Ari Daniels didn’t count on her whole world tumbling down around her in a mess of shredded promises, broken love, and unbelievable heartbreak. Alone and stricken with grief, she shouldered the blame and eventually closed her heart off, refusing to open it for another. After all, anytime she tried, guilt and regret were waiting in the wings to remind her how painful it was. A bet and one steamy night with a stranger force Ari to confront all she’s been hiding behind. She tries to move on, but he refuses to stand down, wanting what she is terrified to give—herself. This man may very well destroy her in the end, especially when it’s clear he has his own demons. What happens when two broken souls come together, finally allowing themselves to believe in the beauty of love … only to have to fight harder than ever to keep it.      

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    His eyes get hard for a beat before his features smooth back out. “Yeah, beyond sure. No one to pass this shit down to, and even if there was, I wouldn’t be givin’ someone ideas of materialistic bullshit if I did. More to life than all this shit.” “Okay, well, in that case …” I cough, not wanting to fight with him about our views when it comes to expensive wants versus needs. Last time I tried to argue the benefits of learning to care for and value something you work hard to buy, I had a black eye for almost two weeks. “In that case, I’m prepared to offer you a lump sum as a buyout for the whole collection, but I also want to mention, again, that consignment would be a more lucrative approach. Our buyout is just a standard percent of resale value, but consignment would allow us to mark up each to give you a larger profit.” “Told you, babe, want it gone. I don’t give a shit about making it more lucrative. Look around you, hardly hurting.” “Still, it’s my obligation to make sure you’re informed.” “Consider me informed.” “Okay … so I can offer a tentative amount of three million. I would need more time to inspect each item in depth for any defects that could affect the value and also to research a few pieces I feel may be limited editions so that could also affect the value. Meaning that amount could go up or down, but I wouldn’t expect it to be less than two point five or more than four point seven-ish. I wouldn’t need but maybe five days tops, and I can come during the day if that works better for your schedule.” “You get this gone in two days, and I’ll take one mil.” My whole body jerks back as if I had been slapped, staring at him like he was absolutely insane. “That’s absolutely insane,” I tell him, voicing my thoughts. “No, that’s me not giving a shit and wanting it gone so I can get out of this place and sell it and all this shit some hand with care placed around each room. Woulda left this shit in and sold it with the house, but for some reason I’ll never understand, you’re here, and I still just want it gone. You don’t need five days when I’m taking a two mil hit, babe. That would waste your time and mine, and I’m not a huge fan of wasting my time. Way I see it, you win, and I get a cold mil for some shit I didn’t buy nor care about. So you get this shit outta here, and all I need is that.” “Thorn, I can’t in good conscience accept that.” “Then dirty that conscience up and laugh your tight little ass all the way to the bank. Don’t give a shit as long as it’s gone, and I don’t have to do anything to make it that way.” “This is insanity.” “Insanity would be tossing it all at the Goodwill drop-off. I’m making money. You’re making money. Only thing sweeter than making money is doing it while I’m getting my cock wet, and babe, that only happens when my stock rises at the same time my cock does.” He steps closer, and I back into the island, my chest burning as I hold my breath. “Course, never had four mil worth of shit to sell to a woman who makes my cock rise without even trying.” “Thorn,” I whisper, placing my hand against his hard chest with the intention of pushing him back. Only, the second his warmth burns through his shirt and hits my skin, I can’t move an inch. “Ari,” he mocks, his eyes bright. “I, uh, the paperwork …” I close my eyes and focus on my breaths and the words my mouth can’t seem to form. When my heart slows enough that I won’t die of a heart attack right here in heaven, I look back up at him. “You’re breaking my brain, Thorn. Please step back so I can think clearly without my body trying to die on me.” The corners of his eyes crinkle as he continues to gaze down at me, but he does step back. My arm falling down to my side. “As much as I wish I could have this room cleared out for you tomorrow, it will take at least until late Monday. I’ll need to meet with you beforehand to have some legal paperwork signed for the sale due to its size. But my lawyer is an old family friend, so I can have that by tomorrow around dinnertime, if you wouldn’t mind meeting me to take care of that. I won’t be able to get the cashier’s check until after those are signed, so late Monday is the best I can offer you.” “Want this shit gone, but it’s hardly a hardship to wait a few more days if that means I’ve got a few more opportunities to try to make you want me as much as you want this shit around you,” he says, his deep voice thick with desire. “Good heavens, you don’t stop, do you?” “Not unless you beg, babe.” “I think it’s best we went back to keeping things professional, Mr. Evans.” This time, it isn’t a ghost of a smile on his lips. Oh, no. Not this time. If I thought he was handsome before this moment, I was a fool. Because Thorn Evans giving you his full, unhindered smile and a gaze so thick with unspoken promise as it washes over you and creates a fire of the desire you already felt … well, that expression on him turns him from sinfully hot to heart-stopping and irresistible instantly. “It would take me five minutes to get you to beg me for it, Ms. Daniels. Admit it.” Offended at the thought that I’m easy, I narrow my eyes. Finally. At least anger is an emotion I’ve had plenty of practice dealing with. “I’m not sure what kind of women you’re used to, but I promise you, I am not that type of woman.” “Maybe three,” he oddly says, ignoring me. “Three, what?” I snap. “Minutes, sweetness. Three minutes and you’d be begging me for all this shit and my cock.” My mouth flounders, and I gasp. “Though, pretty sure I could get that in less than a minute and get you doin’ all the work while I watch from my back.” My arm is up, palm cracking against his cheek before I have the ability to do anything to stop it. “I think we’re done here.” I walk around him, ready to find my way out and let him find someone else to take all of this off his hands even if it kills a little part of my lux loving soul. When his hand curls around my bicep—not painfully, but firm enough to make me stop—I look over my shoulder with a frown. For a man who was just slapped, he looks almost gleeful. “One minute, Ari. Give me a minute and if you aren’t ready to beg me for it, when those sixty seconds are up, you can take this shit and not give me a penny for it.” Walk away, Ari. Walk. Away. No amount of money is worth being some man’s whore. Spinning away from his hold, I jerk my arm free and step toward him with a roll up to my toes, getting my face as close to his as I can. His scent overwhelms me. The subtle notes of his cologne fog my rational thought, making me drunk with need, and I sway slightly before correcting myself. “Thirty seconds,” I retort, my jaw tight with stubbornness. I’m not sure who I shocked more—him or me. I have my answer, though, when I see victory flash in his eyes. Oh, my God … what have I done? “You’re on,” he agrees, his eyes alight with the promise backed up by his devilish grin. I nod, incapable of anything more. I stand there in shocked silence as he takes my phone, his thick fingers moving quickly over the screen. I vaguely hear a chime from his pocket and before I can so much as blink, he’s handing me my things. “Tomorrow, I’ll text you. Paperwork first, then you beg.” I gulp, jerk my head in what I hope resembles a nod of agreement, and then … I flee.      

Harper is a NEW YORK TIMES, WALL STREET JOURNAL and USA TODAY bestselling author residing in Georgia with her husband and three daughters. She has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books, hibachi, tattoos and Game of Thrones. When she isn't writing you can almost always find her with a book in hand. Facebook | Website | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page

Unconscious Hearts by Harper Sloan
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Y’all.... you’re going to fall in love with this one. In true Harper style you get a little of everything. It’s cute, funny, has great characters, drama and it’s very sexy.
Ari and Thorn both have baggage. He’s never had a relationship always the ladies man and it’s taken her years to get over her broken engagement. Together they help each other heal and finally begin to start over.
One thing I love about this author is not only does she give us great stories with wonderful leading characters but she also gives us secondary characters that we immediately fall in love with. I was so engrossed with this that I didn’t stop once I started it. I loved that Thorn is a crazy alpha and how Ari responses to him. I loved it, it’s a definite must read.

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I let the rush of nicotine fill my lungs and closed my eyes. As my eyelids shut, I heard quiet music playing somewhere nearby. Classical. Mozart. My drunken mind immediately drifted off to when I was a little kid . . . “What do you hear, Cromwell?” my father asked. I closed my eyes and listened to the piece of music. Colors danced before my eyes. “Piano. Violins. Cellos . . .” I took a deep breath. “I can hear reds and greens and pinks.” I opened my eyes and looked up at my father as he sat on my bed. He was staring down at me. There was a funny expression on his face. “You hear colors?” he said. But he didn’t sound surprised. My face set on fire. I ducked my head under my duvet. My father pulled it down from my eyes. He stroked my hair. “That’s good,” he said, his voice kind of deep. “That’s very good . . .” My eyes snapped open. My hand started to ache. I looked at the bottle in my hand; my fingers were white as they gripped the neck. I sat up, my head spinning from the mass of whiskey in my body. My temples throbbed. I realized it wasn’t from the Jack, but from the music coming from further down the beach. I pushed my hair back from my face then looked to my right. Someone was only a few feet away. I squinted into the lightening night, summer’s early rising sun making it possible to make out the features of whoever the hell it was. It was a girl. A girl wrapped in a blanket. Her phone sat beside her, a Mozart piano concerto drifting quietly from the speaker. She must have felt me looking at her, because she turned her head. I frowned, wondering why I knew her face, but then—“You’re the DJ,” she said. Recognition dawned. It was the girl in the purple dress. She clutched her blanket closer around her as I replayed her accent in my head. American. Bible Belt was my guess, by her thick twang. She sounded like my mum. A smile tugged at her lips as I stayed mute. I wasn’t much of a talker. Especially when my gut was full of Jack and I had zero interest in making small talk with some girl I didn’t know at four in the morning on a cold beach in Brighton. “I’d heard of you,” she said. I stared back out over the sea. Ships sailed in the distance, their lights like tiny fireflies, bobbing up and down. I huffed a humorless laugh. Great. Another girl who wanted to screw the DJ. “Good for you,” I muttered and took a drink of my Jack, feeling the addictive burn slide down my throat. I hoped she’d piss off, or at least stop trying to talk to me. My head couldn’t take any more noise. “Not really,” she shot back. I looked over at her, eyebrows pulled down in confusion. She was looking out over the sea, her chin resting on her folded arms that lay over her bent knees. The blanket had fallen off her shoulders, revealing the purple dress I’d noticed from the podium. She turned to face me, cheek now on her arms. Heat zipped through me. She was pretty. “I’ve heard of you, Cromwell Dean.” She shrugged. “Decided to get a ticket to see you before I left for home tomorrow.” I lit up another cigarette. Her nose wrinkled. She clearly didn’t like the smell. Tough luck. She could move. Last time I checked, England was a free country. She went quiet. I caught her looking at me. Her brown eyes were narrowed, like she was scrutinizing me. Reading something in me that I didn’t want anyone to see. No one ever looked at me closely. I never gave them the chance. I thrived on the podium at clubs because it kept everyone far away, down on the dancefloor where no one ever saw the real me. The way she was looking at me now made nervous shivers break out over my skin. I didn’t need this kind of crap. “Already had my dick sucked tonight, love. Not looking for a second round.” She blinked, and even in the rising sun, I could see her cheeks redden. “Your music has no soul,” she blurted. My cigarette paused halfway to my mouth. Something managed to stab through my stomach at her words. I shoved it back down until I felt my usual sensation of numbness. I sucked on my cigarette. “Yeah? Well, them’s the breaks.” “I’d heard you were some messiah or something on that podium. But all your music comprised was synthetic beats and forced repetitive bursts of unoriginal tempo.” I laughed and shook my head. The girl met my eyes head-on. “It’s called electronic dance music. Not a fifty-piece orchestra.” I held out my arms. “You’ve heard of me. Said so yourself. You know what tunes I spin. What were you expecting? Mozart?” I glared at her phone, which was still playing that damn concerto. I sat back, surprised at myself. I hadn’t talked that much to anyone in . . . I didn’t know how long. I took in a drag, breathing out the smoke that was trapped in my chest. “And turn that thing off, will you? Who the hell goes to hear a dance DJ spin, then comes to a beach to listen to classical music?” The girl frowned but turned off the music. I lay back on the cold sand, closing my eyes. I heard the soft waves lapping the shore. My head filled with pale green. I heard the girl moving. I prayed she was leaving. But I felt her drop beside me. My world darkened as the whiskey and the usual lack of sleep started to pull me under. “What do you feel when you mix your music?” she asked. How the hell she thought her little interview was a good idea right now was beyond me. Yet, surprisingly, I found myself answering her question. “I don’t feel.” I cracked one eye open when she didn’t say anything. She was looking down at me. She had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen. Dark hair pulled off her face in a ponytail. Full lips and smooth skin. “Then that’s the problem.” She smiled, but the smile looked nothing but sad. Pitying. “The best music must be felt. By the creator. By the listener. Every part of it from creation to ear must be wrapped in nothing but feelings.” Some weird expression crossed over her face, but hell if I knew what it meant. Her words were a blade to my chest. I hadn’t expected her harsh comment. And I hadn’t expected the blunt trauma that she seemed to deliver right to my heart. Like she’d taken a butcher’s knife and sliced her way through my soul. My body itched to get up and run. To pluck out her assessment of my music from my memory. But instead I forced a laugh, and spat, “Go back home, little Dorothy. Back to where music means something. Where it’s felt.” “Dorothy was from Kansas.” She glanced away. “I’m not.” “Then go back to wherever the hell you’re from,” I snapped. Crossing my arms over my chest, I hunkered down into the sand and shut my eyes, trying to block out the cold wind that was picking up and slapping my skin, and her words that were still stabbing at my heart. I never let anything get to me like this. Not anymore. I just needed some sleep. I didn’t want to go back to my mum’s house here in Brighton, and my flat in London was too far away. So hopefully the cops wouldn’t find me here and kick me off the beach. With my eyes closed, I said, “Thanks for the midnight critique, but as the fastest-rising DJ in Europe, with the best clubs in the world begging for me to spin at their decks—all at nineteen—I think I’ll ignore your extensive notes and just keep on living my sweet as fuck life.”

A Wish for Us by Tillie Cole
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

When I first saw the cover for this book, I sat and just looked at it for a while. Now don’t get me wrong I liked it but was left wondering why the author chose it. After reading it I totally get it and it’s absolutely perfect and beautiful.

A Wish For Us is one of those books that you wish you could give a million stars to. When I finished it I could do anything but sit and try to regain myself, you know after I picked up the thousand of snot rags, yes snot rags. That I had thrown around. This isn’t a tear jerker. Oh no. This is a ugly, bawling cry. And it’s absolutely wonderful!

It’s beautiful, emotional and wonderfully heartbreaking. It’s a truly inspirational read that has you so totally invested in these characters that you feel them. I am in awe of this author and her words. This is definitely a must read for everyone and I highly recommend it.

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Unexpected Love Story by Natasha Madison
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I loved this! It’s sexy, emotional and really funny. Usually those two emotions don’t go together but with these characters it just works. Crystal and Gabe are wonderful characters, he’s the sexy tattooed doctor who was left at the alter and she’s the extremely funny nurse who has is holding onto a secret.

One night, fake names and explosive sex is all is was suppose to be but it just wasn’t enough. These two will having you laughing one minute and hot the next. Crystal is breath of fresh air and I totally fell in love with her and this story. Great book, a definite must read!

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Afternoon Delight, the next standalone in the romantic and hilarious Charity Case Series by Piper Rayne is available now!

The perfect man for me is the one who broke my heart.

#thanksbutnothanks

Once bitten.

Twice shy.

Yeah, I wish.

I’m on a mission to find myself a nice, solid, respectable man. The only problem is nice, solid, and respectable comes in a meh package and is B-O-R-I-N-G as hell.

It’s been established. I have one type. Bad Boy. I tried the other flavors, I really did. But there’s nothing like the allure of a man who takes what he wants without apology.

As if my love life isn’t dramatic enough, Dean Bennett walks into my life again thinking he’s going to win me back with his charm and charisma. He might come in a different package, but under that expensive suit he’s still the same cocky, arrogant, pompous prick who only cares about numero uno.

I’m not that naïve young girl anymore so I have to ignore the fact that the way he looks at me practically sets my panties on fire.

Everyone deserves a second chance to right a wrong. The problem? He’s not just an ex-boyfriend…

He’s my ex-husband.

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Excerpt

Walking through the revolving door, I’m greeted by a security desk before I can access the elevators. Shit. I should message Glen again to say I’m going to be even later than I expected. I approach the tall man who looks as annoyed as me for being here on a Friday night. “Hello, I need to head to” —I glance at the envelope— “Heiberman and Lipe Law Firm.” He taps a few keys. “I think they’re closed already.” His face is void of any emotion. “Can you tell me if there’s a…” my eyes glance to the folder again. “Mr. Bennett?” The last name causes my stomach to gurgle. “Let me call up.” He presses some buttons on the phone, listens for a second and then hangs up. “No one is answering.” I lean over the counter, splashing on my please eat out of my hand smile. “It’s Friday. You want to go home. I want to go home. I promised my boss that I’d get these on the desk of Mr. Bennett.” I cough, bile rising up my throat with the mention of the name. Victoria is really going to have to take care of this in the future. “Can I please just go up to their floor and see if their door is unlocked?” He shakes his head, giving me a look I’m way too familiar with, silently asking if I’m crazy. “What can I do?” I ask. “Money? A date?” I look at his left hand. “No. Are you a fan of winter sports?” I’ll totally pull Skylar into this. “My cousin is a Winter Classics skier and her fiancé—” A large palm lands in front of my face. “Give me your name.” His fingers position on the keyboard. “Chelsea… Chelsea Walsh.” He types my name in, and I smile when he pulls a visitor badge out. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I take it from his hand and put it over my head. “If no one is up there, they have a drop box beside their door. You can leave your package there.” I thank him again and walk steadily to the elevators, dodging people desperate to start their weekend. I end up riding the elevator by myself to the thirty-third floor. The elevator doors ding open and I file out, my head swiveling right and then left. Spotting the door with Heiberman and Lipe Law Firm, I head over to it to find a list of the names of all the associates and thankfully there’s Bennett second from the top. Hold on Glen, I’m almost on my way. My hand pulls on the frosted glass door and it must be my lucky day because it opens. I step into the darkened reception area. Looking around, I find no one. Heading down a hallway, my eyes zero in on the names on the doors while peeking my head into vacant offices. Finally, after passing the conference room, I see the last name Bennett and peek my head inside to find it empty with the light on. Hopefully that means he’s in the bathroom or something. I pull out my cell phone, seeing Glen has messaged me back, but instead of responding to his I shoot one off to my boss Hannah. Me: Mr. Bennett isn’t here. Can I drop the envelope on his desk? Hannah as usual, replies instantly. Hannah: Sure. Just leave it somewhere he’ll see it first thing on Monday. Me: Got it. I drop my cell phone back into my purse and slowly walk across the room and place the envelope on the chair. As I straighten up, I notice a baseball sitting next to the keyboard like someone had been playing with it and just set it down. My jaw drops and my gaze scatters across every surface, spinning around investigating each piece of art, photos, anything I can find to tell me this isn’t… Then as though I hadn’t breathed the entire time I’ve been in this office, the smell of him hits my nostrils. The once familiar scent of the ocean breeze, his deodorant and fresh linen from his clothes. He never was a cologne guy. Other than a picture of a dog on the table behind his desk, it’s filled with baseball memorabilia of the Cubs. A die-hard Cub’s fan certificate is framed and on display, so others know he didn’t jump on the bandwagon two years ago when they won the World Series. It’s proof that his family has borne the Cubbie fever for generations. “Do you make it a habit of sneaking into people’s offices?” His voice is coy and flirtatious. I squeeze my eyes shut then grip the edge of the desk before my knees give out. Shivers run up and down my spine. Crazy train. All aboard! “You can at least show your face,” he says, continuing his usual play. “I promise I don’t bite.” “Unless I want you to.” I spin around, my knuckles white as they tighten on the edge of the desk. Now it’s his jaw that slackens as he realizes his ex-wife is standing in the middle of his office.

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About Piper Rayne

Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two USA Today Bestselling authors for the price of one. Our goal is to bring you romance stories that have "Heartwarming Humor With a Side of Sizzle" (okay...you caught us, that's our tagline). A little about us... We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We're both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We're both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.

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Confessions: Julien, book two in the steamy contemporary MMM Confessions Series from Ella Frank, is available NOW!

Synopsis

People are complex.

Love a double-edged sword.

And when it comes to a broken heart, there are no rules, only time…

For the past eight years, Julien Thornton has been living with a secret. One that only a handful of people know about.

To the outside world, he has it all.

A thriving career. A loving husband. And a face that the American public fell for by the millions, on a reality show that inadvertently saved his life.

But behind the shine of celebrity, behind the easygoing nature, a crippling truth fills Julien with pain and self-loathing. It’s a truth that he fights to overcome daily with the help of his husband, Joel Priestley, and now their boyfriend, Robbie Bianchi.

But unlike Priest, Robbie doesn’t know what he’s helping Julien to fight. He doesn’t know what Julien did all those years ago. And with the anniversary of his sister’s death fast approaching, the time for explanations is running out.

And thus the question: will the princess be able to forgive the prick as the priest once did?

Only time will tell.

Excerpt

Chapter One

CONFESSION

Those who are meant to be yours will always find you. “WE MEET again, Mr. Thornton.” A shiver of awareness raced up Julien Thornton’s spine as he stood in the jail cell of a downtown L.A. police station where he’d been thrown around an hour ago for public intoxication. He didn’t need to turn to know who was on the opposite side of those steel bars. That voice was the one he’d been hoping to hear when he’d made his “one call” and left a message after a generic voicemail. That voice? It had been on his mind since the last time he’d heard it, nearly two weeks earlier when he’d met—and attempted to steal the car of—a man who called himself Priest. Julien pivoted on his heels, and when he did, he realized that he’d grossly underestimated the impact that Joel Priestley had had on him the first time around. Oui, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, that was true, and oui, he might’ve purposely provoked the police officer tonight hoping he’d end up needing a lawyer. But Dieu, he’d forgotten the way Priest made his body respond. Like an inferno was licking through his veins. With auburn hair, stormy eyes, and a presence that Julien gravitated toward like a magnetic force, he didn’t think anything could prepare a person for the powerful energy Priest exuded. Not to mention that cool, judgmental stare of his. But Julien had no one to blame for that judgment but himself. Maybe if they didn’t always meet at the end of one of his week-long benders, he could have the upper hand with this man for once. And wouldn’t that be délicieux, he thought, as he looked at the lawyer who’d dropped him home two weeks before, instead of at the police station like he’d originally threatened. Priest was as put together now, at three in the morning, as he had been that afternoon in the alley. Suited up in a tailored navy number that framed his broad shoulders and emphasized the rich color of his hair, he looked sharp, controlled, and dangerous to Julien’s already unstable state of mind as he stood there sizing him up with an unreadable expression. “I’m curious,” Priest finally said, as he clasped his hands behind his back and took a step closer to the cell where Julien had spent most of the night sobering up. “Did you not understand me the last time we spoke?” Julien clenched his jaw and wondered if Priest realized how condescending he sounded when he spoke—or just how much it turned Julien on. “Non. I understood just fine.” “Then what part of ‘I won’t be so lenient next time’ made you think that calling me to bail you out of here was a good idea?” Julien was still trying to work that out himself, but thought it might have something to do with the fact that he was drawn to this man. There was something about Priest that made him feel alive, when all he’d felt for months now was dead inside. When Julien didn’t respond, Priest cocked his head, studying him closely, the disapproval rolling off him in waves. “Are you that hard up for a date that this was the only way you could think to get one?” Putain, the man was arrogant. But for reasons Julien couldn’t explain, that seemed to make him all the more appealing. “You’re the one who gave me your card the last time we met. Perhaps it’s you who are hard up for a date, monsieur. Giving your number out to—” “Criminals?” Priest frowned. “No. That’s called smart business acumen, considering I’m a criminal attorney.” Julien scoffed. “I’m hardly a criminal.” “Really?” Priest said, and took his time examining the six-by-eight space Julien currently stood in. He then leaned forward and said in a lowered voice, “Your current situation tells a different kind of story.” Despite his “current situation,” and the reason he’d gotten himself into it, Julien felt his lips curve, and he realized exactly why he was drawn to Priest. He possessed the one thing that Julien had been looking for—the ability to take his mind off the black hole his life had become. “Maybe it’s le destin.” “And what does that mean? Destiny?” Priest straightened and brought his arm around to check the time. “I doubt destiny has anything to do with it. A more likely scenario is that I was your only option.” “Even if that’s true,” Julien said as he wrapped his fingers around the bars, “you came anyway.” “As I said before, it’s my job.” “At three in the morning?” “At any hour of the morning,” Priest said, and then looked down the hallway that was devoid of anything other than dreary off-white tiles and horribly bright fluorescent lighting. “I’m going to go and see if I can get you out, and then you and I are going to have a talk.” Something about the way Priest said you and I made Julien’s pulse race, and as Priest went to walk away, Julien whispered, “J’ai vraiment hâte,” and the ever-so-serious lawyer stopped in his tracks and looked back. This time when those eyes roamed over Julien, his breath caught. There was nothing cool about that stare now. There was heat, interest, and an intensity that made Julien’s fingers tighten around the bars before Priest cut the connection and walked away. Julien watched him go until he disappeared around the end of the hall, and then he released his breath on a rush. Merde. He’d never been so attracted to someone in all his life, and as he stood there waiting for Priest to save him yet again, Julien knew he needed to stop what he was thinking. There was no way in hell he deserved someone like that. Non, no way at all. That didn’t, however, stop him from counting down the minutes until Priest returned to him…

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About Ella

Ella Frank is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust and is the co-author of the fan-favorite contemporary romance, Sex Addict. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!” Some of her favorite authors include Tiffany Reisz, Kresley Cole, Riley Hart, J.R. Ward, Erika Wilde, Gena Showalter, and Carly Phillips.

Connect with Ella:

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Julien by Ella Frank
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This was everything I’d hoped for and more. Julien’s story was heartbreaking and beautiful. My soul cried for him and I absolutely love the way that Robbie and Priest are totally there for him.

The interaction between these three are seriously sexy and at times funny. I love how they are there for each other and can immediately take care of each other’s needs. Not sexually but emotionally.

Next up we will get Priest and oh Lord and I ready for that one. These three men are so loveable and their stories will both break and heal your heart. This is a definite must read!

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Burndown by Winter Travers
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

WOW!!

This book was kickass from the start. Not only did I find a new to me author, but an author who is writing a series that is about drag racing. I was born and raised around drag racing my whole life, so to find an author that is writing a series on it mixed with romance is like hitting the jackpot.

I loved the writing style, characters, and the accuracy was so on point with drag racing. I was totally blown away. I've read racing books before and I have never found one that was as accurate as this one. Well Done Winter Travers!!!

I have fallen in love with Remy and Harlyn along with the rest of the characters. I knew that I was going to love these two when they first met when her car broke down. This book is not only full of hotness, but full of laugh out loud moments. Remy and Harlyn's story was just really starting to heat up at the end and I am so looking forward to seeing these two race to the finish line of forever with each other.

This is really a great start to a series for sure and can not wait to get more of Remy and Harlyn's story along with the other characters.

I have since learned that there are other series with some of the same characters in them from this author. Now I know what I'll be doing while waiting for the next book in the series to come out.

Happy Reading Everyone!!!




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Dirty Exes by Rachel Van Dyken Publication Date: June 5th, 2018 Genre: Contemporary Romance

They’re serving up some red-hot revenge. A sizzling series from #1 New York Times bestselling author Rachel van Dyken.

Blaire has never quite gotten over Jessie Beckett, the ex–NFL star whose kisses were hot enough to ignite the entire Eastern Seaboard. When he chose work over her, Blaire was left brokenhearted. Why else would she have married a skeezy two-timer, just to divorce him less than a year later?

Now Blaire is getting even by becoming one half of Dirty Exes, a PI firm fully committed to humiliating cheating jerks. If only the new jerk she’s been hired to uncover wasn’t Jessie Beckett himself.

Exposing Jessie isn’t going to be easy, especially when she still daydreams about his sexy smile. Further complicating matters is Colin, Jessie’s best friend. He’s gorgeous, a little bit cunning, and willing to help Blaire get the inside scoop on Jessie—for a price.

Now caught between two men—one totally right and the other totally wrong—Blaire will need to decide just how much she’s willing to risk…and whom she’s willing to risk it for.

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Excerpt:

It ended there. Right. Forget about his mouth. Or the way I sighed when he touched my shoulder. The way my body quivered when his skin pressed against mine in the car. “Stop!” I gritted my teeth and searched the kitchen. Cheaters often hid things in places that their spouse wouldn’t expect, like pantries and junk drawers, places that seemed obvious but weren’t. I’d once found a second cell phone in a cereal box. Cheaters were like drug addicts. They knew the perfect place to hide the drugs. I shuddered. Dirty. Toilets. Not the best day I’d ever had, but marginally better than the sewer. I spent the next thirty minutes with plastic gloves searching every crevice of that kitchen, patting down the inside of drawers, digging through trash. Nothing. The guy was either a saint . . Or we had a serious Dexter situation going on, and he knew exactly how to dispose of incriminating evidence. Sexy male laughter jolted me from my search. I freaked, ran into the pantry, and shut the door just as Jessie’s face came into view. Sweat trickled down my back. Shit, shit, shit! Oh, this was bad, so bad. What man didn’twant to eat after coming home from the gym? “Nice, man, she keeps the book on the bar?” Colin’s mocking voice at least made me feel like I wasn’t the only one who thought it was strange. “Fams always so classy.” “Yeah,” Jessie agreed. “I think maybe it’s her way of reminding me how happy we were that one year.” He hesitated. “You know, the one where we actually did normal things like stay home and make dinner, and watch movies instead of going out all the time. That went to hell fast.” Colin sighed. “She writes a book about our best year, and then turns into this greedy person I don’t recognize and dream about murdering in her sleep.”

• “Hey,” Colin warned. “I get it, I do, but she’s still my—”

“Sorry, man.” “It’s fine, like I said, I get it.” I plastered my ear to the door to listen harder. What did Colin mean? Why was he defending her? Why was Jessie saying sorry? I made a mental note to purchase the book and torture myself by reading it cover to cover. “You contemplate murdering her while she sleeps,” Colin said in a weird tone, “and yet she’s still living here in this house with you? Tell me how that makes sense? You say she’s not the same person, but she never really was the person you thought she was. When are you going to get that?” “She was different then, man. She was.” Jessie came to her defense so quickly I almost fell backward. He sounded like—he still had feelings for her. I turned my attention back to the door as footsteps neared the pantry. Oh hell. Not good. I needed to get out. Fast. I grabbed my cell and texted Colin. And seconds later heard a ping. “Another one of your sex buddies?” Jessie teased. Colin paused and then, “Oh yeah, but this one’s been really hard to tame. You know the type, a bit schizo but so hot you don’t care that she asks to twist your nipples while she licks your nose.” “Seriously?” Jessie choked. “She likes noses. And snake tattoos, loves them.” “Lucky for you.” “I think it reminds her of the size of my dick, you know?” I made a gagging noise, shifted on my feet, then texted again. Me: Seriously! Trapped! And your dick can’t be the size of that python on your arm because that would mean you actually impale women on a daily basis. Colin: Just call me Dracula. I frowned. Colin: Get it? The impaler. Me: Look at that, basement dweller can joke! He’s got jokes! Meanwhile I’m going to starve to death in this pantry. Colin: You mean around all that food? “Wow, this girl must have skills if you’re that focused on your texts . . .” Jessie trailed off. “She’s . . . unique,” Colin finally said. My eyes narrowed. Was that a compliment? Did it matter? Why did I care? And why the hell did Jessie have ten different kinds of cereal—and all the boxes were full. And alphabetized? Starting with Apple Jacks? Really? Not that I’d resorted to more snooping. Okay, so I’d resorted to more snooping. But the fact that they were full was emotionally distressing. A full cereal box at my house lasts about one hot minute before I get a craving for Cheerios that even wine can’t cure. “Hey”—Colin cleared his throat—“I need a favor.” “Anything,” Jessie said quickly.

“I need a nice shirt for a date tonight, something . . . classy.” Jessie laughed. “What? You can’t wear your own clothes?” “You know I like your style better.” I rolled my eyes, has he seen that man’s closet? His white shirts are all ironed to within an inch of their lives. “Plus I want to impress this girl and I don’t have time to go grab a new shirt, we’re going on a late lunch date and I’m sweaty as hell, so please? Let me borrow a shirt, I’ll go home and shower, pair it with some nice jeans, and be inside her in no time.” I glared at the door. Like I could actually see Colin’s smug expression. Why was my heart thumping? Why was I breathing like I was having trouble sucking in air? He could date whomever he wanted. I shifted on my feet as my face heated. He was an attractive, successful man. I crossed my arms. Then uncrossed them nervously. “Yeah, yeah,” Jessie finally said. “I’ll be right back, try not to burn down the kitchen or set the book on fire.” “Shit, you read my mind,” Colin joked. The sound of footsteps faded as Jessie walked toward the bedroom. And then pantry door was jerked open. I blinked up at him. “Thank you.” “People . . . they pay you,” he said, leaning his large frame against the door while his muscles bulged beneath his sweat-soaked shirt, “for this?” My eyes narrowed. “Yes! And I’m good at it.” His smirk was wicked as he glanced behind me and then locked eyes. “Obviously.” I shoved his chest. “I miscalculated the time, that’s all.” I tried squeezing past him, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the pantry and closed the door. “What the hell are you doing?” I hissed as he pressed me against the wall. “He’s going to find me!” “A favor for a favor, spy girl.” Colin’s grin turned menacing. “I got Jessie out of the house, gave you my car, and saved your sorry ass. I get a favor.” “I’m not sucking your nose and licking your tattoo, you psycho,” I said, repeating what he’d said earlier. “Don’t knock it, you may love it.” He winked, and then stood his ground. “One favor.” I sighed and gritted my teeth. “Fine.” “A date,” he said triumphantly. “I want a date.” “A date,” I repeated in a slightly panicked voice. “Like to dinner?” “No, I was thinking the drive-in, we could make out, eat popcorn, I’d feel you up a bit—yeah, dinner.” I smirked. “If I go to dinner with you . . . you’ll get me out of this godforsaken pantry with the full boxes of cereal?” “Noticed that, did you?’ “He’s clearly not human.” “I steal his Cocoa Puffs every chance I get.” I nodded seriously. “I think my respect for you grew just now.” “Ah, she likes cereal.” “She’d also like to not get caught!” “Go.” He shoved me toward the pantry door. “Run out the back and try not to trip and ruin your escape.” “I don’t trip.” Of course, at that moment, I tripped over my own feet and almost face-planted into his lips. He sighed, his expression worried and a bit stunned as Jessie’s voice carried to the kitchen. “Black okay?” “Go.” Colin shoved me again. “Oh, and you’re picking me up. It seems I’m down a car.” He winked. “I’ll text you.”

Meet the Author:

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!

Connect with the Author:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RachelVanDyken Website: http://rachelvandykenauthor.com Newsletter: http://smarturl.it/RVDNewsletter Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rachvd Twitter: https://twitter.com/RachVD Amazon: http://amzn.to/2cNVwL9 Goodreads: http://bit.ly/RVDGR Rachel's Rockin' Readers: http://bit.ly/RachelsRockinReaders

Dirty Exes by Rachel Van Dyken
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I never thought I would say it but I’m liking this series better than Wingmen, INC. I know right? These characters! Geez, I totally fell in love with them. They are absolutely hilarious. Yes, there is heat. It’s sexy but y’all it’s extremely funny. Blair is a trip. I don’t want to give anything away just trust me, you are going to love this.

Two scorned women who go into business as PI’s, righting wrongs and busting out those who cheat. It’s priceless. The author gave us a fantastic story with phenomenal writing. I’ll definitely re-read this one.

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My San Francisco Highlander

by Aleigha Siron Finding My Highlander, #2 Publication Date: August 23, 2017 Genres: Adult, Time Travel, Contemporary, Historical, Scottish, Standalone, Romance

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SYNOPSIS

A love three hundred years in the making — After being knocked out in battle, Angus Cameron wakes in a terrifying new world with flying beasts, horseless carriages, crazy music, and strangely dressed people. Has he gone mad? When Angel Adair discovers a man in 1975’s San Francisco Lands End park dressed in little more than a Scottish kilt, is he just a confused drifter or her dream-lover come to life?

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ABOUT ALEIGHA SIRON

My San Francisco Highlander is Aleigha’s second full-length romance novel in her Finding My Highland Series. Now, an Amazon best-selling author of Time-Travel romance, she is working on the third book in her Finding My Highlander Series as well as a collection of romance poems. She’s also working on early character sheets for a Regency Romance series.

After more than twenty-five years writing and delivering management and other training programs, Aleigha Siron turned her writing efforts to fiction and poetry. When not writing, you’ll often find Aleigha walking along the shore with her trusty four-legged companion, Strider. The whoosh of waves across glistening sand and the turbulent swell of the sea at sunset dissolves the noise of the day. If this fails to conjure the muses and stimulate her creative juices, she’ll sip a glass of wine and read.

Aleigha loves all forms of writing, but historical and romance fiction provide a favorite escape, especially those with time-travel themes. A firm believer that everyone secretly yearns for the romance novels’ essential HEA, she knew this was her genre.

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