After Jane Osborne is unceremoniously dumped by a rich man, and then invited to his Christmas Eve wedding, she decides to hire a date from Craigslist and pass him off as an upgrade.
Fake-boyfriend for hire Ian Brooks ends up being a delightful surprise—and a mysterious stranger she’s definitely met before.
Could he be her Christmas wish come true?
**This novella was originally published as “Unmatchable” in Brenda Novak’s ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS anthology
Jane Osborne loves the holiday season, but with what she goes through at the start of Holiday For Hire makes the lights twinkle a little less and the holiday spirit a little more humbug, but if Jane has anything to say about it, she’ll reclaim her favorite time for the year, even if it means hiring a fake boyfriend to attend the wedding of the guy she thought she’d be marrying herself.
I admit…Jane is not one of my favorite Laurelin Paige heroines, but when she’s not getting lost in her head, overthinking everyone else’s words and actions instead of her own, or being an uppity and pretentious upper society woman, there are glimpses of the woman she could be with the right guy, even though if he’s not the one she envisioned in her 35 year plan.
Ian Brooks is a down-to-earth guy who may be rough around the edges but what’s underneath is well worth the effort it takes. His temperament and lifestyle contrast Jane’s in a variety of ways, but where it counts, he proves just how much he has to offer, even if it’s not in the monetary sense.
Holiday For Hire is a fast-paced, sweet read that embodies more than just romantic notions. And while Jane is not necessarily the female version of Scrooge, her views on life, goals, and even societal norms speak to someone who needs a new outlook on life and Ian is way better than the spirits who taught Scrooge to change who he is for the better.
4 Poison Apples
About Laurelin Paige
With millions of books sold worldwide, Laurelin Paige is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author. She is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however.
When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or Letterkenny, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She’s also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn’t do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio.
About Kayti McGee: Livin’ deliciously in beautiful Kansas City Missouri, where everyone else loves the Royals as much as I do. I like wine and murder shows and mountains and art.
I’m represented by Rebecca Friedman at Friedman Literary because I am a lucky, lucky girl. Call her if you want me to do Iron Chef, otherwise just hit me up on FB at http://www.facebook.com/kaytimcgeeauthor, on Insta @KaytiMcGeeWrites, and stay sexy.
The twofold meaning behind the title of Katy Evans’ newest release, Best Man, applies to Miles Foster – the man who is the best man in the upcoming wedding of his best friend, Aaron Eberhart, and his girlfriend of 5 years, Lia Ripley. But even more, he’s the man who is best for Lia, despite the fact that they seem to hate each other and her wedding to Aaron is just days away.
The idea that things aren’t what they seem dominates the story line until it reaches the point of no return, but the defining concepts of that point aren’t the same for every character, which means that some seem to hold on too long while others give in too easily, leading them to question everything about their lives, where they should be and who they should be with…
Full disclosure, I went blindly into this story because I’m an avid reader of Katy Evans’ romances, and while there are things about the story line that I liked, I struggled with a few facets of the plot line, especially in relation to the heroine, and because of the way everything comes to a head toward the end of the book, I didn’t feel like enough of the story was spent illustrating exactly why Miles and not Aaron was the best man for Lia, and this left me feeling a bit unsatisfied, even after the couple I rooted for, ended up finding their way to each other when it counted the most.
While Best Man wasn’t my favorite Katy Evans’ story, the writing was solid and the fact that each chapter heading had a time stamp, placing it on a continuous timeline that comes to a head on the day of the wedding drove the story forward and illustrated that one way or another, everything would be decided by the time Lia walked down the aisle.
3.5 Poison Apples
Excerpt
The dress is a strapless Carolina Herrera, with layers and layers of whisper-thin organza. It blows my budget and the “less is more” mantra out of the water, but like Eva said the day we bought it in downtown Denver, when you know, you know. The locale is the sumptuous Midnight Lodge, nestled in Colorado’s Rocky Mountains, every tiny detail of the place costing my father more than an entire year of his salary. The twenty-three members of the bridal party are assembled. It’s the scene of every little girl’s fairytale fantasy.
My fantasy.
At least, the one I’d been harboring up until today, when everything changed.
Eva smiles at me. “Ready to make your dreams come true?”
I stare at myself in the mirror. I look like Cinderella, if the wicked stepmother had just materialized at the castle on Cinderella’s wedding day and gunned down Prince Charming in cold blood. I’m also about three minutes away from losing the mimosa I’d polished off earlier that morning at breakneck speed. I go to chew on my nails but then I remember Eva painted them, and the last thing I want is for him to see the chips.
He notices things like that. He’s an observer.
And I want to be perfect for him.
Him.
The wrong him.
Oh, god.
I go to chew on my lip, but I can’t do that because they’ve been lacquered with bubble-gum pink gloss, and he’d probably notice if I got it on my teeth, too. All my normal ways of freaking out are off limits.
This is the day of my dreams, the day I’ve planned to the letter, just so I could avoid any potential calamities that might make me freak out.
But I am freaking out. Oh, lordy, am I ever.
I’ve been waiting my whole life for this day.
This perfect day, where the sun is shining, the snow is melting, birds are singing, and the sky is the deepest blue I’ve ever seen.
But there’s a problem.
A problem in the form of a pretentious, bearded, six-foot-three wall of hot man flesh who stalks around hating the world and thinking he’s better than everyone in it.
My fiancé’s best friend. The best man, Miles Foster.
This is all his fault.
“You okay?” Eva asks.
“I am,” I insist, pushing the infernal veil out of my face for the thousandth time. “This dress is itchy as hell.”
I stand and pluck the dress up under my armpits, hoisting it over my boobs. I try to take a step but…too much fabric, in all directions. It’s a wonder I don’t drown in this sea. In this sea, or in this mess I’ve created for myself. I sit back down on the vanity stool and pout. “I’m stuck.”
In more ways than one.
She gathers handfuls of too much organza and helps me up, depositing the pile of fabric safely in my wake. I shuffle to the full-length mirror and glance at myself. I don’t look like a bride, or even a fairytale princess. I look like a prisoner who just got her death sentence.
“It’s too loose,” I whine. I never had much of a rack, and now it’s super obvious. Why did I decide to go strapless again? “I think I must’ve lost some boobage during my diet. What if the top of my dress falls down while I’m walking up the aisle?”
Eva smirks. “I’m sure Aaron’ll love the show.”
The thought makes the mimosa turn in my stomach. I used to live for what Aaron thought. Whenever I had a choice to make on something, be it a new movie coming out, or a sweater at the mall, or a new hair style, I’d think, Would Aaron like this? But I realize, as she says his name, that it doesn’t matter to me in the slightest what Aaron thinks. The only opinion I care about now is that of the man who will be standing precisely two feet to my husband-to-be’s left.
I am such an idiot.
In less than fifteen minutes, I will be marching down the stone steps outside the Midnight Lodge to a picturesque gazebo at the foot of the hills, on the arm of my father, who has socked his entire life’s savings into making this day picture perfect for his only daughter. I will take the hand of the man I’ve been attached at the hip to for over five years, ever since I met him in a dank frat cellar when I was a wide-eyed little college freshman. I will join with this man—this man I’ve spent all of my adult life with—in holy matrimony, ’til death us do part.
I will become Mrs. Aaron Eberhart.
But I know I’ll be looking past my husband-to-be to the man who, up until twelve hours ago, I’d thought I hated. Miles Foster.
And I will be wondering What if…
I wish choosing a husband was as simple as choosing a dress.
When you know, you know.
I did know, or I thought I did. Up until twelve hours ago, I thought Aaron Eberhart was my true soul mate, the one I’d happily spend the rest of my life with. That’s when things took an unexpected turn.
Right now? I don’t even know my own name.
And I have a feeling I might be making a huge mistake.
About Katy
Katy Evans is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her debut REAL shot to the top of the bestselling lists in 2013 and since then 9 of her titles have been New York Times bestsellers. Her books have been translated into nearly a dozen languages across the world.
Each novel depicts a different and completely unique romance. However, the stories and their plots are connected. It’s recommended that you read them in order for the full reading experience.
It is strongly advised that you read The Peer and the Puppet and The Moth and the Flame before reading The Punk and the Plaything. Content suitable for ages 18+.
Throughout the course of the other couples’ books, readers have been privy to what can only be said is a volatile and, at times, toxic relationship that exists between Jameson and Barbette, and while this pair has only been secondary characters in the other stories of B.B. Reid’s When Rivals Play series, in The Punk and the Plaything, Reid gives readers an insider’s view of just how frustrating and problematic the connection they share truly is, which begs the question…what’s it going to take for these two to get past the hurt feelings, the mistreatment, and the baggage that seems to follow them every time they’re in the same vicinity.
Jamie and Bee’s entangled past, their riotous and contradictory feelings for each other, and their hot/cold behavior when it comes to pushing each other’s buttons makes for one angsty and frustrating read, but I’m a huge fan of second chance romances, and I was particularly intrigued by these two making things work because anything between them but hatred and derogatory remarks seems beyond their capabilities. But I guess that’s exactly how enemies-to-lovers’ stories are supposed to work…infuriating readers while making them hold on tight to see if two people who have such deep feelings for each other can figure out their shit and find a way to let go of what was and focus on what could be.
There are aspects of Jamie and Bee’s story that some readers will question and even dislike, and I’ll admit, I had a difficult time understanding certain situations in the story and how they fit the characterization of the characters and who they are as couples, but it’s clear that Jamie and Bee were never going to be a typical couple, not with what they’ve experienced both individually and together, so even though I didn’t necessarily like a few chapters because of what went down in them, the way that they’re explained and the magnitude of those situations are what the writer envisioned for her characters, and I accepted that fact.
The friendships forged in this small group are ones that become essential to all of them and while they’ll have their ups and downs, especially with the diverse personalities each one of them exudes, their bonds are something that won’t break, even when they’re tested…even when they cross a line that maybe they shouldn’t.
I’m intrigued by how the last book in the series is going to play out given the final events of Jamie and Bee’s story. And, if it’s as much as an emotional rollercoaster as this one was, I better prepare myself and then some because I don’t know if I can handle the emotional overload that B.B. Reid might have in store for us.
4 Poison Apples
Excerpt
“Well, isn’t this the most delicious surprise.”
My head confirmed what my eyes were showing me, but my stubborn heart still refused to believe. Jamie was back from Ireland? Why hadn’t Ever told me? Neither of those answers seemed to matter as much as why Jamie was back.
The short sleeves of the button up he wore were rolled and bunched at the shoulders, displaying the muscles he’d grown since I’d last seen him four years ago. The white cotton only pronounced his tanned skin. He’d left the buttons undone, allowing anyone who laid eyes on him to see his hard chest and defined abs…and the many tattoos that covered them. Most of them were angry and aggressive, almost scary as if he were showing off his demons for anyone to see. Recalling my sweet Jamie from long ago, and what happened the last time I’d seen him, I knew I was responsible for every one of them.
Gone was the gentle boy next door with a full mop of hair, a lanky body, and an easy smile. This boy standing before me was darker, edgier…more tragic to my lonely, fragile heart. Was that yearning burning in the pit of my stomach or fear of the unknown? Because I didn’t know this Jamie, and judging by the wicked gleam in his eyes as he flashed that mocking grin, I didn’t want to know.
“What the hell are you doing back here?”
“Is that any way to greet your first love? I got to say”—his gaze slowly traced every dip and curve of my body—“I love how well you’ve grown up, Bette.”
“First love?” I scoffed, even though it felt like he’d stolen my breath. “You were hardly that.”
“Then what was I?” he challenged, backing me against the opposite wall. “I’m breathless to hear more of your lies.”
“You were nothing.”
He flashed me that sad, beautiful smile I hadn’t realized I’d missed so much. I stood perfectly still as his wolfish gaze ate me up. As close as he stood now, he wouldn’t miss a single fucking flaw. There were many, but no one dared looked close enough to see. I might as well have been Medusa. As he ran his gaze over me, I took the time to study him as well, noting the silver bar piercing his right brow and the small diamond in his right nostril. I could have sworn I’d even glimpse a flash of metal piercing his nipples. Jamie had taken all that sinful deliciousness he naturally possessed and multiplied it by ten thousand. As if the world didn’t already have enough injustices.
“You’re so beautiful. Did it hurt?” He kept his gaze on me as he turned his head and blew out smoke.
“Did what hurt?” I could feel the heat from Jamie’s cigarette when he defiantly brushed his thumb across my bottom lip. To Jamie’s knowledge, I belonged to his cousin now, but he clearly didn’t give a damn.
“When you fell from heaven, Satan.”
I slapped his hand away while telling myself to get a grip. Jamie might have surprised me, but he was nothing I couldn’t handle. “Get lost, Jameson.”
Tapping the end of his cigarette, he sprinkled ash onto my designer blouse. A piece of the flame had fallen, burning through the sheer material, scorching my skin. Before now, I’d never thought Jamie capable of hurting me. The truth was now so blatantly blazed into our history that it could never be unwritten.
Without warning, he pressed closer until I could see nothing but the angry blackness of his eyes. “I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere. By the time I’m done with you, Barbette Montgomery, you’ll be crawling back to me… but I doubt I’ll want my cousin’s sloppy thirds.”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath.” I wasted little time pushing him away. Tragically, the moment my hand connected with his warm skin, the electricity threatening to make my broken heart beat again became too obvious to ignore. I tried to run from it, but some inexplicable need to seal our fate had me spinning on my heel to face him again. “Better yet, Jameson, do us both the favor, won’t you?”
About B.B. Reid
B.B. Reid is a bestselling author of new adult romance. She grew up the only daughter and middle child in a small town in North Carolina. After graduating with a Bachelors in Finance, she started her career at an investment research firm while continuing to serve in the National Guard. She currently resides in Charlotte with her moody cat and enjoys collecting Chuck Taylors and binge-eating chocolate. Please visit her website for more information: http://www.bbreid.com
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.
My Review
Staci Hart is one of my go-to authors when it comes to slow burn romances…to feel good love stories…to well-developed characters who change/transform the further into the plot Hart takes readers. I could absolutely stay in one of Staci Hart’s stories forever. The worlds that she creates and the way she crafts her stories allow me to revel in her words and get caught up in her heroes and heroines’ witty banter, stubborn personalities, and the desire that resonates from the pages of her books.
In Gilded Lily, Lila Parker and Kash Bennet may seem like they have nothing in common, and for the most part, it’s a valid appraisal: she’s a bit high strung while he’s pretty laidback…she wants to make it big as a wedding planner, living it up in high society, while he’s perfectly content to work for the family business, remaining in his hometown, staying as far away from society girls as he can, simply because his lifestyle is nothing like theirs and it never will be. But as anyone can see from the interactions these two do have is that despite their differences, they bring out something in one another that no one else can.
But what Lila and Kash begin to realizing, as they work closely together for a wedding and have a little no-strings fun when it comes to helping Lila get over her break up, is that as different as they appear to be, who they are at their foundation and the goals and dreams they have for themselves and those they love make them connected in a way neither could have imagined.
Gilded Lily proves that opposites most certainly attract and that
first impressions, misconceptions, and opposing personalities can actually thrive together, in a way that lasts…in a way that’s about so much more than a rebound or a mistake.
4 Poison Apples
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.
They say the president of the local biker gang is ruthless, heartless, and that once you cross him, you’ll spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.
There are whispers that he was once lost in a forest, and when he was found, he was surrounded by a pack of wolves that were protecting him.
Many will tell you he’d never let his guard down for a woman, and that if he ever did, it would be bad for her.
The one thing this city doesn’t know about me is that I’m not your average woman. I’m a fighter, and when someone messes with my family, I will fight, and when my freedom is stolen, I will do whatever it takes to get it back.
When I’m done with him, the rumors will come to an end because I’ll be the woman who tamed this infamous biker president.
I’ll be the woman who, in the end, was bad for him.
I shove my fears aside and take another step forward until I’m standing right between his long legs. He raises his chin.
Fuck it. If he kills me for this, then I guess I’m just a dead woman, but at least I’ll know I didn’t go down without trying.
I grip his shoulders and climb on top of his lap, completely naked. Pressing my breasts to his chest, I let my fingers run past his silky, wavy hair to curl a hand around the nape of his neck.
His serious expression doesn’t change. I can’t tell if he’s enjoying this or hating it. I wonder if he can feel my heart beating—feel how terrified and thrilled I am to be doing this. God, what is wrong with me?
I press on his neck with my hand, straddling his lap as I study his full lips. If I’m going to do this, I can’t hold back anymore. I need to prove to him that I’m worthy of being claimed.
So, I lower my face and kiss him. He stiffens in the chair, finally reacting, but I don’t ease up. I use my other hand to caress his shoulders and his upper back, all while kissing him with so much fervor and passion that it nearly cuts me in two. In two, because a part of me hates everything about this, while another part of me—one that I am absolutely disgusted with—is enjoying the hell out of it.
My tongue plunges through his full lips. His mouth tastes like fruit and I sigh devouring the crisp taste. Apple. It’s apple. Without thinking, I grab one of his hands and bring it up, forcing him to palm my ass. A deep groan fills his throat and he clutches me tight.
No hesitation.
I fight a smile.
“There he is,” I purr. This is the side of him I’ve been looking for. The primal, hungry side of him that can’t resist the perfect seduction.
I break the kiss, refusing to give him too much affection. Right now, this is about our bodies and how much he’ll need mine by the time this is over.
I climb off his lap and watch his fiery eyes as I lower down to my knees. Perched between his thighs, I drag my palms over the tops of them, and then run a palm over his bulging erection.
He’s so hard. Good. That means I’m winning.
About the Author
Shanora Williams is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who loves writing about flawed heroes and resilient heroines. She is a believer that love outweighs all, but doesn’t have a problem making her characters fight for their happily ever after.She currently lives in Charlotte, North Carolina and is the mother of two amazing boys, has a fiercely devoted and supportive husband, and is a sister to eleven.When she isn’t writing, she’s spending time with her family, binge reading, or running marathons on Netflix while scarfing down chocolate chip cookies.
I thought I’d never be whole again, but a boy helped put me back together, one piece at a time. Nico Conti became my world—ten years later, he shattered my heart.
He took away the light, so I learned to see in the dark.
Now he’s come back, trying to explain away his absence and pick up where we left off. He doesn’t understand everything’s changed. I’m not the same girl he left behind, but he doesn’t seem to care. He wants all of me. That’s more than I’m willing to give.
Nico
They say you don’t know what you’ve lost until it’s gone, but that wasn’t true. I knew exactly how devastating it would be to lose Sofia, and I did it anyway. I thought our separation would be permanent, but now I’ve been forced back into her life. Walking away once was hard enough, I’m not strong enough to stay away again. Now that I’ve seen her, tasted her, I have to make her mine.
Seven years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life.
I plan to do everything in my power to correct that mistake, even if it means coming clean about the past. There’s a chance the secrets I carry will push her further away, but that’s a risk I’ll have to take. Sofia Genovese was made for me, and I’m determined to win her back.
Within a year of self-publishing her first book, Jill Ramsower quit her job as an attorney and dedicated her days to churning out romantic adventures. She likes to think of her books as contemporary romance with a touch of fantasy—at its core, her writing is about the connection between two people. Sometimes that connection involves a little magic…
With Jill’s books, you can count on confident heroines, plenty of steamy tension, and deliciously assertive leading men. There are no guarantees in life, but with her books, you know everything will work out in the end. However, a perfect ending would not be nearly as satisfying without a seemingly insurmountable challenge. Jill loves to add plenty of adversity in her stories, creating unforgettably dynamic characters and sneaky plot twists you will never see coming.
Jill is a Texan, born and raised. She manages the hectic social calendars for her three active children and occasionally spends an evening with her dashing husband. Aside from being an author and a mom, she’s a travel junkie and loves to read when she is not lost in her own stories.
USA TODAY bestselling author Claudia Burgoa brings readers a delightful new romantic comedy that’s equal parts hilarious and sexy about friendship and learning how to fall in love!
Olympic medalist and X-game sensation Alex Spearman thinks he’s perfect.
He’s not. I know his kind.
Rich, famous, and emotionally unavailable.
Well…He’s perfect enough to hook up with on the weekend of his sister’s wedding.
His sister is my best friend. This is a disaster in the making.
Did I mention he’s also hot, sexy and funny?
How can I resist?
After a steamy weekend, I agree. We have chemistry.
But it just won’t work out in the long run.
He’s just a fond memory. That is…until he moves next door.
When I’m in need, the almost perfect man offers to help.
On a “friends-only” basis.
“Just friends,” he said. Yeah, right.
Suddenly, Alex is getting too close for comfort.
Things are becoming heated … becoming too real for me.
Is this the real deal or am I another medal to him?
Claudia is an award-winning, USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Colorado, working for a small IT. She has three children and manages a chaotic household of two confused dogs, and a wonderful husband who shares her love of all things geek. To survive she works continually to find purpose for the voices flitting through her head, plus she consumes high quantities of chocolate to keep the last threads of sanity intact.
A reckless, obsessive soccer star. A forbidden affair that could ruin her career.
The locker room has never been this steamy.
The Younger Man, an epic standalone forbidden age-gap sports romance, by New York Times bestselling author Karina Halle, is LIVE!
Synopsis
Starting over was her only option.
Forty-years old and still reeling from a public and painful divorce, Thalia Blackwood is looking for a fresh start, somewhere far away from her upside down life. When she’s offered a new job as the sports therapist for a football (soccer) team, she jumps at the chance. This is just what she needs to leave the heartbreak and shame of Manchester behind, trading it in for the warmth and hopeful vibrancy of Madrid.
He was her only desire.
Twenty-three year old Alejo Albarado is rising up the ranks in his career. As the charming forward for the Real Madrid team, Alejo’s life revolves around women, parties, and being a tabloid darling, that is until the new sports therapist joins the team.
Their passion could not be ignored.
What starts out as a strictly professional relationship between Thalia and the young Spanish player, slowly evolves into something more. Much more.
Their relationship was forbidden.
But their combustible chemistry and simmering sexual tension can only go so far—should Thalia give into Alejo’s advances, she’s at risk of not only losing her job, but succumbing to a much younger man will drag her through the spotlight again.
Alejo might be worth that risk.
Unless he breaks her heart in the process.
The Younger Man is a full-length standalone romance. Characters from Love, in English make a cameo in this book, however The Younger Man is intended to be read as a STANDALONE.
Karina Halle is a former travel writer and music journalist and The New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling author of The Pact, Love, in English, The Artists Trilogy, Dirty Angels and over 20 other wild and romantic reads. She lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her husband and her rescue pup, where she drinks a lot of wine, hikes a lot of trails and devours a lot of books.
Halle is represented by the Root Literary and is both self-published and published by Simon & Schuster and Hachette in North America and in the UK.
“Aly Martinez is one of the best in the business. You have to read her books.” –Meghan March, New York Times Bestselling author
Release, an all-new emotional, second chance romance standalone from USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez is coming January 5th and we have the incredible cover!
Growing up, Ramsey Stewart branded my soul in ways time could never heal.
At twelve, he asked me to be his girlfriend.
At thirteen, he gave me my first kiss.
By sixteen, we’d fallen in love, planned a future together, and had our eyes set on the horizon.
Love never fails, right?
But for Ramsey, it did.
Love failed him.
I failed him.
The entire world failed him.
At seventeen, Ramsey was convicted of killing the boy who assaulted me.
Move on, he wrote in his first and only letter from prison.
Start a new life, he urged.
I don’t love you anymore, he lied.
There was no such thing as giving up on Ramsey. Love may have been our curse, but he was mine—then, now, and forever.
So here I am, twelve long years later, waiting for a man I don’t even know to emerge from between the chain link gates.
Originally from Savannah, Georgia, USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez now lives in South Carolina with her husband and four young children.
Never one to take herself too seriously, she enjoys cheap wine, mystery leggings, and olives. It should be known, however, that she hates pizza and ice cream, almost as much as writing her bio in the third person.
She passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a super-sized tumbler of wine by her side.
From the New York Times bestselling author of the Cowboys and Angels series comes an intricate romance that asks the question, Can love heal the pain of the past?
Longing to forget the pain of his wife’s death, Brock Shaw has immersed himself in the one thing that lets him escape the guilt. Bull riding. But life on the road means leaving his young son at home with his parents. They want him to give up his career and be a father to his child, but Brock needs the adrenaline to get through each day . . . or so he thinks.
Lincoln Pratt needs a fresh start. As a top interior designer in Atlanta, she has everything she could ever want, but she’s always at her father’s mercy. Something’s missing, and Lincoln knows she’ll only find it somewhere far away—like the rolling pastures of Hamilton, Montana, where she meets the irresistibly mysterious Brock.
In Brock Shaw, Lincoln sees the part of her that’s missing. In Lincoln Pratt, Brock sees the part of himself he thought he’d lost. But the pain of his past binds him. Can he let himself love again?
Any time I enter a new Kelly Elliott world, I head in knowing that I’m going to be introduced to multifaceted main characters who have emotional baggage that they’re either running away from or burying, and because I know that Elliott always brings the feels and the angst when necessary. She also establishes a dynamic connection between the hero and the heroine regardless of their inability to move forward or even contemplate a future when the past and perhaps even the present aren’t completely being dealt with in a way what would allow forward progress.
The above ideas truly capture Brock Shaw and Lincoln Pratt’s current situations in the first book in Elliott’s Meet Me in Montana series, and while I would say that Lincoln is more apt to focus on the present and the future now that she’s finally on her own and out from underneath her father’s thumb and the big city she’s from, Brock is stuck so far in the past…so far into his own head that it’s difficult for him to see past his issues and make it out on the other end healed or at least emotionally and mentally on the mend.
Word of advice – give Brock a chance…some readers will be quick to judge him based on his earlier words and actions, but a lot of it toward the beginning of the story comes from the burden of grief that consumes him and the guilt he carries due to the choices he made. But once Lincoln begins to chip away at Brock’s walls and show him how it’s okay to move forward, to fully invest in others’ lives, especially his son’s, things slowly begin to progress in a way that allows Brock a second chance at life, at love, and at a family…all of which he thought was lost long ago.
Lincoln is the perfect match for the surly and closed-off Brock. She’s an independent woman who isn’t afraid to risk it all to go out on her own, even if it means making mistakes along the way. She sees something in Brock worth fighting for and she’s proven she’s willing to work for what she wants and Brock and his son are it.
Kelly Elliott always has an amazing group of secondary characters who add so much to the story line and can easily slide into the hero or heroine slot in a different book in the series, which makes it a great world for readers to escape to because there’s a solid foundation for stories to come.
Never Enough is one heck of a start to Elliott’s new series, and while I may not ever travel to Montana, journeying there in Elliott’s books with her characters and vividly experiencing the environment through their eyes and with their hearts makes it quite the adventure.
4.5 Poison Apples
Meet the Author
Kelly Elliott is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling contemporary romance author. Since finishing her bestselling Wanted series, Kelly continues to spread her wings while remaining true to her roots and giving readers stories rich with hot protective men, strong women and beautiful surroundings.
Her bestselling works include, Wanted, Broken, The Playbook, and Lost Love, to name a few.
Kelly lives in central Texas with her husband, daughter, two pups, four cats, and endless wildlife creatures. When she’s not writing, Kelly enjoys reading and spending time with her family.
To find out more about Kelly and her books, you can find her through her website.
Fairest Of All Book Reviews 