later, I would trade my career to have it back. To have her back.

Reese Carmichael is the one woman I would give it all up for, and the only one I can’t have. Yet.

About the Author

New York Times and USA Bestselling Author, S. L. Scott, was always interested in the arts. She grew up painting, writing poetry and short stories, and willing her days away lost in a good book and the movies.

With a degree in Journalism, she continued her love of the written word by reading American authors like Salinger and Fitzgerald. She was intrigued by their flawed characters living in picture perfect worlds, but could still debate that the world those characters lived in were actually the flawed ones. This dynamic of leaving the reader invested in the words, inspired Scott to start writing with emotion while interjecting an underlying passion into her own stories.

Living in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados, beaches, and cooking with her kids. She’s obsessed with epic romances and loves a good plot twist. She dreams of seeing one of her own books made into a movie one day as well as returning to Europe. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she’s a pro.

Excerpt – Wait by A.L. Jackson

Wait COMING AUGUST 23

ALJackson-WaitBookCover5x8_BW_HIGH

From NYT & USA Today bestselling author comes a new Bleeding Stars stand-alone novel…

She is his strength and he is her weakness. And this time he won’t let her go.

Edie Evans is gorgeous.

Sexy.

Kind.

She’s also the definition of off-limits.

But that didn’t stop me from sneaking into her room to comfort her at night.

But guys like me? We destroy everything, so it should have been no surprise when I destroyed us, too.

The night I sent her running, I thought I’d never see her again.

Until I saw her standing like a vision in the crowd.

Austin Stone is dangerous.

Alluring.

Tempting.

He broke my heart and I refused to give him the chance to do it again.

It’s been years since I’ve seen him, and now I can’t do anything but stare at the gorgeous, tattooed man playing onstage. I should run. I know I should. But like a fool, I run straight back to him.

Our desire is overpowering.
Our need unrelenting.

She is my hope.
He is my weakness.

We should have known a passion this intense would burn us right into the ground.

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Pre-Order on iBooks and get it a day early!

Be notified as soon as WAIT goes live everywhere August 23, 2016

Excerpt from Wait

“Edie…please…just…wait.”

I gripped the railing as if it might propel me forward. Instead, my footsteps faltered and slowed. I stood facing away, my back heaving as his consuming presence swarmed over me from behind.

“Please.” This time it was a whisper. A plea.

Sincere.

Slowly I turned.

Drawn.

He’d always been my weakness.

Austin stood at the end of the walkway, just outside the reach of the lights, his body obscured in shadows.

Even larger than I’d imagined when I’d first seen him up on stage.

So foreign.

So familiar.

My heart ached. Because I was looking at the boy who’d been my best friend. The one person who I’d thought would completely understand. One who wouldn’t judge or make it hurt more than it already did.

He’d been my safety.

My haven.

Until he’d dragged me right back into hell.

“Why are you here?” My words cracked. “H-h-how…how did you find me?”

I saw the shake of his head, and he took a single step forward, out of the shadows and into the glow of the single lamp attached high on the exterior wall that lit the way.

It hit him like a spotlight.

The boy was so beautiful.

It was a threatening kind of beauty, a whorl of mystery and pain, sharp lines and corded muscle.

It almost dropped me to my knees.

He fisted his hands at his sides. The question was strained, hard as it pressed from his mouth. “You believe in fate, Edie?”

Old grief I’d bottled for so long burst. It came out as some kind of maniacal cry. Incredulous. Oozing disbelief. “After everything that happened…that’s what you’re going to ask me?”

“Edie…I—”

“Do you have any idea how badly you hurt me?” I cut him off, my own hands fisting as I took a single step forward. “The damage you caused? Careless words, Austin. So fucking careless, thrown out there without a single thought to the repercussions, without any consideration of how they would affect me. How they would change my life. You promised.” My brow twisted with the accusation. “And now you have the nerve to stand there and ask me if I believe in fate?”

I swallowed hard, shook my head. “You can go to straight to hell, Austin Stone.”

He laughed, but there was zero humor behind it. “Come on, Edie. You can do better than that, can’t you? Considering you know hell is where I’ve been all along, and you and I both know I deserve so much worse. And yeah…those words were reckless, but you know they weren’t heedless. You couldn’t expect me to just stand there. Not with him. Not with what he was saying. Implying. I couldn’t.” The last cracked on the emphasis.

I felt as if every cell in my body was being crushed. Squeezed so tight there was no chance but for everything to implode.

“And because you lost it, I lost it all. You. My home. My future.”

His big hands fisted. “I know. I…I fucked it up, Edie. Warned you, I always fuck it up.”

But what he failed to say was he’d promised he wouldn’t fuck it up with me.

I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or terrified when Jed suddenly rounded the corner. His sister, Blaire, was hot on his heels.

“Edie,” Jed gushed out in relief when he saw me. He came to a stop a few steps behind Austin.

As if he’d just stepped into the bristling intensity and it tripped up his feet.

The stand-off.

The war.

Austin standing there? I knew that’s exactly what this was going to be.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jed demanded. His voice twisted into a threat. He glared at the back of Austin’s head, worried eyes flicking to me, hardening when they snapped back to Austin.

Blaire tugged at his arm. “Jed…I told you to give her a minute. Sometimes you need to let people sort out their own issues.”

Jed just grunted and shrugged off her arm.

Refusing to budge.

Austin swung his head to look behind him. When he did, his face shifted to the side, all those hard, beautiful lines exposed in profile, his expression winding into a bitter sneer. “Nah, man. All’s good here. Just telling an old friend hi. Isn’t that right, Edie?”

Aggression curled between them.

Alive and raging.

Jed was a burly, beefy, hulk of a man, a full beard covering most of his face, his brown hair cut short at the sides and longer on top.

Had I ever imagined him and Austin going toe to toe, I would have put all my money on Jed.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

Jed lifted his chin, as if for the moment he was standing down, turning to me as his tone softened. “You okay, Edie?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Lie. Lie. Lie.

I was shaken to my core.

“I just want to go home.” It left me on a desperate breath.

Jed pushed around Austin and stalked my way. “All right, let’s get you out of here.”

As she passed by Austin, Blaire cast a searching glance in his direction, before her attention flickered over to me, a ton of worried questions moving across her expression.

Questions I didn’t know if I had the strength to answer.

With an arm wound around my shoulder, Jed spun me, breaking the spell Austin had me under, and tucked me into his side.

Protecting and shielding.

He began to lead me away, down the planks and toward his car waiting in the parking lot out front.

With each step we took, I could feel the heat of Austin’s stare. That burning intensity I wasn’t sure I could ever escape.

The hurt and hatred.

It was a hatred I couldn’t tell who it was directed at.

If it was aimed at him or me or the rest of the world that had threatened to choke the life out of us.

The world we were supposed to take on together.

Just as we started to round the corner, I paused because I just couldn’t stop myself, turned to look back at the man who stood there staring back at me.

Emotion gripped his expression just as tight as the clench of his fists.

Hard and tortured.

As if I was the one inflicting the pain.

I choked down the sorrow that rose like a cyclone, spinning and spinning, whipping up the old affection that longed for that soft, understanding boy to take me in his arms and sing in my ear.

Dangerous.

I searched inside myself for the shelter that secured my heart. The flimsy cover I wore that just barely kept me together. I forced myself to speak the words I knew would drive him away, as much of a lie as they were. “And for the record…no, Austin, I definitely don’t believe in fate.”

Wait_24

Read BFF K’s Reviews from the rest of the Bleeding Stars Series

A Stone in the Sea

Drowning to Breathe

Where Lightning Strikes

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About the Author

aljacksonphoto A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.

Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, as well as the newest BLEEDING STARS novels. Watch for the next installments, WAIT and STAY, coming in 2016.

If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.

Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson – Sign up to receive her newsletter http://bit.ly/NewsFromALJackson or text “jackson” to 96000 to receive short but sweet updates on all the important news.

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

Snapchat: aljacksonauthor

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Review – Close to You by Kristen Proby

Kristen Proby is known for writing heartfelt characters with deep connections and sizzling passion. In her brand new Fusion Series from William Morrow, she seduces readers’ senses with the sexy, contemporary romance in which five best friends open a hot new restaurant together. Today, we are thrilled to bring you CLOSE TO YOU, the second book in the Fusion Series! CLOSE TO YOU brings readers the next story in this amazing cast of characters. Grab your copy of CLOSE TO YOU today and check out the special offer below!

From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kristen Proby comes the second novel in her sizzling Fusion series.

Camilla, “Cami,” LaRue was five-years-old when she first fell in love with Landon Palazzo. Everyone told her the puppy love would fade—they clearly never met Landon. When he left after graduation without a backward glance, she was heartbroken. But Cami grew up, moved on, and became part-owner of wildly popular restaurant Seduction. She has everything she could want…or so she thinks.

After spending the last twelve years as a Navy fighter pilot, Landon returns to Portland to take over the family construction business. When he catches a glimpse of little Cami LaRue, he realizes she’s not so little any more. He always had a soft spot for his little sister’s best friend, but nothing is soft now when he’s around the gorgeous restauranteur.

Landon isn’t going to pass up the chance to make the girl-next-door his. She’s never been one for romance, but he’s just the one to change her mind. Will seduction be just the name of her restaurant or will Cami let him get close enough to fulfill all her fantasies?

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BFF K’s Review of Close to You

Kristen Proby delivers another great romance full of well-developed characters, emotional plots, just the right amount of steam and plenty of heart.

Landon and Cami have been a part of each other’s lives for years, but the timing was never right. When an accident cuts short Landon’s Navy career and forces him back home, will it finally be time for he and Cami to undertake a relationship? I enjoyed the exploration and growth as Landon and Cami transitioned from admirers to lovers.

This Fusion Series is terrific! The ladies are all well written and unique in their characterization. Their friendships and business relationships are a joy to read. The men that they’re paired with are the perfect matches for each of them.

Close to You delivers all the things you’re looking for in a romance. The characters are flawed and relate-able, but say the most perfect things to each other. There’s enough drama to keep things interesting and a happily ever after that delivers the perfect ending. I’m anxious for more in the fusion series and look forward to more HEA’s for these great characters!

An advance copy was received in exchange for an honest review

Excerpt

~Cami~

He’s back.

I take a deep, cleansing breath and push my hands through my blond hair, scrutinizing my makeup. I don’t wear much, and I’m certainly not as talented with it as my best friend, Addie, but it’ll do. My green eyes are accentuated nicely, lips are pink, and heart is beating faster than ever.

“You’ve known him your whole life. It’s not like he’s new,” I remind myself in the mirror. “You’re just going over to say hi. It’s no big deal.”

I don’t look convinced, so I narrow my eyes and lean in. “He’s just an old friend. Suck it up, buttercup.”

Landon is my other best friend, Mia’s older brother. Addie, Mia, and I grew up together, and I’ve been in love with Landon for as long as I can remember. God, one look at him usually sends the giant birds in my stomach into overdrive. He’s handsome— understatement of the year— and sweet and . . . damn.

I’m ridiculous.

I shake my head at my reflection and turn away to grab my purse and set out to Landon’s parents’ place, where he’s been staying since arriving home a few days ago. Landon was in the Navy since he graduated from college. He was a pilot, until an accident a few months ago that resulted in him ejecting from the plane.

I’ve never felt fear like I did the day we received the call that he’d been hurt. And the past few months of him being on the other side of the world have been torture. I couldn’t see him to make sure he was okay. He had to recover, then go through the process of being discharged from the Navy before he could come home.

Thank God he’s back now. I gave him a couple of days to acclimate, but I just can’t stay away anymore. I need to see him.

And I’m nervous as hell.

I park at the curb by his parents’ house, gather my courage about me, and walk up the sidewalk to the front door, knocking with more conviction than I feel.

There isn’t any movement in the house, making me frown. It’s early enough in the day that he should be home.

I knock again, and just when I’m about to give up and leave, the door is yanked open and there he is.

Half- naked.

Hair rumpled.

Eyes blurry.

Did I mention that he’s half freaking naked?

Order CLOSE TO YOU during release week, fill out this form, and receive an email with the Exclusive Short Story, GROW WITH ME, featuring Will and Meg from Kristen Proby’s PLAY WITH ME in the With Me in Seattle Series after Release Week!

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About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kristen Proby is the author of the bestselling With Me In Seattle and Love Under the Big Sky series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong, humorous characters with a strong sense of loyalty and family. Her men are the alpha type; fiercely protective and a bit bossy, and her ladies are fun, strong, and not afraid to stand up for themselves.

Kristen lives in Montana, where she enjoys coffee, chocolate and sunshine. And naps.

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SALE – Nowhere But Here by Katie McGarry

The BFF’s are absolutely thrilled to tell you about the Sales Blitz for Katie McGarry’s NOWHERE BUT HERE! NOWHERE BUT HERE is a Young Adult Contemporary Romance and is the first book in Katie McGarry’s Thunder Road Series, published by Harlequin Teen. It is on sale for $2.99 right now until August 15^th! Be sure you grab your copy today at this amazing price!!

An unforgettable new series from acclaimed author Katie McGarry about taking risks, opening your heart and ending up in a place you never imagined possible

Seventeen-year-old Emily likes her life the way it is: doting parents, good friends, good school in a safe neighborhood. Sure, she’s curious about her biological father—the one who chose life in a motorcycle club, the Reign of Terror, over being a parent—but that doesn’t mean she wants to be a part of his world. But when a reluctant visit turns to an extended summer vacation among relatives she never knew she had, one thing becomes clear: nothing is what it seems. Not the club, not her secret-keeping father and not Oz, a guy with suck-me-in blue eyes who can help her understand them both.

Oz wants one thing: to join the Reign of Terror. They’re the good guys. They protect people. They’re…family. And while Emily—the gorgeous and sheltered daughter of the club’s most respected member—is in town, he’s gonna prove it to her. So when her father asks him to keep her safe from a rival club with a score to settle, Oz knows it’s his shot at his dream. What he doesn’t count on is that Emily just might turn that dream upside down.

No one wants them to be together. But sometimes the right person is the one you least expect, and the road you fear the most is the one that leads you home.

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Excerpt

From Oz’s Point of View. Set up: Emily has been separated from her parents and after a long night of worrying, her emotions and exhaustion catch up to her and it causes Oz to have his first fluttering of emotion for Emily.

WIND BLOWS IN FROM THE NORTH AND A FEW pieces of Emily’s dark hair sweep across her face. One minute Emily’s a bright flame, then a gust snuffs out her light. Her body sways like a top at the tail end of a spin and I lunge forward.

Emily’s knees give out and her eyes roll back into her head. I catch her inches before she crashes onto the porch. She’s light as I swing her into my arms and her head circles onto my shoulder, reminding me of one of those rag dolls Violet used to play with when we were kids.

“Emily!” Eli’s on top of me, attempting to yank her out of my arms. “Open your eyes.”

Her eyelids flutter, but remain closed as her hand limply clutches my shirt. Eli rams his arms underneath mine and he makes Emily a rope in a tug-of-war. I should let her go. I should want to let her go, but then Emily goes and screws it up for me. “Oz.”

It was a damn whisper, but I heard my name on her lips and so did Eli. His eyes flash to mine and Cyrus’s words repeat in my mind. That girl trusts you. And screw us both for that.

“She’s exhausted,” I say. “Hasn’t slept at all tonight.”

Eli’s expression hardens as he glares at me. I’ve seen Eli throw a coma-inducing punch for less defiance and I readjust the sleeping girl in my arms. A reminder if he decks me now, he’ll be putting his daughter at risk.

Temporarily surrendering, Eli cups Emily’s face in his hands and angles her toward him. “Emily, please open your eyes.”

She does. It’s barely a crack and they’re completely glazed.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Eli affirms.

“I want my mom and dad,” she mumbles.

“You’ll see them tomorrow.” Eli pushes a strand of hair from her cheek. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

She rejects Eli by curling into me. Her head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck and I loathe the wave of protectiveness that rumbles through my body. Emily’s fingers tighten their grip near my shoulders and the impulse is to shield her from the guys gawking at this intimate scene. Yeah, this is club business, but Emily never asked for any of this.

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About the Author

Katie McGarry was a teenager during the age of grunge and boy bands and remembers those years as the best and worst of her life. She is a lover of music, happy endings, reality television, and is a secret University of Kentucky basketball fan.

Katie is the author of full length YA novels, PUSHING THE LIMITS, DARE YOU TO, CRASH INTO YOU, TAKE ME ON, BREAKING THE RULES, and NOWHERE BUT HERE and the e-novellas, CROSSING THE LINE and RED AT NIGHT. Her debut YA novel, PUSHING THE LIMITS was a 2012 Goodreads Choice Finalist for YA Fiction, a RT Magazine’s 2012 Reviewer’s Choice Awards Nominee for Young Adult Contemporary Novel, a double Rita Finalist, and a 2013 YALSA Top Ten Teen Pick. DARE YOU TO was also a Goodreads Choice Finalist for YA Fiction and won RT Magazine’s Reviewer’s Choice Best Book Award for Young Adult Contemporary fiction in 2013.

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New Release – Swear on this Life by Renée Carlino

9781501105791 From USA TODAY bestselling author Renée Carlino (Before We Were Strangers), a warm and witty novel about a struggling writer who must come to grips with her past, present, and future after she discovers that she’s the inspiration for a pseudonymously published bestselling novel.

When a bestselling debut novel from mysterious author J. Colby becomes the literary event of the year, Emiline reads it reluctantly. As an adjunct writing instructor at UC San Diego with her own stalled literary career and a bumpy long-term relationship, Emiline isn’t thrilled to celebrate the accomplishments of a young and gifted writer.

Yet from the very first page, Emiline is entranced by the story of Emerson and Jackson, two childhood best friends who fall in love and dream of a better life beyond the long dirt road that winds through their impoverished town in rural Ohio.

That’s because the novel is patterned on Emiline’s own dark and desperate childhood, which means that “J. Colby” must be Jase: the best friend and first love she hasn’t seen in over a decade. Far from being flattered that he wrote the novel from her perspective, Emiline is furious that he co-opted her painful past and took some dramatic creative liberties with the ending.

The only way she can put her mind at ease is to find and confront “J. Colby,” but is she prepared to learn the truth behind the fiction?

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Excerpt

During the winter we pretended our way through the classics, read every popular kid’s book and by spring of our sixth grade year, the spring of all the rain, we were ready to be outside and explore again. There was a creek about half a mile back from our houses, past the tree line. Because of all the rain that year, it had become more of a river with the strongest currents right behind where we lived. Every adult warned us to be careful, even my dead-beat dad would say, “You better use that big brain of yours and stay out of the creek. You want to go swimming, you can go to the pool in town.”

Funny he would say that because the community pool was a seven-mile bike ride and it cost three dollars to get in. There was no way I was going unless Leila, Jax’s mom gave us a ride and even then, I would have to borrow the money to get in. Frankly, going to the town pool was a pipe dream. It became a myth to us, a fantasy like Disneyland or Europe. Jax and I would try to imagine what it was like to go there.

“I bet they sell popsicles and popcorn and they probably have clowns too,” I said.

It was a warm day; we had made a picnic in the weeds. I laid out my Toy Story sleeping bag I’d had from when I was a kid. Jax brought a jar of applesauce and I brought Fun Dip that my dad had bought me at the 7-11. We mixed the fun dip into the jar and took turns eating spoonfuls.

“Community pools don’t have clowns, genius.”

“How do you know?” I said.

“Because I just do.”

“I bet there’s a high dive, like fifty feet in the air.”

“Do you know how high fifty feet is? You would die hitting the water. The impact would kill you.”

“You’re such a know-it-all, Jackson. Why can’t you let a girl dream? We’re never going to that pool because no one will ever take us, plus, it costs money, and last time I checked you weren’t making any.”

He lay back on the blanket and propped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “I’m not a know-it-all, I just have cable. And as soon as I turn sixteen, I’m getting a job. I’ll pay for us to go to the pool. You’ll see, it’s just a big hole with water in it.”

I never really stared at him until that day. His eyes were closed so I took the time to inspect every inch of him. I was so curious about his body. My own body was changing and I was terrified of it. Jax was getting taller. He was going to be tall like his father, but he looked more like his mother in coloring and features. Jax’s mom was French, so they had this creamy skin that looked sun-kissed year around and his brown hair and brown eyes had streams of gold running throughout it. He was letting his hair grow longer because he’d been watching some show on TV that took place in California. He said everyone in California had long hair.

I was trying to grow my own unruly, brown locks out. I don’t know why, I always had it in a braid. Maybe because I thought I would go to California with Jax one day. We both yearned for more than weeds and corn. All the books gave us those silly ideas and filled our heads with things that might never be.

I lay down beside him and stared directly into the sun. He turned on his side and propped his head on his elbow.

“You’ll go blind doing that,” he said in a low voice.

“Leave me alone.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood? You PMSing?”

“What do you know about it?”

“A lot.”

“I doubt that and even if I were, it’s beyond rude to talk to me about it.” I hadn’t started my period yet but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

About the Author

Renee-121 Renée Carlino is a screenwriter and bestselling author of contemporary women’s novels and new adult fiction. Her books have been featured in national publications, including USA TODAY, Huffington Post, Latina magazine, and Publisher’s Weekly. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two sons, and their sweet dog June. When she’s not at the beach with her boys or working on her next project, she likes to spend her time reading, going to concerts, and eating dark chocolate. Learn more at www.reneecarlino.com

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Review – The Angels’ Share by J.R. Ward

#1 New York Times bestselling author J. R. Ward delivers the second novel in her Bourbon Kings series—a sweeping saga of a Southern dynasty struggling to maintain a facade of privilege and prosperity, while secrets and indiscretions threaten its very foundation…

In Charlemont, Kentucky, the Bradford family is the crème de la crème of high society—just like their exclusive brand of bourbon. And their complicated lives and vast estate are run by a discrete staff who inevitably become embroiled in their affairs. This is especially true now, when the apparent suicide of the family patriarch is starting to look more and more like murder…

No one is above suspicion—especially the eldest Bradford son, Edward. The bad blood between him and his father is known far and wide, and he is aware that he could be named a suspect. As the investigation into the death intensifies, he keeps himself busy at the bottom of a bottle—as well as with his former horse trainer’s daughter. Meanwhile, the family’s financial future lies in the perfectly manicured hands of a business rival, a woman who wants Edward all to herself.

Everything has consequences; everybody has secrets. And few can be trusted. Then, at the very brink of the family’s demise, someone thought lost to them forever returns to the fold. Maxwell Bradford has come home. But is he a savior…or the worst of all the sinners?

BFF K’s Review of The Angels’ Share

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The Bourbon Kings Series has absolutely EVERYTHING I love! There is emotion, drama, romance, love, redemption and sacrifice. There is so much to appreciate about the characters and the entire world that J.R. Ward has created. I almost don’t know where to begin. While so much was revealed in Book #2 of the Bourbon Kings Series, there are even more questions left to ponder at the end.

The Angels’ Share picks up directly where The Bourbon Kings left off. The Bradford Baldwines are in a HOT MESS! There was a suicide…or was it murder? And, there’s a whole lot of money that’s no where to be found. Lane and Lizzie are a united front working tirelessly to get to the bottom of the whole mess. Lane’s transformation is one of my favorite parts of this series. Edward, Sutton and Shelby take center stage and the dynamic is so juicy and fulfilling. Gin has herself in quite a mess, but wow do we see a different side of her. And, Samual T. — seriously, I have a whole new outlook on the man. I will read this series for a conclusion to that storyline alone. Maxwell makes his mysterious appearance and Amelia returns to Easterly. The Angel’s Share is full of so many great characters; some from book #1 and some new ones. These nuanced characters make you wonder who is good and who is evil; and sometimes they are a little bit of both.

J.R. Ward has crafted a timeless series that has left me emotionally wrought and thoroughly invested. One of my favorite parts of these books is the unexpected humor and pop culture references that creep up when you’re least expecting it. The phrasing and little “life lessons” hidden in the pages are really remarkable. The next book in the Bourbon Kings Series can not come soon enough for me. If you want an epic tale with deep plot-lines, fascinating characters and idyllic settings, The Bourbon Kings is the series for you. Don’t let anything stop you from jumping into this series. It’s everything!

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An advance copy was received in exchange for an honest review.

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Excerpt

Toyota trucks were not supposed to go seventy-five miles an hour. Especially when they were ten years old.

At least the driver was wide awake, even though it was four a.m.

Lizzie King had a death grip on the steering wheel, and her foot on the accelerator was actually catching floor as she headed for a rise in the highway.

She had woken up in her bed at her farmhouse alone. Ordinarily, that would have been the status quo, but not anymore, not now that Lane was back in her life. The wealthy playboy and the estate’s gardener had finally gotten their act together, love bonding two unlikelies closer and stronger than the molecules of a diamond.

And she was going to stand by him, no matter what the future held.

After all, it was so much easier to give up extraordinary wealth when you had never known it, never aspired to it—and especially when you had seen behind its glittering curtain to the sad, desolate desert on the far side of the glamour and prestige.

God, the stress Lane was under.

And so out of bed she had gotten. Down the creaking stairs she had gone. And all around her little house’s first floor she had wandered.

When Lizzie had looked outside, she’d discovered his car was missing, the Porsche he drove and parked beside the maple by her front porch nowhere to be seen. And as she had wondered why he had left without telling her, she had begun to worry.

Just a matter of nights since his father had killed himself, only a matter of days since William Baldwine’s body had been found on the far side of the Falls of the Ohio. And ever since then Lane’s face had had a faraway look, his mind churning always with the missing money, the divorce papers he had served on the rapacious Chantal, the status of the household bills, the precarious situation at the Bradford Bourbon Company, his brother Edward’s terrible physical condition, Miss Aurora’s illness.

But he hadn’t said a thing about any of it. His insomnia had been the only sign of the pressure, and that was what scared her. Lane always made an effort to be composed around her, asking her about her work in Easterly’s gardens, rubbing her bad shoulder, making her dinner, usually badly, but who cared. Ever since they had gotten the air cleared between them and had fully recommitted to their relationship, he had all but moved into her farmhouse—and as much as she loved having him with her, she had been waiting for the implosion to occur.

It would almost have been easier if he had been ranting and raving.

And now she feared that time had come—and some sixth sense made her terrified about where he had gone. Easterly, the Bradford Family Estate, was the first place she thought of. Or maybe the Old Site, where his family’s bourbon was still made and stored. Or perhaps Miss Aurora’s Baptist church?

Yes, Lizzie had tried him on his phone. And when the thing had rung on the table on his side of the bed, she hadn’t waited any longer after that. Clothes on. Keys in hand. Out to the truck.

No one else was on I-64 as she headed for the bridge to get across the river, and she kept the gas on even as she crested the hill and hit the decline to the river’s edge on the Indiana side. In response, her old truck picked up even more speed along with a death rattle that shook the wheel and the seat, but the damn Toyota was going to hold it together because she needed it to.

“Lane . . . where are you?”

God, all the times she had asked him how he was and he’d said, “Fine.” All those opportunities to talk that he hadn’t taken her up on. All the glances she’d shot him when he hadn’t been looking her way, all the time her monitoring for signs of cracking or strain. And yet there had been little to no emotion after that one moment they’d had together in the garden, that private, sacred moment when she had sought him out under the blooms of the fruit trees and told him that she’d gotten it wrong about him, that she had misjudged him, that she was prepared to make a pledge to him with the only thing she had: the deed to her farmhouse—which was exactly the kind of asset that could be sold to help pay for the lawyers’ fees as he fought to save his family.

Lane had held her, and told her he loved her—and refused her gift, explaining he was going to fix everything himself, that he was going to somehow find the stolen money, pay back the enormous debt, right the company, resurrect his family’s fortunes.

And she had believed him.

She still did.

But ever since then? He had been both as warm and closed off as a space heater, physically present and completely disengaged at the same time.

Lizzie did not blame him in the slightest.

It was strangely terrifying, however.

Off in the distance, across the river, Charlemont’s business district glowed and twinkled, a false, earthbound galaxy that was a lovely lie, and the bridge that connected the two shores was still lit up in spring green and bright pink for Derby, a preppy rainbow to that promised land. The good news was that there was no traffic, so as soon as Lizzie was on the other side, she could take the River Road exit off the highway, shoot north to Easterly’s hill, and see if his car was parked in front of the mansion.

Then she didn’t know what she was going to do.

The newly constructed bridge had three lanes going in both directions, the concrete median separating east from west tall and broad for safety purposes. There were rows of white lights down the middle, and everything was shiny, not just from the illumination, but a lack of exposure to the elements. Construction had only finished in March, and the first lines of traffic had made the crossing in early April, cutting rush-hour delays down—

Up ahead, parked in what was actually the “slow” lane, was a vehicle that her brain recognized before her eyes properly focused on it.

Lane’s Porsche. It was Lane’s—

Lizzie nailed the brake pedal harder than she’d been pounding the accelerator, and the truck made the transition from full-force forward to full-on stop with the grace of a sofa falling out a second-story window: Everything shuddered and shook, on the verge of structural disintegration, and worse, there was barely any change in velocity, as if her Toyota had worked too hard to gain the speed and wasn’t going to let the momentum go without a fight—

There was a figure on the edge of the bridge. On the very farthest edge of the bridge. On the lip of the bridge over the deadly drop.

“Lane,” she screamed. “Lane!”

Her truck went into a spin, pirouetting such that she had to wrench her head around to keep him in her sights. And she jumped out before the Toyota came to a full stop, leaving the gearshift in neutral, the engine running, the door open in her wake.

“Lane! No! Lane!”

Lizzie pounded across the pavement and surmounted barriers that seemed flimsy, too flimsy, given the distance down to the river.

Lane jerked his head around—

And lost one hold of the rail behind him.

As his grip slipped, shock registered on his face, a flash of surprise . . . that was immediately replaced by horror.

When he fell off into nothing but air.

Lizzie’s mouth could not open wide enough to release her scream.

About the Author

J.R. Ward is the number one New York Times bestselling author of the Black Dagger Brotherhood series of vampire books. She is a winner of the prestigious Romance Writers of America RITA award for Best Paranormal Romance and is a multiple RITA nominee. A graduate of Smith College, she was a double major in History and Art History with a medieval concentration in both and she still longs at times for a return to those days sitting in dark lecture halls, looking at slides of old triptychs and reliquaries. Prior to becoming a full time writer, she was a corporate attorney, serving for many years as the Chief of Staff of one of Harvard Medical Schools premier teaching sites. Her idea of absolute heaven is a day filled with nothing but her computer, her dog and her coffee pot and the Brothers, of course.

Excerpt – Close to You by Kristen Proby

The BFF’s are thrilled to bring you this excerpt from Close to You by Kristen Proby. Close to You is the second book in the Fusion Series and is available for Pre-Order on Amazon.com.

From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kristen Proby comes the second novel in her sizzling Fusion series that began with Listen to Me.
Camilla, “Cami,” LaRue was five years old when she first fell in love with Landon Palazzo. Everyone told her the puppy love would fade—they clearly never met Landon. When he left after graduation without a backward glance, she was heartbroken. But Cami grew up, moved on, and became part-owner of wildly popular restaurant Seduction. She has everything she could want…or so she thinks.

After spending the last 12 years as a Navy fighter pilot, Landon returns to Portland to take over the family construction business. When he catches a glimpse of little Cami LaRue, he realizes she’s not so little any more. He always had a soft spot for his little sister’s best friend, but nothing is soft now when he’s around the gorgeous restauranteur.

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A special short story is available when you pre-order Close to You. Anyone who pre-orders the book and enters their information here: https://a.pgtb.me/PxZwn4 will get an email with a short story about Will and Meg from PLAY WITH ME from the With Me in Seattle series!

Excerpt

Listen to Me, Book 1 in the Fusion Series

BFF K’s Review of Listen to Me

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About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Kristen Proby is the author of the bestselling With Me In Seattle and Love Under the Big Sky series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong, humorous characters with a strong sense of loyalty and family. Her men are the alpha type; fiercely protective and a bit bossy, and her ladies are fun, strong, and not afraid to stand up for themselves.

Kristen lives in Montana, where she enjoys coffee, chocolate and sunshine. And naps. Visit her at KristenProby.com.

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Review – Next to You by Daisy Prescott

“If you want to date me, all you need to do is say the word. I’d never let you go.”

I added Sage to my rugby club’s annual list of women who are off limits thinking I could protect her from the gorillas I play with. Aspen’s a small town in the off season when the dating pool shrinks to the size of a melted snowflake. Never did I think I’d be the one to break the code and date her.

Even if it’s all for show. A wager between friends. An excuse to hang out with her more.

Nothing more than that.
Right?

***

Who agrees to date their best friend over a green smoothie? Apparently this girl right here.

Now the man-bun-sporting South African rugby god next door is my fake boyfriend. I need to rebuild my confidence after some poor dating decisions. Who could be better to fluff my ego than Aspen’s hottest bachelor?

This situation is a win-win.
Right?

Next to You is a standalone Romantic Comedy/New Adult Romance about a rugby player and an heiress in Aspen. Stan and his man bun first appeared in the Modern Love Story Short, Take for Granted. This is a full-length novel told in dual POVs.

NEXT TO YOU by Daisy Prescott
Part of the multi-author Friends with Benefits series

A sports romance best seller!

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BFF K’s Review of Next to You

Next to You is Daisy Prescott perfection! I’m talking Geoducks are for Lovers and Confessions of a Reformed Tom Cat (my 2 most favorite Daisy Prescott books) level of perfection! Daisy writes the most wonderful, well-developed characters with clever dialogue and engaging stories. They’re sprinkled with pop-culture references and plenty of LOL moments! Stan is a shining example of some of her very best work!

Stan the Man Bun was first introduced in a tiny supporting role in Take For Granted, a short story in the Modern Love Stories series. (This is my favorite of all Daisy’s short stories! I love Ben and Jo and this story made me LOL. I’ve re-read it a number of times.) Well, bless Daisy for feeding and nurturing this little plot bunny and not thinking readers were crazy when we begged for more Stan!

I would like to formally ask Daisy to please gather up Ryan Easley, and the other members of the Pitkin Rugby Club and shoo them into the plot bunny cage for proper care and feeding. This is another series in the making!

Stan is so much more than meets the eye. At first glance, you think Stan is a superficial playboy spending his time in Aspen playing rugby, tending bar and sleeping with women. But, you soon discover there is so much more. He is more of a gentle giant, with an open mind, a big heart and a hot-as-hell beard/man bun combo. He’s sweet and kind and madly in love with his next-door neighbor/BFF.

Sage is trying to find the balance between satisfying her family’s expectations for her life and her own desire to live a life of contentment and happiness. She loves Aspen. The mountains and the people bring her joy. Sage volunteers at a local animal shelter, works 2 jobs and secretly crushes on her hot-as-hell next-door neighbor/BFF.

When Stan is laid up for weeks healing from a broken ankle, Sage polishes up her nursing/babysitting/chauffeur skills and comes to the rescue. Between all the extra time together and a little smothie-based-wager, neither can deny their attraction. What follows is a sweet and sunny romance that warms the heart and gives flight to a swarm of butterflies in your tummy.

This book is a shining example of why rom-com is my most favorite genre! Next To You is perfect. It’s heartfelt, sweet and laugh-out-loud funny! This is Daisy Prescott at her very best….and that’s really really good! If you like romantic comedies, you need this book now. Seriously. Right NOW!

An advance copy was received from the author in exchange for an honest review.

Don’t miss the other Friends with Benefits standalone romances wherever ebooks are sold:

The Billionaire’s Ballet by Deanna Roy
The Billionaire Escape Plan by Ember Casey
Yours and Mine by Lacey Silks
Always You by Rachel Schurig
The Rock Star’s Secret Baby by Blair Babylon
Going for Broke by Gretchen Galway

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Excerpt from Anything But Love

Daisy has another new release coming out in just a few days. How lucky are we?

Check out the first chapter of Erik Kelso’s book, Anything But Love!

CHAPTER ONE
Cabo

You know what’s awesome? Sunshine, the beach and a cold beer. The only thing that improves on that trifecta is being naked.
* * *
Sitting around the resort’s pool, Carter and I start a drinking game. Every time we see a dude in a man bun, we drink.
Bad decision.
Really stupid game.
We’re seriously buzzed in an hour.
Too many hipsters and wannabes from LA around this overpriced hotel.
This place is crawling with them like a hoard of fedora wearing zombies.
An all-inclusive resort isn’t typically our speed. As two regular guys from Whidbey we kind of stick out, but passing on the deal we got would have been stupider than most of the outfits on the hipsters. Our beards help us blend in a little bit. Not sure that’s a good thing or not.
Getting off the island for a long weekend of beers, sun and boobs is exactly what I need. Since I quit Useless Bay Coffee to start my own roasting business, I’ve been working hundred-plus-hour weeks.
When our mom found the deal for cheap through her travel agency, Carter and I jumped at it. Actually, he jumped and booked it then told me he’d drag my sorry, pale ass onto the plane to Cabo if he had to.
I should be nicer about the hipsters. My business partner, Jonah, looks kind of like these guys with his tatts, stretched earlobe, and mohawk. Somehow on Jonah, the look is authentic. Like he could kick ass at a punk show, but also has mastered the art of creating perfectly foamed milk.
I suggest another drinking game: real or fake. With all the minuscule bikinis, it’s not hard to tell who is au natural and who could be on a reality show about plastic surgery.
Not that I’m complaining.
Boobs are boobs.
Buzzed and a little bored, I suggest we go paddle-boarding or some other water sport.
Carter lowers his sunglasses and thumbs to the other side of the pool where two women in thong bikinis lie on their stomachs. “Nah, I’m happy with the view here. Catch you later.”
“Suit yourself.”
I tromp over the hot sand down to the water, cursing that my shoes are sitting next to my abandoned lounge chair. Nodding at Pedro in the equipment rental kiosk, I grab a board and paddle.
I’m not saying I’m into water sports, not the kind that immediately comes to mind if you’ve ever watched porn, but there’s something about being out on the water that speaks to me. Could be growing up on an island.
Maybe it was all the time we spent as kids on our dad’s boats.
When we were young Dad bought a twenty-nine foot wooden sailboat from the seventies that he restored with Gramps. As his construction business took off, the boats got newer, bigger and nicer. Until his business partner turned out to be an asshole and embezzled all but a thousand dollars out of the business accounts, then disappeared. Ten years later, we’re still picking up pieces after everything crumbled.
Dad still has the wooden sailboat. Other than Carter or I taking it around the island or up to the San Juans it sits on a trailer surrounded by weeds behind my parents’ house.
I balance up on the board, bending my knees as I ride over the small waves crashing toward the beach. Past the shore, the swells gently roll, leaving smooth water in between sets. Nothing but clear skies and blue water through the lens of my Ray Bans.
To the right a tall cliff, more an outcropping of rocks, juts into the water, isolating our hotel from the Pacific Ocean. My curiosity piqued, I head in that direction. I’ve heard there’s a place called Lover’s beach near here. Sounds like it’s a nude beach, or at least topless.
Sadly, the only breasts I spy are on a bunch of pelicans perched on the rocky cliffs. More sun-bleached cliffs extend further west heading toward the famous natural arch. I paddle by the arch and pivot to return to the resort when a splash off one of the rock islands catches my attention.
A whoop follows another splash.
What look like seal heads bob in the water.
As I approach, I see a body fall from the cliff.
No, not fall, dive.
People are diving from a giant rock in the water. By choice.
I drift on the water, not getting too close to where the divers are hitting the surface. A small group of boats and kayakers crowd the surrounding cover. People on the beach stand and watch as well.
The guys in the water confidently swim near the sharp rocks, their strokes guiding them away from the undertow that would crash them into the jagged edges. Timing their exit, they wait until the water is high enough to allow a handhold on the rock wall. With ease, they pull themselves up the face. At the top, hollers and back slaps greet them.
Someone from above yells down to me to try it out. I smile and wave them off. Not right now. All this sun and the gentle rocking of the water against my board have amplified the beer from earlier, clouding my judgment.
Maybe on our last day tomorrow.
* * *
After dinner we decide to leave the resort and explore town. “Explore” is code for going on the prowl. The resort is great, but in terms of hooking up, it’s been a lot of nothing. Sadly, all-inclusive doesn’t include hook-ups. Too many couples and too many hipsters.
Loud music pulses from the bars lining the main street off the beach. Almost all the places have open windows that take up most of the exterior walls. People in various states of inebriation loiter around and line the sidewalks. I brush past two girls leaning over the window-counter of a club blasting Katy Perry. They’re grabbing anyone who walks by to kiss their friend wearing a white veil.
As we pass, I feel a thwack to my head and turn.
One of the women is holding a long, pink, inflated penis, and telling by her sloppy grin, she’s the one who hit me in the head with an inflatable dick.
Carter is laughing too hard to speak, but slurs out, “You’re a legitimate dickhead now, Bro.”
A thump to his head with another inflatable super-dick stops his laughter. “That hurt!”
“Sorry. I’ll buy you a shot to make up for it.” A sunburned blond rests her boobs on the window sill. “Or I can rub it and make it all better.”
Carter stops short and leans towards the cleavage as if pulled by a magnet. “Can I choose what you rub it with?”
The girl’s mouth opens, but it’s her friend who comes back with a reply. “You touched my dick, I’ll return the favor and touch yours.”
I about choke and shove him into the bar ahead of me. “If he doesn’t take you up on that offer, I will.”
We shoulder our way through the crowd to their spot at the window.
“Ooh, are you two identical twins? Like those guys who redo houses on tv? I’ve always liked blond guys.” A redhead with a gleam in her eyes begins petting my shoulder. She reminds me of Ashley back home. “That’s hot.”
Carter’s eyes are focused on the purple lace peeking out from her shirt.
“It’s hot that an egg splits in two at conception?” How is that more appealing?
Her mouth hangs open a little as her eyes try to focus on my face. “What?”
“Nothing.” Carter shoves my shoulder. “My brother is trying to be funny. It’s his attempt to make up for being the ugly twin.”
“We’re not even twins.” I elbow him.
Ginger girl’s face falls. “Oh, that’s too bad. I’ve always wanted to be with twins.”
Carter and I stare at her, then both shudder. No way. No. We step away from each other at the same time.
I scratch above my ear. “I’m too sober. I need a drink.”
“Let’s do shots!” the veiled woman shouts.
“Tequila!” They all scream and clap their hands.
I volunteer to go to the bar for shots and beers.
Two of the penis-wielding girls squeal about their favorite song playing, and drag me by my hands to the dance floor. They sandwich me between them as they screech out their love for the pop singer, the guy in the lyrics, and each other.
I spin the one in front of me, trying to reclaim a little bit of personal space. She follows my lead, allowing me to step out of the girl-sandwich before she slams back into her friend. Both go off balance and tilt into me, causing me to grab the hips of a woman in a backless green dress to steady myself.
Rather than shoving me away, she keeps dancing. My hands rest on her swaying hips.
Okay. This works. I move closer, not like a typical club asshole or a dude in a body spray commercial, but close enough I can feel her body heat.
The purple tips of her long hair brush against my arms as she moves in front of me, her body inches from touching mine. The floral scent of her shampoo mixes with something beachy and tropical on her skin. She smells like vacation sex. Blood begins to rush toward my cock and I still haven’t seen her face.
Two pairs of arms wrap around my middle from both sides. Now I’m the meat in a triple-decker sandwich.
“We thought we lost you!” One of the blondes screeches.
“We’re thirsty.” The other one pouts. Somehow her thirst requires her to shove her breasts at me.
Distracted, it takes me a moment to realize purple-tip girl has disappeared into the crowd.
“I’ll get us some shots.” I wiggle myself out of their grip.
At the end of the bar, I find a spot to stand.
Next to me a guy shouts at the person on the other side of him. His tall, but shorter than I am by a couple inches, and I can see where his hair is thinning on top. Given he’s not that broad in the shoulders, the recipient of his anger must be petite because I can only see her bare arm behind him. By the tone in his voice, she must be a wife or a girlfriend. No guy trying to pick up a woman would ever use that tone. Unless he is a complete asshole and being an asshole is what gets him laid.
Her voice carries over the music. “Stop being a jealous prick. I wasn’t dancing with that guy.”
“He was behind you, with his hands all over you ass. Trust me, you made it perfectly clear you were interested.” He steps closer to her and mutters something about never forgetting who’s paying for this trip.
She moves out of his shadow and I catch a glimpse of dark hair with purple tips. “Damien, stop being an asshole. Maybe if you ever decide to dance with me, I won’t have to dance by myself.”
The bartender stops in front of me, and I order tequila shots for the army of bridesmaids currently being entertained by my brother.
“You want to flirt with every guy in here all night, fine. I’m not going to stand around and watch. If I want to waste money on trashy women, I’ll go to one of the strip clubs down the road.”
“Did you just compare me to a stripper?” Her voice rises, nearing an octave only dolphins can appreciate.
“If you dance like one, you might as well be one.”
I let my gaze travel down her body. She’s not even showing any cleavage in her green dress. Hell, most of her thigh is covered too.
“I hate it when you drink too much and get like this.” When she turns, I let my focus rest on the small dimples at the very bottom of her back, right above the curve of her ass. She’s not skinny and I’m not sure if there’s a right angle on her body. Her waist narrows about the roundness of her bottom. How had I missed the perfection of it on the dance floor?
A sharp jolt to my shoulder brings my focus back up. “Quit checking out my fiancée, asshole.”
Whoa.
“I’m not your fiancée! Do you see a ring on this finger?” She shoves her left hand in his face before tucking all but her middle finger down. “Or this one?”
Two beers and tray of tequila shots appear before me on the bar. I motion for two more tequilas and hand the bartender a bunch of pesos.
He pours the additional shots. I take one, down it and flip the glass on the bar. No lime or salt needed. The burn hits the back of my mouth as I shake my head. I lift the other shot and meet the green eyes of the woman staring at me.
“Here.” I hand her the glass. “Sounds like you need this.”
“What does that mean?” The jerk asks, puffing out his chest as he attempts to appear bigger.
She takes the shot and tipping her head back, swallows it. Her face contorts for a second before she licks her lips and gives me a grin. “Thank you.”
“Now you’re letting strange men buy you shots? I can’t even believe this. Who are you?” He slaps his hand down on the bar.
“I doubt he had time to roofie me, given that we’ve been standing here next to him the whole time. In case you were worried about my safety.” Her tone is dry and the smile is gone.
I lift another shot and nod. She takes it and downs it like the other one, fast and smooth. Like a champ.
“You get drunk and puke, I’m not holding your hair.” Now he’s full out scowling. His hands grip his biceps as he puffs out his chest like a rooster in some sort of exaggerated macho posturing.
I’ve had enough. The last thing this night needs is for me to be in the middle of some lame-ass lovers’ quarrel. But I can’t stop myself from one, final parting shot.
I lean into her space. Even though the entire bar smells like the bottom of a tequila bottle, her scent of sun and coconut surrounds me. I don’t whisper. Nah, I want him to hear me. “His penis better be enormous.”
Keeping my focus on her, I slowly lean away and reach for the tray of shots.
A fist makes contact with my jaw. Shock more than pain sends me reeling back a step.

AND for just a limited time, enjoy the original bearded hero, John Day in Ready to Fall!

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About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author Daisy Prescott writes romantic comedies with heart.

Her Modern Love Stories feature characters in their thirties and forties finding and rediscovering love in unexpected and humorous ways. Her Wingmen books star regular guys who often have beards, drive trucks, and love deeply once they fall.

Born and raised in San Diego, Daisy currently lives in a real life Stars Hollow in the Boston suburbs with her husband and an imaginary house goat. When not writing about herself in the third person, Daisy can be found traveling, gardening, baking, or lost in a good book.

THE COLLECTORS’ SOCIETY (The Collectors’ Society, #1)

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THE HIDDEN LIBRARY (The Collectors’ Society, #2)

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The Forgotten Mountain (The Collectors’ Society #3)

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THE LOST CODEX (The Collectors’ Society, #4/coming soon!)

Excerpt

“You mentioned the need to take a symbolic object within the dream,” I say as I hover over his work, “one I must destroy. Yet, you have given no instruction on what that object must be.”

He nudges his half-moon glasses up his bulbous nose, barely sparing a glance toward me. “I did.”

Which means I must figure it out myself. I do not bother asking how one even brings an object into their dream, as I can already guess his answer.

What, then, would sufficiently constitute symbolic for a series of dreams I cannot remember? In place of images, all I possess are deep-seated emotions that refuse to relinquish their hold on me. Including a maddening sense of love . . . love for a nameless man whose face I cannot conjure.

Why can I not recall his face?

Perhaps a blank mask will do? Destroy the mask, terminate a passion for an imaginary person for whom I have assigned preposterous feelings for.

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BFF K’s Review of Bad Judgment

Excerpt

“I’ve got some things I need to say to you, and you’re going to let me.”

Her brown eyes snap up to mine, surprise clear in them. “Why should I?”

“Because you’re nothing if not curious, and you want to know what I have to say.”

She steps backward, and I let my fingertips trail across her skin before they drop away. Justine adjusts the straps of her backpack on her shoulders and tucks Chewbacca into a side pocket.

“You know you want to hear the rare sound of me apologizing, don’t you?”

I don’t know what changes her mind, but she relaxes her posture and relents. “Fine. You’ve got five minutes. This better be good.”

It’s not much, but I’ll take it. I lead the way out of the classroom, slipping out the side door I used to make my unobtrusive entrance. Or at least, it was unobtrusive until I decided to share my strike-out history with the entire class at Professor Turner’s invitation.

Glancing behind me, I’m marginally surprised to see Justine actually following. I head for the third-floor doors to the library, where the private rooms are. This conversation isn’t for public consumption.

The first private room on the right is empty, so I push the door open. Justine trails me inside, and I shrug off my backpack and drop it on one of the four chairs.

She closes the door behind her and leans against it, her arms crossed over her chest. I’m guessing she wouldn’t stand that way if she realized how it draws attention to her chest. I force my eyes back to her face. I’m not about to fuck this up.

“Wow, you must really plan on groveling if you need privacy,” she says, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Maybe I just wanted to get you alone.”

She rolls her eyes. “And I’m already getting bored.”

“You love to bust my balls, don’t you?”

“I don’t really like to think about your balls, if you want to know the truth.”

I try on my charming smile, the one that has dropped panties for years. “I’m calling bullshit on that. You’ve thought about me at least once.”

She pushes off the door and turns halfway to reach for the handle. “And if that’s all you wanted to say, then I think we’re done here.”

“Wait.”

I’m shocked when she listens.

Justine rubs her hands over her face, her every move revealing her frustration. “You ask me out for two years, practically blackmail me into a kiss, then you blow me off completely, and now you’re all up in my business again. What the hell do you want from me?”

Her confusion punches me in the gut, making me wish I could tell her why I wasn’t there the morning I promised to help her move. It wasn’t for any reason she thinks.

I stride toward her, pressing one palm against the door beside her head. “I’m not blowing you off, and I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.”

“Then why—”

I can’t give her the explanation she wants, so I try something different.

Lowering my head, I catch the next words out of her mouth on my lips. They’re just as soft as I remember, and I drop my other hand to her hip, drawing her against me. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my T-shirt, almost reluctantly, but she’s not pushing me away.

With her face flushed and her hair messy from my fingers, Justine shutters her expression. She’s rebuilding her walls brick by brick.

That’s not going to work for me.

“What’s it going to take, Justine?” I remember asking her the same question at the bar.

Her dark eyes fill with confusion. “What’s what going to take?” The words come out defensively.

“With you. To get a second chance. I fucked up once, but doesn’t everyone deserve another shot?”

About the Author

Because first love deserves a second chance

Standalone Contemporary Romance

From the New York Times Bestselling Author of The Resistance comes TWO sexy and funny standalones.

Dirty Talk will release on September 1st.

Excerpt from Dirty Talk

She finds her voice, though it’s affected, sexy. “A lot.”

“What is that?”

Clearing her throat, she says, “I like it rough. Really rough.”

“What are you doing?” she demands, desperation lacing her tone as her eyes go wide.

She huffs. “You’re a playboy bastard, Luke Anders,” rolls off her tongue in frustrated anger as she spins back to the bar.

I know. Not turning back, I nod. It’s not the first time I’ve been called a playboy or a bastard. Name-calling doesn’t bother me. Not getting laid tonight does.

Pushing open the exit door that leads to the alley, my asshole friends are waiting near the car they’ve pulled around.

The rusting red door slams shut, the click of the lock heard loudly behind me. The alley is quiet compared to the loud music that blares inside the club. “Fuckers.” With my arms out wide, I yell, “What the fuck? Where’s the fire? I was closing the deal.”

“We were saving you, man. Trust me on that.” My best friend is standing in front of the car with his arms crossed over his chest. Danny Weston is one of the best people I know, but right now, he’s pissing me the fuck off.

“Saving me from what?”

“Ask Blaise. He has firsthand knowledge.”

When I shoot an annoyed look in Blaise’s direction, he clams up. With hands up in surrender, he backs away toward the driver’s door. “I can’t help that the ladies love me.” Thus confirming he’s already hit that pretty kitty.

I walk to the passenger’s side of the car, punching Danny on the arm when I pass him. “Shit, man, just give me a heads-up next time. I wasted some of my best lines on her.”

Danny claims the front seat, so I duck into the back seat of a restored 1969 black Gran Torino. Cocky behind the wheel, Blaise takes off before we even have our seatbelts on, and says, “Stop hitting on everyone that takes pity on you then.”

“Fuck you. I can get any woman I want. No one’s taking pity on me.”

Danny breaks into the argument, “You guys really need to find a new hobby.”

“One-night stands are plenty entertaining,” Blaise retorts, smiling.

Danny puts his arm on the back of the seat and turns toward me. “I’m not going to lecture you—”

“Again,” I add.

Blaise verbally steps in, “Damn, dude, why so deep? You’re bringing me down.”

Danny laughs. I don’t. We’ve been friends for many years now, so Danny knows my game. He knows me well enough to know what I’m doing. Until I sort out this mess with the first woman I ever loved, the rest are just regrets waiting to happen, along with the regrets I can’t take back.

Available Now – Sweet Talk (aka Models on Top – Danny)

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