It’s a truth he learned early in life. A truth he carried with him into adulthood. He broke his golden rule one time, but Myndi trampled all over his heart, cementing his belief that love is a lie and not worth the effort.
Now he’s returned to his cynical views and promiscuous lifestyle, racking up more notches on his bedpost than he can count.
Until Summer Petersen comes crashing into his world, threatening to knock down his walls with her tempting body and sunny, sweet personality.
Summer is determined to lose her V-card before she starts freshman year of college, and the hot, older guy with the cute dimples, dazzling smile, and rippling biceps is just the man for the job. Ryan doesn’t take much persuading, and he rocks her world, giving her a night to remember.
When they walk away, there’s an unspoken agreement it was a one-time thing. Ryan doesn’t do feelings, and Summer doesn’t want to be tied down at eighteen.
But when she moves into her brother Austin’s apartment, she’s shocked to discover her new roomie is the guy who recently popped her cherry.
Ryan can’t believe he slept with Austin’s baby sister, and if he finds out, he’ll literally kill him. Keeping their hook up a secret is nonnegotiable. Keeping his thoughts, and his hands, off Summer, less so. Because the longer he’s around her, the more he finds himself catching feelings for the gorgeous brunette.
Summer doesn’t want to care for her older brother’s best friend, but Ryan makes her feel things she’s never felt before, and she’s slowly falling under his spell.
Embarking on an illicit affair behind Austin’s back has train wreck written all over it, but provided they keep their feelings in check, they can end this before he ever finds out.
USA Today bestselling author Siobhan Davis writes emotionally intense young adult and new adult romantic fiction with swoon-worthy romance, complex characters, and tons of unexpected plot twists and turns that will have you flipping the pages beyond bedtime! She is the author of the international bestselling Kennedy Boys, Saven, and True Calling series’. Siobhan’s family will tell you she’s a little bit obsessive when it comes to reading and writing, and they aren’t wrong. She can rarely be found without her trusty Kindle, a paperback book, or her laptop somewhere close at hand. Prior to becoming a full-time writer, Siobhan forged a successful corporate career in human resource management. She resides in the Garden County of Ireland with her husband and two sons.
Being labelled a player never stopped me from being successful with women. Until I met Truly Harbury. Truly was the first girl who ever turned me down. The first female friend I ever had. And she might just be the first woman I ever fall in love with. When an emergency means she needs my help running her family’s charity, I’m happy to introduce her to the glitz and glamour of the London business world—taking her to dinners, coaching her through speeches, zipping up the sexy evening gown I helped her pick out. The more time we spend together, the more I want to convince her I’m not a man to avoid, that we’re not as unsuited as she believes. She sees herself as the book-reading, science-loving introvert while I’m the dangerous, outgoing, charmer. She thinks I love parties and people whereas she prefers pajamas and a takeaway. What she doesn’t realize is that I like everything about her–the way her smile lights up a room, how her curves light up my imagination, and especially the way her lips taste when coated with tequila. She’s the first woman I ever fell in love with. I just need to know if she could ever love me too.
*International Player is a complete standalone contemporary romance
MY REVIEW by CEE CEE HOUSTON
International Player is a stand alone book by Louise Bay, it’s not set in any of her other ‘book worlds’, so no old characters pop up.
It’s sweet and sexy, but maybe not quite as intense as some of her older books. I was hooked from the beginning. Noah was not as driven in a work way, but he played hard. Truly was all about work and focused on making her charity the best it could be.
Truly and Noah have known each other since her sister and his best friend married four years ago. Noah hit on Truly then, but she didn’t want to be a notch on his belt. They became firm friends instead until Noah left for New York. But, there was one thing Truly had never admitted to Noah. She was attracted to him, but she wasn’t the type to just hook up. She wanted the whole fairytale.
Noah had never forgotten Truly, but he only dated for a short time before he moved on to another woman. Seeing Truly has new feelings rising inside him but he dismisses them at first. When he starts helping Truly with her family’s charity, he falls under her spell even more.
They decide to have a casual relationship but soon things spiral…
Can the good time guy become the forever man that Truly longs for?
In, two, three, out, two. Shit. I tried again. In, two, three, out, two, three. It wasn’t helping. My heart was hammering against my chest, my palms were sweaty, and images of hundreds and hundreds of faces staring at me flashed into my head.
I ignored the knock on my office door. I was too concerned about what was happening to me. Was it possible to have a heart attack at twenty-eight?
“Truly,” a familiar, male voice called.
I couldn’t look up. Couldn’t even open my eyes.
Warm hands covered my knees and body heat radiated in front of me.
“Are you okay? Take a breath.” What was Noah doing here?
I nodded, still counting my breath. As if he was familiar with the technique, he began counting along with me. “Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three.”
His voice was calming. The counting hadn’t worked when I’d done it alone, but hearing him counting too helped me settle into a rhythm.
Eventually, his hands slid from my knees, and I sat up and opened my eyes, right into his.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
I was such an idiot. A mess. And this was why Noah and I had only ever been friends. He was used to seeing me in no makeup with a smear of kung pao chicken on my face. And now I was panicking about a meeting that he would think nothing of. Yes, Noah only ever saw me at my absolute worst.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I didn’t want him to see me like this.
“Do you want some water?” He stood and poured me a glass of sparkling water from the bottle on my desk.
“Thanks.” I took a sip and sat back in my chair.
“I came to talk to you. Apologize if I seemed harsh last night. I’m sorry if I made this worse, Truly.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m fine. Just a little . . .” I watched as he slid into the chair opposite my desk, his long legs unfurling in front of him. “I just have a lot to do.”
He nodded, steepling his fingers. “And I’m here to help.”
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author, Louise Bay writes sexy, contemporary romance novels – the kind she likes to read. Her books include the novels Faithful (not currently on sale as undergoing maintenance!), Hopeful, The Empire State Series, The Royals Series, The Nights Series (both series of standalone books each following different characters) and the standalone Gentleman series.
Ruined by romantic mini-series of the eighties, Louise loves all things romantic. There’s not enough of it in real life so she disappears into the fictional worlds in books and films.
Louise loves the rain, The West Wing, London, days when she doesn’t have to wear make-up, being on her own, being with friends, elephants and champagne.
An all-new STANDALONE from New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent It all started with the wrong Help Wanted ad. Of course it did.I’m a professional fluffer. It’s NOT what you think. I stage homes for a living. Real estate agents love me, and my work stands on its own merits.Sigh. Get your mind out of the gutter. Go ahead. Laugh. I’ll wait.See? That’s the problem. My career has used the term “fluffer” for decades. I didn’t even know there was a more… lascivious definition of the term.Until it was too late. The ad for a “professional fluffer” on Craigslist seemed like divine intervention. My last unemployment check was in the bank. I was desperate. Rent was due. The ad said cash paid at the end of the day. The perfect job! Staging homes means showing your best angle. The same principle applies in making a certain kind of movie. Turns out a “fluffer” doesn’t arrange decorative pillows on a couch.They arrange other soft, round-ish objects.The job isn’t hard. Er, I mean, it is — it’s about being hard. Or, well… helping other people to be hard.Oh, man…And that’s the other problem. A man. No, not one of the stars on the movie set. Will Lotham – my high school crush. The owner of the house where we’re filming. Illegally. In a vacation rental.By the time the cops show up, what I thought was just a great house staging gig turned into a nightmare involving pictures of me with a naked star, Will rescuing me from an arrest, and a humiliating lesson in my own naivete. My job turned out to be so much harder than I expected. But you know what’s easier than I ever imagined?Having all my dreams come true.
MY REVIEW by CEE CEE HOUSTON
Fluffy by Julia Kent is the start of a new series of standalone books, this one feature Mallory Monahan and Will Lotham. Mal as she’s known, was the smart, nerdy girl in high school and Will the hot quarterback she crushed on since their first day of freshman year. Their lockers were next door to each other, but that’s as close as they got, right up until the last day. Mal thought Will was going to kiss her, instead her just trampled on her already bruised heart. Will left town for college and didn’t return for ten years. Too bad it was in time to meet Mal at the worst time in her life- ever! Mal thought Will wasn’t interested in her but she’s in for a surprise. This guy? Gosh, he was so sweet and kind, no bad bones in his body. And what a body he had. Sinfully sexy and hard as a rock. Mal had overcome her awkward shyness in the decade since she’d last laid eyes on Will, but he brought it all back. This was quite a slow burner of a story. The chemistry was strong, the banter was snarky and sexy. The build up beyond enticing. Their friends had just enough influence and book time to make them an interesting addition and want to know more. I am definitely looking forward to Perky and Skip’s story, coming soon… I hope!
“Do you use the proper terms for everything, Mallory?” He makes an inarticulate sound as I peel the gauze off the cut, wiping gently. “You call your pretty place a vulva, right? And you use the word vagina.” “’Pretty place’?” He shrugs. “And yes, I do. Vulva and vagina. And then there’s the clitoris,” I say primly. “What’s that?” “What’s what?” “A clitoris. Never heard of it.” I freeze and look down at him. Bright eyes meet mine. Is he serious? “The clitoris is a nerve cluster above the opening to the vagina,” I begin, taking a breath to continue my impromptu human sexuality lecture, because when a man tells you they don’t know what a clitoris is, you educate them immediately. For the sisterhood. All the women Will is going to sleep with from here on out will thank me later. He starts to laugh. I’m so tempted to pour the small bottle of isopropyl alcohol directly on his wound, but I’m a kind, compassionate woman, so instead I dab it on with a swab. “OW!” he bellows. “Sorry.” “You’re not sorry at all.” “I’m sorry for your sex partners that you have no idea what a clitoris is, Will.”
“I know what it is. And my tongue knows how to find one. Blindfolded.”
“Why would you blindfold your tongue?”
“I can’t tonight. I have a date,” I blurt out, remembering David. The dating app. The asshole who isn’t an asshole. Yet. I haven’t met him, so that judgment remains withheld. “A date?” Will asks, intrigued. “Yes. A date. You know, that thing where you go out with someone who has no intention of really getting to know you and you spend the entire time eating bread that doesn’t taste as good as your date claims and trying to decide whether to initiate rescue-text sequences with your mom.” “That’s your idea of a date?”
“That is my actual experience of every date I’ve had since college.” “You’re dating the wrong guys.” He holds my gaze for just a little too long. I look away. “I have to keep fishing in the pond if I ever want to catch a different one.” “If that’s the way you talk to your dates, I am beginning to understand why they all turn out so badly.” “Hey!” “What?” “Don’t accuse me of being a bad date. I’m a great date! I Google the guy in advance and read his LinkedIn profile. I make sure I don’t wear super-tall heels in case he lied about his height on his dating profile. I pretend to care about all his hobbies and don’t reveal that I’m secretly tallying all the micro-aggressions he’s sending my way during appetizers and wine. And if he makes it to dessert, well–” I falter. “You never make it to dessert, do you?” Will asks, eyebrows up. He drops them quickly, wincing. “I–well–it’s not that I don’t. He doesn’t!” “He ditches you?” “No! No! It’s just that he always has a thing.” “A thing?” “A work emergency. Or a dog with a twisted bowel. Or a grandma in the ER.” “How many guys used the twisted-canine-intestine thing?” “Three.” I sit down and sag against his teenage desk, elbows sliding forward, fingers deep in my hair. “I looked it up. There’s an entire subreddit devoted to inventive ways to get out of a bad date.” “And yet here you are.” He leans against the edge of his desk. “Trying again.” “I’m a masochist.” His eyes gleam. “Maybe you should start your dates with that line. ‘Hi. I’m Mallory Monahan. I’m a masochist.’ You’d definitely make it to dessert.”
“You’re changing the subject.” “How do you know that’s what I’m doing?” “Because you have this thing you do when you get nervous. You did it in high school and you’re doing it now.” “What’s that?” “You start cracking your knuckles. One by one.” He halts mid-crack on his ring finger. His bare ring finger. Will looks down. A slow smile pulls at his lips. “You’re right. I do.” Our eyes meet. “How did you know?” “I sat behind you in nearly every honors class, Will. I’ve watched you answer countless questions from teachers. And every time you didn’t know the answer, you cracked your knuckles. One”–I crack my index finger–“by”–I crack my middle finger–“one.” My ring finger won’t snap. He waits. “You spent a lot of time paying attention to me, Mallory.” “I sat behind you. It’s not like I could stare at your ass all day. I had to have something else to look at.” “You stared at my ass?” “It was two feet in front of me! Four classes a day!” I start to sweat. The memory of him in football uniform pants. Oh, sweet ice cream fairy, deliver me from evil. “You okay? You look,” he says, stepping closer, “a little disturbed.” “I’m fine.” “Hot, even.” The rise and fall of his chest pauses after those words, as if he’s holding his breath, too.
I watch a blonde woman talk up Will like she wants to take him home and turn him into her evening protein shake. She’s wearing lululemon tights and Jimmy Choos, an unusual combination that seems to indicate she’s ready for anything. Clap clap! A man in a tight, black Lycra shirt, grey fitted slacks, and the most beautiful Italian leather shoes I have ever seen glides like melting cheese on a raclette into the center of the ballroom. “Hello, hello! My name is Philippe, and I am your instructor tonight. Welcome! Two more minutes for refreshments, and then we DANCE!” The word DANCE comes out of his mouth in capital letters. Philippe heads straight toward me, eyes meeting mine, his dark, wavy hair slicked off his face with curls escaping at the nape of the neck, a perfectly manscaped moustache adding to his rakish look. “And you are?” he asks, the words a demand to reveal my soul. “Uh, Mallory.” “Uh, Mallory, it is nice to meet you.” “It’s just Mallory.” “Are you Uh, Mallory, or Just Mallory?” he asks, mouth pursing with amusement. I cannot tell whether I like him or hate him. “Mallory.” Eyeing me up and down, his expression changes to approval when he sees my shoes. “You have come prepared.” Will chooses that exact moment to walk over, a lemonade in each hand, and offer me one. I smile a thank you as Philippe watches us like he’s judging a couple on So You Think You Can Dance. “You are here together?” he asks. “OH, NO!” I call out, as if it’s the word DANCE. “I’m waiting for my date.” “Date?” “First date, actually. I don’t know what he looks like, but…” “Was his name David, by any chance?” Philippe asks, mouth twisted with disgust. “Yes!” “Corporate,” he hisses. “Again!” Will exchanges a confused look with me, then takes a sip of his lemonade, choosing to stay out of this. One hand goes to his hip as he politely looks away, drinking like it’s his job. “Excuse me?” I ask Philippe. “Did you meet him–this David–on an online dating service?” “Yes.” Philippe takes my hand as if I’m a mourning widow at her beloved husband’s wake. “Then I am sorry to inform you, Mallory, that David is not coming.” “Why not?” “Because David is a salesman.” “No, he’s not! He’s a conversion consultant.” Will’s mouth tightens as if he knows something. “Mallory,” Philippe says sadly, “David works for the corporation that owns Bailargo. He is one of their best salesmen.” Anger flashes in his eyes. “Because he toys with women’s emotions and sets them up for this.” “This?” Gesturing at me, he says, “This. You. The poor, lonely single woman looking for love on apps.” “HEY!” “Watch,” he says, clapping twice again. “Are any women here for a date with David? First date?” Two hands go up. “Oh, God,” I mutter, my hands flying to cover my burning hot, deeply embarrassed face. “What does this mean?” “David has developed a new technique. He goes to dating apps and pretends to be original, asking women to have a first date at a dance lesson. He is charming and funny and–” A feral sound comes out of my mouth. “Sound familiar?” Will asks, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, looking really sympathetic on my behalf. Which makes me feel even stupider. “And then the women come here, there is no David, but some of them stay for class,” Philippe finishes. “You’re telling me your corporate headquarters is hiring a guy who goes on dating sites and convinces single women to come to a dance class with him, then ghosts on them? On the chance that a certain percentage of us will sign up for dance lessons and convert to paying customers?” My voice goes higher and higher, until I start sounding like Mariah Carey the second everyone finishes Thanksgiving dinner and it’s time for her songs to start on the radio again. “Yes.” “That’s horrible!” I cry. “That’s ingenious,” Will says. My glare makes him add quickly, “And completely unethical, of course. Some men are disgusting pigs.” His brow drops, eyes troubled with vicarious empathy, but they move in patterns that tell me he’s processing this information and finds David’s business acumen to be worthy of note. “If you will excuse me, I need to find some tissues for those two women who are, like you, expecting a date with the charming David. Since he started doing this four months ago, sales have increased eleven percent, but my operating supplies have gone up 286 percent with all the tissues!” Philippe glides across the floor and approaches the two women, who are whispering and comparing phone screens. Bet mine makes us triplets.
“It is time to DANCE! Find a partner and hold each other’s hands, facing one another.” Five women start walking toward Will. “Mal?” Shyness infuses his question, sending chills up and down my arms and legs. They settle at the base of my neck, riding shotgun next to the arousal centers of my nervous system. He’s adorable, one hand out to me, eyebrows slightly up, blue-green eyes asking to dance with me but hinting at more. Or… am I inventing that part? “Sure,” I say, instantly regretting my answer. Does it sound grudging? He doesn’t seem to think so as I take his hand and stand before him, tall in my high heels but he’s even taller. Looking at him from this height makes him even more human, more masculine, more real. My heart skips a beat. But the music sure doesn’t. “Now, the ‘man,’” Philippe starts, using finger quotes because there are several female-only couples in the class, “puts one hand on the woman’s waist. The right hand.” Will complies. It’s like sticking my finger in a light socket and orgasming at the same time. His left hand takes my right hand and he holds it, strong and firm, smiling at me with a boyish grin that makes me feel instant remorse for hurting him today. “I’m sorry I bashed your head in,” I whisper, moving near his ear, our mouths inches apart. There is a gap between us. My lungs live there, in that space. They breathe. I don’t make a move. My autonomic nervous system works without intention. If it didn’t, I’d die. Because I would hold my breath forever in Will’s arms. Philippe is moving from couple to couple, adjusting positions, commenting and correcting. “Closer,” Philippe says right behind me, the press of his firm palm against my lower back a shock as he pushes me into Will, closing that gap.
My autonomic nervous system gives up entirely.
“Look into each other’s eyes,” Philippe commands, his accent making this even sexier. “When you dance, you show your love with your hips, your eyes, your languid grace. You are making love in public with your bodies, fully clothed.”
Is Will holding his breath, too?
“Your hand goes here, Mallory,” the teacher says, taking my left hand and putting it on Will’s shoulder. My breasts brush against his chest, our breathing ragged. I try to look away, but we’re too close. All I can do is look at his eyes or his mouth, and right now, both are so, so dangerous.
No one else in the room exists. The light that bounces off the polished floors is ours. The murmurs and giggles in the background are ours. The way he breathes my air and I inhale him is ours, too. We’re touching, my thigh against his, and every warm part of Will Lotham’s front half that is decent to display in public is rubbing against me.
Except his lips.
“Now, take one step forward,” Philippe says. “Together.”
Will steps on my foot. Hard.
I make a very unfeminine sound and start to pitch backwards. Tightening his grip on my waist, his hand sliding, open and splayed, across the small of my back, he saves me from a complete wipeout.
But that save has its costs.
In an instant, all traces of that teenage girl in me are gone, disintegrating, turned to stardust that sweeps off me like a fine spring breeze. I am all woman now, mature and wanting.
All I want is this. Now. The man before me, his arms warm and assured, grasp confident and bold.
And very much wanting me back.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.
Brecken Blackstone has everything he ever wanted – success, women, and money. He thinks he has it all… until she walks into his life. January Lyle needs a job like yesterday. She’s turned her back on her family’s money and is determined to make it on her own… until he makes an offer that’s too good to turn down. If not for one drink… he might not have met her. If not for an empty bank account… she might have turned him down. If not for love they might have been able to walk away. **Promotional note: If Not For Love is a previously released book formerly titled Mr. Cowboy.
MY REVIEW by CEE CEE HOUSTON
If Not For Love by Rebecca Jenshak was a sweet story, a strangers to soulmates kind of romance that will have you believing in the impossibility of fate. Told in dual 3rd person POV, which I have to admit, isn’t my favorite type, it’s the story of a rich and successful guy who meets a beautiful, young girl in a bar.
Brecken and January are at a crossroad in their lives, but the attraction is there from the first glance. Brecken is finding his life lonely and wants to get to know January. The more he finds out the more he wants
He offers her a job on his ranch and that’s when they finally start to fall into a relationship. But, Brecken’s past returns and could lay waste to all of Fate’s plans. Will love win out?
Grab a copy today and find out.
Rebecca Jenshak is a self-proclaimed margarita addict, college basketball fanatic, and lover of the Hallmark channel. A Midwest native transplanted to the desert, she likes being outdoors (drinking on patios) and singing (in the shower) when she isn’t writing books about hot guys and the girls who love them.
Cassie Crow, a pop-culture reporter for a TV talk show, is focused on becoming a “serious” journalist. But when she stumbles into a kilted Highlander with a killer accent, Cassie decides that taking one night off from work and spending it with a sexy Scot couldn’t hurt. . .
Logan Reid has built a career on his charm, hosting a series of off-the-wall hijinks on the Web. But when the Scottish prankster meets the all-American, equal parts intelligent and irresistible Cassie, Logan realizes that one night of fun won’t be enough. Could it be that this career- focused, commitment-phobic couple is finally ready to take a chance at true and lasting love?
MY REVIEW by CEE CEE HOUSTON
4 SHINY NEW AUTHOR STARS
Getting Hot With the Scot is the start of a new series by Melonie Johnson. It’s also my first book by her and I even though the male lead is Scottish, just like me, I still loved . Just like Cassie did. Logan is a hot, sex on a stick Scot with an accent that makes foreign women like her melt their panties. Cassie’s on holiday and wants a one night stand and gets her wish fulfilled by him. Logan likes to play tricks and it’s not to everyone’s cup of tea but I liked it. There’s more to him than simple Shenanigan’s and Cassie holds all the cards. If you want something a little different from the norm, then grab this today.
PRAISE FOR Getting Hot with the Scot: A Sometimes in Love NOVEL
“Bursting with humor and heart…An enthralling fling from a notable new voice in romance.” — Booklist
“Fun, smart, and supersexy; a great debut from a writer to watch.” — Kirkus
“This enjoyable tale gently pokes fun at romance cliches while giving romance readers what they’re looking for.” — Publishers Weekly
“Reckless love is crazy addictive—and being called lass makes you feel all tingly.” — Cosmopolitan
“A super sexy, fun, and flirty debut contemporary romance …from a fabulous author on the rise…Highly recommended!” — Fresh Fiction
“Playful, passionate, and positively un-putdownable! Getting Hot with theScot is a wild romp, a ton of fun, and a new addition to my favorites shelf!” — New York Times bestselling author Christina Lauren
“Witty, sexy, and oh-so-fun. Getting Hot with the Scot is compulsively readable and entirely satisfying. Melonie Johnson is an addictive new voice in contemporary romance.” — New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julie Ann Walker
“A fun, sexy, and delightful read!” — New York Times bestselling author Julie James
“Unabashedly sexy and romantic, Melonie Johnson’s debut is a fabulous read!” — USA Today bestselling author Kate Meader
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A Star Wars junkie and Shakespeare groupie who quotes both Yoda and the Bard with equal aplomb, award-winning author Melonie Johnson—aka #thewritinglush—is a two-time RWA Golden Heart® finalist who loves dark coffee, cheap wine, and expensive beer. And margaritas. And mimosas. And mules. Basically any cocktail that starts with the letter m. She met her future husband in that most romantic of places—the mall—when they were teenagers working in stores across the hall from each other. They went on to live happily ever after in the suburbs of Chicago with two redhead daughters, a dog that’s more like a small horse, and a trio of hermit crabs. After earning her Bachelor of Arts magna cum laude from Loyola University Chicago, Melonie taught high school English and Theatre in the northern Chicago suburbs for several years. Now she writes smart and funny contemporary romance (including the Sometimes In Love series) and moonlights as an audiobook narrator under the pseudonym Evelyn Eibhlin.
He’s my father’s business rival, a powerful, vicious man who takes what he wants and bows to no one. I only took the meeting because I was curious. I thought he was going to offer me a job.
But that’s not what he’s after at all. His proposal is much more intriguing, and I see an opportunity. An opportunity to turn the tables and bring down the devil.
I’ve gotten in trouble playing these games before. I know when the risk is too great, when the stakes are too high. I know how to be cold and strong-willed and destructive. I know how to withstand dominant men with arrogant charm and rugged features.
Yet I can’t resist taking on Edward.
And I can’t resist the pull he has on me.
Soon I’m not so sure which side of the battle I’m standing on–if I’m the warrior meant to slay,
Or the one who will be slain.
About the Author
With over 1.5 million books sold world wide, Laurelin Paige is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author. She is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She’s also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn’t do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio. She is represented by Rebecca Friedman.
Cosy Felton is great at her job—she knows just how to handle the awkwardness that comes with working at an adult toy store. So when the hottest guy she’s ever seen walks into the shop looking completely overwhelmed, she’s more than happy to turn on the charm and help him purchase all of the items on his list.Griffin Mills is using his business trip in Las Vegas as a chance to escape the broken pieces of his life in New York City. The last thing he wants is to be put in charge of buying gag gifts for his friend’s bachelor party. Despite being totally out of his element, and mortified by the whole experience, Griffin is pleasantly surprised when he finds himself attracted to the sales girl that helped him.As skeptical as Cosy may be of Griffin’s motivations, there’s something about him that intrigues her. But sometimes what happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas and when real life gets in the way, all bets are off. Filled with hilariously awkward situations and enough sexual chemistry to power Sin City, Making Up is the next standalone in the Shacking Up world.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She’s writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
I’ve always been able to separate feelings from chemosignals. A shot of dopamine, a dash of serotonin, and a sprinkle of oxytocin—and bam. You’re in love.
And when egg meets sperm, you’re pregnant.
I couldn’t even be surprised as I stared down at the little blue plus sign, because I knew exactly when and how, and with whom it happened.
When: approximately five weeks ago. Who: one night stand. How: prophylactic malfunction.
The upside? I don’t have to go looking for a suitable mate.
Genetically, he’s the cream of the crop. His musculature is a study in symmetry and strength, his height imposing and dominant. He is a man who thrives on control and command, a man who survives on intelligence and resourcefulness. A perfect male specimen.
And the whole package is wrapped up in a flawlessly tailored suit.
I’m having this baby, and he insists we’re well-suited to have it together. And what’s worse? He wants more, in the way of love and marriage.
But love isn’t real. It’s just a product of chemistry.
And if he changes my mind about that, we’re both in trouble.
Word On The Street
“Well Suited isn’t just a must READ, it’s a must BREATHE — a must devour, a must sigh and hug to your chest and think about long after the last page has been turned. Five witty and romantic stars.” -Kandi Steiner
“I loved, loved, LOVED Well Suited! The storyline and characters went above and beyond my expectations, and I loved the author’s writing style. Staci Hart blew me away with the entire Red Lipstick Coalition series, especially Well Suited, and it has been one of my favorite series EVER!” – The Romance Biliophile
“Staci absolutely knocked it out of the ballpark with this one. It’s fresh, it’s real, it had me in my feels and I never wanted this story to end! Well Suited is a five star must-read that guarantees a special place in your heart.” -SM Soto
“Can you find my pulse? No? Because I can’t – this book slayed me.Absolutely in-cred-i-ble.” – Hannah Grace
“Staci Hart’s writing is off-the-charts perfection.” – Wicked Quest of a Book Ninja
“If I kept a check list of things that I loved about romance books, I’m absolutely positive that Well Suited would get 5 stars on all of them. Their journey to an HEA was brilliantly plotted and executed, and gave me plenty of heart-twinging, misty-eyed, LOL moments. It’s the perfect ending to such an amazing series of standalones.” – Ange, Goodreads reviewer
“OMG, this is the perfect romance.” -Babel, Goodreads reviewer
Catch up on the Red Lipstick Coalition series today! The first three books are FREE in KU!
Marble isn’t the only thing that’s hard at this museum. His body is as chiseled as Adonis. His lips are as sculpted as David. And his ego is the size of the Guggenheim. You know the type—wolfish smile and the gravity of a black hole. The kind of man who sucks all the air from the room the second he enters it. My cocky boss thinks this internship was wasted on me, and he doesn’t hesitate to let me know. But he’s wrong, and I’m going to prove it to him. If I can stay away from his devil lips, that is. Lips that cut me down and kiss me in the same breath, leaving me certain he’s on a mission to ruin my life. And maybe my heart, too.
He’s a player. He plays the bass with expert fingers. He plays women with intoxicating charm. And he’ll play me with the ease of a virtuoso. Who better to teach me to play than the master himself? I’m his model student, front row, pencil sharp. Pick up lines? I’ve got them. Free drinks? By the dozen. Kissing? Let me grab my chapstick. But the most valuable lesson I’ve learned is that there’s so much I don’t know. Like why his touch sets off a chain reaction straight to my nethers. Or how I’m certain each kiss is the best I’ll ever have, until the moment his lips take mine again. There’s so much I don’t know. Like the fact that I’m only a bet. But we are what we are. He’s a player, through and through. And I’m the fool who fell in love with him.
I never thought my first kiss would be on my wedding day. But here I stand, clutching a bouquet of pale pink roses behind the doors of a Las Vegas chapel, and at the end of the aisle is the absolute last man I imagined would be waiting for me. Thomas Bane. Bestselling author. Notorious bad boy. Savagely handsome, dark as sin, chiseled as stone. And somehow, my soon-to-be husband. Marry him, and I’ll land my dream job. Save him, and I’ll walk away with everything I’ve ever wanted. All I have to do is remember it’s all for show. None of it is real, no matter how real it feels. But first, I have to survive the kiss. And with lips like his, I don’t stand a chance.
Twenty-three-year-old Primrose Amberly just landed the job of her dreams—with Virago, a leading women’s romance blog. All the knowledge she had about sex, she’d learned by reading their articles. And anyone who knew her would laugh if they found out what her first assignment was. Even she did…before curling into a sopping mess on the floor.She had one month to turn a player into a stayer. To make New York’s swooniest playboy fall in love with her enough to retire his pick-up lines. With a rap sheet of broken hearts a mile long, Grayson Pierce and his panty melting smile have been featured on the covers of countless magazines. He was also direct competition, an employee of Virago’s rival blog.A story on the illustrious bachelor was a prize piece. A headline that would shake the social media masses and ignite her name in the blogosphere. But there was one tiny problem—Primrose was a virgin. Had barely even been kissed. Forget thirty days. She couldn’t nail this story in thirty years, especially if she wanted to keep her virtue intact. Could she?
MY REVIEW by CEE CEE HOUSTON
Virginal Headlines by Candace Knoebel is the first in a new series, ‘Love Between The Headlines’. It’s also my first book by this author and while it was funny in places, there was a serious side to it as well, from Grayson’s past.
Prim is just starting out in her new job and met Grayson accidentally that same day. He’s a serial player and it’s Prim’s job to change him, all in the name of work. Or so it is meant to be. But these two are drawn together and even though Grayson has never dated anyone more than once, with Prim he wants more.
He has his hands full trying to convince her he’s for real. But, what will he do when he finds out what she’s really up to? Can Prim keep her own feelings in check?
This was a fun story, the main characters were the perfect foil for each other. Then there were the secondary characters, from the warring bosses out Prim and Grayson, to their quarrelling best friends.
I wonder what will the next book in the series have in store for us?
MEET THE GIRLS OF LOVE BETWEEN THE HEADLINES
Welcome, ladies. I was thrilled to learn you were willing to sit with me for an interview… especially considering how busy you all are with your blog Virago. And of course, your love life. Why don’t we start off with you telling us a little about yourselves. Poppy: *leans forward* Well, obviously I’ll start us off. My name’s Poppy, and I’m a blogger here at Virago. I like long walks down the vodka aisle and men that aren’t afraid of a woman that doesn’t want to commit. *puts her arm around Prim sitting next to her* This is Prim—my best friend and the star of Virginal Headlines. *points to Brinley* On the end is Brinley, our lead editor who is obsessed with a mysterious poet and painfully shy. Brinley: *shifts uncomfortably* Poppy: And on the other side of me is our boss Quinn. Feminazi. Man-Hater. An overall— Quinn: *clears throat* Thanks for that… enticing introduction, Poppy. *looks to interviewer* You’ll have to excuse her. Poppy’s somewhat rambunctious. Often times loud and without a filter. Oh, and— Poppy: Made of stardust and rainbows. *she winks* Prim: *giggling* Poppy’s the star of the next book in our series—Deadline To Date—where she’ll— Quinn: *places hand over Prim’s mouth* Don’t give it all away. Haven’t I taught you anything in the few months you’ve been with our blog? We’re here to promote your story *looks to interviewer* which releases on April 25th. *looks back at Prim* Stop it with that innocent, thoughtful heart of yours. Poppy doesn’t need any more air blown up her ass or her head will explode. Poppy: *snorts* This coming from the woman who ends up being the star of The Hate Report. A telling of a scorned woman forced to work with an old flame. Quinn: *turns red* Poppy: What? Did I give away too much… Quinn? Quinn: *glares at Poppy and then turns to Brinley* Brinley, why don’t you tell the interviewer about yourself in your own words. Anything to keep this one quiet. Lord knows she loves the sound of her own voice. *hitches a thumb in Poppy’s direction* Brinley: *eyes wide as everyone turns attention to her* Well, I… I guess I’m just… I’m me. Prim: *places hand over Brinley’s* She’s sweet, beautiful, and quietly clever. She also has a nose for talent and a beautiful voice. Brinley: *eyes widen further* Prim: I hear you sometimes singing to yourself behind the walls of your cubicle. You shouldn’t be afraid of your talent. Embrace yourself. Be proud. Brinley: I umm… well, I guess you’ll find out more about me when Quote To My Heart releases. I’m the last to go in the series. Poppy: Because you have horrible luck in the dating department. How many blind dates have you been on in the last month? Brinley: *squirms* Seven. Prim: *glares the shut up eyes at Poppy* She just hasn’t met her one yet. That’s all. Quinn: Working at Virago, it’s hard to find that ‘one’. Which leads me to my next question—Virago… what does it stand for? Poppy: *snorts* That’s a loaded question. Quinn: I think I’ll take this one. Virago’s a word I fell in love with while in college. Historically, it was a title a woman could earn if they were exceptionally heroic, moral, and strong. If they became equal to the ideals of a man. Ideals that women have always carried, but have never been attributed. That’s what our blog stands for. We write about women, by women, for women. We tackle headlines on every front be it political or the typical celebrity gossip. A one-stop shop for the everyday woman. Poppy: We’re the counterpart to Stud—the leading men’s blog—where Prim’s new beau Grayson Pierce works. *Poppy eyes turn impish* And which is owned by he who shan’t be named. A blog that is a continuous thorn in our sides throughout the series. Interviewer: He who shan’t be named? Prim: Harrison Cunningham. He owns Stud and well… he used to… Quinn: Oh, for heaven’s sake. Just say it—he and I used to be a thing back in college. But all of that will be tackled in The Hate Report. Lord, grant me enough whiskey to get through the release of that book. All my secrets aired like dirty laundry. Poppy: *rubs hands together* Bring it on. So, Love Between The Headlines… I’m sensing this a theme. Throughout these four stories, are we to learn of what goes on behind the scenes in the blogging world? Prim: In a nutshell, yes. Love is hard to find in the business we’re in. We’re constantly having to choose between love and our careers while trying to find a healthy balance for both. Being a journalist… a blogger… it isn’t always easy. Especially when the subject is about someone you care about. Poppy: *leans back* Don’t include me in that. I have a healthy balance. It’s called: No Strings Attached. Quinn: Yes. And we see how well you’ve done with that logic. Especially considering your reaction whenever Finley comes around. Interviewer: Finley? Prim: He’s Grayson’s best friend and, well, a complication in Poppy’s love life. Poppy: *scowls* More like a pit stain. Brinley: Honestly, I think she’s in love with him. Poppy: *glares down Brinley* Brinley: *curls into herself* Poppy: I’m not in love with him. I don’t even know what love is. But he, however, is in love with me. He made that very clear. Well, until he… *looks away, sad* Quinn: Next question. Well, I can most definitely sense some tension when the word love is brought up. To wrap this up, can you tell the readers what they’re getting into? Are these standalones? Will we see all of you in every book? Are there any HEAs? Steam? Cliffhangers? Quinn: Wow with the firing off there, paparazzi. You know some of those cleverly inserted questions we can’t answer. We can’t give away the endings. Telling you if there’s an HEA or not is like reading the last page before starting the book. Prim: But, to give you some insight, there are definite HEAs. And, no, there are no cliffhangers. Poppy: But there is plenty of steam. I’d brag that you’d find it all in my story, but I’m feeling generous today. The steam alert is strong within this group of females. We know what we want, and we take it. And the men… *licks lips* Prim: *fans herself* Brinley: You’ll see each of us throughout the series. Some of our story will carry on through everyone’s book. They can each be read as a standalone, but it’s best to read in order. Poppy: Yeah. How else will you keep consecutive order of every one of Brinley’s failed dates? Prim: *puts arm around Brinley’s shoulder* Even the clouds have to give way to the sun at some point. You’re not a lost cause. Poppy’s just jealous that you have the emotional capability to put yourself out there. Poppy: *snorts* Quinn: And with that, I’ll say I think that about wraps it us for us, ladies. There’s still work to be done. Those posts aren’t going to write themselves. And, Prim, I need you in my office after this. Poppy: Ooooh. Someone’s in trouble. Quinn: *shoots a look to Poppy* I wasn’t finished. I need to see you after her. Brinley, try to keep the crying to a minimum today. Okay then, well, thank you again for taking this time with me. I can’t wait to get my hands on your stories. I’m sure my readers will feel the same. Quinn: April 25th. Virginal Headlines. Steamy. Angsty. Funny. Be sure to grab your copy and find your inner Virago. Prim: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this interview. And, if you do pick up Virginal Headlines, I want to thank you for that as well. Without you, my story would remain letters pressed within pages, never given the chance to breathe life. Poppy: I’m just going to part by saying—you’re welcome for the shit show you just witnessed. Read our books to see more. And if you really want a good laugh, keep your eyes peeled for the release announcement of Deadline To Date coming this summer featuring none other than moi. Check out the author behind our stories’ Facebook page for more information. Quinn: Or sign up to her newsletter. You’re more likely to see her announcements in your inbox than relying on Facebook nowadays. Brinley: *gets up and leaves before anyone asks her anything else*
About Candace Knoebel
Candace Knoebel is a hopeless romantic with an affinity for whiskey and good music. Her love of words began when she met the boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs. She’s a self-proclaimed Lost Girl. Words are her mirror. With two completed series, her work ranges from paranormal to contemporary, all centered heavily around romance. Currently she lives in Florida with her husband and two children, and has just completed her thirteenth novel, The Taste of Her Words.