See My Review for this #mustread Here!!!

“Dear Ava is heartwarming and angsty and don’t get me started on Knox. Read this book! You will love Ava’s fight and Knox’s alpha.”

—Tijan, New York Times bestselling author

Wall Street Journal bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills delivers a gripping enemies-to-lovers, secret admirer, high school romance with Dear Ava, available now!

The rich and popular Sharks rule at prestigious, ivy-covered Camden Prep. Once upon a time, I wanted to be part of their world–until they destroyed me.

The last thing I expected was an anonymous love letter from one of them.

Please. I hate every one of those rich jerks for what they did to me. The question is, which Shark is my secret admirer?

Knox, the scarred quarterback.

Dane, his twin brother.

Or Chance, the ex who dumped me. . .

Dear Ava,

Your eyes are the color of the Caribbean Sea.

Wait. That’s stupid.

What I really mean is, you look at me and I feel something REAL.

It’s been ten months since you were here, but I can’t forget you.

I’ve missed seeing you walk down the hall.

I’ve missed you cheering at my football games.

I’ve missed the smell of your hair.

And then everything fell apart the night of the kegger.

Don’t hate me because I’m a Shark.

I just want to make you mine.

Still.

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Excerpt

“What do you want?” Knox says with as sneer as I ease in the football locker room. Cold eyes flick over my cheer skirt then move up and land on the hollow of my throat. It’s not cool enough at night for our sweater uniform so tonight my top is the red and white V-cut vest with CP embroidered on my chest.

“Where’s Chance?”

He whips off his sweat-covered jersey along with the pads underneath. “I don’t keep tabs on my best friend for you. Get out—before I scare you.”

He’s scaring me already.

But I can’t stop looking at him.

His shoulders are broad and wide, his chest lightly dusted with sparse golden hair, tan from the sun, rippling with powerful muscles, leading down to a tapered and trim waist. He has a visible six-pack, and my gaze lingers briefly on a small tattoo on his hip, but I can’t tell what it is. He isn’t brawny or beefy-looking like one might expect from a guy blessed with his athletic prowess, but sculpted and molded and—

Dropping my gaze, I stare at the floor. I shouldn’t be ogling him. Chance is my maybe-boyfriend.

I hear male laughter from one of the rooms that branch off from the locker room, maybe the showers, and I deflate, guessing that’s where Chance is.

Glancing up, I intend to ask him to tell Chance I came by to congratulate him on his two touchdowns, but my voice is frozen. Knox has unlaced his grass-stained pants and is shucking them off. His legs are heavily muscled and taut, unlike the leaner build of Chance. His underwear are white and tight, cupping his hard ass, the outline of his crotch—

“Like what you see, charity case? You can look, but you can’t touch.”

Anger soars, replacing my embarrassment. I know I’m just the scholarship girl at Camden, but why does he have to constantly remind me?

“Don’t worry about me touching anything. I don’t like ugly.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. I meant his superior attitude, not his face, but I see the moment when he freezes and takes it the wrong way.

He touches his face, tracing his scar while his jaw pops. “Get the hell out. Only players allowed in here.”

I pivot and go for the door, forcing myself not to run. “Asshole,” I mutter.

His laughter follows me.

About Ilsa Madden-Mills

Wall Street Journal, New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills is best known for her angsty new adult romances and romantic comedies.

Eight of her eleven novels have placed in the Amazon Top 10 Best-seller List: Dirty English #1; Fake Fiancée and I Dare You #2; I Bet You, Filthy English, and Very Bad Things #6; Boyfriend Bargain #8; The Last Guy, her collaboration with Tia Louise, #4.

A former high school English teacher, she adores all things Pride and Prejudice, and of course, Mr. Darcy is her ultimate hero.

She’s addicted to frothy coffee beverages, cheesy magnets, and any book featuring unicorns and sword-wielding females. Feel free to stalk her online.

Connect with Ilsa

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See My Review for this #mustread Here!!!

 

“This series will forever be one of the best.” –Goodreads Reviewer

Dying for Rain, the captivating and unforgettable conclusion to The Rain Trilogy from BB Easton, is available now!

What could be worse than knowing the exact day the world is going to end?

Waking up to find out that it didn’t.

The post-April 23 world is a lawless, senseless, ruthless place, but it’s not loveless. At least, not for Rain and Wes.

But when the government begins holding daily televised executions as a demonstration of their power, that love is put to the ultimate test:

Sacrifice one life to save the many?

Or sacrifice many to save the one?

 

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Start the trilogy with Praying for Rain!

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Excerpt:

My heart thuds in time with his footsteps as they echo down the hallway, and Rain’s heart beats even faster where it’s pressed against my chest.

She’s here.

Holy shit.

She’s actually fucking here.

I wrap my arms around her trembling body and squeeze so hard I’m afraid I might crush her. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I close my eyes and pretend that time has stopped, just for us. That tomorrow isn’t coming. That we’re fleshy statues now, and we can stay like this forever.

But we can’t because Rain’s trembles are now full-body shudders as the sob she’s been trying to hold in leaks out all over my chest.

“Wes,” she cries, burying her face in my neck. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have—”

“Shh.” I smooth a hand over her hair and feel her breath, hot and desperate, on my skin.

Rain lifts her tear-streaked face. Her pouty red lips tremble as they pull into a frown, but before she can let out another sob, I seal her mouth with mine. She tastes sad and girlie—all salty tears and cherry lip gloss—but she kisses me back with the determination of a woman. Her tongue slides and swirls around mine. And her hands dive into my hair, holding me like a balloon in danger of floating away. Then, her kisses begin to roam.

“I love you so much,” she murmurs, kissing my cheek.

“Oh my God, I missed you.” Her kisses trace the line of my jaw.

“This is all my fault.” She breathes against my neck. “I’m gonna get you out. I promise. I’ll … I’ll figure something out.”

“Hey.” I capture her face in my hands and tilt it back so that I can stare directly into her wide, panicking eyes when I tell her, “I’ll get myself out. Do you hear me? You shouldn’t be here.”

Rain’s eyelids close as she exhales a quiet, shuddering sob. “This is the only place I want to be.”

Without looking up, Rain grips my zipper and slides it down my chest. I grit my teeth as she reaches in and wraps her arms around my exposed torso, pressing her wet cheek against my bare skin. My eyes sting. My lungs scream for air. Nothing fucking hurts as much as this woman’s touch. It filets me like a dull knife. At first, it hurt because I realized that no one had ever cared for me like that before. Then, it killed me because I knew once she left, no one ever would again. But now? Now, her love cuts me down where I stand because I can no longer deny how much I want it.

I don’t want to die for her or let her go or try to convince myself that she belongs with someone else. I never did. The soul-crushing truth is that I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want her by my side and in my bed and in my life forever. I still don’t believe that God will let me have her, but until he pries her out of my cold, dead hands, I’m going to keep fighting.

About BB Easton

BB Easton lives in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia, with her long-suffering husband, Ken, and two adorable children. She recently quit her job as a school psychologist to write books about her punk rock past and deviant sexual history full-time. Ken is suuuper excited about that.

Praying for Rain is BB’s first full-length work of fiction. The idea, fittingly, came to her in a dream.

If that sounds like the kind of person you want to go around being friends with, then by all means, feel free to drop her a line. You can find her procrastinating at all of the following places:

Connect with BB Easton

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https://www.artbyeaston.com/

 

See My Review for this #mustread Here!!

 

Love is a battlefield for a quirky matchmaker and the cocky football star who hires her to find him a wife.

Rules of Engagement, an all-new laugh-out-loud standalone sports romance from J.T. Geissinger, is available now!

As the owner of Perfect Pairings matchmaking service, Maddie McRae earns her living helping others fall in love. Dubbed the Wedding Whisperer due to her success getting couples down the aisle, the sweet Southern belle knows that the foundation of wedded bliss is built on similarities: opposites might attract, but they don’t stay together.

Which is why she’s holding out for her own Prince Charming, a perfect gentleman who will arrive one day and sweep her off her feet with his devotion, kindness, and charm.

Enter Mason Spark.

Rude, arrogant, and notoriously allergic to monogamy, the hottest quarterback in the NFL is Maddie’s polar opposite. He’s also her new client. Her gorgeous, infuriating new client who’s paying her an outrageous sum of money to find him a wife. With his multi-million dollar contract on the line due to his behavior on and off the field, bad boy Mason is willing to pretend to settle down.

But when he starts to fall for the adorkable matchmaker who can’t stand him, the playboy finds himself in the game of his life to keep something he never thought he’d lose—his heart.

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Excerpt

He jerks his thumb at his mansion. “Don’t you want a tour?”

“Of Hearst Castle? No, thanks.”

His expression tells me how incomprehensible that is. “Everyone always wants a tour. Always.”

“I mean, it’s a very nice place, I’m sure.”

Now he looks insulted. He turns to stare at the house, then turns back to me. “Nice?”

“Please don’t take it personally. I’m not trying to start World War III here. A house like that just isn’t my thing.”

“Your thing?”

“Will you stop repeating everything I say?”

“It’s just that I’m having trouble with the fact that you don’t like my house. Everybody likes it. Everybody. Especially women.”

I sign in exasperation. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Mason, I could give a flying fig what everyone else thinks. I’ll take my cozy little cottage over this place any day.”

“But why?”

I fold my arms across my chest and turn my torso toward him. “Why are you so upset that I don’t like it when you don’t like it, either?”

He shouts, “I never said I didn’t like it!”

“You didn’t have to. The closer we got to it, the more you constipated you looked.”

“That’s just my face!”

“Baloney. You hate your house. Admit it.”

Wild-eyed and wound up, he stares at me for a long, silent moment. Then he exhales in a huge gust and drops his head into his hands.

He says miserably, “I totally hate it. It’s awful, isn’t it?”

I pat his shoulder. “It’s beautiful, elegant, and absolutely ridiculous. Have you thought about asking the state legislature if they need new headquarters?”

He moans into his hands. “I don’t even have any furniture except a bed. You should hear how bad it echoes in there. And everything is marble, so it’s always freezing cold. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and think I’m sleeping in a mausoleum!”

I can’t help myself. I start laughing again.

He lifts his head and glares at me. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s so funny I can’t stand it.”

“Do you have any idea what I paid for this place?”

“Your gargantuan mausoleum?” I squint at it through the window. “I dunno. Bazillions?”

“Exactly! Bazillions!”

“I’m no financial whiz, Sparky, but I think they saw you coming.”

When he groans and drops his head against the headrest, closing his eyes, I try to reassure him. “I’m sure there’s some oil baron with twelve ex-wives and a hundred kids who’d love to move into it. With all the members of his country club. And their housekeeping staff.”

Mason opens his eyes and glares at me.

I try to stifle another laugh, but fail. “And the entire population of Portugal.”

“Ha ha.”

“Oh, lighten up. It’s not like you can’t sell it.”

Sounding panicked, he says, “But where would I live?”

“You say that like there are zero options between here and a cardboard box.”

“Name one.”

“There’s a house for sale at the end of my block.”

That astonishes him so much it leaves him speechless.

“You’re right,” I say solemnly. “It’s only a three-bedroom. There’s not enough space for both you and your ego.”

He looks away. “I’m just surprised you’d want me living on the same street as you.”

“Are you kidding? Imagine how much fun we could have screaming obscenities at each other over the backyard fences. The neighbors would love it.”

When he glances back at me and sees me smiling, he smiles, too. “Yeah, especially when they hear your PG version of cursing. ‘Dingwaddle’ this and ‘flying fig’ that. They won’t even know what language we’re speaking.”

We smile at each other so long it starts to get uncomfortable. I look away, patting my hair to make sure no stray strands have escaped from my bun.

After a rough throat clearing, Mason says, “I guess I’ll go in, then.”

“Okay. Goodnight. And thanks again for dinner. I love that place.”

When he doesn’t respond, I glance over at him. He’s staring back at me with the same warm look that flustered me at the restaurant. “You’re welcome, Pink. Anytime.”

“So I’ll send you all the information on Stephanie as soon as I vet her file. Okay?”

“Sure. Looking forward to it.”

An awkward silence follows. Finally, Mason breaks it by saying, “Sweet dreams.” He opens the door and starts to get out.

“Wait.”

He turns to me, his hand on the door and a question in his eyes.

“I, um, I need to say something.”

He groans. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

“No, this isn’t anything about you. You haven’t done anything wrong. This is about me.”

Eyes alight, he settles back into his seat. “This should be interesting.”

I search his face before I speak, because I want to be sure I don’t miss any change in his expression. “I’m sorry for teasing you about your ego. It’s not nice. And I don’t want you to think that I think there’s anything wrong with you, because I don’t.”

His face goes through several different emotions before it settles on something I can’t identify. It’s part pain and part pleasure, with a whole lot of ambivalence thrown in.

He says softly, “I know you don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. Which is what makes me assume your parents must’ve dropped you on your head a lot when you were a baby.”

“Oh, for crying out loud. I’m trying to apologize here!”

He grins. “You did. I heard you. And you don’t have to do it again, because I like it when you give me shit.”

When I quirk my lips, he amends quickly, “The business. I meant I like it when you give me the business. Nobody else mouths off to me the way you do.”

“Good to know,” I say, smiling. “Now that I know you like it, the gloves will come off, pal, so you better watch out.”

“I can hardly wait.”

We sit there grinning at each other, until Mason says, “Get outta here. I’ll talk to you next week.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

Then it all falls apart in slow motion.

I don’t know what makes me do it. I honestly don’t. One minute we’re smiling and saying goodbye, the next minute I’m impulsively leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Only he’s turning his head, so my target moves.

Where his cheek was supposed to be, suddenly his lips are there instead.

His warm, soft, beautiful lips, which part when they meet mine.

About J.T. Geissinger

J.T. Geissinger is a bestselling author of emotionally charged romance and women’s fiction. Ranging from funny, feisty rom coms to intense, edgy suspense, her books have sold more than one million copies and been translated into several languages.

She is the recipient of the Prism Award for Best First Book, the Golden Quill Award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, and is a two-time finalist for the RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America®. She has also been a finalist in the Booksellers’ Best, National Readers’ Choice, and Daphne du Maurier Awards.

Her first novel was published in 2012. Since then she’s written eighteen more novels. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, drinking wine, surfing the internet, and daydreaming about all the things she’s going to be when she grows up. She lives near the beach in Los Angeles with her husband and deaf/demented rescue kitty, Ginger.

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Website: http://www.jtgeissinger.com

 

See My Review for this absolute #mustread Here!!

 

Fashion Jungle by Kathy Ireland and Rachel Van Dyken

Release Date: January 28, 2020

Fashion Jungle, an all-new standalone contemporary romance by Iconic Supermodel, now Global Business Mogul, Kathy Ireland and #1 New York Times Bestselling Author Rachel Van Dyken.

Four women… Four very different paths. One incredibly cutthroat world.

Welcome to the Jungle.

As America’s sweetheart, Brittany is perceived as the “good girl.” The sort to bring her Bible to a photoshoot… only to garner the attention of a most unlikely suitor. Until one mistake irrevocably changes both of their lives forever. Fortunately, both now and then, Brittany has wonderful support systems, including her tribe.

The leader of the tribe and a model who’s fought every battle and obstacle in the industry, Zoe, knows her worth. Until a sex tape scandal rocks her world. She sees no choice but to put her trust in the one man she shouldn’t, to make it all go away and help her succeed. Unfortunately, not only is he mired in New York’s underbelly, he wants repayment… with interest. Namely, her hand in marriage.

Despite her seemingly perfect life, Everlee has problems of her own. Not only has her world-renowned photographer husband been cheating, but it’s actually much worse than that. The things surrounding what he’s done are so dark and dangerous, Everlee’s life may actually be in jeopardy.

And then there’s Danica, cold, dead in the ground Danica. Some secrets stay hidden while others are just waiting to be discovered- hers has the power to alter the industry forever.

In the world of the Fashion Jungle, it’s easily eat or be eaten… but, if you make it out alive, you just might have a story to tell – though it will likely be one of secrets, lies, deceit, and loss.

Strap on your stilettos, it’s about to get wild.

Based on true stories.

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Excerpt:

“I think I may come here every night.”

“Be my guest,” Dane said, looking away as if he were bored; when in reality, his heart was racing.

Frederick would crack. His shirt was open now, his eyes closed. The habit would continue as it always did. Wouldn’t it?

He would self-destruct.

All men eventually did when it came to Dane.

The ones who didn’t, well… they weren’t alive to say otherwise, now, were they?

“Have fun.” Dane stood, patted Frederick on the back, and shared a knowing look with the woman currently straddling the man’s lap. “Make it worth his while but remember our rules.”

Dane shoved the guilt aside as he walked off.

The guilt of what this would do to Everlee.

Then again, Everlee didn’t know what he did.

She didn’t know the secrets Frederick kept.

That he wasn’t who she thought he was.

Then again, nobody really did.

Only Dane.

Because he’d collected everything he could on Frederick for a year and was less than impressed by the sort of man he was.

“Interesting club,” Ronan said once Dane reached the bar. He was flanked by two bodyguards.

“They aren’t necessary,” Dane said in an unemotional voice, pointing to the security. “No weapons allowed, no fighting, only pleasure.”

“And yet, here you are, talking to me.” Ronan leveled him with a glare. “What do you want, Dane?”

“Is that how you speak to an old friend?”

Ronan let out a snort. “We’ve never been friends. We’ve only tolerated each other because of the girls.”

The girls.

It was how they all referred to Brittany, Everlee, Zoe and Danica. Pain sliced through Dane’s heart, he couldn’t even say her name in his head without feeling it everywhere, all the way down to the marrow.

Shake it off.

They were women now.

Women with secrets.

Insecurities.

Girls who’d grown up too fast.

Females who were still fighting their way through the jungle of New York, barefoot and bleeding with fake smiles and deadly secrets.

“I need you to keep him in jail,” Dane said under his breath. “They say he’s getting out on good behavior.”

Ronan muttered a curse. “Let me guess, you want me to go have a golf game with the DA?”

“If you think that would help.” Dane tilted his head and narrowed his eyes on the politician, the man he used to trust as much as everyone else before Dane’s world came crumbling down around him by way of his sister’s death. “Then, yes.”

“Fine. This makes us even.” Ronan tried to walk off, but Dane grabbed him by the elbow and held him there, whispering in a low voice, “I will never be done with you… tell the former first lady hello. I loved what she was wearing while shopping on Fifth Avenue yesterday, the white made her look so innocent.”

Ronan let out a filthy curse and walked off.

And Dane?

Dane stared out across the club as a feeling of calmness washed over him. Chess pieces had been moved.

Now.

Now, he would wait.

About Kathy:

Kathy Ireland, Chair of kathy ireland® Worldwide (kiWW®), is a fashion and home industry icon, whose unprecedented, American entrepreneurial success, inspired the term, model-preneur. kiWW® is owned solely by Kathy’s family trusts. Kathy’s first novel, Fashion Jungle, is co-authored with #1 New York Times Bestselling author, Rachel Van Dyken. Kathy entered the “jungle” as a teenager, sheltered by loving parents, John and Barbara, of Santa Barbara, California. Covers of Vogue, Teen, and Cosmopolitan, led to a record 13 issues and all-time bestselling cover of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit. Kathy is the supermodel turned supermogul, hailed by Harper’s Bazaar as the most successful “model in the world.” kiWW® launched a single pair of socks, during Kathy’s first pregnancy. While selling over one hundred million pairs, retail expanded. kiWW® develops for home, office, fashion, luxury jewels, vacation destinations, weddings, lighting, flooring, furniture, personal care, media and more. After billions of dollars in sales, kiWW®, a private company, was reported on by Forbes. Kathy’s story continues in global media, including three Forbes covers (two USA, one Asia), Inc., Wall Street Journal, Cheddar, Success Magazine, television, and online. Kathy’s speaking events occur in America, the Middle East, Asia and beyond. Residing in Santa Barbara, California, Kathy Ireland and Greg Olsen are parents to Lily, Chloe, Erik and his wife Bethany, their daughter-in-love. Kathy holds numerous Honorary Doctorates of Humane Letters including one from CSU Channel Islands. Kathy’s philanthropy includes: women and children’s health, HIV/AIDS, Education, human freedom, life, wars against religious persecution and violence. Kathy is a Board Member of the NFLPA, WNBPA Board of Advocates, an Ambassador and donor for the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation. Kathy’s survival in the jungle is because of a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, His inerrant Word, and The Gospel, which is the Good News of Christ, crucified for all sins. Kathy believes everyone is loved by Jesus Christ, without any exceptions. Please experience Kathy’s journey of Faith, at kathyireland.com/fashionjungle/faith.

Connect with Kathy:

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About Rachel:

Rachel Van Dyken is the #1 New York Times Bestselling, Wall Street Journal, And USA Today bestselling author of over 80 books ranging from contemporary romance to paranormal. With over three million copies sold, she’s been featured in Forbes, US Weekly, and USA Today. Her books have been translated in more than 12 countries. The Matchmakers Playbook was also optioned by Passionflix and directed by Tosca Musk. She was one of the first romance authors to have a Kindle in Motion book through Amazon publishing and continues to strive to be on the cutting edge of the reader experience. She keeps her home in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, adorable son, naked cat, and two dogs.For more information about her books and upcoming events, visit http://www.RachelVanDykenauthor.com.

Connect with Rachel:

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