See My Review Below!!!

Junk Mail, a hilariously sexy standalone by New York Times bestselling author is live and available everywhere.

It all started with a sexy selfie. 🍆

A deliciously naughty, tell-everyone-you-know read!

About Junk Mail

It all started with a sexy selfie.

Texted to the wrong number.

Oops.

Not my finest moment—but I have nothing to be ashamed of.

She thought I was no better, and I quote, than the knuckle-dragging douche-bags she was never dating again.

It was a stupid dare from a girl I’d met online, but since she’d given me a fake number, I didn’t feel bad that my interests were suddenly focused elsewhere—on the fiery and sharp-tongued, Peyton that I found myself sparring with over text for the rest of the evening.

The following day, my case of mistaken identity came back to bite me in the banana.

When I strolled into the office, I was introduced to Peyton as the new client I needed to win over. The Peyton , in case you’re not tracking.

And let’s just say she had my full attention.

Brains? Check.

Beauty? Oh yeah.

And the best part? She hated me on sight.

Dear God, do I love a challenge.

Let the games begin.

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About Kendall Ryan

A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than three dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 2.5 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world.
Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than 70 times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine.

She lives in Texas with her husband and two sons.

Visit her at: www.kendallryanbooks.com for the latest book news, and fun extras.

Subscribe to the newsletter: www.kendallryanbooks.com/newsletter/

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My Review…

What a fun fast read! I couldn’t put it down until the end.

I really loved the premise of this story, a picture sent to the wrong number sets this whole story in motion.

The chemistry between Peyton and Josh is fantastically hot! I loved the humor between them and the innuendos were fabulous! They tried so hard to keep things professional between them and you have to give props for that!

I enjoyed the bit of angst, I think every good story should have that and this was perfectly played.

The secondary characters were fabulous and brought so much more to the story.  Grams gave such humor and I loved her forever young attitude! We all need a grandma like that!

If you are looking for a fresh story with heart, heat and humor, look no further! I can’t wait to see what Ms. Ryan comes out with next!

See My Review for this Must Read Here!!!

“You’re not just my muse,” he says. “You’re my everything. None of this would’ve been possible without you.”
A year ago, I’d have believed him—as I always have.
But after finding the photograph of a towheaded little girl with Brant’s sea-green eyes hiding beneath the leather organizer tray of his sock drawer last month, I don’t know that I can.
Brant kisses me once more before dragging the tips of his fingers down my arm and stopping to give my hand a squeeze. “Moffatt just walked in, and his pockets are looking a little heavy. Should probably say hello . . .”
He smiles at me, expecting a knowing chuckle, which I force myself to give him, and my chest tightens.
Extending his bent arm, he nods. “Come with me. I’ll introduce you.”
I’ve spent the majority of my adult life following this man through Moroccan souks and over Grecian cliffs, through ancient Mayan ruins and lush Amazonian paradises. I left Manhattan—the only home I’d ever known—because he asked me to. And then I made us our own little domestic nirvana in his depressing, hole-in-the-wall hometown of Stillwater Hills, New York, ignoring the gnawing homesickness that never quite passed. I cooked his favorite gourmet meals each night and learned to like his beloved jazz standards. I made love to him when I sensed he needed a release, even if I wasn’t exactly in the mood myself. I brought him coffee when he pulled all-nighters, and I massaged his shoulders when he’d spent too many hours hunched over his computer, knee-deep in edits.
But the one and only thing I could never give him was a family.
It kills me that someone else may have.
Slinking my arm into his and burying my unease, I feel like a fraud as he introduces me to real estate mogul Robert Moffatt and his stunning young wife, pedigreed and pregnant socialite Temple Rothschild-Moffatt, who clearly hasn’t let her third trimester keep her from dressing in head-to-toe Versace and six-inch stilettos.
Brant and Robert’s conversation fades to the background, and Temple excuses herself as I scan the gallery once more, my gaze landing on every pretty face in the room.
The cigarette-thin blonde with the faux fur stole.
The bookish brunette with the red-painted lips and clear-frame glasses.
The lavender-haired socialite who steals glances at my husband when she thinks no one’s watching.
It could be any of them.
And it could be none of them at all.
The only thing I know for sure is that needing to know exactly who she is is beginning to consume my every thought.
Brant’s hand slips to the small of my back, and he pulls me closer. The room spins, my breath shortens, and a prickle of sweat collects across my brow.
“Excuse me,” I say, interrupting their conversation and showing myself outside. I’ve never had a panic attack before, but I’m quite certain I’m standing at the water’s edge of my first one.
It’s mid-December, and the sidewalks are dusted with powdery snow. A few nearby shops are closed for the evening, but their holiday lights flicker in the windows, and holly wreaths hang on their glass doors. These things used to send a blanket of warmth cascading through me when I’d see them.
Now I feel nothing.
Gasping for air, I close my eyes and try to focus on the sensation of the chilled air in my lungs, and then I count backward from ten, telling myself that when I get to one, I’m going to be fine . . . at least for now.
Ten . . .
Nine . . .
Eight . . .
Seven . . .
“Nicolette.”
I open my eyes to find my husband standing outside the door to the museum, his hands shoved in the pockets of his Prada suit. The casualness in his pose is an insult.
“Talk to me,” he says before he strides toward me, head cocked ever so slightly. He looks at me like I’m an impossible riddle he can’t quite solve. “You’re not you, and you haven’t been all night.”
My lips part in response, but I don’t know what to tell him.
I’m still trying to figure out where to go from here—when to confront him, how to confront him, not to mention how I’m supposed to feel given the fact that I’ve conjured up some worst-case scenario over a single photograph.
Brant wraps his arms around me, the warmth of his body and heaviness of his hold equally comforting and suffocating.
“If you don’t mind,” I say, my voice muffled against his pristine suit jacket, “I’m going to catch a cab back to the hotel. I think I’m coming down with something.”
He pulls away, and his eyes rest on mine. Again, he doesn’t believe me, but at this point I don’t care. All I can think about is peeling myself out of this dress, yanking the bobby pins from my hair, and washing the makeup from my face before tears have a chance to ruin it.
Everything else I can deal with another time, when I haven’t had three glasses of champagne and unraveled myself all because a beautiful woman was staring at my photo for too long and then my husband greeted her with his signature dimpled smile and sparkling-green gaze.
Brant peers over my shoulder toward a set of oncoming headlights and lifts his arm to hail the taxi.
“Get some rest,” he says, gathering the train of my dress and helping me in. Closing the door, he motions for me to lower the window. “I’ll have my phone on if you need anything.”
I appreciate his concern, but I can’t deny the tiniest voice in the back of my head telling me how strange it is for him to send me off without a second thought.
Taking my hand from his, I give him a small wave, catching the glint of his eyes as they reflect in the full moon above. Once upon a time, those eyes felt like home every time I looked into them.
Now all I see is that little girl.

In her non-writing life, Minka is a thirty-something wife and mother who equally enjoys sunny and rainy days, loves freshly cut hydrangeas, hides behind oversized sunglasses, travels to warmer climates every chance she gets, and bakes sweet treats when the mood strikes (spoiler alert: it’s often).

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See My Review Here!!

My Life in Shambles by Karina Halle

Release Date: April 11, 2019

My Life in Shambles, a full-length contemporary standalone romance by Karina Halle.

When Valerie Stephens made the resolution to say yes to new adventures, she never thought she’d end up in the tiny town of Shambles, fake engaged to one of Ireland’s top rugby players. But there’s a first time for everything.

They say bad things happen in threes.

After my boyfriend broke off our engagement, and I lost my apartment, and was laid off from my job, I can more than attest to that.

They also say life happens when you say yes to new adventures.

So when my two sisters invited me to ring in the new year in Ireland, I decided to throw all caution to the wind and go for it. I was going to let “saying yes” be my new resolution.

Little did I know I’d spend New Year’s Eve having a hot and dirty one-night stand with Padraig McCarthy, one hell of a sexy Irishman. I also didn’t know that the brooding and intense sex god was one of Ireland’s top rugby players.

A rugby player with a proposition for me:

Come with him to his tiny hometown of Shambles and pretend to be his fiancé for a few days, just so that his ailing father can have some peace of mind.

It sounded simple enough.

It was anything but.

Not when a town gets up in your business, not when the media hunts you down, not when your past comes back in the picture, not when there are real hearts and feelings at stake.

Not when there are secrets that could break you.

They say life is what happens when you say yes to new adventures.

This is my life in Shambles.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Excerpt:

The rest of the evening starts to pass by in a bit of a blur.

The food comes, and suddenly I’ve never been so hungry in my life. I don’t even pull any of that dainty eating nonsense, you know the type you do on a first date with someone, all tiny nibbles and delicate wiping of the mouth with a napkin. No, I fill my damn mouth with food, dumplings and spicy meats and rice. I eat with abandon, like there’s no tomorrow.

Padraig does the same. It’s freeing. It’s funny. I keep making orgasm noises over it all and he keeps laughing, and we eat and eat, even feeding each other won tons at one point with shaky chopstick skills. Honestly, there’s never been anything sexier.

When we’re finally finished, we’re both full, more drunk than before, and a little greasy. I try to pay the bill but he insists (although I don’t even think they charged him for anything), and then as we leave the restaurant he grabs my hand.

I’m not a small-boned girl, but with his hand over mine, I feel like I’ve been reverted back to the hapless woman being led by an alpha caveman and I don’t mind one bit. The fact that his palm is warm in this snowy weather with the skin-to-skin contact sends consistent shivers down my back.

We stroll down the streets and I almost slip a few times, my bad balance combined with the snow making for a dicey situation. But each time Padraig grabs me and keeps me upright, and I have to admit, it’s kind of fun to be constantly falling into him. It’s like having a wall of bricks for support, if that wall of bricks was shaped like a rugby god.

I have no idea where we’re going. All I know is that it’s not even midnight yet.

He takes me to a bar and then a club, both of which are packed to the doors and have crazy long lines, both of which we bypass with ease because he’s Padraig McCarthy.

I’m not one for dancing and Padraig doesn’t strike me as the type either, but there’s something about the deep bass beats in this place, and the free-flowing champagne, courtesy of the club, that has us falling into a rhythm together.

At first we’re dancing apart but it’s not long before the inches between us close. The heat from his body and mine brews, and the electricity is flowing in sparks and jumps, moving to the erotic pulse of the music, mixed with the hope and hedonism of the crowd on this once-a-year night.

His hips bridge the gap, his strong palms running down the sides of my waist, my hips slowly swaying then grinding against him. I feel his erection burning through his jeans, the width and length taking my breath again, making me blush in such a way that I’m glad the lights are dim.

I’m both a young girl, naïve and inexperienced and shy as the very touch and proximity to him hurls me toward a sexual awakening, and at the same time I’m an old soul who has found her equal in another, whose body wants to know this stranger intimately, who isn’t scared at what’s transpiring, but is hungry instead.

Both of these sides are at war inside me, dancing around each other like a caduceus, until I’m dizzy with my feelings for him. This want, this yearning, this need for something new, something exciting and terrifying, it claws through me until I can’t ignore it anymore.

I glance up at Padraig and see only his eyes. Those deep, dark haunting eyes that glimmer with the pulsating lights and yet radiate with something as wanting and wicked as the feelings inside of me.

His hands go to the back of my neck and the small of my back. My chin tips up. The rest of the world fades away and I know when it comes back into focus, everything will be different.

Everything will change.

It takes a moment to change someone.

Sometimes it just takes a kiss.

Meet Karina:

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.

Connect with Karina:

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See My Review Here!!!

Crazy for Your Love by Lexi Ryan

Release Date: April 9, 2019

Crazy for Your Love, an all-new standalone contemporary romance by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lexi Ryan

A family wedding with a fake boyfriend, meddling parents, and an obsessive ex . . . What could go wrong?

The only thing worse than being single at my sister’s wedding is finding out that my ex will be there too. Not just any ex—the guy everyone expected me to marry, the man I came to Jackson Harbor to escape.

Now I need a date, and fast. Enter Carter Jackson—the firefighter who’s dealing with an unwanted five minutes of fame ever since a shirtless photo of him saving a puppy went viral. He’s warding off propositions left and right, and he needs a fake relationship as much as I do.

Sweet and sexy, Carter is completely off-limits. See, I have a rule. A no heartache rule. Not only is Carter my friend and a known heartbreaker, but his job as a firefighter puts him in danger daily, and that’s something I just can’t handle.

The commitment between us might be pretend, but the passion all too real. As crazy as it makes me, I have to keep Carter at an arm’s length. Even that might not be enough to spare my heart.

Download your copy today!

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Excerpt:

“The whole drive from the hospital, I told myself I wanted to check on you.” Carter wraps his hands around his coffee and looks up at me through thick, dark lashes most women would pay a premium for. “But the second I walked in the door, I knew that wasn’t what brought me here. I want to finish what we started.”

I bite my lip and whimper. “You’re killing me.”

“And when you look at me like that, all I want to do is seduce you into ignoring your better judgment.”

That! my traitorous body cries. Yes, let’s do that!

“But I get it,” he continues. “We’re friends, and as tempting as I find you—as tempting as I’ve always found you—if adding sex to our friendship is out of the question for you, this conversation is over. I want you, but I’m not enough of an idiot to ruin this just to take you to bed.”

My brain stumbles on as tempting as I’ve always found you before landing on adding sex to our friendship. Is that an option? Does that ever work? Crap on a cracker. I’ve known Carter for four years, and I’ve never had to exert so much self-control for something as simple as not straddling his lap.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice is low, a husky rumble that bypasses my brain and speaks directly to the parts of my anatomy I’d rather exclude from this conversation.

I’m thinking I want you too. I’m thinking we could be naked and in my bed in less than sixty seconds. “I’m thinking you should leave,” I blurt, pushing the words past the other really bad ideas on the tip of my tongue.

He blinks at me, then nods as he pushes out of his chair. “Sure. I understand.”

Jumping up, I catch his arm. I can feel the heat of his skin through the cotton of his shirt sleeve. “I’ve never done this.”

His eyes go wide. “Wow. I thought . . . Seriously?”

“Not sex, you idiot. The whole friends-with-benefits thing. I’m not sure I’m made that way.”

He’s quiet for a long beat. “If you need more than that from me, Tea, I—”

I press my fingers to his lips and shake my head before he can say anything else. I’m not hoping for more. More is out of the question for me with someone like Carter. But even so, I don’t want to hear that he doesn’t want anything either. I know it’ll feel like rejection—even if that makes me a hypocrite. “I don’t want more, but I don’t know if . . .”

I drop my hand from his mouth and lift onto my toes to press my lips to his. I want to know if it’ll feel like it did last night, and the second our mouths touch, I have my answer. Electric need zips through me. I loop my arms behind his neck, planning to take the kiss deeper.

He doesn’t let me. With a hand on either of my wrists, he pulls my arms away and steps back, his eyes dark. “I’ll go. You think. If we do this, it needs to be a decision, not an accident.”

I nod and watch him leave, but I stand there for a solid five minutes, considering running after him.

About Lexi:

Lexi Ryan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of emotional romance that sizzles. A former academic and English professor, Lexi considers herself the luckiest girl around to make a living through storytelling. She loves spending time with her crazy kids, weightlifting, ice cream, swoony heroes, and vodka martinis.

Lexi lives in Indiana with her husband, two children, and a spoiled dog. You can find her at her website: http://www.lexiryan.com

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Amazon: http://amzn.to/2bIYjGa

See My Review Here!!!

Eleanor & Grey, an all-new beautiful and emotional standalone from Brittainy C. Cherry is available now!

Greyson East left his mark on me.

As the young girl who first fell for him, I didn’t know much about life. I did know about his smiles, though, and his laughs, and the strange way my stomach flipped when he was near.

Life was perfect…until it wasn’t, and when we were forced to go our separate ways, I held on to our memories, let go of my first crush, and wished for the day I’d find him again.

When my wish came true, it was nothing like I imagined.

I couldn’t have known when I took the nanny position that it would be his children I looked after, that my new boss would be that boy I used to know, that boy who was now a man—a cold, lonely, detached man.

The smile and laugh I had loved so much were gone, now distant memories. Every part of him was covered in a fresh pain.

When he realized who I was, he made me promise to do my job and my job only.

He made me promise not to try to get to know him, not to recall the memories I’d treasured all this time.

But, sometimes, I saw the boy I’d once known in his stormy eyes. I saw the Greyson who smiled and laughed, who had stolen a young girl’s heart, and there was no doubt in my mind that this boy was worth fighting for.

I was given a second chance with the one who’d left his mark on me. All I hoped was that somehow I’d leave a mark on his soul, too.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Excerpt:

Eleanor

Thirty-two years old

Greyson’s assistant, Allison, finished giving me a tour of the house. “Okay, I think that’s everything. I’m going to head out now, but go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Get used to the property. Mr. East knows you’re here today, so don’t feel like you aren’t allowed to wander around a bit. If you need anything, my cell number is on the contact list in the book, or you can email me. If nothing comes up, I hope your first day goes well. Claire will be with you Monday to make sure the transition goes smoothly.”

I must have looked terrified because as Allison grabbed her coat and purse to leave, she gave me a light squeeze on the shoulder.

“You’re going to be fine, Eleanor. Mind over matter. You got this. Let’s touch base later in the week so I can check in on how things are going.”

“Sounds great. Thanks, Allison.”

After she left, I took a deep breath and flipped through a few pages in the binder. Then, I did a once-through of the house, familiarizing myself with whose room was where. There was something so unsettling about the quietness of Greyson’s home. It was so dark with an odd gloomy feeling attached to it, haunting almost. I didn’t mean dark as in the lighting situation, rather it was the energy level. There was such a heaviness in the space.

The place felt like a house, not a home.

If I hadn’t known any better, I wouldn’t have believed a family lived there at all.

It felt so abandoned, almost like a memory frozen in time.

That might’ve just been my own thoughts, thought, due to knowing about the tragedy that had taken place in the lives of the individuals who lived there. With the number of books I’d read, it wasn’t inaccurate to say my mind wandered toward the dramatics.

I walked back into the kitchen, flipping through the binder, completely taken aback by the girls’ schedules. Between school, swim lessons, karate, piano lessons, physical therapy, and grief counseling, I wasn’t sure how they found the time to live a little.

“Eleanor.”

I leaped out of my skin at the sound of my name and turned to see Greyson standing behind me with an empty glass in his hand. He was dressed in a suit and tie, which was so strange to me.

Who wore a suit and tie in their own home?

I hardly wore pants when I was home alone.

“Oh, Greyson, hi. Sorry I’m still here. Allison was just giving me a tour, and she said it was okay to look around a bit more.”

“She made me aware.”

Wow. He had responded immediately, unlike the first time I saw him. I called that progress.

I smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back, and that felt like the oddest thing in the world. The old Greyson had been full of smiles.

“It’s a beautiful home,” I stated, unsure what else to talk about. “It’s massive. I swear, it’s like ten times the size of my place.” He blankly stared my way as I shifted from foot to foot. “I love the décor,” I blurted out, and I hated myself the second the words left my lips. Just walk away, Eleanor. Don’t be awkward. “Those throw pillows in your living room are to die for. Where did you get them?”

“The interior designer chose everything,” he replied dryly.

“Oh, right, of course. My interior designer is normally the clearance section at T.J. Maxx,” I joked. “Or on special occasions, Target.”

He didn’t laugh, probably because I wasn’t funny.

I wondered when was the last time he’d laughed.

Did he ever find anything funny anymore?

We kept staring at one another in the most uncomfortable silence, though I didn’t feel as if I could pull myself away from it. I probably stared at him too long, but how could I not? I’d gone fifteen-some years without looking at him. It was understandable that I wouldn’t be able to turn away quickly.

The awkwardness of it all finally came to a halt when Greyson cleared his throat.

“Eleanor?”

“Yes?”

“I came for water.”

“Oh?” I stared at him like an idiot, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights, waiting for his next words. I stood still as if he were going to expand on his interest in water. Was he offering me a drink? Were we going to sip water and catch up on things? Was I finally going to be able to ask him how he’d become the CEO of his father’s company at such a young age? What had happened to his father?

His stare narrowed, and his lips turned down in a displeased fashion. He nodded once.

“Hmm?” I asked.

He nodded more aggressively this time, gesturing past me.

I glanced behind me and realized I was standing right in front of the refrigerator, blocking the water dispenser. I stepped to the side, mentally beating myself up.

Idiot.

“Oh, right, of course. Well, I think I’m done here, so I’ll see myself out,” I stated, scrambling to grab my binder. “Have a good afternoon.”

He didn’t reply, but that wasn’t shocking. I was quickly learning that this new Greyson didn’t have nearly as much to say as the old one.

About Brittainy:

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

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

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

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