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BLOG TOUR REVIEW AND EXCERPT: ENEMIES by TIJAN

Enemies - BT banner

“Enemies to lovers is one of my most favorite romance set ups. The two are a match made in sexy, angsty heaven.”

— Jay Crownover, New York Times bestselling author

Enemies, an all-new emotional, enemies to lovers romance from New York Times bestselling author Tijan, is available now!

ENEMIES ECOVER

Gorgeous and charismatic, he became the town’s football god, while I became the town’s invisible girl.

He went to a Division 1 school for football, while my father was fired by his father.

His team won the National Championship, while my mother died the same day.

He was a first round pick for the NFL …

… while I made the worst decision of my life.

Now I’m in Texas trying to pick up the pieces of my life.

But, Stone is here.

Stone is everywhere.

It doesn’t matter that disaster has struck my life again.

It doesn’t matter that he’s the one trying to console me.

It doesn’t matter that he’s the nation’s newest football obsession.

Because for me, he always has been and always will be my enemy.

Enemies - AN

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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My Review

Dusty and Stone’s relationship is the epitome of complicated, and as the title suggests, what they feel for each other, especially Dusty’s feelings for Stone, illustrates nothing but the negative emotions that swirl around them – ones that threaten to implode and eviscerate any semblance of the friendship they once shared.

As I’ve learned from Tijan’s other stories that I’ve read, nothing is as straightforward as it may initially seem, not with who the characters truly are and not with the reasons that events happened in the past or are still festering in the present.

I will admit that I was caught off guard by quite a few revelations that occurred throughout the story – ones that offered the reality of the issues Dusty and Stone faced. And then, when I had a chance to see things from a different perspective than I originally had, everything fused together and provided the answers I needed to understand the hows and whys and whens of the things that drive them apart and what it would take to bring them back to what they once were and maybe help them move toward what they truly deserve to be.

The story line of Enemies is significantly more rich than I thought it would be…Dusty and Stone’s backstories as well as the differing paths they took once their friendship was destroyed and the angsty journey that followed, once they reconnected, once they faced-off against their past and their present, and once their truths were laid bare and understanding dawned on both of them, what they became was everything they should have been from the very beginning, if life would have allowed it…if Dusty and Stone would have led with their hearts instead of all of the static…the pressure…the ill-feelings between the families.

I enjoyed Dusty and Stone’s story, and while I seriously wanted to throttle both of them for their harsh words and their devastating deeds, it almost seems like it had to be this way, not saying that they deserved to go through those hellish experiences, but they had to prove they could endure…they could achieve…they could find a way to move beyond enemies to anything and everything they needed and wanted.

4.5 Poison Apples

ENEMIESTEASER51

Excerpt

“Do not think I won’t pick you up and throw you in my truck, head first and everything. I’m two seconds away.”

I stopped and stared at him.

Shit. He meant business. He was glaring at me with eyes that said, “Do not fucking fuck with me, you fucking twit.”

Well. Then.

I sighed. I’ll try reasoning instead. “You’re going to drive me to your house, and then I’ll pack whatever I need and call a cab to take me all the way back to where I’m paying rent. It’s not worth it. Just let me grab a cab now.”

A savage curse bit out, and then his eyes flashed.

His singular warning had been when he told me he was two seconds away. In a flash, he grabbed me, and I was airborne, right into the back of his truck. But he wasn’t done. He leapt up, grabbing the seatbelt over me, and pulled it around me, clicking it in place. He had the door shut, locked, and he was already going around the front before I could even push myself upright and then start to reach for my seatbelt.

By then, he was inside, the engine on, and he shoved off into traffic.

“This is stupid.”

“You’re right. You’re being stupid.” Cursing, he ducked down as a car sped past us. They knew he was driving because they came up on his driver’s side, their phones up and ready to go. It was a car full of teenage girls. “Dammit.”

“Where do you live?”

He opened his mouth, then caught himself. His eyes narrowed in the rearview mirror. “Why?”

I just smiled. “No reason.”

He continued to study me in between still watching the road, and with a soft growl, he shook his head. “I’m not buying it. What? You’re going to tell those girls who are trying to get a picture of me?”

“What’s the difference? I’ll know when you take me to your house. What’s stopping me from posting it on Twitter, or even posting your phone number?”

A litany of curses spewed from him, and the back of his neck was getting red. I was having a heyday with this. It was more fun than I could remember having in a long time.

Until he announced it, “I liked your mom.”

“What?”

“Your mom.” He moved into the far lane, settling back.

I was thinking we had a bit of drive from here, and he settled an arm back on the passenger seat headrest.

“I always liked her. She made me cookies and muffins. And I remember when she tried to teach us to bake cakes from scratch. You were horrible and your cakes tasted terrible, but we’d lie to you. Both of us.”

“You did not—” But I was remembering, and even I hadn’t wanted to taste my cakes.

A tug at my mouth. “She’d wear that ugly yellow apron. She hated that apron.”

“What? I loved that apron. Always felt like it was sunshine. Made me feel warm, even in the winter.”

I noted softly, “That’s why she wore it. For you.”

His eyes lifted to the rearview mirror, holding mine a second again. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah.” His voice came out raspy. “She was a good woman, and a good mom. She was a good wife. I could always tell.”

I snorted. “Why? Because she wasn’t wasting away like yours?” Then, I winced. That sounded even bitchier to my own ears, more than I thought it would be. “Shit. I’m sorr—”

“Because you guys laughed.” He kept on talking about my family, ignoring what I’d so blatantly pointed out about his own, his face hard. “My parents laughed when they were drunk, and only when they had a party. When there were other people there to laugh with, never the two of them, never the three of us. I was their only kid. I wouldn’t have known better except I half grew up in your home, too, and what I remember the most about growing up was that you guys laughed.”

My throat burned.

“Yeah, we did.” I looked out the window. A hollow feeling starting to dig in my chest. “Until she died. We didn’t laugh much after that.”

“You laughed until then?”

I nodded. I felt the chinks in my armor widening.

I remembered how he did adore my mom. The two acted as if they were conspiring together during our baking lessons, and any time he was in the house. He congregated around her. She congregated closer to him.

“You’re the son she never had.” Then, feeling bad about my shot at his mom, “Your mom cooked for us. I remember that one time she tried to teach us to make lasagna.”

He cracked a grin, barking a laugh. “You sucked at that, too. I never knew lasagna noodles could come out hard like rocks until yours.”

Fuck him, but I was grinning. I couldn’t help myself.

Those were good times, good memories before the shit ones came. And they came soon after that lasagna disaster.

He quieted. “It wasn’t the same. My mom versus yours. We had baking lessons at your house once a month, every first Sunday. My mom tried to teach us how to make Caesar salad, the only second cooking session she gave us, and that one we all got fine. It’s hard to screw up.”

“Says you. You’re perfect at everything.”

He didn’t reply.

I didn’t expect him to. It was true. He knew it. I knew it. The entire nation knew it.

Then from him, “Not at being a friend.”

My stomach kicked.

Hell no. No way. He wasn’t getting back in. No fucking way.

“Oh. God.” I groaned, throwing a hand up to hit my forehead. “Can we not? Can we save the dramatics until I’m able to call a cab to take me back to my place? For real. Enough bonding or whatever it is we were just doing.”

He growled, “You are such a goddamn bitch.”

I retorted, “And you are such a goddamn prick. Drop me the fuck off!”

“With fucking pleasure!”

He gunned the engine, shooting forward in traffic, and weaving until we were nearing my exit. When he took it, I relaxed. The rest of the way was tense and silent, and I knew both of us couldn’t wait to be rid of the other. Then he pulled over to the curb. He didn’t make a move, his only action just unlocking the door.

His head was turned halfway to me, his jaw clenching over and over again.

Fine.

I shoved forward, my head only swimming a little bit as I climbed out of his truck. Once I shut the door and turned around, he’d already hit the engine, tearing away from the curb.

I only had the clothes on my back, on the side of the street, but I’d never been so fucking grateful to be away from him.

Now, turning to the house I wasn’t sure I was still invited to live in, I saw that all the lights were off. Lovely.

About Tijan

Tijan is a New York Times Bestselling author that writes suspenseful and unpredictable novels. Her characters are strong, intense, and gut-wrenchingly real with a little bit of sass on the side. Tijan began writing later in life and once she started, she was hooked. She’s written multi-bestsellers including the Carter Reed Series, the Fallen Crest Series, and the Broken and Screwed Series among others. She is currently writing a new YA series along with so many more from north Minnesota where she lives with a man she couldn’t be without and an English Cocker she adores.

Connect with Tijan

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Website: http://www.tijansbooks.com/

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RELEASE BLITZ AND EXCERPT: Gilded Lily by Staci Hart

The wait is over! Gilded Lily, the second standalone in Staci Hart’s Bennet Brothers Series, is LIVE!

Trust me when I say you do NOT want to miss this one! Lila & Kash are everything.

Grab your copy today on Amazon or snag this beauty in Kindle Unlimited today!

They say there’s no such thing as perfect.

But I’ve built my life to perfection—the perfect boyfriend, the perfect apartment, the perfect career planning celebrity weddings. My job—my only job—is to make sure every event is absolutely and completely perfect.

What’s not perfect? Kash Bennet.

And I wish I didn’t find that so appealing.

I could have told you every perfectly imperfect thing about the gardener at Longbourne. Like his hair, lush and black and far too long. Or his nose, the flat bridge of a Greek god, bent a little like it’s been broken. Or his size. Beastly. Roped and corded with muscles, gleaming with sweat and peppered with dirt.

There’s no escaping him, not if I’m going to use his family’s flower shop for my events.

But nothing is what it seems. And in the span of a heartbeat, my perfect life is turned inside out.

They say the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody new. When Kash offers his services to the cause, it sounds like the perfect plan.

What’s not part of the plan? Falling in love with the gardener.

But they were right—there’s no such thing as perfect.

And I’m the fool who finds out the hard way.

A SPADE’S A SPADE

KASH

Heaven existed within the walls of our greenhouse.

The shuck of my shovel against the iron wheelbarrow was the second hand on my day. Rich soil mounded on my spade, and I transferred it into the bed of Black-eyed Susans, turning it to feed the sleepy dirt already gathered at the flowers’ feet. I caught sight of the snowy top of my father’s head between stalks of amber amaranth down the row where he knelt, hands in the earth. He hummed along with the music playing from the portable speaker on our work cart, and with another shuck, I drove my shovel back into the wheelbarrow. It was peaceful and familiar, the rhythm of our day, the slanting sun, the humid air and smell of flowers. I’d worked in my family’s greenhouse during high school—as had all my siblings—but where they made their way into the world, I hung back, content to hang back at Longbourne with Dad, unable to leave Mom without anyone to fuss over. And if there was one thing Mrs. Bennet required from life, it was someone to fuss over. I found myself smiling at the thought. She’d see us all married off—in fact, she played the matchmaker like it was her full time job—but I had to wonder what she’d do with herself once we were all gone. Press us for grandchildren and divert her attention to them, if the rest of the Bennet brood was lucky. The crack of the swinging metal door against the wall wiped that smile off my face. I shot up from my task with a hard look, appalled and accusing, prepared to smite whoever had disturbed our sanctuary. Lila Parker blew in like a gale, heels clicking like hammers against the cement floor. At the sight of her, my fury abated, replaced by a curious wonder and the incremental slowing of time that always accompanied her entrance. She was a study in white, pristine and stern in a pantsuit that belonged in some fancy lady’s luncheon, not a greenhouse. Her legs were ten miles long in those white pants, the matching jacket cut low. A sliver of silken nude fabric was the only thing to mar the line of her cleavage, which my eyes followed before climbing up her lily-white skin, up the long column of her neck, to the set of her uncompromising little jaw. God, she was pretty when she was mad. Shame she had a boyfriend. I’d known Lila since high school, the notorious rule follower and teacher’s pet, thumbing her nose at the trouble the rest of us got in and refusing invitations to parties in favor of SAT prep. Her sister, Ivy, worked here then and stuck around like I had, and though Lila’d had every opportunity to join the gang, she’d happily declined. She’d ignored me then, and she ignored me now, outside of storming into our flower shop to get onto us—or me specifically—for whatever wedding we had, were, or would provide flowers for. As a high-profile wedding planner, I supposed that was her right. The only bearable thing about it was the chance to give her just a little hell, simply because I knew she could take it and I could take whatever she gave back. As she approached, her lips set in a firm line, red as blood against the milk of her skin. The bridge of her nose was short, though long enough to look down at everyone from her high horse—or high heels, as it were—but her eyes always struck me beyond all else, cool and gray as a winter’s afternoon, tight with suspicion, hard with the bite of demand. Incongruent to the impeccable, pallid shades of snow was her hair, a shining crimson too bright for all that ivory. It was as perfectly right as it was utterly unnatural, the only indicator that she ran on hot coals and gasoline, just waiting for a match to strike so she could ignite. Just as she had once a week—typically in my direction—since she’d started using Longbourne’s flowers for her events. That red hair bounced with every click of her heels as she rounded the corner of the aisle and marched toward me, her eyes narrowing another tick when they met mine. Tess, our lead florist, followed with an apologetic look on her face. My lips tilted higher on one side. And with a shield of calm, unaffected charm in place, I leaned on the handle of my shovel, ready to catch whatever Lila threw at me. “Coral,” she snapped as she approached. “You were supposed to give me coral chrysanthemums for the Berkshire wedding, and you sent pink.” She stopped a few feet in front of me, crossing her arms. I offered an easy smile. “I cut those flowers myself, picked the best stock from our Gigi mums, just like you asked.” “Then why were they the wrong color? Do you have any idea the tantrum Johanna Berkshire threw over those flowers? She tried to get me fired.” A chuckle through my nose. “Sounds like she needs to get some real problems.” She eyed me as she drew a breath to fuel her furnace. “For years, my sister has begged me to bring Longbourne business, and I refused for exactly this reason. If it hadn’t been for all your recent press, I never would have put my ass on the line. But if I say coral, I expect coral. Not pink. Not fuchsia. Not goddamn watermelon or flamingo or anything but coral.” “Sorry, Ms. Parker,” I answered lazily. “Won’t happen again.” “You’re damn right it won’t.” “How about we issue the Berkshires a partial refund for the trouble?” Suspicion sparked in her gaze. “I’m sure that would help.” “Then consider it done.” Those cool eyes narrowed even more. “I need someone to come to a venue in Midtown to measure for arbors and garlands. They’ve requested an archway, and one of you needs to come take the measurements.” Dad cast me a glance that said not it. The way Tess glared at the back of Lila’s head, I figured she’d just as soon claw her in the back with a hand rake than help her measure anything. Lila’s sister Ivy—who was a florist at Longbourne—was entirely too pregnant to measure anything but her uterus, and Wendy, our newest addition, just wasn’t experienced enough. My brother Luke might have done it, but something told me I wanted to be the one to handle Lila Parker. “Sure. When and where?” “Tomorrow, if you can manage it. I can meet you at three, 49th and 5th. I’m going to need an archway long enough for the wedding party to stand inside, and the arbor will need a special design built in the shape of a triangle. It’s at the—” She paused, lips flattening. “Shouldn’t you be taking notes?” I tapped my temple. “Got it all right here.” Color rose in her cheeks as she drew a slow breath through her nose. “I really think you should write it down.” “What, don’t trust me?” “I don’t know what instills more faith—that you can’t tell the difference between shades of pink or that your shirt says Can You Dig It? on the front.” I glanced down at my chest, flicking at a streak of dirt like I gave a shit what she thought. “Listen, Priss. I’ll be where you say, when you say, ready and at your service.” A pause while she stared me down, seeming to weigh her options. “All right, Filthy. Can you at least wear a clean shirt? This venue books for two-hundred-thousand per event, and I don’t want to have to get you in through the service entrance.” “Deal,” I said, extending a hand in challenge. It was as filthy like she’d said, with crescents of dirt under my nails and enough soil in the creases of my palms to grow zucchinis. Her eyes dropped to my hand, and for a moment, I was positive she’d refuse. But somewhere in that pretty little head of hers existed some form of manners and a healthy helping of pride, so she slipped that spotless, manicured hand into my dirty, callused one. It was soft and warm, though her fingers were strong, gripping my hand and pumping it once, firm and definitive, before taking it back. Instantly, I felt guilty for daring her—her skin was spoiled with streaks and flecks of dirt. To her credit, she didn’t even dust it off. Instead, she held up her chin and gave me a quietly confrontational glare. “I’ll give Ivy the exact address. At least I know she’ll write it down.” “Whatever you have to do,” I said, returning my forearm to the handle of the shovel, not missing the flick of her eyes to my shoulders and the cross of my arms. “Tomorrow, then. Don’t be late.” She tugged tugged the hem of her jacket, straightening it to match the yardstick that was her spine, and once again I lamented taking her hand. A scuff of dirt now sullied the very edge of that white tailored coat. Before I could apologize, she turned on her heel to walk away. What she didn’t realize—the cat had taken up post directly behind her. The moment stretched as she tilted in a successful attempt to avoid impaling Brutus with her heel, and when that heel came down, it caught in the seam of concrete. Her long legs twisted, arms shooting out for balance but finding none. Fast, but not fast enough, I moved for her, the shovel hitting the ground with a clang as that pristine white ass of hers landed flat in the Black-eyed Susans and that fresh coat of soil I’d just laid down. Brutus took a seat next to Tess’s feet, curling his tail around himself and watching Lila with what I swore was a wry smile. My urge to laugh was so intense, it caught in my chest, frozen by the sheer outrage on her face and utter hysteria of the sight of her, so clean and white against the browns and greens and golds of the flowerbed. A slow heave of her chest as she breathed fire. The pink of her cheeks flaring to red. The gray of her eyes igniting into a cruel shade of blue, illuminated by the inferno of her thoughts. I stepped up, unable to school my face as I extended a hand, this time to help her up. But she scowled, slapping my hand away. “I’ve got it,” she shot, planting her palms in the dirt to push herself up. As I backed out of the way, I watched her swipe at her ass, too furious to realize she’d only smudged the dirt around. Tess removed her hands from her mouth, unable to right her face any better than I had. “Here, let me help you—” “I said, I’ve got it.” Lila’s voice was deadly calm, and at the sound, Tess pinned her lips between her teeth and stepped out of the way. “Tomorrow,” Lila snapped at me over her shoulder, smoothing the shining waves of her hair, which remained undisturbed by her tumble. “See you then,” I answered with a nod. And then I watched that dirty ass stride proudly out the door. The second it swung closed, laughter bubbled out of Tess, and at the sound, there was no containing my own. Even Dad joined in, shoulders shaking gently. “Oh, the poor Susans,” Tess said, swiping at a tear. “Look, her ass print is still there,” she squeaked before succumbing to another bout of laughter. “The look on her face,” I said with the shake of my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody so mad. Not even you, Tess.” “And that’s saying something,” she added, resting her palm on her belly like she’d just done a hundred sit-ups. “God, if Ivy and Lila didn’t look like twins, I’d never believe they were related.” “I didn’t remember her being this…” I started. “Bitchy?” “I was gonna say bossy, but okay.” Tess sighed. “She wasn’t kidding about sticking her neck out. She’s handling this huge celebrity wedding on her own, and her senior is a total asshole, breathing down her neck and micromanaging her at every turn. Addison is constantly looking for reasons to throw Lila under the bus, and if we screw up, Addison will blame Lila. But even though she’s a pain, the business is good for us. Archer Events handles the biggest weddings in the city, and that’s putting us in the spotlight. We’ve just gotta deal with all the stress that comes with doing weddings.” “Like bridezillas and entitled wedding planners?” I asked. “Exactly.” Tess sighed. “Although, I don’t know what we’re going to do with Lila when Ivy is on maternity leave and isn’t here to manage her. Today was bad enough, and Ivy was just at a doctor’s appointment.” Dad dusted off his hands. “If she got past you, Tess, I fear for us all.” “I tried to tell her it wasn’t your fault,” Tess said, her eyes full of apology. “Those flowers went through three florists before it got to the wedding—which I told her—but she stormed right past me to yell at you about it.” I shrugged. “Don’t worry about me, Tess—I can handle her.” At the disbelieving quirk of her mouth, I added, “I mean it. She can get as mad as she wants and I won’t get riled. I’ll hold the bucket so she can dump all her rage into it, and when she’s empty of it, I’ll get whatever done that she needs done. Trust me when I promise you this—Lila Parker cannot get to me.” At that, Tess laughed. “Famous last words.” And oh, if I’d only known how right she was.

 

Want more Bennet Brother goodness?

Grab Coming Up Roses, the first stand alone in the Bennett Brothers series, available now on Amazon in Kindle Unlimited!

Blurb

Everyone hates parts of their job.

Maybe it’s the paperwork. Maybe it’s the day-to-day grind. Maybe it’s that client who never knows what they want, or the guy who always cooks fish in the microwave.

But not me. I love every corner of the Longbourne Flower Shop, every flower, every petal, every stem. I love the greenhouse, and I love Mrs. Bennet, my boss. I love creating, and I love being a florist. I don’t hate anything at all.

Except for Luke Bennet.

The Bennet brothers have come home to help their mom save the flower shop, and Luke is at the helm. His smile tells a tale of lust, loose and easy. He moves with the grace of a predator, feral and wild. A thing unbridled, without rules or constraint. When he comes home to save Longbourne, I almost can’t be mad at him. Almost.

He doesn’t remember that night I’ll never forget. That kiss, touched with whiskey and fire. It branded me like a red-hot iron. But it meant nothing to him.

Everyone hates part of their job, and I hate Luke Bennet.

Because if I don’t, I’ll fall in love with him.

Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life — a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, sleeping, gaming, or designing graphics.

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RELEASE BLITZ AND EXCERPT: THE LINEUP by Meghan Quinn

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THE LINEUP by Meghan Quinn

Release Date: December 5th

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2Y9Oupy

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AVAILABLE NOW!

FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/37ZUQw9

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2OL5cZe

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2RgzLHK

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/34JOTkR

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Blurb

Want to know a secret?

It’s about that girl over there.
Don’t look, but she’s the one in the power suit—with the long, black hair and the serious expression, the one I’m about to go on a date with . . .

Yeah, according to her, she “accidentally” donated an obscene amount of money to my charity — The Lineup — to win said date but I found out the truth. Miss. Button Up Blouse has a secret, passionate crush on me.

I didn’t know her name until two days ago, despite the friends we have in common.
Was I oblivious? Probably.
Was I blind to it? Definitely.

But I’m no fool, I see it now. The High Heel Harlot wants more than just a date with Jason Orson, she wants to be able to claim the best butt in baseball as hers.

Here’s another secret . . . she has no idea I know.

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Excerpt

**JASON**

It isn’t in my nature to cry over burnt ham, but here I am, tearing up like a jackass, because the meal I’ve been reluctantly slaving over for the past four hours is two shades away from charred dust.

I had it all planned out. The timing was right, the recipes perfected, the table decorated with impeccably folded napkins that impersonated angelic swans, and polished silver that I scrubbed for an hour until I could see my balls in the reflection. Nothing says polished silverware like a spoon that gives you a clear upside-down view of your gonads.

But even with countless hours of preparing this feast, naked as the day I was born with only an apron to cover my man-loins, I still ended up with a scorched ham doused in fire extinguisher agent because somehow, the damn thing caught on fire.

Imagine this, a grown-ass man—no, not just a grown-ass man, but a man at the fresh age of twenty-eight, built like a linebacker with buttocks you can bounce rocks off . . . thanks to squatting for a living—dancing around the kitchen on his twinkle toes, arms flailing with pink and white potholders attached to his hands, screaming like a banshee, as flames light up the Jenn-Air double oven where the brown sugar and pineapple ham resided.

Are you seeing it?

Add the imagery of said man naked, dick and balls harmoniously bouncing in panic while the apron his “girlfriend” got him that says Eat my food, Lick my dick, unravels in the fit to unleash the fire extinguisher.

That was me . . . a minute ago.

Frantic, screaming, and all in all losing any last shred of my man card I had left.

It’s why I’m currently weeping like a nitwit into the flaps of my apron, wondering where I went wrong.

If we’re going to be honest with each other—and I would like to establish honesty with you—I’ll admit, I’ve always leaned toward the sensitive side. You know, the cuddly grizzly bear. Big and intimidating but a fucking gooey butterball heart on the inside.

Tell me a love story. I’ll listen the crap out of it.

The Bachelor? Why yes, that’s one of my favorite shows.

Do I smile when sharing a candlelit dinner with myself, followed by a nice long soak in a bubble bath while Enya—the fucking goddess of all voices—plays in the background? I sure as shit do.

But if some ignorant asswipe gets in my face on the ball field, stirring up trouble, I’m the first to lay a fist across his jaw and the first to be thrown out of a game.

And I’m not even sorry about it.

People are arriving in an hour. I’m vulnerable as fuck with my bare ass resting against the cold white-oak floor of my girl’s apartment, while a lonely tear streams down my freshly shaven cheek. I have no main dish, and the apartment smells like burnt rabbit turd.

Why am I in this hopeless predicament?

Because of one person.

One single person who flipped my life upside down.

A bombshell in a suit, a ravenous sex-fiend in the sheets, a classy and sophisticated tight-ass in the boardroom. She’s a knockout who’s always on my mind. She’s the girl you do things for, that you never thought you’d ever do . . .

Like cook a fancy-as-fuck four-course meal for her and her business associates while practicing interesting conversational starters to ensure the night flows smoothly.

Back in college, I might have been referred to as the mother hen of the boys. I might have cooked at least two meals a week for the guys in the loft, and yeah, I was the ironing wizard, the one everyone turned to, to get out the most stubborn wrinkles. The title has carried on over the years, but my creativity in the kitchen has dwindled with the lack of time, my ironing is now done by my apartment keeper once a week, and the fresh flowers scattered around my place? They’re more dead now than alive.

My point—I’m not the lady of the house I used to be. But I’ve been getting back into the swing of it.

So when my girl asked me to perform the impossible feat of an intimate dinner for four, I should have ordered in, tossed everything in serving dishes, and called it a night.

But nooooooooo, I had to attempt to be a goddamn hero and try to cook everything myself.

And all for what?

For one girl?

No. Not just one girl. The girl who owns my balls, who has a grip so tight on them that if she asked me to bellow out my ABCs in soprano while swirling my finger around my belly button . . . I would.

Who is this girl that has brought me to the brink of boo-boo smush bear insanity and caused me to weep like a schoolgirl in the corner of the apartment?

There’s only one lady with more than enough ovaries to buckle the knees of the mighty Jason Orson.

The one and only Dorothy “Dottie” Domico.

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About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.

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Connect with Meghan

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authormeghanquinn/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorMegQuinn

Website: http://authormeghanquinn.com

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/meghan-quinn

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2LitE4x

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COVER REVEAL: NUMBER NEIGHBORS by Emma Hart

What happens when your number neighbor turns out to be your hot, British, next-door neighbor?

NUMBER NEIGHBORS, an all-new, side-splittingly hilarious neighbors-to-lovers romcom from New York Times bestselling author, Emma Hart, and we have the fun, flirty new cover! Pre-order today so you don’t miss it on March 24th!

Blurb

Bad Idea #241: Sending a dirty text to your number neighbor.

In my defense, my friends did it too, and their neighbors took it as the joke it was.

Mine didn’t.

He responded with a dirty text of his own. Next thing I know, I have a standing texting date every night at ten-thirty.

Until I have to miss it because the stray kitten who adopted me one week ago is sick. The only person I know who can help me at this time of night is my British next-door neighbor and local vet, Isaac Cooper.

I’ll keep him overnight, he says. Here’s my number to call me in the morning, he says.

The problem?

I know that number.

Because I’ve been texting it every night for the last four days.

Amazon US https://amzn.to/32ZMq5b

Amazon UK https://amzn.to/34dtgZz

Apple Books https://emmahart.pub/nnapple

Nook https://emmahart.pub/nnnook

Kobo https://emmahart.pub/nnkobo

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About Emma

Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages.
She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs.
Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud. Yes, really. She’s that sarcastic.
Keep up to date on her releases by following her on Amazon or signing up for her Newsletter.

Follow Emma

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RELEASE BLITZ: Landon and Shay: Part Two by Brittainy C. Cherry

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Landon & Shay: Part Two, the not to be missed conclusion of the Landon and Shay duet by Brittainy C. Cherry, is available now!

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Once upon a time, I fell in love with a boy.
A beautiful, broken boy who had his own world of struggles.

People warned me against our love, but I didn’t listen.
We looked weak.
Young, foolish.
Dangerously in love.
We didn’t care.

In order to keep our hearts protected from the opinions of others, we became each other’s secret.
We shared stolen moments. Tender touches. Secretive embraces.

It was our twisted love story, and it worked for us up until our lives changed forever.
The boy I loved became Hollywood’s newest golden boy.
His career blossomed as mine stalled.
He found massive success as I discovered multiple failures.
He made something of himself, while my dreams never came true.
We moved into different realms where our pieces no longer fit together.

In the fairy tales, love conquered all.
In reality, love was the main reason empires began to fall.
I always knew Landon belonged in my story.
He was my beginning, middle, and end.
The only problem? I wasn’t certain I still belonged in his.

Download your copy today!!

Start the duet with Landon and Shay: Part One

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Synopsis

Shay Gable hated my guts, and I hated hers, too.

We went out of our way to avoid one another at all times. When she came my direction, I went the other. When we locked eyes, she’d turn and walk away.

All of that changed the day I was presented with a challenge. It started out as a stupid bet: make Shay fall in love with me before I fell in love with her first.

That was an easy bet for me to win.

I didn’t love, I hardly liked.

Yet slowly the game started to shift. Shay made me crave things I never knew I wanted like love, happiness, and her.

The closer we grew, the more she challenged my darkness, and the parts I kept locked away.

The hurts.

The pains.

The truth.

The game between us became too real, our feelings intermixed, and the risks of hurting one another grew higher.

But you know what they say…

All’s fair in the game of love and war—especially the heartbreaks.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon ♦ Amazon Worldwide

About Brittainy

Author Brittainy C. Cherry is an Amazon #1 bestselling author.

She has been in love with words since the day she took her first breath. She graduated from Carroll University with a Bachelor Degree in Theatre Arts and a minor in Creative Writing.

Her novels have been published in 18+ countries around the world. Brittainy lives in Brookfield, Wisconsin with her fur babies.

Connect with Brittainy

Facebook: http://bit.ly/2Fc8izo
Twitter: http://bit.ly/2Oe1m8V
Instagram: http://bit.ly/2Fltnc1
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2Fk2jKg
GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2ThAciJ
Join Brittainy’s Golden Girls (And Boys) Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2Y4WEir
Stay up to date with Brittainy by joining her mailing list: http://bit.ly/2oK1voU
https://bcherrybooks.com

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RELEASE BLITZ AND EXCERPT: WONDER WITH ME by Kristen Proby

We are beyond excited to be sharing this release from Kristen Proby with you today!

WONDER WITH ME is part of her With Me in Seattle series and it is releasing as part of 1001 Dark Nights.

It just went live today!

Check out an excerpt and book trailer from the title below.

Click here to grab your copy now.

Purchase your copy of WONDER WITH ME today!

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

About WONDER WITH ME

From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kristen Proby comes a new story in her With Me In Seattle series…

Reed Taylor doesn’t pay much attention to the holidays—until he receives a surprise present. Four-year-old Piper is the daughter he never knew about, and with the death of her mother, is also now the roommate he never expected. He’s determined to make their first Christmas together one she’ll never forget.

Noel Thompson has gotten her share of strange requests in her career as an interior designer. The call to design a beautiful home for Christmas is more like a dream come true. And that was before she met her new employer—sexy and mysterious, he’s everything she ever hoped Santa would bring her.

As Noel showers his home with holiday spirit, Reed showers Piper with love. And the busy life he’s created for himself no longer seems nearly as important as the one Noel is helping him build with his daughter. But if he can’t convince his decorator to stay, this could be the only year he feels the true wonder of the season.

**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you’ll enjoy each one as much as we do.**

Add WONDER WITH ME to your Goodreads TBR here!

Purchase your copy of WONDER WITH ME today!

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

Excerpt

“Who decorated your home?” Noel asks in the kitchen. She’s using a camera to take photos of the rooms, and looks at me over the lens.

“I bought it like this,” I say and smile. “Furniture and all. So I’d have to ask the real estate agent. Why do you ask?”

She purses her lips and shakes her head. “It just doesn’t feel like you. And I know that sounds odd, considering I just met you, but it’s quite cold. There’s no color in here.”

“I spilled juice on the couch,” Piper admits. “And my mom always used to say that white furniture isn’t good with kids around.”

“She probably had a point,” Noel says with a wink. “The layout is brilliant, showing off the view.” She points to the accordion windows that open to the outdoor living space, and the view of the water beyond. “But the furniture is white, the rugs are white. Everything is white.”

“It’s clean,” I offer.

“It’s cold.” She wanders over to the staircase. “Will I be working upstairs?”

“Everywhere,” I confirm. I want Piper to have the best Christmas of her young life. After everything she’s been through this year, she deserves it. My daughter takes two of my fingers in her hand as we climb the stairs behind Noel and my heart catches. It still takes my breath away when she reaches for me, climbs in my lap or kisses my cheek. Piper is an affectionate little girl, which is something I’ve had to get used to, but I wouldn’t have her any other way.

“I want to show you my room,” Piper announces, pushing her way to the front and leading Noel down the hall.

Her room is across from mine, so I can hear her if she needs me. I’d originally put her down the hall, but that first night here in the house she had a horrible dream, and I couldn’t get to her fast enough.

I moved her things here, across from my room, the next morning.

“Oh my goodness,” Noel says from the threshold. “Piper, this is beautiful.”

“I got to pick it out myself,” Piper says proudly.

My daughter’s room looks like a princess threw up all over it. Pink upon pink upon pink flows everywhere, from her bedding, to the carpet, to the wall color. Her bed is a full-size canopy, with flowy curtains hanging down. I had a mural of happy flowers and butterflies painted on one wall.

“Finally, a room that a girl can get comfortable in,” Noel says, then sends me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I don’t mean that to sound as bad as it does, it’s just this room is absolutely perfect for a little girl.”

“No offense taken,” I say as I lean my shoulder on the doorjamb and watch as Piper shows off her books and her dolls.

Watch the Book Trailer

http://bit.ly/2DFumCh

REVIEW QUOTES FOR KRISTEN’S NOVELS

“No one does swoony alphas, strong women, and sexy love stories like Kristen Proby. She truly knows how to write romance with heart.”
~Laurelin Paige,
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

“Kristen Proby is the Nora Roberts of our generation.”
~Corinne Michaels,
New York Timesbestselling author

“Kristen Proby is our go-to when we want to escape, when we want a love story with a slow burn, a stellar supporting cast, and heroes that have us swooning for days.” ~Christina Lauren,
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

“Proby has a knack for drawing readers in with her witty storytelling and heated romances that keep readers engaged until the very end. Once you sink your teeth into this juicy tale, you’ll find yourself wishing that the Seduction restaurant was actually in your city!”
~RT Book Reviews

AUTHOR INFORMATION

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

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

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RELEASE BLITZ: ENEMIES by Tijan

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Stone Reeves was my neighbor, and I’ve hated him since sixth grade.

Enemies, an all-new enemies to lovers stand-alone from New York Times bestselling author Tijan, is available now!

ENEMIES ECOVER

Gorgeous and charismatic, he became the town’s football god, while I became the town’s invisible girl.

He went to a Division 1 school for football, while my father was fired by his father.

His team won the National Championship, while my mother died the same day.

He was a first round pick for the NFL …

… while I made the worst decision of my life.

Now I’m in Texas trying to pick up the pieces of my life.

But, Stone is here.

Stone is everywhere.

It doesn’t matter that disaster has struck my life again.

It doesn’t matter that he’s the one trying to console me.

It doesn’t matter that he’s the nation’s newest football obsession.

Because for me, he always has been and always will be my enemy.

Enemies - AN

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2DzRCl1

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/EnemiesTijan

Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2P5s9p1

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2rjDSbk

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About Tijan

Tijan is a New York Times Bestselling author that writes suspenseful and unpredictable novels. Her characters are strong, intense, and gut-wrenchingly real with a little bit of sass on the side. Tijan began writing later in life and once she started, she was hooked. She’s written multi-bestsellers including the Carter Reed Series, the Fallen Crest Series, and the Broken and Screwed Series among others. She is currently writing a new YA series along with so many more from north Minnesota where she lives with a man she couldn’t be without and an English Cocker she adores.

Connect with Tijan

Amazon: https://amzn.to/30oxe0f

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Tijansbooks/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/tijansbooks

Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/tijansbooks/

Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/TijansFanPage/

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2EcGBqB

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tijan

Website: http://www.tijansbooks.com/

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