Today we have the blog tour for BEDROOM HYMNS by Morgan Reeves! Check it out and grab your copy today!
Title: BEDROOM HYMNS Author: Morgan Reeves Genre: Dark Romance Release Day: October 11th
About Bedroom HymnsThey took me, broke me, remade me in their image. I am branded by their twisted ambitions; martyred by their greed. They ground me down until I was everything they wanted and more, and at the end I thanked them for it. Jackson. Dominic. Cole. They forced me to love them, and then they cast me aside like yesterday’s trash. But they taught me to be the best. So that’s exactly what they’ll get. Because in the end… Revenge is sweeter than love. And they’ll never see me coming.
About the AuthorMorgan Reeves is the author of the Never Ever After series. When she isn’t writing, Morgan chases around two energetic minions and tries to convince her loving husband that a miniature pig would make a great pet. She is also extremely fond of iced tea and hot coffee. You can find her books on all major retail sites, and she always loves to hear from readers so feel free to send her a message through Facebook at www.facebook.com/authormorganreeves. Morgan currently lives in Raleigh, NC.
Bedroom Hymns by Morgan Reeves
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
A dark thrilling read.....
Really conflicted about Bedroom Hymns, don't get me wrong it is really a great book. It's sexy, dark and troubling. My issue with it was I really wished I knew the characters better, I feel like it started in the middle of the story and so much was left out. But putting that aside, it is actually a fantastic book.
Sophia is a runaway when she is kidnapped and sold to three monsters. Their mission to is to break her, demolish her and turn her into a monster herself. Only problem she has so much hate in her heart that all she wants is revenge and what sweet revenge it will be.
This is one of those books that has a bunch of wow moments with surprises and turns. I really enjoyed and look for more from this author. I'm totally intrigued.
Filthy Player by Stacey Lynn Release Date: October 9th
The Raleigh Rough Riders are back, and this time Super Bowl Quarterback Beaux Hale finds himself playing the most important game of his life.
Every woman knows Beaux Hale is nothing but a player. Yet the first time he walks into Paige Halloway’s restaurant and flashes his sexy grin, she feels a heat between them spark. Too bad he opens his mouth and ruins it.
He may think his money, fame, and sexy looks will attract any woman—but he’s wrong.
Paige doesn’t have time for a man. She’s too busy keeping a roof over her head and taking care of her father to care about relationships.
Lucky for Beaux, he’s a man who's ready to use all the plays at his disposal. He didn’t bring his team a Super Bowl victory by giving up at the first block in his path—and Paige Halloway has just become his new long-game.
Beaux also knows that sometimes, in order to win and claim your prize, you have to get a little bit filthy.
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About the Author
Stacey Lynn currently lives in Minnesota with her husband and four children. When she’s not conquering mountains of laundry and fighting a war against dust bunnies and cracker crumbs, you can find her playing with her children, curled up on the couch with a good book, or on the boat with her family enjoying Minnesota’s beautiful, yet too short, summer.
She lives off her daily pot of coffee, can only write with a bowlful of Skittles nearby, and has been in love with romance novels since before she could drive herself to the library.
If you would like to know more about Stacey Lynn, follow her here:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/staceylynnbooks Twitter: @staceylynnbooks Website: http://www.staceylynnbooks.com Stay up to date on Stacey’s latest news! Subscribe to her Newsletter today! http://www.staceylynnbooks.com/contact
Filthy Player by Stacey Lynn
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Absolutely wonderful! I'm. It a big sports fan so I kinda stay away from sports related books but not these guys. I love The Rough Riders. I read everything that this author writes and I'm loving that she brought us these characters.
Beaux is the hot young quarterback. Remember he's Shannon's brother from the first book and I knew then that I would love his story. Not only is he nice to look at he's a really sweet down to earth guy who we live as a character.
Paige is struggling to make ends met. She left her job and moved back home to take care of her Dad. Now waiting tables and running the family business she's exhausted. Throw these two together and the sparks start flying. They have amazing chemistry and a wonderful story. If you haven't checked out any of Stacey's books give her a chance. She can write anything and Filthy Player is a great example of that. Great read!
From This Moment, an all-new sexy and emotional standalone from USA Today Bestselling author Melanie Harlow is available NOW!
From This Moment by Melanie Harlow
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publishing Date: October 10th, 2017
It was like seeing a ghost.
When my late husband’s twin brother moves back to our small town, I want to avoid him. Everything about Wes reminds me of the man I lost and the life we’d planned together, and after eighteen long months struggling just to get out of bed, I’m finally doing okay. I have a new job, an amazing support group, and a beautiful five-year-old daughter to parent. I don’t want to go backward.
But I’m drawn to him, too. He understands my grief and anger and guilt like no one else—and I understand his. Before long, that understanding becomes desire, and that desire becomes uncontrollable.
He says he doesn't care what people think, and love can never be wrong. But life has taught me its cruelest lesson--love doesn't always win.
If only my heart would believe it.
Excerpt:“Want to go out in the canoe?” he asked. “Okay.” I ditched my flip-flops on the small, beach-level deck, and we set our wine glasses and the bottle on the deck’s little round table. Wes was already barefoot. Together we dragged the forest green canoe from the tall beach grasses on the side of the deck down to the water’s edge and tipped it over. “Let me rinse it out a little,” Wes said, frowning at the dirt and spider webs inside. “Want to grab the paddles? They should be in the shed.” “On it.” I went to the small shed on the embankment, opened it up and grabbed the oars, which stood in one corner. On the shelves were life jackets and sand toys and deflated rafts that probably had holes in them, and scratched into the wooden door among other graffiti was WP + CB. Huh. I’d never noticed that before. Who was CB? I glanced over my shoulder at Wes, who’d taken off his T-shirt and tossed it onto the sand. My stomach full-out flipped. Quickly, I shut the door to the shed and brought the oars down to the canoe. Wes stood up straight and stuck his hands on his hips. He wore different sunglasses than Drew had worn, more of an aviator than a wayfarer. The body was similar, though Wes’s arms seemed more muscular, especially through the shoulder. Other things were the same and caused a rippling low in my body—the soft maroon color of his nipples, the trim waist, the trail of hair leading from his belly button to beneath the low-sling waistband of his red swim trunks. In my head I heard Tess’s voice. Arms. Chest. Shoulders. Skin. Stubble. Muscle. The smell of a man. The solidity of him. “What’s the law on drinking and canoeing?” he asked. What’s the law on staring at your brother-in-law’s nipples? I wondered, swallowing hard. What was wrong with me? “I think we’re okay,” I said, handing the oars to him. Our hands touched in the exchange. “Let me grab our glasses.” “Perfect. If you hold them, I’ll take us out.” I retrieved the wine glasses from the table and walked carefully across the sand to the lake’s edge, taking deep, slow breaths. A sweat had broken out across my back. I was wearing a swimsuit beneath my cover up, a modest tankini, but I didn’t want to remove it. Wading ankle deep, I attempted to step into the canoe, but it wobbled beneath my foot. “Whoa.” Wes took me by the elbow and didn’t let go until I was seated at one end, facing the other. “Okay?” I nodded. Despite the heat, my arms had broken out in goose flesh. “All right, here we go.” As he rowed us away from shore, the breeze picked up, cooling my face and chest and back. “Drew and I used to have canoe-tipping contests.” I snapped my chin down and skewered Wes with a look over the top of my sunglasses. “Don’t even think about it.” He just grinned, the muscles in his arms and chest and stomach flexing with every stroke of the oars through the water. Momentarily mesmerized, I allowed myself the pleasure of watching him. It was okay if we were both thinking about Drew, wasn’t it? In fact, it was only natural that I was intrigued by the sight of Wes’s body. He was my husband’s identical twin, for heaven’s sake, and I missed his physical presence in my life. I missed looking at him naked. I missed feeling the weight of him above me. I missed the feeling of being aroused by him, of my body’s responses to his touch, his kiss, his cock. Deep in my body, the rusty mechanism of arousal creaked to life. My nipples peaked, my stomach hollowed, and something fluttered between my legs. Oh, Jesus. I sat up straighter, pressed my knees together, and closed my mouth, which I realized had fallen open. Hopefully I hadn’t moaned or anything. After another sip of wine, I turned my head and studied a freighter off in the distance. My heart was beating way too fast. It’s only natural. It’s only natural. Wes stopped paddling and set the oars in the bottom of the canoe, their handles resting against the seat in the middle. “We’ll have to bring Abby out here.” “Definitely.” Did my voice sound normal? “She’ll love it. Here, want this?” I held his wine glass toward him and he reached out to take it. His fingers brushed mine, and I pulled my hand back as if the touch had burned me. “Thanks.” He tipped the glass up then looked along the shore. “I’d like to find a place on the lake. Maybe not along this stretch of beach, though.” I caught his meaning and smiled. “A little too close to home?” “Yeah. But I don’t want to be too far away. I’d like to get a boat too.” “What kind of boat? Drew always talked about it, but we never quite settled on one.” “Not sure. Maybe just a little fishing boat, something to ski behind.” “That sounds fun. Drew loved to ski.” “We’ll have to teach Abby.” I laughed. “You, not we. I managed to get up and stay up a few times, but I am not the expert.” “You can teach her to cook, I’ll teach her to water ski.” “Deal.” Separate activities seemed like a good idea. “Breakfast was incredible.” “Thanks.” I tucked a strand of hair that had escaped my ponytail behind my ear, but the wind blew it right back into my face. “I really like working there. I’m so glad Georgia suggested it to me.” “How long have you been there?” “Since spring, when they got busy. I’m not sure what I’ll do this winter when it slows down. I’m dreading it, actually. Abby will be in school full time, and it will just be me at home alone.” This was something else I hadn’t talked about with anyone, how worried I was that the gray skies and cold weather and silent hours would set me spiraling into depression. “I always thought I’d have another baby to take care of, but life saw things differently.” “You’re still young, Hannah.” I shook my head. “I’m really not. And I feel even older than I am.” Please don’t go Grief Police on me and tell me I’m being ridiculous, I begged him silently. This isn’t the life I chose. It was handed to me and I’m doing the best I can. But he didn’t say anything more, just sipped his wine and looked out at the horizon. I was grateful. “What about you?” I asked. “Think maybe you’ll get married now that you’re back? Have a family? Abby won’t have any siblings so she needs some cousins.” “That seems to be a popular topic of discussion around here,” Wes said, shaking his head, “but I really have no idea.” “Small town. We like to know everyone’s business.” I smiled. “Hey, what about CB? I saw your initials carved with hers on the door of the shed. Maybe she’s still around.” He groaned. “Is that still there? Jesus. That had to be twenty years ago.” Hugging my knees, I leaned forward. “First love?” “Not even.” He hesitated, as if he were trying to decide whether to confess something. “Come on,” I cajoled, carefully reaching out of the canoe, and splashing water toward him. “Tell me. I’ve been spilling my guts for an hour.” “First kiss.” I squealed. “And?” He cringed. “It’s too embarrassing.” “Wes, I had a completely humiliating breakdown in front of you last night. I got snot on my arm.” “This is worse.” “Get it out. You’ll feel better.” “Let’s just say it was a very awkward, very fast experience.” I gasped. “You lost your virginity to her?” “No. Just my dignity.” Laughing, I tilted my head back and felt the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, and something like joy in my heart. It had been a long time.
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READ THE FIRST CHAPTER TODAY!
About the Author:Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she's not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak. Melanie is the author of the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.
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From This Moment by Melanie Harlow
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Love wins every time.....
Honestly five stars isn't enough for this beautifully written book. Melanie has given us a truly wonderful emotional read. And has left me a blubbering mess. Hannah is a young widow who has finally started getting her life back after the sudden death of her husband. The last thing she needs is his identical twin brother showing up after being gone for years.
Wes loved her first but never told. He was always shy so he stepped aside when his brother showed an interest in the woman he knew was his one.
From This Moment is a book of love and loss. Picking yourself up and going on when that's the last thing you want to do. This is a definite must read but be warned you will need the Kleenex for this one. Five amazing stars...
Are you ready for THE FLIGHT OF HOPE by USA Today Bestselling Author HJ Bellus?
This Standalone Contemporary Romance set to release October 26th.
PRE-ORDER AVAILABLE NOW
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Amazon INT: getBook.at/TheFlightOfHope
A tragic accident. A mother in mourning. Can a second chance rise from the wreckage?
Marlee Foster’s life was just getting started. She couldn’t wait for the return of her husband from deployment. After all, he’d be there just in time for the birth of their daughter. The welcome home party is full of joy, but on the way home, tragedy strikes…
When Marlee loses her husband and daughter, her friends and family do their best to heal her broken heart. But painful reminders of a future she’ll never see haunt her every day in the small town. Her only hope at a second chance is to leave it all behind…
As she sets out on a soul-searching adventure, the mourning widow wonders if the wilderness will give her hope for a brighter future or if she’ll forever be chained to a devastating past. During her journey, Marlee is about to learn that love has a funny way of coming back to those who need it the most…
The Flight of Hope is a heart-wrenching contemporary romance in the vein of Nicholas Sparks. If you like emotional journeys, strong-willed heroines, and second chance romances, then you’ll love HJ Bellus’ touching tale.
Buy The Flight of Hope to settle in with a tear-jerker today!
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HJ Bellus is a small town girl who loves the art of storytelling. When not making readers laugh or cry, she's a part-time livestock wrangler that can be found in the middle of Idaho, shot gunning a beer while listening to some Miranda Lambert on her Beats and rocking out in her boots.
From the Ruins
by Janine infante Bosco A Satan’s Knights MC Novel Publication Date: September 26, 2017 COVER CREDITS Cover Designer: JB's Cover Obsession Design Model: Michael Joseph Photographer: Reggie Deanching, R+M Photography Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, MC, Bikers, Romantic Suspense
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“Pipe” In every man’s life there comes a day of reckoning. It’s the day darkness is exposed and sinners are punished for their trespasses. A day when loyalty is destroyed and a man is left in ruins. When he walks away from his club and loses his religion. Whoever said from the ruins they will rise again never walked a mile in my shoes or the pair of red ones I was left holding.
“Layla” He’s bitter, cold and angry. He’s seen his share of heartache. Lived through tragedy and despair. He’s my neighbor. The man I know should stay away from. The man who will destroy what’s left of me if I get too close. He’s Lee Jameson, and I’m Layla Milano. This is our story. The story of two people left in ruins forced to rise again.
From the Ruins © Copyright 2017 All Rights Reserved by Janine Infante Bosco.
Running after Lee, I forget my kitchen resembles a small pond or that I’m soaking wet myself. Hell, I don’t even have a chance to process his actual name before he’s folding his large frame into my car. Shuffling down the steps, I hurry toward him making sure I don’t wind up taking another flop in the mud.
Finally reaching the car, I splay both hands over the hood and lean forward.
“Get out of the car,” I demand.
About to switch gears, he turns his attention toward me and narrows his eyes. The thought of him possibly judging me sets me off into a frenzy.
“You’ve done enough damage,” I tell him, smacking the palm of my hand against the hood. “I wouldn’t be in this mess if you could just keep your dick in your pants, but no, you had to go and pick possibly the two dumbest people on the planet to sleep with and now I’m the one paying with a broken car.”
“I didn’t actually sleep with them,” he mutters.
My anger doesn’t seem to quell and the more he sits behind the wheel staring at me, the more my hands tremble. Lifting them from the hood of the car, I applaud him sarcastically.
“Congratulations, you’ve spared yourself the risk of getting gangrene. Me, on the other hand, has to still suffer the consequences of your poor choices,” I spit.
“Jesus Christ, woman, I’m trying to make it right,” he shouts angrily, slamming his fist against the steering wheel. Seeing the frustration radiate from his features, I drop my arms to my side and narrow my eyes in disbelief.
Since the moment I met this man he has been nothing but nasty to me. Even when I apologized to him he acted like a dick. Now he wants to be helpful and I’m supposed to believe he grew a conscience over night?
“Why?” I blurt. “Why all of a sudden do you care?’
Clearly annoyed, he rubs his hands vigorously across his face before putting the car in park and stepping out of it. With one arm braced on the door, he pins me with those incredible eyes of his and I temporarily forget what we’re doing.
“Would you rather I didn’t? That change could be arranged,” he hisses. “Your car is fucked, Layla, and fuck me if I know why, but I feel responsible. Now, the man upstairs didn’t give me a whole lot of blessings but he gave me hands, and I’m damn fucking good with them.”
Unsure how to respond to his confession, I remain silent. I quickly learn giving him the floor is a mistake because what he says next breaks the little resolve I have.
“For crying out loud, haven’t you ever had a man help you before?”
His words slam into me with force and the weight of every burden I’ve been carrying drags me down. Willing myself not to let my emotions get the best of me, I swallow down the lump lodged in my throat and shake my head.
“Not without wanting something in return,” I confess. It’s a truth I didn’t realize until I was already on my own. I can’t say for certain that my ex-husband was the exception. He dangled that fucking house of his in my face for years. It didn’t matter that I was the one who made it a home, in his eyes I should’ve been grateful he put a roof over my head. I never felt as though it was ours. It was his and I was the woman who lived there.
Suddenly, it’s not about the car but about everything that has ever gone wrong in my life. Every single hole I’ve had to dig myself out of.
“Let me fix your car,” Lee says, dragging me away from my head.
Staring at him blankly, I shake my head as I give into the tears.
“I have insurance…shit,” I cry, wiping at my eyes. “I mean, I think I have insurance,” I amend, unsure if I paid the bill. I suppose it’s a good sign I don’t remember getting a cancelation notice in the mail.
“Oh God,” I moan, lifting my hands to my face. “I’m sorry,” I sob. The tears fall freely and I can’t keep up. Realizing it’s a wasted effort, I drop my hands and unload all my grief. “I’m overwhelmed,” I admit. “You’re right, this is the last thing I need right now. I have three kids who basically hate me since I left their father, a son whose favorite pastime is getting into trouble and a shit job that doesn’t pay the bills. Let’s not forget a house that’s falling apart at the seams. I’ve never felt more out of control than I do now, and every time I think I’m getting ahead, something else happens that sets me back. And now I’m standing in front of a man who is basically a stranger and I’m crying. I’m fucking crying and I don’t cry.”
“Shit,” he hisses, stepping awkwardly toward me. Lifting a hand, he seems to debate on what to do with it until he pats my shoulder uncomfortably. “There, now,” he mutters. “Pull yourself together, killer.”
If I wasn’t falling apart I think this would be funny. I mean we make quite the pair. He’s fighting a hangover and I’m having a nervous breakdown. While I’m dressed in pajamas, he’s wearing the same clothes as the night before and we’re both drenched from the waterfall inside my house. I have diarrhea of the mouth and he has no idea what to do with me as we play tug of war with my car. Not to mention my kids are on the front porch watching the whole exchange. Yeah, we look like a bunch of clowns.
A laugh flies past my lips and I cover my mouth with my hands to stop the fit of giggles that insanely erupts.
“Oh good, we’ve moved onto laughing,” he says, dropping his hand from my shoulder. Taking a step back, he shoves his hands into his pockets and stares at me like I have three heads.
“Oh my God,” I say, chuckling. “You should see your face right now,” I comment, grabbing my stomach. His eyes narrow at me.
“You playing me, girl?”
“No,” I hiccup, shaking my head. “I swear.”
Having had enough of me, he blows out an exasperated sigh.
“So, do we have a deal?”
“Wait,” I say, sobering up. “There was a deal?”
“Yeah, the deal is I fix the fucking car.”
“And what do I do?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, stop. Let me do this. It’ll make me feel better and like your son, my favorite pastime these days seems to be getting myself in a shit ton of trouble. If I’m busy fixing your car then I’ll be too busy to make the next bad decision and it’ll keep the whores off the front lawn, both yours and mine.”
“I don’t have any whores.”
“Feeling better?” he questions, lifting an eyebrow.
My situation was hopeless, and no, I wasn’t feeling better about any of it but for some reason I wasn’t feeling weighted down by my life.
“I’m not sure,” I admit as I cock my head to the side and study the faint lines in the corner of his eyes. After a beat, I shake my head and break away from the hypnotic spell they seem to have me under. “I’ll pay you back. I’ll call the insurance company and put a claim in.”
“Whatever makes you sleep better, killer,” he replies. “Or you can make me a pot of coffee and we’ll be even. Either way, get out of my way and let me get started.”
“There he is,” I start. “I was starting to mourn the asshole I’ve come to expect.”
“Have no fear, I’m an asshole first and foremost,” he says.
We both grow silent for a moment and I swear I see his lips quirk ever so slightly.
“Thank you,” I murmur softly.
“Get on, girl,” he says with a nod.
Hesitantly, I step around him and glance up at my house. Three sets of eyes stare back at me and I’m reminded of the busted pipe and the list of things I was supposed to do today. Things I’m not sure how they’ll get done now that I don’t have a car.
“Jesus Christ, what is it now?” I hear Lee say behind me.
Turning around, I watch as he lights a cigarette. Taking the first long pull, he leans against the side of the car and waits for me to deliver my next blow.
“I don’t have a car.”
“Is this a delayed reaction type thing?”
“It’s just, well, I mean we’re not in the city. I can’t hop on a bus. I’ve got a busted pipe I need to fix and I was supposed to go into town today. And then there is school. How am I supposed to get my kids to school every day?”
“Lay it on me, killer, what do you need to do,” he says, pushing off the car. He ashes his cigarette before taking another long pull and leveling me with those eyes of his. “Aside from the pipe thing because I doubt you can fix that thing on your own.”
“How would you know? I happen to be very handy,” I defend.
“I bet you are,” he says with a smirk.
I’m not blind and as brief as it is, I watch his eyes scan the length of me.
“How handy are we talking?” he adds.
“I have a pink tool belt,” I blurt, feeling the slightest blush creep across my cheeks. In that instant, I remind myself that he’s the same man from last night, the guy who spent the night with two women. The man who yelled at my son. The man I threatened with a pair of brass knuckles.
The thing is, right now, he doesn’t seem so angry. In this moment, he’s not the rancid devil menacing his way through life. He’s just another guy, someone who may just have a heart buried somewhere deep inside.
“I can take you into town,” he says with a grunt.
“That’s nice of you to offer but after last night, I’m not letting my son out of my sight and I didn’t see a side car attached to your bike.”
“I’ve got a truck, killer,” he retorts, jutting his chin toward his garage. “You and your posse can fit in the back. I reckon there ain’t any school on a Sunday, aye?”
“Aye?” I repeat.
“You need to go into town, I’ll take you and your tribe into town. We’ll figure out the rest—”
“Jesus Christ, please just shut up,” he interrupts as he clutches the sides of his head. “Go get your kids ready or whatever it is you need to do and let’s get a move on,” he growls. “But first, go change out of that wet t-shirt,” he adds, turning toward his house.
Embarrassment floods me and I glance down at the sheer shirt molded to my breasts. Crossing my arms in a feeble attempt to hide my nipples from him, I look back at him.
“Where are you going?” I call out as he reaches his steps.
“To down a bottle of Advil,” he says over his shoulder. “You got five minutes to get your ass out here.”
Does he have any idea how long it takes to get everyone ready? It takes us five minutes to find our shoes.
“Thanks,” I shout.
He replies by slamming his front door shut.
And there he is.
FROM THE RUINS PLAYLIST
Here we are again, off the heels of one epic ride and ready to embark on the next one.
Pipe’s story first came to me as I was writing Eternal Temptations and it’s taken some time to figure out who the woman that heals him should be. As it turns out, I didn’t have to look very far. All I had to do was look in the mirror.
Seems easy enough but when you’re telling a story that focuses on your own truth, you need to dig deep and find the courage to say what you’ve kept under wraps.
This story isn’t just about Pipe.
It’s about me.
It’s about Janine Infante Bosco telling you her truth.
It’s about finding a way to tell my story and move on when I’m still not certain I’m ready to.
Truth, I have been separated from my husband for two years.
Truth, divorce or in my case, separation---is ugly.
Truth, the children hurt just as much as the parents if not more.
Truth, it changes the way you interpret love.
Truth, it changes you.
It brings you down but you rise up and become better than you were before.
Stronger than you thought possible.
You learn to appreciate the little things and accept change.
My story isn’t over because one chapter has ended and you’ll find neither is Layla’s.
As always, I promise to give you a beautiful love story full of healing and unexpected surprises.
I will restore your faith in brotherhood and teach you family isn’t always about blood.
We’ll all be Property of Parrish in the end but first I’m going to torture you all a little.
Saddle up, the boys in leather are back!
The motherfucks will fly, people will die, you will cry and curse the day you ever heard of me.
The men are crass. They’re vulgar and they’re not scholars.
The Satan’s Knights are street guys who use slang and the grammar won’t be on point.
Some of your old favorites are back but if you’ve never read any of my books you will totally be fine. However, if the word fuck offends you—well, then this book isn’t for you.
If you’re cool with it then, let’s fucking do this!
Become part of this unconventional family.
See you on the other side,
ABOUT JANINE INFANTE BOSCO
Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.
Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.
She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.
ENTER THE GIVEAWAY
From The Ruins by Janine Infante Bosco
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
So many emotions....
Wow! With each book I fall more in love with this authors stories and her characters. But From the Ruins has definitely been my favorite. We've met Pipe before and I was so excited to get his story. And what a story it is... it's heartbreaking. I have so much love for this man, I want to grab him and hug the crap out of him.
Layla is a divorced mother of three just trying to start over when she meets her grumpy new next door neighbor. She is funny, smart and tough. I immediately loved her. Add in her crazy kids and we get a fantastic read.
"Grip is my ultimate...If I was forced, gun-to-the head, to make one book boyfriend real to be mine, it would be him. No questions asked."
-- Adriana Locke, USA Today Bestselling Author
STILL, the sexy,emotional final installment of the GRIP series,
is available NOW!Enter the $50 Gift Card Release Giveaway! http://bit.ly/StillLIVEGive I'll be there. Through thick and thin. Ride or die. You can count on me. The promises people make. The vows we take. Assumptions of the heart. Emotion tells us how we feel, but life...life has a way of plunging us in boiling water, burning away our illusions, testing our faith, trying our convictions. Love floating is a butterfly, but love tested is an anchor. For Grip and Bristol, Love started at the top of the world On a Ferris wheel under the stars But when that love is tested, will they fly or fall?
Excerpt:“Mmmmm, that looks good.” The comment grabs my attention, and I find myself smiling for the first time since I left Bristol. As she walks toward me, the approaching sunset paints the roof in shadows, but I see her clearly. Dark hair, burnished in places, falls around her shoulders. She has already discarded the dress she wore at lunch today in favor of a T-shirt and nothing else; it’s the one I just tossed into the hamper. She tugs at my HABITUAL LINE STEPPER T-shirt, the hem landing at the top of her thighs. Where the T-shirt stops, my eyes keep going, past the lean muscles of her legs and the cut of her calves, the delicate bones of her ankles and to her bare feet. I love this girl, head to toe. Beyond this gorgeous packaging, it’s everything beneath that makes me beyond grateful she’s mine. The loyalty, the bottomless pit that is her heart, her sense of humor. The toughest girl I know is also the most tender, and I’m so honored I get to see both sides, all her sides. “You out of clean clothes?” I nod to my T-shirt. “You gotta wear my dirty stuff now?” An impish smile tugs at her bare lips. She’s washed away her makeup, and with it, all the sophistication she wraps around herself for her job. Up on this roof in my T-shirt, she’s just my girl. I love her in every iteration, but this is the one only I get to see, so it’s probably my favorite. “I have clean clothes.” She steps close enough for me to smell her scent and mine mingling in the fabric. “I like the way this shirt smells.” I drop a look over her, my eyes resting on the curves of her breasts in the soft cotton, where her nipples have gone taut under my stare. “How does the shirt smell?” I ask, my voice as smoky as the steaks I should be paying attention to. “Like you.” She leans forward until her breasts press into my chest. “It smells like you.” My hands are twitching to touch her, and I finally surrender, slipping under the shirt to grasp her waist, pulling her up the few inches until our lips meet. I’ve been thinking about these steaks all day, and before Bristol arrived, I thought I was starving—but this, what I feel having her in my arms after hours apart, this is starving. It starts in my balls and tunnels up through my chest, infiltrates my heart, and presses its way to my mouth, which is open and devouring in a lips-searching, tongues-dueling kiss. I grip her by the ass, grinding our bodies together until the texture of her skin and mine, the scents of her skin and mine meld into this one panting, voracious thing that never seems to get enough. “You better not burn my steak,” Bristol pants in between kisses. I angle my head to send my tongue deeper into her mouth, holding her still, teasing her until she’s straining up, open and begging when I pull back. “Grip.” My name is a whimpering complaint. She cups my neck and tugs my head back down. “Oh, no.” I resist, laugh, and turn to the grill. “You were so concerned about me burning these steaks, Ms. Medium Rare.” “I am.” She slides her arms around me from behind and I feel a sweet sting, her teeth gently biting my shoulder through my T-shirt. I love it when she bites me, but I’m not giving her that satisfaction yet. “But that doesn’t mean you get to stop kissing me. You have to multitask.” One slim hand slides over my abs and past my belt to cup me through my jeans. Damn. Not sure how long I can keep up this charade that I don’t want to screw her into the wall on the roof where anyone with half a telescope could see. “Wow,” I say, keeping my tone unaffected, though she’s gotta feel me getting longer and harder in her hand. “Somebody’s horny as hell.” She makes a sound that’s half outraged laughter, half indignant grunt before stepping around to stand in front of me by the grill. “I will not be slut-shamed by my own boyfriend.” Amusement lights her eyes, turning them to quicksilver. “Shamed?” I put down the grilling fork I’m using for the steaks and reach for her again. “No shame in being horny for me, baby. I wanna give you a gold star.” Her eyes slide down to the erection poking her in the stomach. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Should we name it?” “Guys who have to name their dicks probably aren’t using ’em right.” “So I ask again . . . should we name it?” I cock a brow and press our hips together. “Are you implying that I don’t know how to use mine? Because that’s not the impression I got this morning when you came so hard you were singing like a bird.” She tilts her head, her eyes wide and considering. “Did you say like a bird?” A small smile plays around her lips. “What made you say that?” “I don’t know.” I give a careless shrug. “Why?” “It’s silly,” she says, rolling her eyes in self-derision. “I was thinking today when I laughed it sounded like . . .” Bristol blushes about once every Halley’s Comet, so the color washing across her cheeks makes me wonder. “What?” I probe. “Your laugh sounded like what?” “Like a happy bird,” she mumbles, peering up at me like I’m going to laugh in her face. Which I do. “Stop laughing at me.” She narrows her eyes in mock warning. “Right.” I dip my head to catch her eyes and tease her. “Because when you tell me you laugh like a happy bird I’m just supposed let you get away with that.” “I’m not telling you things anymore.” She narrows her eyes and folds her arms over her chest. “Yeah, right. I’m your best friend.” I pull her back into me. “You’ll tell me everything like you always do.” “You are, you know.” Her voice softens. “My best friend, I mean.” When she looks at me like this, her eyes stripped of every defense, no guard in sight, completely honest and open and vulnerable, I feel slightly invincible. It’s a trick of the heart, I know, but I can’t help but think that as long as she looks at me like this, there isn’t anything I couldn’t survive, that our love is the stuff of legends, rolled in Teflon, disaster-proof. I’m as fanciful as Bristol, my laughing bird. “You’re mine, too,” I echo her sentiment. “My best friend.” “I won’t tell Rhyson,” she promises with a grin. “I’m pretty sure he spits the same line to Kai.” I keep a straight face. “We have to say that shit to get laid.” “I hate you.” “Orrrrrrrrr do you love me and want to blow me after dinner?” I shrug and lift my hands, my palms up. “Just saying. Listen to your heart, Bristol. Listen to your heart.” “I’m listening to my belly right now, smartass, and it’s growling. Feed me.” “Like my mama used to say, ain’t no freeloaders in this house. What’ll you give me for feeding you?” “Um . . .” “I do have a suggestion, if you’re searching.” “Let me guess—you have a ‘Will fuck for food’ sign up here somewhere?” “I used bubble letters.” I laugh and give her ass a light smack. “You can barter that booty.” It’s so damn easy with Bristol—our banter, the chemistry, the perfect rhythm of our conversation. It was one of the first things I noticed when we met all those years ago. We didn’t read each other’s minds or finish each other’s sentences. It wasn’t cosmic, but it was a connection that seized me by the brain and grabbed me by the balls. She was as smart as she was sexy, as curious as she was forthcoming. There were years in between when we made things complicated, when things were strained, but now with our hearts settled on each other for good, it’s simple. This. Her. Us.
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About Kennedy:Kennedy Ryan is a Southern girl gone Southern California. A Top 100 Amazon Bestseller, Kennedy writes romance about remarkable women who find a way to thrive even in tough times, the love they find, and the men who cherish them. She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but enjoys writing to raise Autism awareness most. A contributor for Modern Mom Magazine, Kennedy’s writings have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today and many others. The founder and executive director of a foundation serving Georgia families living with Autism, Kennedy has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other outlets as a voice for families living with autism.
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Still by Kennedy Ryan
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Five stars isn't enough for this beautiful book. My heart hurts, my eyes heavy and my nose stuffy. I've laughed, cried and I'm totally in awe of the author. She took Grip and Bristols story and gave us more then we could ever expect. These characters are absolutely beautiful and their story will weigh heavy on your heart but it's their kind of love why I love to read love stories. This is the perfect example of true love and every single word in this book is real.... beautiful and truly amazing.