Cover Reveal & Exclusive Excerpt: Make Me Forget by Monica Corwin

November 3, 2017 by · Leave a Comment

MAKE ME FORGET
Genre: Dark Romance
Author: Monica Corwin
Release Date: February 1, 2018

He makes me burn. He makes me ache. He makes me forget.

Since grade school Murphy Wilcox and I fought incessantly. But one drunk night before my last military deployment changed everything. At least that is what he tells me. Along with the hundreds of scorching hot emails we shared.

Fast forward four years and Murphy is the only connection I have to my past. The only connection I have to the woman I used to be. Amnesia is a bitch but apparently so was I.

Make Me Forget is a dark romance, with a HEA, that touches on PTSD, mental health, and suicide. Follow Mara as she tries to learn who she really is.

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I brushed her still wet hair away from her cheeks and bent down to taste her again. The first time had been to shut her up, this time was all for me. I parted her lips with my tongue, anchored one hand in her hair and the other at her chin. Her moan almost broke me. The slight little brush of breath and sound melted every bone in my body and shot my cock to attention. Each charge and retreat spun tight the web of my feelings for her. I’d pushed them down deep so long ago. Now, with her nails marking me and our lips battling for dominance, they overflowed. In a hundred years, I’d never get enough of her. Mara Williams was my addiction. Not the vice I wanted, but the one I needed as much as oxygen or water.She severed the kiss with an arch of her neck, releasing her head back and crushing my fingers against the wall. I didn’t dare move, though, not with such lovely access to her long elegant neck. I dropped my mouth to the curve of her throat and kissed a breathy trail from clavicle to chin. Her hips shifted forward as if she were unwittingly trying to get closer, eliminate any distance between our bodies. The lingering scent of the hotel soap wafted from her clean skin.

I jerked her head back up by the hair, and her eyes snapped open. No fight there, almost a submission. An unexpected turn I could definitely play with. “On the bed, now.”

She blinked once, twice, but to my surprise, said nothing, simply stepped around me and perched on the edge of the bed. It squeaked with her minimal movements. In another life, we might play a game and try to make as much noise as possible. Or maybe I wanted the world to know this woman belonged to me, even if only for tonight. I’d waited long enough for the chance.

I stepped up, and her face sat inches from my cotton-covered hard on. If she were a woman I’d fucked before, I’d have taken myself out and invited her lips for a taste. But this was Mara, and I didn’t want to scare her too soon. “Do you want to see it?”

She swallowed heavily enough I could hear it, see it, and then she nodded almost desperately. I bent, pulled my boxer briefs off, and tossed them on top of my clothes. My dick was so hard, it ached. I palmed it, trying to slow down my reaction to her, my body’s response to every beautiful inch of her skin I still needed to see more of. Her eyes burned into me as she watched me stroke myself.

I released my cock, not wanting this to end sooner than I planned, and stepped closer. “Take off your clothes. This is happening.”

She let out a soft snort of laughter, and then she stripped her t-shirt off and shimmied out of her gray panties all while still sitting on the edge of the bed. I took my time looking her over. Her skin was bronzed to her mid-bicep and around her neck, but pale and creamy everywhere else. A farmer’s tan she’d gotten on deployment. It didn’t matter, I’d worship every part of her the same.

She licked her lips and scooted up the bed to lay on the pillow. It broke my heart the way she folded he hands across her smooth flat belly as if prepping for a medical exam. What the fuck kind of men had she been with before me? Ones who fucked on clean sheets, in the missionary position, on Tuesday’s? Anger shimmered through me. She deserved so much better than ordinary.

“Get your ass back down here. This will not be clean. This will not be civilized. And this will not be something you can lie back and take.”

 

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Jenn’s Review & Exclusive Excerpt: Burn For You by @JTGeissinger

October 18, 2017 by · Leave a Comment

BURN FOR YOU
Series: Slow Burn #1
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Author: J.T. Geissinger
Release Date: October 17, 2017

The marriage is fake. But for a sassy chef and an arrogant billionaire, the sparks are real…

Jackson “The Beast” Boudreaux is rich, gorgeous, and unbelievably rude to the staff at Chef Bianca Hardwick’s New Orleans restaurant. Bianca would sooner douse herself in hot sauce than cook for Jackson again, but when he asks her to cater his fund-raiser, Bianca can’t refuse, knowing the cash will help pay her mother’s medical bills. Then Jackson makes another outrageous request: Marry me. The unconventional offer includes an enormous sum—money Bianca desperately needs, even if it does come with a contract—and a stunning ring.

The heir to a family bourbon dynasty, Jackson knows the rumors swirling around him. The truth is even darker. Still, he needs a wife to secure his inheritance, and free-spirited, sassy Bianca would play the part beautifully. Soon, though, their simple business deal evolves into an emotional intimacy he’s built walls to avoid.

As the passion heats up between them, Bianca and Jackson struggle to define which feelings are real and which are for show. Is falling for your fake fiancé the best happy ending…or a recipe for disaster?


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See the BURN FOR YOU trailer: https://youtu.be/hpKswDZve24

“Ladies. How’re we doing?”Jackson stood in the doorway of the kitchen, looking at Claudia and me. It was the first time I’d seen him since I’d arrived at his house early this morning to start the setup.

“Everything’s under control,” I said. “Claudia’s doing a great job.”

She smiled tightly and adjusted her glasses again. I felt her gratitude for my small show of support. It was obvious how intimidated she was by Jackson. She could barely look him in the eye, probably because he was wearing a scowl as black as his outfit.

But I was used to that by now. I didn’t let it alarm me.

I asked him, “Is that what you’re going to wear?”

Jackson looked down at himself, then looked up at me with his brows drawn down over his eyes.

Seeing his murderous expression, Claudia ran out of the kitchen like her pants were on fire. “Fifty minutes, Bianca!” she called over her shoulder, then disappeared through the French doors.

Jackson didn’t seem to notice she’d left. He demanded, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

I shrugged. “Nothing, if you want people to think you’ve been living under a bridge.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. I tried to ignore how that made the muscles in his biceps bulge.

He said, “You must be mistaking me for someone who cares what people think.” Propping my hands on my hips, I examined his untucked T-shirt, wrinkled jeans, and scuffed boots, his unshaven jaw, and his hair that appeared to have last seen a comb when he walked by one that had fallen out of someone’s pocket into the street.

I said, “Lord knows I’m no style maven, and I dress for comfort more than anything else, but your guests deserve the best version of you, Mr. Boudreaux. I’m sorry to say this isn’t it.”

His glower was so searing it could have melted a weaker woman. But after the past few days I’d had, I was in an ornery mood. An ornery truth-telling mood, because I’d recently decided life was too short to beat around the bush.

Plus, his check had already cleared the bank.

“Oh, really?” said Jackson, his voice acidic.

“Yes, really.” We stared at each other. It must have been my imagination, but it felt like the temperature in the room jumped several degrees.

He snapped, “So what would you recommend I wear, then?”

“Do you own a suit?”

His expression turned even darker. “I hate suits.”

“But do you have one?” When he didn’t answer and just stood there glaring at me like he hoped a stray asteroid would smash through the ceiling and land on my head, I said, “That’s what you should wear. With a tie.” I looked at his boots. “And dress shoes.”

He ran a hand over his face— probably deciding whether he was going to pick up the toaster from the counter and throw it at me— and I added, “Also, a shave wouldn’t kill you.” His looked at me with a strange new expression.

“You don’t like beards.” He said it flatly. It wasn’t a question.

“Beards are fine. But that thing carpeting your jaw? Honestly, I’ve seen tidier jungles.”

For a moment I thought he would let loose a string of expletives so loud it would deafen me. But then his lips twitched, and I realized he was trying not to smile.

He said, “You’re in fine form today, Bianca.”

It was the first time he’d used my given name. I nearly fainted in surprise but managed to control myself. “I’m sorry,” I said, looking down at the schedule I still held in my hands. “You’re right. It’s just . . .” I cleared my throat. “It’s just been a rough few weeks.”

There was silence for a moment, then he walked closer. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, gruff and growly as a bear.

I glanced up at him and was surprised again. I could’ve sworn he was looking at me with concern in his eyes.

Concern and something else a little hotter.

My heart decided it was time to run a sprint. It took off like a jackrabbit chased by a pack of hounds. I said, “Just some personal stuff. My mother . . .”

I trailed off, dazed for a moment by his eyes. I hadn’t noticed before, but they weren’t only blue. He had tiny flecks of green and gold around his irises, warming those steely-blue depths.

And by God, the man smelled delicious. If that was his natural scent, he could make a few more billion by bottling it and selling it to men with less scrumptious—

Wait. What am I doing? Why am I mooning at him? Am I out of my ever-loving mind?

“Your mother?” he prompted, but I quickly stepped away, smoothing a hand over my hair.

“It’s nothing. I’m so sorry, I’m being unprofessional. If you don’t mind, Mr. Boudreaux, I’ll just get back to work now—”

“Jackson,” he said. He gazed down at me, eyes burning. His voice dropped an octave. “I want you to call me Jackson, Bianca.”

My sprinting heart tripped all over itself and fell flat on its face inside my chest. Heat rose into my cheeks. I said haltingly, “Um . . . okay.”

His gaze dropped to my lips.

Every muscle in my body tensed.

When he abruptly turned around and left, my knees shook so badly I had to lean against the counter for support.

What on earth just happened?

J.T. has that kind of writing style that I feel in my Romeo & Julep, and by that I mean my heart, but yes that could be an innuendo (Leave me alone! Yes, it can!). But seriously, her writing style is poetic and pulls all the feels out of my Cheesecake. Ugh, sorry. I couldn’t help it. Let me explain.


If you haven’t guessed yet, this book centers around food. The heroine is a chef and includes the Bourbon that Jackson’s family is famous for into her recipes. When Jackson enters her restaurant, she freaks out because the man of the hour is there, in her restaurant. But Jackson is the asshole that she does not tolerate. He may be a billionaire, but her sassy ass doesn’t care because he is being rude and arrogant and treating her staff with no respect.

Jackson. The Beast. Well, lasso me up and give me a Slap, Slap Kiss Cocktail. He is scarred on the inside and outside. He is SO MEAN to her. Like, reeeeeally mean, and I loved him for it. I just want someone to cuddle me in a big, comfy blanket and be an asshole to me. Is that too much to ask? He has been hurt, by his family and a previous love. He has many many scars, and he carries them on his sleeve and his face. He is perfection all trussed up in in his leather jacket and worn jeans and scruffy beard. It’s like J.T. created a man just for me.


Bianca. This chick. Serious girl crush. I love that she doesn’t give Jackson the time of day. It doesn’t even matter that he is THE Bourbon legacy. She has a business to run, and she is the mother hen to her employees. When Jackson is in a pinch, he has no choice but to ask Bianca to help him with a major charity event. This gives Bianca a glance into a side of Jackson that she has never seen before, even if it is a façade. One thing leads to another, and Bianca finally meets the family that Jackson does not want to see ever again.


This is a love-hate relationship, which should be the only relationship ever because it’s the best and gets my Jambalaya going every damn time. Ok, so I may have taken all of the recipes in the book and twisted them a little bit. Can you blame me when J.T. uses recipes like Dixie and Gumbo?! Ok, maybe you can blame me. I have a perverted little mind. But this mind loves all things J.T. Geissinger.

I love all of J.T.’s alpha heroes.
I love all of J.T.’s sassy heroines.
I love all of J.T.’s books.

Are you getting hungry yet?

A former headhunter, J.T. Geissinger is the author of more than a dozen novels in contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and romantic suspense.

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®. Her work has also finaled in the Booksellers’ Best, National Readers’ Choice, and Daphne du Maurier Awards.

Join her Facebook reader’s group, Geissinger’s Gang, to take part in weekly Wine Wednesday live chats and giveaways, find out more information about works in progress, have access to exclusive excerpts and contests, and get advance reader copies of her upcoming releases.

Website | Newsletter | Facebook | Geissinger’s Gang | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram | Pinterest:

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Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway: Of Flame And Fate by @cecyrobson

September 28, 2017 by · Leave a Comment

OF FLAME AND FATE
Series: Weird Girls Flame #2
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Author: Cecy Robson
Release Date: September 26, 2017

 

Taran Wird, who commands the power to wield fire and lightning, is an oddity in the supernatural world. But neither Taran nor her unique sisters compare to the bizarre entity known as Destiny. And Taran is assigned to protect her.

Born of two witches, Destiny is revered among the supernatural elite for her acute ability to predict the future. Her biggest prophecy involves Taran’s sister, Celia, whom Destiny decreed will bear children strong enough to take on the evil that’s rising. Yet Destiny is not alone in her predictions, or individuality.

When Johnny Fate, a rock star among humans and a male version of Destiny is discovered, his powers and Destiny’s clash, triggering the start of Destiny’s demise and altering the fate of Celia’s unborn children.

Taran, her werewolf lover Gemini, and their allies must determine if it’s Fate who will decide what will become of Celia’s children, or if their lives and the world will perish with Destiny.

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OF FLAME AND FATE ExcerptCopyright © 2017 Cecy Robson

Gemini and his twin growl at the pack of weres gathered in front of us. I pull up the blanket covering me as they scatter. Weres are used to being naked around each other in human form, but I’m not a were, and because of it, they’ve never seen me naked.

Until tonight, cause, don’t I know how to put on a show?

The next set of growls from him and his twin have them all hopping inside their vehicles and cranking the engines. The lights from the cars in front of us cast a gleam against the angles of his face, sharpening the menace plaguing his features.

He’s angry, and he should be. As a non-were different rules apply to me, one of them being they shouldn’t stare at his naked girlfriend.

He powers across the blue slate-lined double driveway, causing the dusting of pine needles covering it to stream past the window. I wait until we clear the wrought iron gates at the entrance to the compound before placing my hand on his thigh. But it’s not until we pass the miles of stone wall surrounding Misha’s property that I speak again.

“That probably looked pretty bad, huh?” I ask.

He clenches his jaw tight, enough to strain the cords along his neck. “Which part? The part where I find you surrounded by vampires pouring champagne over your naked body?”

“Um . . .”

“Or do you mean getting the call that a parasitic demon has infested your leg and is attempting to make your body its nesting ground—then watching it try and claw its way to your heart?”

CECY ROBSON is an author of contemporary romance, young adult adventure, and award-winning urban fantasy. A double RITA® 2016 finalist for Once Pure and Once Kissed, and a published author of more than eighteen titles, you can typically find her on her laptop writing her stories or stumbling blindly in search of caffeine.

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Reboot Tour, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway: A Sip of Rio by

August 6, 2017 by · Leave a Comment

A SIP OF RIO
Genre: M/M Contemporary Romance
Author: Teodora Kostova
Release Date: September 2016

Liam Young has a problem – he’s booked a romantic holiday to Rio de Janeiro months ago, but when he breaks up with his boyfriend, all his plans fall apart. Not only is his dream holiday slipping through his fingers, but Liam is sick and tired of getting his heart broken.

Blaine Reed has a solution that can save Liam’s plans. Recently divorced, Blaine needs a break, and a couple of stress-free weeks in Rio with a sexy guy like Liam sounds like heaven.

Liam and Blaine hit it off right from the start, becoming good friends even before they’ve left London. Despite their efforts to ignore the simmering attraction between them, it boils over when they end up sharing a room in one of the most romantic cities in the world.

Being together in Rio is easy, and it’s exactly what Liam needs – no feelings, no drama, nobody getting hurt.

Until someone does.

When the holiday bubble bursts, it’s up to them to find a way to be together outside of Rio’s seductive magic.

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 FROM THE AUTHOR

 

 What you want the takeaway of the book to be for readers: A Sip of Rio is a happy book about beach holidays, finding love in unexpected places and following your heart. I’d like readers to fall in love with Rio de Janeiro as much as I did, and crave a beach holiday of their own. And maybe, just maybe, gather the courage to do what their heart tells them just this once.

 I fell in love with Rio de Janeiro when I first went there a couple of years ago and it was inevitable I’d set a book there some day. A Sip of Rio is that book. It’s romantic, sexy, maybe a bit melancholy, and full of hope. It’s a book you can relax by the pool with, a cocktail in hand, and a smile on your face.

“How about this?” Liam said, stepping out on the balcony.Blaine’s eyes roamed over his body, greedily taking in the view. Liam spun around, curving his spine, thrusting his ass out, making sure Blaine saw exactly how short these shorts were.

“The leg warmers are a nice touch, don’t you think?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at Blaine.

He had no time to react before Blaine crowded him against the door, his arm circling Liam’s waist and pressing him back against Blaine’s chest.

“Not bad,” Blaine said, nipping at Liam’s earlobe.

“Not bad?” Liam would have argued that the outfit was amazing, sexy and fun, but Blaine slid a hand over the thin fabric of the shorts and squeezed Liam’s already hard dick. Liam forgot how to speak.

Dropping his head on Blaine’s shoulder, Liam watched their reflection in the glass doors as Blaine rubbed his dick through the shorts. The slow, smooth touch was driving him crazy with need, and he needed more, so much more.

“Baby?” Liam said, the word coming out as a husky whisper.

“Hm?” Blaine murmured, his eyes meeting Liam’s in their reflection in the window. His hand kept stroking, moving all so slow, the friction of the soft fabric making Liam crave a harder, faster touch.

“I want you to fuck me,” Liam said, bucking his hips into Blaine’s hand.

Blaine stilled for a second, then pressed his palm harder against Liam’s cock. Liam moaned, his knees melting, bright light exploding behind his lids. His cock was leaking, making the front of his shorts wet, and he was moments away from coming.

Turning sharply in Blaine’s arms, Liam grabbed his hips and pulled him closer, mashing their erections together. He kissed him, grinding against him, mindless with lust and anticipation.

“Let’s go inside,” Blaine said between kisses.

“No,” Liam pulled away, walking backwards to the hammock. When his knees hit the fabric, he turned and lay on it, spreading his legs and fisting his cock through the shorts.

“Fuck,” Blaine swore, closing his eyes. “Is that thing going to hold us both?”

Liam lifted his hips off the hammock, then slammed back down, looking at Blaine with a playful smirk.

“Looks pretty sturdy to me,” he said, bouncing on it some more. When Blaine stood frozen on the spot, his gaze locked on Liam, he added, “Are you going to go get the condoms and lube, or shall I start without you?” He wiggled out of his shorts to emphasise his point, his cock jumping eagerly out.

Blaine dashed inside, and while waiting, Liam took off the rest of his clothes, throwing them on the floor. He wrapped a hand around his shaft, stroking leisurely, not trying to get himself off, but simply enjoying the soft pressure. 

 Hi, my name is Teodora and I live in London with my husband and my son. I’ve been writing ever since I can remember, but it became my full time job in 2010 when I decided that everything else I’ve tried bores me to death and I have to do what I’ve always wanted to do, but never had to guts to fully embrace. I’ve been a journalist, an editor, a personal assistant and an interior designer among other things, but as soon as the novelty of the new, exciting job wears off, I always go back to writing. Being twitchy, impatient, loud and hasty are not qualities that help a writer, because I have to sit alone, preferably still, and write for most of the day, but I absolutely love it. It’s the only time that I’m truly at peace and the only thing I can do for more than ten minutes at a time – my son has a bigger attention span than me.
When I’m procrastinating, I like to go to the gym, cook Italian meals (and eat them), read, listen to rock music, watch indie movies and True Blood re-runs. Or, in the worst case scenario, get beaten at every Nintendo Wii game by a very inventive kid. 

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Review & Exclusive Excerpt: Heart of the Steal by Avon Gale & Roan Parrish

July 11, 2017 by · Leave a Comment

HEART OF THE STEAL
Genre: MM, Contemporary Romance
Authors: Avon Gale & Roan Parrish
Release Date: July 11, 2017

Responsible, disciplined William Fox channeled his love for art and his faith in the rules into being an FBI Art Crimes agent. Right and wrong, justice and injustice—the differences are clear, and Will has spent his career drawing a line between them. Maybe his convictions have cost him relationships, but he’s not willing to compromise what he knows is right. Until the night he meets Amory Vaughn.

As the head of his family’s philanthropic foundation, Vaughn knows very well that being rich and powerful can get him almost anything he wants. And when he meets endearingly grumpy and slightly awkward William Fox, he wants him more than he’s wanted anything. Vaughn is used to being desired for his name and his money, but Will doesn’t care about either.

When Vaughn falls back on old habits and attempts to impress Will by stealing a painting Will admires, their nascent bond blows up in his face. But Vaughn isn’t willing to give up on the glimpse of passion he saw the night he took Will apart. Before Will knows it, he’s falling for the man he should have arrested, and Vaughn has to realize that some things can’t be bought or stolen. Love has to be given freely. But can a man who lives by the rules, and a man who thinks the rules don’t apply to him, ever see eye to eye?

Heart of the Steal is a standalone romance with a happy ending. It features a Southern gentleman who thinks he’s always right, a buttoned-up FBI agent who secretly likes his buttons unbuttoned, and wall sex. And desk sex. And picnic blanket sex.

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I followed him up the stairs and down a hallway carpeted in thick brown shag, then through the last door on the right. Once inside, he dropped our overnight bags on the floor and began fussing with the bedcovers, the line of his shoulders tense.I slid a hand up his back and leaned over him.

“I’ve been cooking up a fantasy while sitting with your family and watching football, William.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yes.” I crowded him, bending him forward over the bed, spread with a navy blue comforter trimmed in red. “We’re in your childhood bedroom,” I murmured into his ear, kissing the skin behind it until he shivered in my arms.

“Mmhmm?”

I slid a hand under his sweater and splayed my palm against his warm stomach. His back was pressed to my chest and I could feel his heart beating. “We’re in high school. You’re a junior and I’m a senior. You invited me over to do homework, so we brought our books upstairs.”

I licked a line up the side of his throat and pulled him more firmly against me so he could feel the evidence of what this fantasy was doing to me.

“What subject?” he asked, pressing his hips backward.

“History. The Revolutionary War.” I gave his earlobe a nip and saw the corners of his mouth draw up. “You’re very studious. Serious. You’re concentrating.”

“Mmm, and what are you doing?”

“I…am being very distracting.”

I slipped a hand inside his dark jeans and ghosted my fingers over the ridge of his hard cock.

“I keep bumping your knees with mine. Touching you. I can’t help myself. You’re so damned hot.”

He moaned softly, shuddering as I took a firmer grip on him. He made no attempt to turn around, just ground his taut ass back against my hips, teasing my swollen flesh. I pulled my hand from his pants and he gave a plaintive whimper. I kissed the back of his neck, feasting on soft skin until his hands clutched at me.

“What,” he gasped. “What do you do next?”

“Well, that all depends.” I dropped my voice low, knowing how much it turned him on. “You’re a junior, William. Are you a virgin?”

He gasped and craned to look at me. He nodded, sunk fully into this game. Lust shot through me at the idea of being Will’s first; of sliding inside his body where no other man had been, opening him, owning him.

“Well then,” I murmured. “I’ll have to be very.” I kissed his neck. “Very.” The skin under his jaw. “Gentle,” I whispered against his mouth, and felt his moan.

I pushed him forward enough to pull off his sweater, then pressed against him again.

“The first time I touch you,” I told him, “you aren’t sure what to make of it. Am I teasing? Should you react? Or am I just being friendly?” I ran my hands up his sides, tracing his ribs. “But then I touch you here.” I circled his nipples with my fingers, plucking them until he arched against me. “And you know I’m not just being friendly anymore. You know that I’m going to do things to you no one has ever done before.”

Will shuddered and I drank his reactions like the finest whiskey.

“Have you thought about them, William? Alone in your room, in your bed. Have you thought about what it would feel like to have another boy’s body against yours? A man’s hand around your dick instead of your own? The sensation of a man kissing your mouth, kissing you everywhere?”

Will shook his head, mouth open.

“No? You haven’t thought about it? Or you haven’t wanted to?”

He froze in my arms.

“It’s okay, love. I’ve got you.”

I wanted to overwhelm him, take him out of himself and everything he recognized and give him a mirror that would reflect him back to himself the way I saw him. Beautiful, brave, and scared.

This book was nothing like I normally gravitate to. It has zero angst. It’s not twisty and unpredictable. And it also doesn’t have hot man abs on the cover. What? Don’t you judge me. Like you haven’t made those ill fated purchases because man abs lure you on. God. Judgy much? As a matter of fact, if I let my inner cover wh*re do the picking, she’d merrily click right past this book. And what a shame that would be. Because this is a classic case of not judging a book by the cover.

I wondered where in the world William Fox felt completely, totally comfortable. Absolutely himself. And damned if I didn’t want to see what it was like to be there with him.

Heart Of The Steal was a super sweet romance between two men that couldn’t be more opposite of each other. You have Will, an FBI agent for the art crimes division that wears poor fitting suits and couldn’t flirt to save his life. Will is not a man that does one night stands but he’s not exactly great at relationships either. After a disastrous end to his last one, he’s not exactly swimming in suitors, but he’s perfectly content with that too. Being forced to go to an art show that his twin sister and budding party planner dragged him to isn’t his ideal way to plan the evening, but at least he can enjoy some art.

Amory Vaughn is the exact opposite of who would normally catch Will’s attention. He’s a rich philanthropist who’s not unused to people only being interested in him for his money. So why does that man that blushes when Amory catches him staring and then runs away before talking to him completely steal his attention?

Can an uptight and proper FBI agent and flirtatious, rich, would be philanthropist thief have anything beyond sizzling hot chemistry in common?

Sparks fly immediately with these two. But when Will learns of Vaughn’s art theft, he knows he can’t cross that professional line with him. He may let him walk away from a deserved arrest, but he can’t fall for his flirty smiles and smart mouth. Too bad the chemistry between them proves too strong to deny for even a stuffy FBI agent.

On Monday morning,” I said into his ear as I reached around and took him in hand. He cried out, knuckles white where he grabbed the desk. “I’m going to sit there and imagine you just like this. Legs spread, open and begging for me.”
I licked a stripe up the side of his throat.
“I’m not…begging…” Will gasped, and I smiled against his damp skin.
“No,” I conceded. “No. Not yet.”

Once these two get past their…uhem…differences, the book takes a different turn. It goes from a slightly enemies to lovers vibe to just lovers. It shows two people slowly but surely falling in love as they get to know each other. Admittedly, this would normally bore me, but in the case of this book it was just adorably endearing. I simply loved these two together. I loved their individual quirks and I absolutely loved watching Vaughn fall deeper and deeper for Will. I loved watching Will lose more of his stuffiness in the presence of the enigmatic Vaughn. And I simply loved the sides of each other that they brought out when they were together. It was sweet, and swoony, and at times just ridiculously sexy.

My only quibble is Amory’s description and comparison to Lucius Malfoy, which didn’t inspire the sexiest of images. But after a while, I’ll admit that it really suited Vaughn and I looked right past it. I loved the differences between him and Will, but not as much as I loved the two of them together.

There was no crazy drama, no angst, no twists or action. It was beautiful in it’s simplicity, actually, and I adored every page of it.

Roan Parrish lives in Philadelphia where she is gradually attempting to write love stories in every genre.

When not writing, she can usually be found cutting her friends’ hair, meandering through whatever city she’s in while listening to torch songs and melodic death metal, or cooking overly elaborate meals. She loves bonfires, winter beaches, minor chord harmonies, and self-tattooing. One time she may or may not have baked a six-layer chocolate cake and then thrown it out the window in a fit of pique.

She is represented by Courtney Miller-Callihan of Handspun Literary Agency.

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Avon Gale wrote her first story at the age of seven, about a “Space Hat” hanging on a rack and waiting for that special person to come along and purchase it — even if it was a bit weirder than the other, more normal hats. Like all of Avon’s characters, the space hat did get its happily ever after — though she’s pretty sure it was with a unicorn. She likes to think her vocabulary has improved since then, but the theme of quirky people waiting for their perfect match is still one of her favorites.

Avon grew up in the southern United States, and now lives with her very patient husband in a liberal midwestern college town. When she’s not writing, she’s either doing some kind of craft project that makes a huge mess, reading, watching horror movies, listening to music or yelling at her favorite hockey team to get it together, already. Avon is always up for a road trip, adores Kentucky bourbon, thinks nothing is as stress relieving as a good rock concert and will never say no to candy.

At one point, Avon was the mayor of both Jazzercise and Lollicup on Foursquare. This tells you basically all you need to know about her as a person.

Avon is represented by Courtney Miller-Callihan of Handspun Literary Agency.

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