Fairest Of All Book Reviews

Decadent… Sensual… Forbidden…

12 Masters. 12 Desires. 12 Fantasies Come to Life.
Meet the Masters of Blasphemy…

About MASTERING HER SENSES (Blasphemy #2, 2/21/17)

12 Masters. Infinite fantasies. Welcome to Blasphemy…

He wants to dominate her senses—and her heart…

Quinton Ross has always been a thrill-seeker—so it’s no surprise that he’s drawn to extremes in the bedroom and at his BDSM club, Blasphemy, where he creates sense-depriving scenarios that blow submissives’ minds. Now if he could just find one who needs the rush as much as him…

When an accident leaves Cassia Locke with a paralyzing fear of the dark, she’ll try anything to get help. Ready to fight, she knows just who to ask for help—the hard-bodied, funny-as-hell Dom she’d always crushed on—and once stood up.

Quinton is shocked and a little leery to see Cassia, but he can’t pass up the chance to dominate the alluring little sub this time. Introducing her to sensory deprivation becomes his new favorite obsession, and watching her fight fear is its own thrill. But when doubt threatens to send her running again, Quinton must find a way to master her senses—and her heart.

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Dear Readers,

I’m having so much fun writing in the sexy, sensual world of Blasphemy that I couldn’t wait until release day to share a chapter from my next story in this series, Mastering Her Senses. Quinton is funny and sexy and smart as hell, but he also has that intense, dominant side that I just can’t get enough of! The Blasphemy series are stand-alone erotic romances all set in an exclusive play club located in the ruins of an abandoned church in downtown Baltimore. That means you can read them in any order and enjoy them all! Now, read on to meet the next Master of Blasphemy!

And don’t forget to preorder – now available everywhere!

Thanks for reading!
Laura Kaye

MASTERING HER SENSES (A BLASPHEMY BOOK)

BY LAURA KAYE

CHAPTER ONE

Quinton Ross was in his happy place.

Standing behind the bar at Blasphemy, the club he co-owned with eleven of the coolest assholes he’d ever known, he surveyed the roomful of wonderfully kinky people wearing a whole lotta nothing. Totally his jam.

And the fact that he’d get to play with one of them later? Seriously, a man’s life didn’t get any better.

Well, having a submissive of his own…that could be better. Theoretically.

Except the one and only time he’d attempted that, the woman had screwed him over so royally he’d almost needed lube. Heh.

But, whatever. Quinton tried really frickin’ hard to let things roll off his shoulders. People had much worse shit in their lives than him. Most of the time, he considered himself lucky and just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Besides, he never lacked for company or partners around the club, and no submissive ever left him anything but fully satisfied. He made damn sure of it.

“Hi, Master Quinton,” came a feminine voice from further down the counter.

He turned to find a blond-haired woman with a sleek, silver prosthetic arm leaning against the marble of the ornate bar. Kenna Sloane. And right behind her stood her big mountain of a Dom and one of Quinton’s best friends, Griffin Hudson. “Aren’t you looking lovely tonight, Kenna,” Quinton said with a smile as he made his way to where Griffin was sliding into a seat and pulling Kenna’s slim hips between his legs. “And am I wrong or is this some snazzy new hardware?” He nodded at her arm. She’d lost everything below her right elbow while serving with the Marines in Afghanistan. If she and Griffin hadn’t been fuckin’ fated, Kenna might’ve been Quinton’s kind of woman.

Adventurous. Brave. Willing to push life to the extremes.

But they were fated, something the diamond on her finger and the platinum collar with its unique interwoven knot sitting at the hollow of her throat both indicated. Loud and clear.

Kenna smiled, so much more comfortable here at the club—and seemingly in her own skin—than she’d been when she and Griffin had first reconnected a few months back. “I have a couple different sockets. And a girl has to coordinate,” she said, holding it up to the almost sheer sparkling silver halter top she wore.

Chuckling, Quinton nodded and clasped hands with Kenna’s Dom. “Master Griffin, how the hell are ya?” Their wrists bore matching leather cuffs with embroidered Gothic M’s. Every Blasphemy Master—the experienced Dominants who owned the club and took turns running and monitoring it—wore one like it.

“Never better, my friend. Never better.” The skin crinkled around Griffin’s dark eyes as he spoke, his smile coming a million times easier than it ever had before. Quinton guessed that was what happened when you were not only able to correct one of the biggest mistakes of your life, but find a submissive who was also your soul mate in the process.

Lucky fucker.

“I know that’s true,” Quinton said, winking at Kenna. She ducked her chin but was smiling bright enough to light up the whole room. And that was saying something given the size of Blasphemy. Located in the renovated remains of an old abandoned church, the massive rectangular nave formed the central part of the club. Filled with lots of seating and play areas, it had a soaring ceiling, massive stained-glass windows all around, and a performance and demonstration stage where the altar had once been. Themed rooms and other private spaces stretched off from the main floor. In addition to the very private and exclusive Blasphemy, the public front of their business—Club Diablo, a three-story dance club in a renovated warehouse—stood across a courtyard.

And Quinton provided hands-on management over it all.

He’d been with the clubs from the beginning, and had used his savings and the money he’d made selling a small but successful bar of his own to purchase his ownership stake in Blasphemy, a deal that got even sweeter when his partners had offered him the job of managing the bars and all the food service at both clubs. Food, drink, and sex all tantalized the senses and therefore were equally high up on the list of things he loved, and always had been. Given his prior experience, he pretty much had full control of the operation. Just like he liked.

Griffin placed an order for him and Kenna, then asked, “You have a scene set up tonight?”

Quinton got busy making their drinks and shook his head. “No,” he said with a grin. “But I’m looking forward to the thrill of the hunt.”

Griffin chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

The quip on Quinton’s tongue died when a flashing red light under the bar’s edge caught his eye. An emergency in one of the rooms. He glanced at the tag over the light to determine which one, then slammed the drinks down in front of his friends harder than he’d intended. “Shit, G, sorry. Emergency in the dark room. Get someone to cover?” he said, moving without waiting for an answer. He knew Griffin would have his back.

Quinton moved as fast as he could without calling undue attention. Their members knew that the Masters and a team of other Doms who worked as monitors responded to all sorts of problems around the club, some as mundane as an equipment malfunction and others more delicate situations involving disputes between players in a scene. Hell, a few months ago, Quinton had responded when Kenna broke down during a bondage scene, and Griffin had called for help extricating her from his intricate ropework. Sex at the extremes was bound to run into a few issues, which was why consent and safety were hallmarks of BDSM and Blasphemy itself. But none of that meant any of them wished to distract players from their pleasures with worry or curiosity, either.

Off the main floor, Quinton picked up his pace as he moved down the long hallway off of which most of the themed play rooms were located. The dark room was at the far end. Master Wolf came up beside him. “Hey, man,” he said.

Quinton gave him a nod. “Didn’t know you were on tonight, Wolf. Good to see you.”

A little taller than Quinton, the guy had dark blond hair, the brightest green eyes you’d ever seen, and a chiseled Scandinavian face that turned heads all over the club. “Running the security control room. Relieving Isaac because the baby’s sick,” he said, referring to Isaac Marten, their head of security operations, who had a two-month-old son.

“Damn. Sorry to hear that,” Quinton said as they closed in on their destination. The dark room was actually a series of three interconnected rooms. In the center was a pitch-black bedroom, accessed only through two changing/waiting rooms on either side of it—one of which let out into this hallway, and the other of which let out into a different hallway so that the players couldn’t run into each other before or after the anonymous scene. The dark room was very popular, and given Quinton’s interest in sensory deprivation, it was one he’d used many times.

He heard someone in distress before they even got inside.

Quinton and Wolf burst through the door to find one of the monitors trying to calm a woman curled on the floor, gasping like she couldn’t breathe. She wore a slinky bronze dress that bared most of her legs.

“What happened?” Quinton asked, grabbing a blanket from a shelf and going to his knees beside her. He tucked the soft fleece around her.

“I don’t know,” the monitor said. I sounded the alarm but she told me not to call an ambulance when I asked.

“She just freaked out. I swear. Nothing hardly happened between us,” a shirtless man said from the doorway to the dark bedroom.

Quinton hadn’t even noticed him there, but Wolf was already questioning him. He nodded to the monitor, a Dom in his forties, and then peered up at Master Wolf. “You all clear out. Debrief him and get his information.”

“You got it, Q,” Wolf said, motioning the other men out into the hall. “Call if you need help.”

As they left, Quinton brushed the woman’s shoulder-length hair back off her splotchy face. “We need to get your breathing under control or I have to call an ambulance.”

“No…no…I…it’s…” Clenching her eyes, she shook her head and growled as if in frustration.

Damnit, he needed to do something for her. The part of him that needed to care and soothe decided, and he scooped her off the floor and carried her to the couch. Everywhere they touched, her pulse hammered against her skin. If this was a panic attack, it was one of the worst he’d ever seen.

He sat with her in his lap, the blanket still wrapped around her, and cradled her so that they were facing each other. “Breathe with me, little one. Do you hear me? Look at me and breathe with me.” Striking hazel eyes with flecks of gold cut to his. Almost familiar…

Focusing, he exaggerated one breath, than another, and another, until she struggled to match her rhythm to his.

Griffin appeared in the doorway, questions clear on his face. Quinton spared him the smallest of glances and gave a single shake of his head. Griffin nodded and closed the door. Quinton had this. The others would be there in a heartbeat if he was wrong, but he didn’t think he was.

Because the woman’s body was calming. Her breathing was evening out. Her pulse was slowing. Her muscles were losing their tension.

“That’s it. That’s good. Just watch me and breathe with me. Don’t stop. We’ll kick this thing, don’t you worry.” He stroked his hand over her hair, wanting to soothe her. The color was so rich it almost matched the bronze of her dress. Her hair was beautiful and soft. As was the rest of her, all golden skin and pretty curves. Her weight felt good in his arms. She turned her face into his hand, just the littlest bit, and he stroked her hair again. A jagged scar ran along her forehead and into her hairline over one eye.

The scar triggered the oddest thought: That wasn’t there before.

His gaze cut back to those eyes. Hazel with the gold. And he suddenly knew he’d seen them before. Years ago. Right here at Blasphemy. A name clicked into place.

“Cassia?” he asked. Cassia. As in Cassia Locke, a submissive he’d flirted with quite a few times and was once supposed to play with…but she’d stood him up the night of their scene.

“Y-yes, Sir,” she whispered. “H-hi, Mas-ter Q-quinton.”

So she recognized him, too. Did she remember that night? He shook off the thought. Their history wasn’t something to deal with just then.

“Hi yourself, kid.” He gently scratched his fingertips against her scalp and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths that she mimicked. Studying her, Quinton noticed another scar on her right shoulder. Her hair was also much longer than the almost boyish style she used to wear. Finally, Cassia went limp in his lap, and her ease unleashed a satisfaction in his blood. “Feeling better?”

She gave a long sigh, the sound exhausted and defeated. “As better as I can feel after utterly humiliating myself. Sir.”

He shook his head. “No such thing happened. Not as far as I’m concerned.”

Her gaze skittered away.

“Did I tell you to stop looking at me?”

Cassia’s eyes snapped back to meet his. “No, Sir.”

Her obedience unleashed even more of that satisfaction. The attraction of BDSM, to him, was as much about the psychology of it as the physicality of the acts. Her reaction—that obedience—represented an ingrained instinct, a need to serve, a desire to surrender. And that fucking heated his blood. He arched a brow and nodded. “Good girl.”

She shifted in his lap, but kept her eyes on his. The movement reminded his body that he’d been planning to find a partner, but he locked that shit down tight. First, because she’d been through something tonight he didn’t entirely understand. And second, because given that she’d stood him up and never bothered to follow up to explain, he wasn’t sure what to make of her anyway. And trust was kind of a thing, for him. Well, for most Doms, really. Which meant he needed to know.

“Now, tell me what happened,” he said, nailing her with a stare. “And tell me the truth.”

Books in Series

Hard to Serve #.5

Bound to Submit #1

Mastering Her Senses #2 – 2/21/17

Eyes on You #3 – 7/11/17

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About Laura Kaye

Laura is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of thirty books in contemporary and erotic romance and romantic suspense, including the Blasphemy, Hard Ink, and Raven Riders series. Growing up, Laura’s large extended family believed in the supernatural, and family lore involving angels, ghosts, and evil-eye curses cemented in Laura a life-long fascination with storytelling and all things paranormal. Laura also writes historical fiction as the NYT bestselling author, Laura Kamoie. She lives in Maryland with her husband and two daughters, and appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.

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Review

  

The Do-Over, an all-new emotional, second chance STANDALONE romance by Julie A. Richman is now LIVE!!

~ Sometimes, one degree is all that separates you from the one you were meant to be with. ~

Wes Bergman was sex on a stick.

We’d been circling one another our entire lives, mingling at the same clubs… attending the same events…sharing mutual acquaintances…yet we’d never actually met.

Until . . .  we both boarded a Windjammer Cruise in the Caribbean. And it was like meeting my long, lost best friend for the first time. I hadn’t ever connected with a guy that way before.

But Wes had a girlfriend. So, when the week was over, he walked off the ship, unknowingly taking a piece of my heart with him.

Now, over a decade later, newly divorced, I’m the proverbial fish out of water. Dating has totally changed. Apps. Swipe left. Swipe right. Catfishing. Men my age want two things: twenty-five-year-olds—like my ex’s new child bride of a wife—or just a quick hook-up.

After a string of bad dates, I finally did something I never thought I’d do. I had a hot one-night stand with a really handsome guy I met online who didn’t even know my real name.

Turned out Mr. Fling is a big shot for my company’s newest client. And just my

luck, that client’s CEO is none other than . . . Wes Bergman.

Now I’m separated by one degree again from the man who stole my heart.

And Mr. Fling could destroy my chance of what I want most –

A Do-Over with Wes.

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Review

As soon as I started reading The Do-Over, it reminded me of the movie Sliding Doors – the one where Gwyneth Paltrow’s character splits between two parallel universes – ones that are determined by the choices she makes, and those actions clearly decide the extent of her happiness as well as the difficulties she’ll face. 

And while Wes and Tara’s lives only converge at two different points, those interactions are definitely defining moments in their lives and prove that fate may be fickle, but it also knows what people need in order to truly be ready to share their lives with the person who knows them on every level.

It’s difficult to understand why destiny chooses to burden people with challenges, tremendous loss, and life altering situations, but it seems clear that Wes and Tara were meant to reconnect…were meant to intersect…were meant to see just how in-sync their personalities are and what that means in terms of having a future together instead of separate lives that are one-degree apart.

Julie A. Richman explores Wes and Tara’s bond in a way that illustrates its significance as well as proves that timing is everything. When they met in their twenties, circumstances would not allow their connection to go anywhere, but the second time they’re put in each other’s path, they plan to capitalize on their time together and learn from all that they have gone through before finding one another again.

The Do-Over is a great second chance love story; the plot spans several decades and both Wes and Tara endure heartache throughout the years that their lives don’t intersect. Even when they do find one another again, there are quite a few variables to contend with, and due to those issues, trust and faith are two ideas that they’re going to have to rely on, even when it’s difficult to do so and even when it seems like the universe is telling them something different than what they want to hear. 

I really enjoyed Wes and Tara as characters. Wes is definitely swoon worthy; he loves with his whole heart and he fights for what he believes in and the actions he takes when it comes to Tara’s daughter will melt readers’ hearts. Tara is genuine and caring, and she has so much personality that people can’t help but want to be near her. I did have a bit of an issue with part of the story line because it seemed unnecessary, and, in a way, uncharacteristic of the hero/heroine, but it didn’t detract from my enjoyment and the range of emotions I felt throughout Wes and Tara’s story speaks to how clearly defined their characters are and how thoroughly Richman illustrates who they are at their core.

4 Poison Apples 

Excerpt

His hand slowly stroking up and down the outside of my thigh is what roused me from my dream state. It was so soft and tender that I was getting more and more turned on with every movement. With my eyes still closed, I enjoyed the sensation.  It wasn’t until his lips started brushing my shoulder, that I was unable to stifle a moan, revealing that I was awake.

“Good morning,” his whisper was hoarse.

“Mmm, good morning.” I stretched my body against his and turned my head to see his face hovering over mine, before our lips met.

“Sleep good?”

“Surprisingly, I did. I was so exhausted. Sorry for passing out on you last night,” I apologized.

“I think we both passed out the moment our heads hit the pillows.” Wes’ hand had migrated from my thigh to my stomach, where he softly drew circles with his fingertips.

Rolling over to face him, I pushed my hair out of the way, silently praying my humidity enhanced curls didn’t make me look like a deranged housewife, scaring the erection right out of the man. Slinging a leg over his thigh, I instantly got my answer. The crazy morning coif was not a cock killer. Thank God!

“You’re a morning person, I see.” Hiding my smile was not a possibility.

“Yeah, I am,” Wes laughed, moving closer to me, his eyes filled with the unmistakable desire to become lovers, something I’d dreamed about on the deck of a windjammer long ago.

“You can wake me up like this anytime.” I needed to let him know it was okay. He’d said he’d take it as slow as I wanted it and what I wanted right now was a slow rhythm of him plowing into me. Hard.

“Are you hard to wake up?” He was pressed up against me.

“I think you’ll figure out the secrets to rousing me.”

“You’ve already figured out the secrets to arousing me.” His voice still had that sexy edge of morning roughness to it, making me want to skip all foreplay and have him inside me.

“I’ll bet you have a few more secrets I can discover,” I said against his lips, as I shifted the leg I had slung over him, pressing my heat and wetness against his already throbbing cock.

Wes groaned and I could feel his smile against my lips. “You know you’re going to make it impossible to make slow, sweet love to you.”

“Good, because I don’t want it slow and sweet.”

Wes flipped me onto my back, “I can easily accommodate your wishes. Are you on anything or do I need to…”

“We’re good,” I assured him.

“Yes, we are.” He kissed my neck, then swiftly pulled my tank top over my head tossing it to the floor. “We’re going to be really good together. Of that, I have no doubt.”

And I knew he was right. Being with this man had been so perfect from the night we met. We meshed with ease and the result was pure joy.

The warmth in his eyes and smile made my breath catch, and in that moment, I was flooded with overwhelming emotion at how much I wanted him. How much I’d always wanted him. It was more than lust, beyond the heat of the moment. Wes Bergman was the man I had always wanted, from the night we met. That was clear to me now.

“I vote we skip the foreplay.” I wriggled out of my underwear.

“You’re on.” His smile told me he was taking on the challenge.

“You’re in,” I gasped, my breath catching in my throat, surprised at the swiftness with which he filled my request.

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling author Julie A. Richman is a native New Yorker living deep in the heart of Texas. A creative writing major in college, reading and writing fiction has always been a passion. Julie began her corporate career in publishing in NYC and writing played a major role throughout her career as she created and wrote marketing, advertising, direct mail and fundraising materials for Fortune 500 corporations, advertising agencies and non-profit organizations. She is an award winning nature photographer plagued with insatiable wanderlust. Julie and her husband have one son and a white German Shepherd named Juneau.

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My name is Carly Porter… And I’m really good at bad decisions.

How do I know this, exactly? Well, not including the time I accidentally bleached my eyebrows or sprained my ankle changing a lightbulb…

I had sex with my best friend’s brother.

Zeke Elliott has been a thorn in my side for eleven years. A very sexy, very tempting, very freaking annoying one. With big…hands.

And now my clitoris has a crush on the guy.

Seriously. I can’t look at him without my vagina performing accidental kegels. Which would be fine, but he’s Cain’s brother. I hate him. He’s off limits, right?

Right.

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About the Author

By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies—usually wine—and writes books.

Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.

She likes to be busy—unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.

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Title: Rock The Dream (Redfall Dream Series #1)

Authors: B.B. Miller & Leslie Carson

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: February 1, 2017

Synopsis

Multi-platinum, award-winning rock musician Kennedy Lane has it all—packed arenas, private jets, and loyal fans. Everything is at his fingertips… until a tragic accident twists his dream into a nightmare. Haunted and lost, the only place he comes alive is on stage, playing for a sea of nameless faces. He’s desperately wanting more, and losing hope that he’ll ever find it.

Abigail Walker, Executive Director of an international children’s charity, lives for her job. Determined not to repeat past mistakes, she pours her energy into making the lives of the families she works with just a little better. But her dedication doesn’t keep her warm at night, a fact that she’s beginning to regret.

When a little boy’s hope to meet his idol brings them together, Kennedy is shocked to find that determined Abigail may be the one to help him make his dreams come true—if he’s strong enough.

Purchase your copy today!

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Excerpt

Rock the Dream Teaser

Chapter 1

Kennedy

“Don’t you want more?” My voice sounds disembodied, dry, and raspy, like I’m a seventy-five-year-old chain smoker who doesn’t give a shit about what a lifetime of nicotine has done to his lungs.

A booming bass fills the penthouse suite at the San Francisco Fairmont, where my band, Redfall, and a host of strangers party into the night. “Mmm… You’re so fucking hot.” It’s a slurred and intoxicated whisper against my neck from some nameless groupie sitting on my lap. Gin and desperation roll off her in waves. She licks the curved chaos of ink snaking down my shoulder and grinds her skinny, naked body against mine. I shudder at the feel of skin and bones against me. She pushes her tits forward, and breathes in my ear. “Touch me, Kenny.”

“I always want more. So do you.” The voice of my tour manager, Brodie Dixon, drifts to me from somewhere far away. I lean back against the couch, trying to open my eyes in an attempt to find him. I feel like I’m floating in a dream or a nightmare; it’s hard to tell which. I’m stuck somewhere between reality and a fucked up fantasy.

“Name’s Kennedy,” I mumble.

“Kenny, Kenny, Kenny,” she chants as she rolls her hips against mine.

I turn my neck in the direction I think Brodie’s voice came from, making a feeble attempt to brush away the hand flattening against my stomach, and drifting south. I can feel her jagged nails scratching over my hip, fumbling, as she attempts to unhook my leather belt.

Her hot, liquor-laced breath fans over my exposed chest, and her fingers lazily drift along the tatt that covers my neck. She doesn’t give a shit about me. She’s just here because I’m Kennedy-Fucking-Lane and she wants to say she fucked me.

Somehow, I manage to open my eyes. Through an intoxicated haze, I can make out Brodie—at least I think it’s him—bent over a table, slowly moving his face along a mirrored surface. I lift the dead weight of the bottle of Jack to my lips, welcoming the burn as the whiskey hits my throat.

Muted light filters in from the gaps in the curtains, catching the glare from the mirror and splaying prisms of color over Brodie’s body. He leans back in the chair and lifts his hand to his nose, snorting back any excess coke he may have missed. He cracks his neck like he always does when he’s finished, and pats his thigh.

It feels like I’m watching in slow motion as a groupie appears like an apparition out of nowhere and floats to his lap, immediately wrapping her arms around his neck and crashing her lips to his.

I shut my eyes, guiding the heavy bottle back to my lips, hoping the magic liquid will block everything out. It hurts to swallow. My throat feels like it’s on fire. I wonder how much is enough to numb the pain.

About B.B. Miller & Leslie Carson

If You Were Mine, an all-new sexy and emotional standalone from USA Today Bestselling author Melanie Harlow is coming February 28th!

If You Were Mine by Melanie Harlow
Release Date: February 28th, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Photographer: Lauren Watson Perry, Perrywinkle Photography
Cover Designer: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs

Theo MacLeod wasn’t supposed to be the one.

Tall, dark and handsome suits me just fine, but the cocky grin, know-it-all attitude, and mammoth ego? No thanks. I only hired him so I wouldn’t have to sit at the singles table again. It was just pretend.

He wasn’t supposed to kiss me.

My heart wasn’t supposed to pound.

We weren’t supposed to spend the night together—the hottest night of my life.

One night turns into a snowed-in weekend away, and even the blizzard of the century can’t cool the fire between us. I can’t get enough—of his smile, of his body, of the way he makes me feel.

We’re nothing alike. He’s a daredevil, and I’m a nervous Nellie. He’s a drifter, and I want to put down roots. He’s an opportunist with a checkered past, and I’m a Girl Scout volunteer.

But none of it matters when I’m in his arms.

I know he’s made mistakes. I know his wounds are deep, and he doesn’t trust easily. I know he doesn’t believe he could ever be enough to make me happy, but he could.

All he has to do is stay.

Preorder Today!

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About the Author

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.

Melanie is the author of the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

Connect with Melanie

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Title: Sunday Love

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Author: KJ Lewis

Release Date: March 1, 2017

Cover Artist: Regina Wamba

Smart and sexy Elise Donovan has made a career of fixing things. With a reputation for being the best in the business, her team is often pulled into front page headlines that need to be handled. After being away for six weeks attempting to repair a company just coming through a hostile takeover, time with her team at a luxury retreat is all she wants right now.

It’s no secret Reid Beckett is a serial player who only plays by the rules in business. At a retreat to announce the merger with his best friend’s company, his inability to stay away from the spunky brunette who is soon to be his employee has him questioning if rules really are made to be broken.

Vying for leverage Elise and Reid find themselves battling over who runs things in the boardroom and in the bedroom. Struggling to relinquish power for trust in their relationship, will they be able to leave the rules behind to find their Sunday loves?

KJ is a novelist, hot tamale-addict, and an abolisher of grammar. When not writing, you can find her reading at the beach, exploring New York City, or hanging out in her hometown of Memphis, TN. In 2016 she published her first novel, Taylor Made, which made Amazon’s Top 100 Romance, as well as the sequel, Taylored to Perfection. In 2017 she will be releasing her latest novel, Sunday Love, and is currently working on her next project.

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=Mellie Jamison is afraid of the world after her security and innocence were stolen as a teen. Now in her early twenties, she’s content with her secluded lifestyle and her cat… at least, that’s what she tells herself. When a grandfather she never met leaves her an abandoned house, she has no choice but to set out on a journey she never wanted to take.

Smith Porter was living his dream until he was forced to give up his job as a police officer and return home to take over the family business. He’s now alone in the world, merely surviving on memories and emotionless attachments. So when his old partner calls in a favor, Smith agrees to flip the neglected house and keep an eye on Jay’s baby sister.

He’s a master at restoration and rebuilding, but Smith never expected that tearing the walls down around Mellie’s heart to be his most difficult project yet. And when her life is threatened, keeping her safe is the most important job he’ll ever have.

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The author is hosting a release day giveaway on her page. Enter HERE.

This Giveaway is open to everyone who enters!

Anna began writing when she thought the world would want to hear her sick lyrics through song. Since then, she’s realized her childhood dream wasn’t so far-fetched, just misguided. Now she writes romance with real emotions and happy endings. If Anna isn’t writing or reading, she can be found by a space heater drinking a ridiculous amount of Diet Dr Pepper. She also likes to hang out with her husband and two boys. If it wasn’t for them, she wouldn’t ever leave the house. Anna was born in Wisconsin but now lives in the Evergreen State.

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