“Heartfelt, beautiful and sexy!"- Lauren Blakely, #1 New York Times bestselling authorOnly Love, an all-new sexy standalone romance from USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow is available now!
A gorgeous former Marine with a tortured soul. The beautiful, compassionate therapist living next door. A meddlesome grandma determined to get them together. I was expecting a proposal on my birthday, and I got dumped instead. How could I have been so clueless? Grams knew exactly how to distract me. The “cute boy next door” who’s been helping her with yard work clearly needs a little therapy. Who better to call than her newly single therapist granddaughter? She even fakes dementia to get me to visit, and now that I’m here she’s doing everything in her power to throw us together. Not that I’m complaining. Ryan is the sexiest man I’ve ever met--I mean the full package, from the chiseled jaw to the massive shoulders to the rippling abs. (And yes, his package is full, and he knows exactly how to deliver it.) He makes me want to get out of my head and follow my heart. He makes me want to take chances I never thought I’d take. He also makes me want to take my clothes off. A lot. But he’s moody and challenging--one minute he’s an open book, and the next he’s completely closed off. He holds me like he’ll never let go, but insists he wants to be alone. Some wounds are so deep, only love can heal them. How can I convince him to let me try?
Download your copy today! AppleBooks: http://bit.ly/OnlyLoveMH Amazon: https://amzn.to/2QqGImr Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/OnlyLove Nook: http://bit.ly/2FbQ7Nz Kobo: http://bit.ly/2yWa9Gu Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2Dacxwd Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2y4EVve
About Melanie Harlow 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 AFTER WE FALL series, 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.
Connect with Melanie Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMelanieHarlow/?fref=ts Amazon:http://amzn.to/1NPkYKs Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/melanie-harlow Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/melanieharlow2/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/melanie_harlow/ Website: http://www.melanieharlow.com Stay up to date with Melanie by joining her mailing list: http://www.melanieharlow.com/subscribe/
Michelle's review
 Only Love by Melanie HarlowMy rating: 5 of 5 stars My heart! My heart! I have a total soft spot for the men and women who protect our country. When I sit down with a book that has a tortured serviceman my heart cries for them. Well this is one of those reads for me. Ryan is a former marine who has come back not being able to find his way. He’s damaged and alone. Stella is a therapist who’s been unlucky in love. Always playing it safe never going for what she wants. But when her spitfire of a grandmother gets involved all bets are off. I loved these characters and Stella’s grandmother had me laughing at her antics. This is a sweet, sexy and heartfelt read that I couldn’t put down. This author always finds a way to make me love her books and this one is no different. You gotta read it. View all my reviews
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“Corinne Michaels and Melanie Harlow are a match made in heaven. Five-Sweet-Stars for this unforgettable collaboration!” --A.L. Jackson, New York Times bestselling authorHold You Close, an all-new second chance standalone romance by New York Times bestselling author Corinne Michaels and USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow, is available now!
Synopsis From NYT Bestseller Corinne Michaels & USA Today Bestseller Melanie Harlow, comes a second chance standalone romance. Ian Chase broke my heart at seventeen, and I’ve spent the last eighteen years hating him for it. He makes it easy, with his smart mouth and playboy lifestyle—which I unfortunately have to observe since he lives behind me. Every time I see him climbing out of his pool, practically naked and unreasonably sexy, my blood boils. I’ve always loved to loathe him. I never planned to need him. *** London Parish is my little sister’s best friend, not that it stopped me from falling for her. Our history is complicated. The only thing we have in common is being godparents to my sister’s three adorable kids—until our lives are changed in one tragic moment. Now we’re trying to raise the children we love, mourn an unthinkable loss, and fight an undeniable attraction. My life is already upside-down, and the last thing I need is for old feelings to resurface. Because I’ll never be able to keep her, no matter how hard I try to hold her close.
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Excerpt: “Ian,” my bartender, Toby, calls with his hand out. “What’s up?” “You have a call.” He pushes the phone toward me. No one calls the club for me other than vendors, and it’s eleven-thirty at night, so whoever it is can wait. “I have to deal with something now, send them to my voicemail.” He shakes his head. “She’s called three times.” The annoyance in his voice is clear, even over the music. She? The only woman that would resort to calling the club is my ex-wife. God only knows what bullshit she wants now. For all I know she broke a nail, it’s my fault, and she thinks I should pay for her new manicure, or a hand replacement. She’s like the gift you’ve tried to return but can’t find the receipt for, so you’re stuck with it. I hate unwanted presents, and I hate Jolene. “Send the devil to my voicemail,” I say and walk away. I head out to the sidewalk. Drea wasn’t kidding, the line is nuts. “Hello, Officer,” I say to the pudgy cop standing next to the bouncer. “Mr. Chase, we’re getting complaints,” he says, looking down the sidewalk at the line. “I can’t help that we’re popular.” I shrug. “I’m at capacity, and can’t kick out the paying customers to take care of the line.” “You’re obstructing the entrances of other businesses because of the way your overflow lines are set up.” How the hell would they like me to handle it? We’re not inside the casino, there’s no way to control the line. I’m not about to turn away people when we hit the number ten. This is a business, and part of the free marketing I get is thanks to the line. “All right, I’ll figure something out.” I grip the back of my neck. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. If this is Jolene, I swear to God, I might lose my fucking mind. The name flashes across the screen, London Parish. For fuck’s sake. Like I need to deal with my sister’s uptight, irritating best friend right now. London would be incredibly hot if she wasn’t such a raging bitch. I look at my call log and see this is the third time she’s called. I walk down the strip a little, and after a few deep breaths, I call her back. “Ian, you need to come to my house.” I smirk. “Well, this is a first. Did you have the stick removed from your ass?” “Don’t. Not today, please. Just come here.” I hear her sniff and my protectiveness kicks in. Someone made her cry. We don’t get along at all—partly because we’re polar opposites and partly because of our history—but no one gets to make her cry. “Are you hurt?” I ask. “Not in the way you think.” Her voice hitches. I’ve known London for twenty-five years. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen or heard her cry—I was the reason one of those times. “What’s wrong? Is it an emergency? Because I’m at work and the club—” “Now, Ian. You need to come here now.” She also doesn’t play games. Fuck. I look at my watch and blow a deep breath through my nose. It’ll take me at least thirty minutes to get there. This is seriously a shitty night. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” “Just . . . hurry,” London says and hangs up. Dread pulls at my stomach, telling me there’s something going on. I don’t know what, but I know I need to get there. “Get rid of the line, no more get in,” I tell the bouncer, and then head inside. Drea is at the bar, and my anxiety is starting to grow. London needs me there, why? What happened? Did someone break into her house? Mine? Maybe it has to do with an ex, if she even has one, or it could be nothing like that. Regardless, her voice was shaky and I can’t waste time wondering. “I have to go,” I tell Drea. Her eyes widen. “Go? Go where? It’s a packed house.” “I’m aware of that, but something came up. I need you to handle things tonight.” I turn to Toby. “Stay until Drea is done closing and I want you to escort her to her car at the end of the night.” He nods. I never let her walk out of here alone. Even if I have someone coming home with me, Drea’s not going to be unescorted. Too many men get the wrong impression because she’s nice to them. Over my dead body will she be hurt as a result of working at my club. After I get in the car, my mind is racing. I drive faster than I should, telling myself that London is just being dramatic. And then I remember . . . she has my nephew and nieces at her house. My foot pushes down on the pedal of my Jaguar, making the engine howl with each mile. I turn into the development where we both live, pass my house, and head to hers. I still hate that our backyards touch. Every damn day I see her sitting out on her deck, reading her books, looking down at me with her disapproving attitude. When I get there, the flashing lights of a police car brighten the road. I don’t think. I don’t know if I even put the car in park before I’m out of the vehicle. “London!” I yell as I rush through the door. “Christopher? Morgan? Ruby?” I call out for the kids, praying it’s not one of them. When I get to the living room, I release a heavy sigh—they’re all there, not hurt. Then I see the tears streaming down Morgan’s face. London gets to her feet. Her eyes are red, puffy, and black mascara runs down her cheeks. “Ian.” She chokes on my name. “What’s wrong? What happened?” The girls start to cry again, and my nephew pulls them into his arms. London moves toward me, placing her hand on my chest. “They’re gone.” “Who?” I ask, confused. “Sabrina and David,” she whispers. Yeah, they went on a trip. Why the hell are they crying? “This is what you called me for? They’ll be home in a few days. Why are you crying too?” I ask. Her green eyes meet mine and her lips part. “No.” She shakes her head. “They won’t.” I look over at the kids again, and then to the muted television. My feet move closer, because I have to be sure the words flashing across the screen say what I think they say. “Flight 1184 crashes off the coast of Hawaii. Three hundred missing and presumed dead.” My sister was going to Hawaii. My sister is gone. I sink to my knees in front of the kids, unsure what to say. They just lost their parents, and my heart is breaking. My sister was my best friend. She was the one who pushed me to open Veil and do what I wanted. I’ve always had her support, and now she’s gone. Christopher lifts his head, his brown eyes filled with unshed tears. “They’ll find them,” he says with conviction. “Okay,” I reply. We both know it’s a lie, but it’s one he has to tell himself. I remember being fifteen; there was no telling me I was wrong. “Dad wouldn’t . . .” he starts, and then stops as his lip quivers. My own tears start to fall, as Morgan grabs my hand. “What do we do now?” I have no fucking clue. How do I tell these kids how to survive? I’m the last person in the world equipped to give this advice. I look to London. Her hand touches my shoulder and she wipes the tears that fall silently down her cheeks. “We hold each other close,” she says.About the authors: New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Corinne Michaels is the author of nine romance novels. She’s an emotional, witty, sarcastic, and fun loving mom of two beautiful children. Corinne is happily married to the man of her dreams and is a former Navy wife. After spending months away from her husband while he was deployed, reading and writing was her escape from the loneliness. She enjoys putting her characters through intense heartbreak and finding a way to heal them through their struggles. Her stories are chock full of emotion, humor, and unrelenting love. USA Today Bestselling 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 AFTER WE FALL series, 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. 
Get Connected! Connect with Corinne: Facebook:https://bit.ly/1iwLh6y Twitter: https://bit.ly/2Jcp29z Instagram: https://bit.ly/2L1Vzo6 Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2N1H2Gb Amazon:http://amzn.to/1NVZmhv Pinterest: https://bit.ly/2m7MkEL Bookbub: https://bit.ly/2yc6rss Stay up to date with Corinne and sign up for her mailing list: To sign up for monthly text alerts: Text CMBOOKS TO 77948 *US only due to carrier restrictions* Connect with Melanie: Facebook: https://bit.ly/1RiTP7z Amazon:http://amzn.to/1NPkYKs Bookbub: https://bit.ly/2yfljWR Pinterest: https://bit.ly/2m60beu Instagram: https://bit.ly/2ubxh19 Website: http://www.melanieharlow.com Stay up to date with Melanie, sign up for her Mailing List: http://www.melanieharlow.com/subscribe/ To sign up for monthly text alerts: Text HARLOT to 77948 
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 HarlowGenre: Contemporary RomancePublishing Date: October 10th, 2017It 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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