Monday, July 31, 2017

Ardent Prose Hosted Chapter Reveal for SO GOOD (An Alpha Dogs) by Nicola Rendell!







Coming August 7th















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AP new - synopsis.jpg




On the roof of a house outside Truelove, Maine, master carpenter Max Doyle looks down through a skylight and sees the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. She’s naked, she’s gorgeous, and everything about her is perfect, down to the ball-busting tattoo of a rose that wraps around her hip. But it isn’t just any woman making his knees buckle. It’s his best friend, Rosie Madden. And as he stands there, mesmerized and precariously close to toppling off the roof, he knows he’ll never, ever be able to look at her the same way again.

Rosie can’t help but notice that Max is suddenly acting very strange—lots of long stares, totally tongue-tied, and not at all like the slightly cocky hunk she’s proud to call her best friend. She can’t figure it out, until later that night when Max rescues her from the world’s worst date, challenges her to a game of pool, and shows her just exactly what she’s got him thinking about. Repeatedly.

But life is complicated. Rosie’s cat, Julia Caesar, wants to eat Max’s dog Cupcake for an afternoon snack. A dream job threatens to pull them apart. And another glance through the skylight changes everything, one more time. Yet try as they might, they can’t go back to being just friends, because falling in love with the one you’ve always adored?

It feels so good.









1
Max

I wasn’t planning to see her naked—I swear to God, I wasn’t. The day was a scorcher, one of those godforsaken New England summer days that makes a guy wonder how he ever said fuck you to winter. I stood on the roof her house, three stories above the Maine woods, with a far-off view of the ocean. It was pretty, yeah, like the kind of shit real estate companies put on complimentary calendars. But in that heat, it was like standing on top of a goddamned toaster, turned all the way to burnt. I could feel that shit in my socks, straight through my work boots. At my feet was a stack of shake shingles, old school, to replace the ones that were missing. Her house had a few slow leaks, and one over her bathroom that made the ceiling look like a huge Rorschach test. She said it definitely looked like a rose in bloom, I said it definitely looked like Batman. But I told her hidden meanings wouldn’t make shit for difference when the ceiling collapsed into the tub, so there I was. Fucking miserable work, but I was glad to do it. Glad to do anything for her—anything she needed at all.
In the forest on every side around the cottage, the cicadas screeched. It sounded like a needle squeaking off a record player. I knelt down by the stack of shingles, using my utility knife to score a line through one to fit a nearby gap. I snapped it with my hands and tossed the scrap end off the edge of the roof. A trickle of sweat ran down my forehead, and I wiped my face with my forearm. One droplet got away, sparkling in the sun. It caught my eye, and I watched it fall, as it landed on the skylight window with a splat.
​And that was when it happened. Boom.
​There she was, right under me. She couldn’t have been more than six feet away, but she felt even closer. I had a direct line of sight down into her gorgeous, soft cleavage, bright and pure in the sunshine. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the surprise of seeing her, but at first I didn’t really process that it was Rosie at all. My dude brain said, I want that woman.
​Then my regular brain said, Don’t be an asshole, man. It’s Rosie. Have some respect.
Respect I definitely had, but of course I’d thought about seeing her naked before. She was so fucking beautiful that any man would have thought about it. Sometimes, like right then looking down into her dress, I couldn’t fucking help it. Sometimes we’d be out doing something ordinary, like eating dinner, or I’d be changing her oil, or she’d be teaching me to do shit I should have learned at some point in the last 34 years, like iron a dress shirt without screwing up the collar, and I’d catch myself watching her cleavage rise and fall as she breathed, or thinking how nice her legs were, and I’d think, Holy hell.
Now she was directly underneath the skylight. The angle of the sun cast my shadow down the roofline, away from the skylight, so I didn’t give myself away. Like that, I watched her. I gave in to my dude brain and just took her in. Her light brown hair glinted, and a beam of light caught the curve of her shoulder.
That was when the goddamned striptease started, beginning with the left strap of her sundress.
Her movements were graceful, sexy, sassy—the sway of her hips, the shake of her shoulders. I realized I might be in real fucking trouble, because I loved that sexy sass. It wasn’t normal Rosie-cute. It was naughty, like nothing I’d ever seen her do before. I liked it so much, I couldn’t look away. She shimmied out of her sundress, and it fell to the floor in a pool at her feet. No big deal, I tried to tell myself. I’d seen her in her bikini a thousand times. This was no different from that.
Except it was, because then she reached around to undo her bra. Before I could tell myself Don’t look, dude. It’s Rosie, don’t look, it was too fucking late. The straps slid down off her shoulders, and for one perfect second got caught on her nipples, swinging in the air before falling to the floor.
Holy…
I pressed my clenched fist to my mouth and groaned into my hand. All my blood was leaving my head. The roofline was getting wobbly.
It wasn’t like I didn’t know her curves; we’d spent whole summers on the beach—I knew her shape and her softness, I knew her lines and her freckles. Every curve of Rosie Madden was sacred in my book. Fucking douchebags on the beach giving her eyes had to answer to me and my eyes, right behind her. She did that to me—I was one punch away from defending her honor, always. But this? This was different. Seeing your best friend in a bikini at a clam bake is one thing. Protecting your best friend from assholes with wandering eyes is part of the guy-girl best friend creed. But seeing your best friend, absolutely naked in her bedroom, without knowing she can see you? That was a different deal.
…Shit.
Part of me knew I should keep my eyes off of her. She thought she was in private, I had no business spying. Anyway, I didn’t want to be that guy. I hated that guy. But the other part of me, fuck. The other part of me was nothing but want.
Then she bent at the hips, and time slowed down, like some kind of stop-motion Jackie Chan kung fu sequence. All the cicadas went silent, at least in my head they did. The wind stopped blowing through the trees. It was just her, and her perfection, in the sunshine underneath me. I felt like I was on one of those glass-bottomed boats, looking at a world I never knew existed.
She tossed her bra aside, and it landed on her neatly made bed. She shimmied out of her panties, shaking her ass as she did. I growled into my fist, and that’s when I went down into a crouch.
Because as she shimmied I saw it in a V above her ass. My kryptonite. A skimpy thong.
All these years, all these decades, I’d had her pegged for cute cotton panties—pastel polka dots, thin stripes, shit that was sweet and sensible. But I was so fucking wrong. Black. Strappy. Tiny. Not sensible at all. Now it was in a rolled-up ball at her ankles. Using her toes, she plucked her panties from the floor, and caught them on one finger.
Fucking A.
She was completely naked, not a thread on her. Every thought I’d ever had got sucked out of my brain, like dishwater down the sink drain. What was left was only one true thing, and it wasn’t about her ass, or her skin, or her breasts. It was the one thing I think I’d always known but never let myself feel. Until that moment.
She is the most beautiful woman in the world.
Part of the reason I thought that was, yeah, obviously, she was fucking stunning, every inch of her straight out of a dream. Not just my dream, either. Guys would slow down on Main Street to give her the elevator stare, and I’d quietly crack my knuckles and give them don’t-you-fucking-dare stares. But the other part, the part that wasn’t in my gut but that was in my heart, was that I fucking adored her. Adored her so hard it hurt.
She crouched down to pick up her dress, lifting the delicate straps with her small, sweet fingers. She pivoted, so I had a view of her other side of her body for the first time. There it was.
The tattoo.
I groaned again. I wasn’t prepared for this shit; three stories up, that body was dangerous. It was a rose tattoo, snaking around her hip, on the milk-white skin that was always under her bikini bottoms. The part of her I’d never seen. It was serious ink, real art, not some namby-pamby temporary tattoo or some amateur shit she might’ve gotten in an hour at a tattoo parlor on a dare on a cruise to Puerto Rico. It was complicated, detailed, and artful. Multiple visits to some tattoo artist, touching that creamy skin—goddamn.
It took every fucking ounce of strength I had, but I did manage to look away. I felt as disoriented as if I’d been sucker punched. Not cotton—lace. Not cute—hot. Not my friend—my fucking fantasy.
She was so important to me, such an integral part of my world, that I’d never let myself think of her as more than what she was. She was like running water, or electricity, or the sunshine itself. She was one of those things that was perfect exactly as it was, and one of those things only an idiot would want to change. I never looked at her and thought, I wish I could have more of her than I do already. That would be like thinking, I wish I could turn that cold glass of water into a swimming pool. Or, I wish electricity came through the air. Fuck that noise. Perfect things are perfect things, and Rosie Madden was a perfect goddamned thing, from the tips of her toes to the freckles on her nose. And that rose, holy fuck, that rose.
I was strong, but not that strong, and I let my eyes move down again. She’d disappeared from view, mostly, except for the edge of her ass. I watched her rifle through her closet, and a few dresses fluttered onto her bed. On her bedside table, I caught a glimpse of the picture she always kept there, of the two of us together. The memories flew back at me like a runaway train. The first time I’d ever seen her was the day my parents and I moved to Truelove, at the start of middle school. The first time I ever saw her, she was volunteering at the community gardens. She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and I thought she’d looked super badass. I’d helped her dig up carrots and had been too fucking tongue-tied to say a goddamned word.
That’s how I felt, all over again times a thousand.
I’d never made a move. She’d cried on my shoulder through a line of guys who were never good enough for her. Jocks and pricks and a brief and seriously unfortunate stint with a guy who was a drummer for a reggae band who I hated so much it made me grind my teeth. But I never said shit about it. She was perfect even when she made mistakes. Tips of her toes. Freckles on her nose.
Never mind that rose. Like Banksy took on a temple.
One more time, I glanced down. Now she was sitting on her bed, and I saw that dark V shadow between her thighs. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I watched her put on a pair of red panties. Equally skimpy, equally not-sensible, equally ball-busting. They were only tragic because they hid the parts of her I’d never seen before.
Christ. All. Mighty.
As the world started to spin, I realized fixing the shingles could wait. I’d been working on old houses long enough to know that if you found yourself on a dangerously sloping roof and felt like you might be less than 100% on the ball, you needed to reconsider your game plan. I needed to get my shit together—that body had me totally fucking derailed. So I made my way down the roof, basically bouldering down backward. I focused on my grip, and my steps, like a climber coming down from Everest without enough oxygen. When I got to the gutter, I worked my way around the corner, standing on the eave, and hooked my leg over my ladder, making sure to put one foot after another and keep a tight grip on every rung.
When I stepped off the ladder, I grabbed a bottle of water that she’d left for me and filled up my palm and then splashed my face. My sweat stung my eyes through the droplets of water, and I rubbed away the tears. I heard the hinges on the screen door creak. “All done?” she asked.
I opened my eyes. They stung like hell, but I didn’t give a fuck. There she was, in a dress I’d seen before. Striped and sweet. But now I knew the secret. There were red panties under there. Red. Cherry red. My eyes fell on that part of her hip that I knew was inked.
“Max?”
I managed somehow to snap out of it. “Sorry. Getting there. Spotted something weird with the skylight.”
Rosie cocked her head. “Were you up there? Above my room?”
Awesome, dude. Smooth. “Just noticed it out of the corner of my eye.”
“I don’t like you being on the roof.” She pursed her lips. “Too steep. Promise you’ll get some ropes up there or something? Promise?” She reached out and put her hand to my arm, her fingers with their short pink nails pressing into my tanned skin. I had a quick but totally unavoidable image of her gripping my forearm in a very different situation. I want that. So fucking...
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
When I didn’t answer—I knew that if I opened my mouth the first words out would be You. Me. Right Now.—she looked up at the roof and squinted into the sun. She peered suspiciously up at me and shifted her nose, kind of like a bunny. Adorable. She wasn’t very tall, so whenever she looked at me she had to lift her chin, which used to be cute. But now looked…like everything I’d ever wanted. “Have you had too much sun?”
​I was vaguely aware that she’d said some words, but I wasn’t hearing them because I realized that I couldn’t see her bra straps, so that had to mean she was she was wearing a strapless…
Knock. That. Shit. Off. “I’m good.”
“Mmm.” She nodded and furrowed her delicate eyebrows, which had never looked so pretty as they did at that moment. I didn’t even know eyebrows could be pretty. They’re eyebrows, for fuck’s sake. But suddenly I felt like for the last ten years, I’d been looking at her through a standard definition television, with a shitty cable connection. Now someone had handed me an HDMI cable, and she was in 1080 dots per inch. Christ.
“Lemme make you a sandwich. You’re acting strange.”
Rather than answer her, I dumped the remaining half a bottle of water over my head, like Andre Agassi used to do between break points at the French Open.
“Ham? Or turkey? I’ve got both. Or chicken salad!” She clapped her hands together, compressing her cleavage. “Do you want a pickle?”
She means an actual pickle, you fuckwit. “Surprise me,” I told her, and dragged my eyes off the curve of her cleavage. I grabbed the bottom of my T-shirt and pressed it to my eyes. I had to get out of there. I needed a cold shower, or a call from my tax guy, or an unexpectedly urgent trip to the DMV—anything to stop myself seeing her stark naked every goddamned time I looked at her. Anything to get my mind off that ink.
As I wiped my face, she cleared her throat, and I dropped my shirt. “What?”
She pressed her lips together and rocked back on her sandals. “Nothing!”
I followed her eyes and glanced down at my fly, but the stallion was still in the barn. “Come on,” I said, finding myself smiling right along with her. “What are you looking at?”
“Just…” She swallowed hard. “Looking good there, champ.” She glanced at my stomach, where I’d shown her my bare abs. She made a fist and gave me a mock punch, soft and sweet. “That P90X is working great for you.”
Here we go again with the fitness videos. For everything else she was—beautiful, smart, funny—she was also a fucking ball-buster sometimes. She’d worked up this whole narrative that I spent my nights with Tony Horton on my houseboat, getting cut and doing reps while I drank protein shakes with a straw straight from the blender. It was her only explanation for why I didn’t have a girlfriend. P90X it had to be, she’d said. Or maybe, she’d whispered like a co-conspirator, “Jazzercise.” Now, though, I had a better idea than ever about why I was so picky: not a single woman held a candle to her. I’d been fucking blind to it, but now the mist had burned right off. “I’ve never even seen the opening sequence. Never have. Never will.”
“They’re streaming now!”
​“Christ.”
Rosie snorted and made a long wheeeeee. “Sure. Surrrrrrre,” she said, stifling her giggle. “One ham-and-turkey, coming right up.” She spun on her sandals and disappeared into the house. Hips swinging. Red panties invisible, but not to me.
Not anymore.




AP  new -about the author.jpg


Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.



Author Links







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Friday, July 28, 2017

Review: Undeniable Attraction

Undeniable Attraction Undeniable Attraction by J.B. Heller
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Final Score - 4.5 Stars!

Review to come...

View all my reviews

IndieSage PR Hosted Cover Reveal for THE WILD by K. Webster!


The Wild

by K. Webster
Publication Date: August 7, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Taboo




I brought them to the wilderness because we couldn’t cope with our reality.
The plan was to make a new life that didn’t include heartache.

No people. No technology. No interference.
Just us.
A chance to piece together what was broken.

But the wilderness is untamed and harsh.
Brutal and unforgiving.
It doesn’t give a damn about your feelings.

Tragedy lives there too.
No escaping the truths that won’t let you go.

All you can do is survive where love, no matter how beastly, is the only thing you can truly count on.

Confusing. Wrong. Twisted. Beautiful. Sick.

Love is wild.
And we’re going to set it free.

Warning:
The Wild is an extremely taboo story. Most will find that the themes in this book will make you incredibly uncomfortable. This book is only for the brave, the open-minded, and the ones who crave love in even the most dismal of situations. Extreme sexual themes and violence in certain scenes, which could trigger emotional distress, are found in this story. If you are sensitive to heavy taboo themes, then this story is not for you.





About K. Webster

K Webster2

K Webster is the author of dozens romance books in many different genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. When not spending time with her husband of twelve years and two adorable children, she’s active on social media connecting with her readers.

Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen.

You can easily find K Webster on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads!

Website: www.authorkwebster.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bllgoP

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Foreword PR & Marketing Hosted Pubiversary Sale & Audible Release Celebration for HOOK & BURN (The Duplicity Duet) by Elisabeth Grace!

Release Date: July 26, 2017

Synopsis


The first time she got pregnant. The second time she got paid.

No one ever thinks they’re going to end up as a high-end call girl in Las Vegas. But life doesn’t always go as planned. I know this better than anyone.Over the years I've felt a lot of things about my occupation...but not regret—never regret. I have my reasons for doing what I do and nothing and no one has ever made me question them.UNTIL MARCO VALENTI.He changed me and I'd naively fed into the fairy tale.

But Marco wasn't my Prince Charming. He had secrets of his own. Secrets that would eventually rip away everything I held dear.



Purchase Links


Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2veVJ0i
Hook & Burn: The Duplicity Duet Audible Purchase Link: http://amzn.to/2vyi34o


Giveaway

$20 Amazon Gift Card


About the Author


USA Today Bestselling author, Elisabeth Grace, has a hot spot for alpha males and a soft spot for happily ever afters. She lives outside of Toronto, Canada with her husband, two small children, and killer cat. Her theory is that Satan himself spawned the white furball. She's almost always eaten a chocolate bar before 10am (don't judge) and has a mild, but healthy obsession with model David Gandy. ;)
If you're a lover of romance novels, hot sex in obscure places, alpha males, and a little LOL on the side than you may enjoy her work!

She LOVES talking with fellow readers about books! If you're the same she encourages you to reach out to her via one of her social media links!


Connect with Elisabeth


Facebook Author Page: http://bit.ly/2vyYw4Z
Goodreads Author Page: http://bit.ly/2vzgXWS
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/2uOBWqP



Lola's Blog Tours Hosted Cover Reveal for SAVING BRAD (The Kennedy Boys #5) by Siobhan Davis!

Today is the cover reveal for Saving Brad by Siobhan Davis! This cover reveal is organized by Lola's Blog Tours.



Saving BradSaving Brad (The Kennedy Boys #5)

By Siobhan Davis

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Age category: New Adult

Release Date: October 2017



Blurb:

An enemies-to-lovers romance from USA Today bestselling author Siobhan Davis. Standalone with an HEA and no cliff-hanger.



Brad

I’m in love with my best friend’s girl.

She knows it. He knows it. Everyone knows it.

Faye will never be mine, but try telling that to my stupid heart.

An endless rotation of girls streams in and out of my bedroom in a desperate attempt to forget her, but nothing eases the horrid ache in my chest. Rejection isn’t anything new for me, but it hasn’t gotten any easier.

Until she reappears in my life. Like an out-of-control tornado. Storming in, all fierce and angry, ready to steamroll everything in her path. Rachel is trouble with a capital T bundled in a gorgeous, sexy, Irish package.

She pushes all the wrong buttons, and I can’t decide if I want to yell at her or kiss her.

I should steer clear.

But I’ve never been very good at taking my own advice. Especially when it comes to girls I can’t have and shouldn’t want.



Rachel

I need to escape.

To put as much distance between me and that monster so I can start living my life.

Yet, even the vast Atlantic Ocean isn’t enough to sever the connection. To allow me to forget how he’s ruined me. His hold is more than just physical. He has a vise-grip on my head and my heart, and I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t function.

So, I do everything to blot it out.

Until he reappears in my life.

Brad McConaughey. So hot. So infuriating. So in love with my best friend.

Every word out of Brad’s mouth makes me want to throat punch him or kick him in the nuts.

But he makes me feel, and I hate him for it. A part of me might actually love him for it.

I should keep my distance, but like destructive magnets, we are drawn together.

This isn’t going to end well.

I know it. He knows it.

But we’re powerless to resist.




You can find Saving Brad on Goodreads



You can pre-order Saving Brad exclusively on Amazon

It will be available to read with Kindle Unlimited once released.



Previous books in this series

Finding KylerLosing KylerKeeping KylerLoving Kalvin


The first three books have to be read in order. The books after that can be read as a standalone and have a HEA and no cliffhanger. The Kennedy Boys series is free to read in Kindle Unlimited and book one Finding Kyler is currently available for only 0.99$ on Amazon



SiobhanAbout the Author:

USA Today bestselling author Siobhan Davis writes emotionally intense young adult and new adult fiction with swoon-worthy romance, complex characters, and tons of unexpected plot twists and turns that will have you flipping the pages beyond bedtime! She is the author of the international bestselling True Calling, Saven, and Kennedy Boys series.



Siobhan’s family will tell you she’s a little bit obsessive when it comes to reading and writing, and they aren’t wrong. She can rarely be found without her trusty Kindle, a paperback book, or her laptop somewhere close at hand.



Prior to becoming a full-time writer, Siobhan forged a successful corporate career in human resource management.



She resides in the Garden County of Ireland with her husband and two sons.



You can find and contact Siobhan here:

- Website

- Blog

- Facebook

- Twitter

- Google +

- Instagram

- Goodreads

- Amazon

- Kennedy Boys Newsletter




Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Review: Preach

Preach Preach by K. Webster
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Final Score - 5 Sinning Stars!

Review to come ...

View all my reviews

Review: So Good

So Good So Good by Nicola Rendell
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Final Score - 5 BFF to Lovers Stars!

This best friends to lovers story is a beautiful love story of two life long friends who don't see or acknowledge what other's have seen from the very start of their relationship - how well they compliment one another.

I had such fun reading this story and LOL in many parts - I may have embarrassed myself at times on public trans, but whatever ... this story was just that good!

Max is heavenly and Rosie is just the sweetest, most clueless character there ever was - you can't help but feel sad for her at not having realized what was in front of her all along was the one person she should always have been with.  Let's not forget Cupcake - don't even get me started on the cuteness of chihuahua and the deranged cat names Julia ... I love animals that are a central part of the story - it just makes it click more.

This is the very best kind of friends to lovers romance.  You become so invested in the relationship.
 That's not to say there aren't a few bumps along the way - it has to be kept interesting people! -
 but in the end, you get together forever. And the chemistry between the two WILL set your kindle on fire - it's just that GOOD!!!

A fantastic, fun, playful romantic comedy. I definitely recommend this one folks!


View all my reviews

Saturday, July 22, 2017

Review: Loving Kalvin

Loving Kalvin Loving Kalvin by Siobhan Davis
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Final Score - 5 Stars!

I have loved the Kennedy boys, mostly Kyler & Kalvin since the beginning of this series and have eagerly been awaiting Kalvin's story.  And it doesn't disappoint!  His story is about forgiveness, and the hope of a second chances with the one you lost.  I do have to say, that I went into this with blind hatred for Lana and what she put Kal though.  But, this story shows her side/perspective on their relationship.  And I have to admit, she got to me, where she kinda turned my love for Kal into a dislike. All throughout the book, after everything was revealed, I was worried with how it would all play out, especially after what they had been through and the big secret - but as usual, Ms. Sibohan Davis didn't let me down and gave me what I so desperately needed.

Siobhan knows how to write a love story about second chances in the aftermath of unspeakable betrayal and lies.  The "secret" that Lana kept had me livid and angry, but I put myself in her place and wondered, "what would I have done differently"?  Not much.   And even as pissed as I was, I couldn't deny the deep emotional connection that exists between Kal and Lana - they truly are each other's other half.

Now, next up in the series my bad boy Brad, and I'm so excited on how his book will go! Needless to say, I need his book now!!

View all my reviews

Friday, July 21, 2017

Social Butterfly PR Hosted Blog Tour for SEDUCING LOLA by Jessica Prince!

SBPRBanner-Seducing-Lola-BT

Seducing Lola
by Jessica Prince
Publication Date: July 18th, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance


Seducing Lola, an all-new romantic standalone from Jessica Prince is available NOW!!

Seducing Lola front cover high res


I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships. I’ve dated liars, cheaters, shoe fetishists, and everything in between. Sure, these experiences would make any woman cynical when it comes to dipping her toe back into the dating pool, but I used my past for good and made a career out of helping other women avoid going down the same paths I had.
And I was damn good at it.
Until a random act of fate set my life on a course I’d been avoiding for years, and put me in the crosshairs of a man that made me feel things I swore to never feel again.
Now I’m in his sights and it seems like he’ll stop at nothing to seduce the hell out of me. He might hold my career in the palm of his hands, but if Grayson Lockhart thinks he can blackmail me into submission with his sexy voice and sexy hands and sexy everything, then he’s…probably right.

Excerpt:


Prologue



If you’d have asked my twenty-year-old self what I saw in my future ten years down the road, I probably would’ve answered the same way as every other na├»ve co-ed living the college dream on Sorority Row.

I’d be married to the love of my life, raising our two perfect children in the suburbs—because the city is no place to bring up a family, obviously—and driving a top-of-the-line SUV that all the minivan moms would envy because I had way too much style to ever be caught dead driving a minivan.

Clearly, my twenty-year-old self was an idiot.

It was she who forgave—then was subsequently dumped by—my college sweetheart after finding him pile-driving my sorority sister from behind on the handmade quilt I’d spent countless hours creating out of his old high school football T-shirts as a birthday present. His brilliant excuse?

“You’re just not adventurous enough, Lola. She’s willing to try things in bed that you aren’t.”

Apparently refusing to allow him to film us having sex and entering it into a contest on a porn site was just too vanilla for him. Last I heard, he was making a killing on the amateur scene.

Unfortunately, my twenty-one and twenty-two-year-old selves weren’t all that smart either.

It was my twenty-one-year-old self who discovered I’d unwittingly been made a beard by Brad, the guy I had dated for six months, because his evangelical parents just “wouldn’t understand.”

BTW, Brad and Phillip’s wedding was a really lovely affair. He asked me to stand as his best woman—since he considered our relationship the reason he finally made his way out of the closet—but I turned down the honor, choosing instead to get annihilated on mojitos at the open bar.

My twenty-two-year-old self thought I had finally found a decent guy. That was until I came home to find him doing something I’ll never be able to unsee to a pair of Louboutins I’d spent the better part of a year saving up for.

The saddest part? I hadn’t even had a chance to wear them before his defilement. I didn’t have the heart to throw them in the trash, so I let him take them with him when I kicked his ass out.

I should’ve known better, honestly. It wasn’t like I’d grown up in a home with my very own personal June and Ward Cleaver. Oh no, my parents split when I was only six years old. And it was anything but amicable. My mom never kept her hatred for my father secret. And dear old Dad never hid the string of women he kept on tap, one for whatever mood he may’ve been in. It was shocking that I hadn’t grown bitter at an even younger age, having to deal with their drama, but I was in my early twenties and still a believer in happily ever afters.

Like I said, I was an idiot.

Now I know what you’re thinking. After three miserable failures, I was probably a jaded cynic who was convinced true love didn’t exist.

Well, you’d only be half right. See, I believed in love, sure… as long as it was happening to anyone other than me. I’d been the fateful target of that bastard Cupid’s stupid-ass arrow three times already; I had no desire to go for a fourth. I wasn’t anti-relationship when it came to other people. To each their own and all that jazz. And I didn’t hate men. I just didn’t believe they were of any use to me for anything other than a few hours of fun that eventually led to a—hopeful—mutual release before I sent them on their way.

I learned from my mistakes, grown wise as the years passed. I knew exactly what I wanted out of my life, and believe me, there wasn’t a shitty picket fence in sight. If the suburbs were for families, then the city was exactly where I was meant to be. I was a successful, accomplished thirty-two-year-old woman who’d gotten where I was in life by hard work, perseverance, and the cluelessness of women all around the world.

My name was known in households all throughout Washington State. I, along with my two best friends, hosted Seattle’s most successful female-based talk radio show, aptly titled Girl Talk. I’d managed to make more money in the past ten years by offering relationship advice to helpless women than I’d ever know what to do with.

It was safe to say the rose-colored glasses were off. I lived in the real world where men cheated and women drowned their sorrows in vats of Ben & Jerry’s.

Sure, I wasn’t living the future I saw for myself when I was twenty, but then again, at twenty, I still thought Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston were meant to be, that Wedding Crashers was cinematic brilliance, and that the whole Tom Cruise/Oprah couch jumping “I’m in love with Katie Holmes” thing was actually romantic. What the hell did I know back then?

A lot had changed over the years. And as I gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse apartment, overlooking the Puget Sound, I could honestly say without a shred of doubt that I wouldn’t have it any other way.

SL-AN

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Final Score - 5 Feisty Italian Stars!

This book had me either in tears or absolute full on snorting, giggling, laughing until no sound came out. I was so hoarse from the non-stop laughing, I may never be able to public transit again, least I look like a nutjob. But this story, was worth the odd looks! I FLOVE THIS BOOK.

Lola is ... me. I am the perfect example of foot in mouth syndrome, doesn't know when to shut up to save her life, and like her - I'm just fine with it. She's a real ball buster and I adorbs her being that way! Now, let's talk about Grayson Lockhart... because sweet baby jesus, he the walking definition of "sex on a stick" - and he knows it. Wanted to hate his cockyness, but if he's not also level headed, driven, determined, a bit cheeky, and super confident to boot. Of course the man would just exude sex - he's picture is probably next to its very definition in Webster's Dictionary! 

The comedy starts from their very first introduction and doesn't stop until end. Add in fellow hilarious characters such as Nana, a girl's double team of besties, and a best friend/man whore, and you too will be ROTFLYAO! Each character brings a uniqueness to story and a heartfelt endearment - I wish these characters were RL living and breathing people. We would totally have so much fun!

I don't think I've read a Jessica Prince book before, but I have to say this one is da bomb dot com! If you are like me, and you haven't either, BETTER GET ON IT - you will not regret it and flove it as much as I did. Fun, sexy and comedy, Grayson - what's not to like? This book will definitely have you swooning, so make sure you have a ready buddy who can pick you up off the floor afterwards!

About the Author:

Born and raised around Houston Texas, Jessica spent most of her life complaining about the heat, humidity, and all around pain in the ass weather. It was only as an adult that she quickly realized the cost of living in Houston made up for not being able to breathe when she stepped outside. That's why God created central air, after all.

Jessica is the mother of a perfect little boy--she refuses to accept that he inherited her attitude and sarcastic nature no matter what her husband says.

In addition to being a wife and mom, she's also a wino, a coffee addict, and an avid lover of all types of books--romances still being her all time favs. Her husband likes to claim that reading is her obsession but she just says it's a passion...there's a difference. Not that she'd expect a boy to understand.

Jessica has been writing since she was a little girl, but thankfully grew out of drawing her own pictures for her stories before ever publishing her first book. Because an artist she is not.


Connect with the Author:

Jessica's Princesses: http://bit.ly/JPsPrincesses