✍🏻 Blog Tour & Excerpt: Stacy Travis’s In Trouble with Him ✍🏻

In Trouble with Him, a not-to-be-missed, forbidden standalone romance from Stacy Travis is available now!

Read my review HERE.

Falling in love was asking for trouble.

Meeting a hot professor at my best friend’s wedding has hookup written all over it.

Dammit it if he isn’t unexpectedly charming, making me want to abandon one-night stand plans for something more.

But dammit again if he doesn’t run off mid-kiss like a fugitive from Cinderella’s pumpkin coach.

That’s because he’s got a curfew as part of his house arrest for insider trading. Oh well, I’ll never see him again anyway.

Except that he shows up at my office—at my new job where I’ve just been made a law partner.

Turns out, he’s my newest client and he may be guilty of all kinds of things. Would it be a crime if he steals my heart?

Download your copy today!
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Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/troublewithhim
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Excerpt

“Wow, time flies, huh?” he said.
“Are you having fun?”
He studied me for a moment. Then he was silent again. Of course, he wasn’t having fun. He was facing potential jail time and major fines from the SEC, not to mention he’d been put on leave from the job he loved, and his tenured position was probably in jeopardy. What a stupid thing to ask. “Sorry. I know this can’t be fun for you.”
After looking through the conference room glass for a moment, he nodded. “Actually, it is. But only because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we met, and now that I have the pleasure of your company, it makes me happy,” he said.
“Wait, what?” I felt just as giddy as I had at age fourteen when a boy I’d been crushing on for months asked me if I’d mind paying for his slice of pizza after a high school football game. This was pre-cheerleading, to be clear. After I made the squad, the fourteen-year-olds paid for me. Mostly.
“Was that not clear? I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve barely thought of anything but you since we met. And given that I’m charged with insider trading and facing jail time, I find that significant.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“I mean, that’s… ordinarily, it’s exactly what a woman wants to hear. But now…”
“Now that you know I’m charged with insider trading?”
“No, now that you’re my client. You insisted on being my client. I gave you an out, and you insisted. So now you get lawyer me, not Saturday night me. That was your choice,” I said. It was my turn to look through the glass because I couldn’t keep gazing at him without repercussions.
“I wasn’t aware you were two different people. For the record, I like both,” he said with a smile.
“You don’t get both. That’s not how this works.” I turned toward my notes, hoping he understood that recess was over.
“I’m the client. Don’t I get to dictate how things work?” he asked.
“No, you get to be the client. You answer my questions, and you behave yourself so I don’t get fired or disbarred. I feel like you weren’t listening when I just explained all that.”
“I was listening. I just chose to ignore it.”
He was frustrating. The fact that he was hot in a nerdy chiseled-jaw professor way was also frustrating. I needed to get control of the situation. Looking at the stacks of books on the conference room shelves, I saw nothing to give me direction as to how to handle the situation.
They should make law books for this. Or self-help books. Any guidance would be welcome.

Meet Stacy

It’s a rough world out there, and we all sometimes need a good, romantic beach read, even if we can’t make it to the beach. I’ve spent many lazy days walking the streets of Paris and other gorgeous European cities, and if I’m doing it right, I’m bringing you a dash of romance and a vacay fantasy.
I can’t sit still, so when I’m not hiking, biking or running, I’m playing a very average game of tennis. Background music for writing undoubtedly features some U2, Lizzo, Billy Joel, Pink, Taylor Swift, and Led Zeppelin. Not necessarily in that order. And if I could only eat one food group, it would be cheese. Or wine. Or bread. Are those food groups? Whatever.

Connect with Stacy
Facebook: https://bit.ly/2UbPlWv
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Website: https://stacytravis.com

✍🏻 Professor Romance’s 5 ⭐️ Review: Melanie Harlow’s Make Me Yours ✍🏻

Overall Grade: ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

I have a secret. As a two years plus long reader of romance, I have a pet peeve inherently natural to the world of romance reading. In most (yes, most) romance books, I detest how quickly a heroine subjugates herself to a hero. It doesn’t matter if the romance is dark, clean, or in between, many romance writers allow the heroine to fall too quickly for her hero (or heroine) even when a little bit of wait would (1) support the idea that women have more sense than to readily subject themselves to poor behavior (and yes, dark romances are excluded to a certain degree because they have their own rules), (2) illustrate the idea of boundary setting, and (3) keep the tension building further into the story instead of falling into the “I just can’t handle myself so I’m willing to forgo my sense of self.” Yes. I know many romance readers love this, but for me, this hits against something deep inside me, and I feel uncomfortable until the hero and heroine have finally “leveled” their proverbial romance field. For me, it speaks to vulnerability, and I oftentimes feel uncomfortable at the easy vulnerability that writers craft into their heroines. 

Enter Melanie Harlow’s Make Me Yours, the second book in her Bellamy Creek series. I have been ready for this book. Going into it, I knew that Cole’s backstory would obviously play a part in this book (which it does in a meaningful, important manner), and I was prepared for the heartbreak intended for this book (and I WAS prepared for it…it still felt painful, but it also felt necessary). What I wasn’t expecting from this carefully-wrought, beautifully drawn small-town romance was an insistence from Harlow to offer a heroine who feels so wholly capable and self-evolved that my normal response found no purchase. Some of you are probably saying, “Professor A, what are you talking about?” What I loved most, beyond Cole and Cheyenne’s coupling, is Harlow’s fierce determination in crafting a heroine who can “say no” and walk away because she has the ability to establish healthy emotional boundaries for herself. In doing this, Harlow doesn’t absolve the story of its mounting tension. Instead, it sanctions her readers to understand what that looks like AND it allows the story to build in its depth and gravity. Creating a heroine who is beautiful, thoughtful, introspective, and emotionally strong provides apt and important examples for romance readers. Harlow’s feminism lies in her creation of Cheyenne, and this reader is HERE. FOR. IT. When Cheyenne recognizes Cole’s problematic emotional processing, she simply says “no” and forces Harlow’s hero to become more self-reflective. These are the types of heroines that romancelandia needs because it helps readers understand how to embrace better emotional health for themselves. Period. This should be a cause for the world of romance writing WHILE offering romance readers what they love: happy endings. 

Additionally, Cole is central and necessary for Make Me Yours. His story is grounded in an important idea behind Harlow’s newest book. Her book deftly asks an important question: how do men, specifically, process trauma? Throughout this story, even as Cole fulfills every dreamy aspect of his herodom, his exemplification seeks to answer that question, and Harlow brilliantly answers it with the perfect answer. It’s painful, and it causes actions in the story that will make her readers groan, but just as Harlow is responsible in her depiction of Cheyenne, she is also intentional in her crafting of Cole. What this does is make a seemingly sweet and steamy small-town romance feel imperative. For this reader, I’m a fan of romance that looks and feels easy, but is undergirded with truths about what it means to be human. 

Finally, everything you love about Harlow is found in Make Me Yours beyond her characterizations. Her easy style, her world-building, and her steaminess are all here. In fact, Cole is a “dirty boy,” but would you expect any less from one of the town’s most heroic policemen? Harlow’s capacity to draw her readers into her stories knows no bounds. She is a requisite read for me because I love the stories she draws as they both entertain and cause me to question ideas about love within the scope of a seemingly natural story. 

Melanie Harlow’s Make Me Yours is the type of book that makes your heart flutter. There are moments when that flutter drops to your stomach or rises to your throat, but there is always a promise from Melanie Harlow: that her heroes and heroines will find their happily-ever-after in the end. And that promise pulls you forward when you struggle through their challenges. But that’s life, and life reflected on the page with intentionality and thoughtfulness is a cause for repeating. And I will repeatedly read Melanie Harlow’s brand of romance. Any day. Every moment. In each second. 

In love and romance, 

Professor A

✍🏻 It’s FINALLY here. Melanie Harlow’s newest Bellamy Creek book, Make Me Yours, is LIVE. You will ADORE Cole and Cheyenne’s story. ✍🏻

Make Me Yours, an all-new laugh out loud rom com from USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow is available now!

He’s my brother’s best friend.

The hot single dad next door.

And one accidental sext later, my massive crush on him is no longer a secret.

It’s my own damn fault. I’m thirty years old, for heaven’s sake. I’m a kindergarten teacher and a (reasonably) responsible adult. I should know better than to get tipsy and draft a fake text listing all the dirty things I wish Officer Cole Mitchell would do to me.

I wasn’t supposed to hit send.

He wasn’t supposed to see it.

And he definitely wasn’t supposed to text back telling me to go on . . .

Because after that, things escalate quickly.

Cole is everything I’ve ever wanted. He’s sexy and protective. A devoted father to his little girl. A dedicated cop the whole town adores. The kind of guy you can trust to keep his hands to himself, even when you’re desperately hoping he won’t.

I’m not the girl he thought he’d end up with, but after all this time, I might finally get the chance to say the words I’ve always dreamed of . . . make me yours.

Download your copy today or read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/363yARV
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About Melanie

USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like Schitt’s Creek, Homeland, and Fleabag. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.

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

Connect with Melanie

Facebook: http://bit.ly/2RPwr51
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Website: http://www.melanieharlow.com

✍🏻 Who’s ready for another Max Monroe rom-com? The cover is here for Best Friends Don’t Kiss, coming on Saturday. You can preorder your copy now. ✍🏻

Best friends don’t kiss…
But maybe it doesn’t count if it’s pretend?

Best Friends Don’t Kiss, an all new best friends to lovers rom com from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe coming November 28th and we have the flirty cover!

Goal: Find a boyfriend, get married, buy a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, and pop out 2.5 kids.

Deadline: Sixty days.

That’s possible, right?

HAHAHA. *Faints*

I’m kidding. Well, kind of. I mean, I’m not going to attempt a shotgun wedding or try to get knocked up by some guy I met on the internet, but there is no doubt that, this year, home for the holidaystakes on a whole new, terrifying meaning.

I have to travel from New York City—my home and safe haven for the last fifteen years—to my tiny hometown in Vermont for Christmas, my baby sister’s wedding, and my high school reunion.

Talk about a trifecta of single-doom.

Throw in Callie Camden—aka my high school class’s version of Regina George—and it’s a recipe for certified disaster.

Especially since my mouth ran away from me when she asked me if I’d be bringing someone to our reunion, and I told her to put me down for two.
Gah. Now I can’t go alone.

But the online dating world is a cesspool of bad manners, speedy hookups, and outright weirdos.

Handsome, single, successful—that’s what I’m looking for.
And it just so happens that my best friend Luke London fits all of the criteria.

The only problem is best friends don’t kiss…

But maybe it doesn’t count if it’s pretend?

Pre-order your copy today!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2UOT9fw
Amazon Worldwide: mybook.to/BestFriendsDontKiss

Add Best Friends Don’t Kiss to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/35UrwYX

About Max Monroe
A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.

Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.

Connect with Max Monroe
BookBub: http://bit.ly/3bJFJJh
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Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2HzGmau
Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/

✍🏻 Are you ready for an emotional excerpt from Sierra Simone’s Door of Bruises? Preorder this final book in the Thornchapel series TODAY. It’s releasing November 30th. ✍🏻

DOOR OF BRUISES (Thornchapel #4) by Sierra Simone
Release Date: November 30th

Add to Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53627576-door-of-bruises

PREORDER DOOR OF BRUISES
Amazon: https://amzn.to/34YNrfL
Amazon INTL: mybook.to/doorofbruises
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Nook: sierrasim.one/nookbruises
Kobo: sierrasim.one/kobobruises

START THE SERIES TODAY WITH
A LESSON IN THORNS (Thornchapel #1)
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2OgiJGp
Amazon INTL: mybook.to/ALIT
B&N: http://bit.ly/2UO1VsN
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https://apple.co/2HJxKiI

Blurb:
Twelve years ago, our fates were sealed with a kiss.

We are all, for better or worse, doomed to love each other until death do us part. My heart belongs to Proserpina and St. Sebastian—even if he no longer wants it. Even if she has left it behind to follow him.

Delphine’s fled back home, and Becket’s holy calling is in peril.

And now only Rebecca and I remain at Thornchapel to face the unknown.

The door is open. The door that shouldn’t exist; the door that people have died to close. I don’t feel like the lord of the manor…I don’t feel like a king or a wild god. I am a friend and a boyfriend and a brother—and a failure at being all of these things. But the door doesn’t care about my guilt. It only cares about the sacrifice I’ll make to close it.

As the bruising dark of Samhain approaches, so does the fate of our circle, of Thornchapel and the village and the valley beyond it. And I must don the crown, because one thing is still true, even if I must face it alone.

Here at Thornchapel, the kings must go to the door.

Here at Thornchapel, all kings must die.

Excerpt:

He lifts his head; the deep brown of his irises is almost obsidian in the barely-lit foyer. They remind me of the earth at Thornchapel—near-black and wet, filled with secrets. His eyes could eat bones.

They’re already eating mine.

He draws in a breath. “You knew,” he says in a juddering kind of voice, “because you always know. Do you know that I don’t want to leave? Do you know that I want to go back upstairs with you? Do you know that I’d let you do anything to me right now? Anything you wanted, Auden, anything at all.” He steps closer, his lips parted, his hands slowly turning so his palms face me in offering.

Outside, I hear the trees lashing and fretting in a sudden, gusting wind.

“Anything,” I echo.

His pulse thrums just above the collar of his borrowed shirt. “Anything.”

I could have him now. If I wanted.

If I pushed, he’d break. If I pulled, he’d fall. All I have to do is say yes to this churning, crashing need inside me, and I could have him at my feet, I could have him on his stomach and I could be inside him with my palm against his throat and this blazer crushed between us.

And he’s looking at me like we’re sixteen again and about to kiss in a bed of flowers, like we’re starting over at the very beginning and there’s nothing between us, nothing but delirious, innocent lust—I could have him.

I could have him.

But having and loving are only sometimes the same thing.

I take a step back. “You’ll be late if you don’t go now,” I say. The words come out gentler than I feel them; they feel like razor-wire leaving my mouth.

“Auden . . . ” he says. Pleads. “But I—I miss you.”

He says it like I don’t miss him in return. He says it like I’m the bad guy here, like I’m the one who left, and maybe this is the hardest part of loving someone, maybe this was always the test. Not letting him leave, but making him go.

I take his hand, wrapping my fingers around his so that my thumb rests on the Guest family ring. My hand is shaking. My entire body is shaking.

Grab him.

Bite him.

Bruise him.

Outside the trees are thrashing and behind my eyes it feels like all I can see is forest and rain. I drag in a breath, forcing the feeling down inside me, as if I can tamp whatever it is back into my belly, as if I can pretend that I don’t want to run and chase and hunt. I’m not a king, I’m not so twisted up in Thornchapel that even the trees feel my lust and my pain. I’m just a London boy with a non-Smythson bag and good hair. I’m just a friend and a brother and I’m going to do the right thing, because I’ll pay any price not to have St. Sebastian look at me like he did at Lammas.

Because I’ve finally, finally learned that I can’t choose us for him.

He has to do it on his own.

“Listen,” I say. “You and Proserpina will always be my air and my water—the very things that make up my blood—and that hasn’t changed, because it will never change, it can’t. I can’t.”

I put my free hand against his stomach, pressing the ejaculate-damp shirt into his skin. Mine, the gesture says. My own thing.

“This is me. But you are you, and I love you as you are, and don’t you see it? Don’t you feel it? You were right about me. A few minutes alone with me, and I have you dressed like a doll and wearing my cum, and if you spend the night with me, I’ll have you shivering and spent and marked all over. If you come back to Thornchapel, I will never stop looking and reaching and wanting. I can’t be trusted.”

He’s shaking his head, even though I’m only repeating his own words from Lammas back to him. “You can’t be trusted,” I remind him gently. “You had your reasons for leaving. Have they changed so much that you can abandon them all now? Truly?”

He’s stopped shaking his head now, and he’s staring up at me with a look so hopeless I can’t stand it.

This is what no one told me about love, about being the Thorn King, about everything.

You can be broken, and still you must let people break you again and again.

You must help them break you, if necessary.

You must allow your own sorrows, your own torments and regrets, to be subsumed in the face of their own.

You must cut yourself apart piece by piece and plant those pieces far and wide in the lives of those around you, and then you must not lament when they don’t take root. You must cut yourself apart and do it all over again. As many times as it takes.

As many times as it takes.

“Go, St. Sebastian,” I say, letting go of his hand. I can still feel the worn crest of his ring against my thumb. The G surrounded by twining, twisting thorns. “Just go.”

He swallows. Whispers, “I’m sorry.”

And then finally, mercifully, he turns and opens the door. I watch him take the steps with the vague stagger of a dying man, and then I watch him slope off into the night, shoulders hunched forward and head down.

I think he’s crying.

I know I am.

About the Author:
Sierra Simone is a USA Today Bestselling former librarian (who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk.) She lives with her husband and family in Kansas City.

Connect w/Sierra Simone:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Sierra-Simone-497450453680395/?fref=ts
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✍🏻 Blog Tour & Excerpt: K.K. Allen’s A Bridge Between Us ✍🏻

“A breathtaking romantic experience that will have you on the edge of your seat. Allen delivers a poignant new adult must-read.”
– Kandi Steiner, Bestselling Author

A Bridge Between Us, an all-new standalone small-town romance from USA Today bestselling author K.K. Allen is available now!

Read my 4 1/2 start review HERE.

I had always known he wasn’t mine to keep, but that didn’t change the way I loved him—quietly, gently, and from afar.

As the seasons changed, the corn stalks grew strong, and the grapevines flourished with hope. But none of it mattered, not when the soil at our feet bound us in a century-old rivalry. We’d never even had a chance.

They said life flashed before your eyes on the way to death, but on that night, after my final scream burst from my throat and my world started to fade to black, I only thought of him. Of his sweet chocolate eyes, his desperately cautious stare, and his silence that carried more weight than gold.

I should have died that night. Instead, I crossed the moonlit bridge and never returned.
I let rivalry win. If only that had been enough to keep us all safe. If only we didn’t have a bridge between us.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3nF9dgf
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/abridgebu
Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/3pIpO4H

Excerpt:

She starts to move past me toward the record player when something strong and instinctual—something that feels like fate—gives me a hard punch in the chest. I grab her hand and pull her back to me. Surprised, she stumbles a little, and her palms break her fall on my chest. When she recovers, she meets my gaze, and I don’t try to interpret it. Instead, I move her arms around my neck, wrap mine around her waist, and start to move.

Her eyes narrow, but they have a glimmer in them. “Oh, so now you want to dance.” 

I cringe a little. “I don’t think you can call this dancing. And to be fair, I don’t think you can call what you were doing dancing either.”

Not even her harsh glare can hide the amusement she finds at my joke. She purses her lips to hold back her laugh then swats at my chest before moving her hand back around my neck. “At least I was having fun.”

“Oh, I was having fun watching you. Besides, you didn’t seem to have a problem with my moves at prom.”

Her cheeks redden, and when my gaze slips down to her neck, I find that part of her skin is changing color too. She’s flushed all over, and I can’t help but get excited that I’m doing that to her.

“Yeah, well, you also bribed me with a dozen pink roses, a tent, and a pretty necklace, so we probably shouldn’t compare experiences.”

At the mention of her necklace, my gaze locks on her throat, even though I already know it isn’t there. When she picked me up from the jail, she wasn’t wearing it then either. The disappointment weighed heavily, and as much as I want to ask her where it is, I choose not to go there. I had no right to question it back then, and I still don’t. “Just give me a few minutes, and I can rectify all that.”

She smiles gently back at me, and the mood shifts from playful to serious. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

My heart pounds so hard that I can feel it between my ears. I cup her neck while slowly moving a finger across her cheek, and I glance at her lips before locking on her eyes. “I would do anything for you, Camila. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”

She blinks, as if she can’t believe me. I drop my forehead to hers, and when her eyelids flutter closed as a shaky breath rushes past her lips, I know she feels the same.

“How does this feel so normal?” Her words are just a whisper. “I close my eyes, and it’s like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand? Our roots are deep, just like your vines, which adapt to every season. No matter the harsh weather, there’s always new growth.”

“Are you comparing our relationship to the life of a grape?”

The teasing in her voice makes me chuckle. “No. I’m comparing us to a whole damn vineyard. We’re the root.” I lean in, brush her lips with mine, and whisper, “You and me, Wild One.”

A shiver racks her entire body, and I tighten my hold around her, as if it could help. The way she’s engulfed in my arms brings me the most comfort I’ve felt in years. Camila’s right. This feels so normal and natural, like we were always meant to fit.

I brush my lips against hers again, almost expecting her to pull away and tell me it’s too soon or too late. Either one of those responses would be understandable. But when her fingernails dig into my back, I don’t ignore the message. I mold my mouth to hers and kiss her hard.

Her firm lips respond to mine immediately, and she steals every bit of my air as she breathes me in. I explore the taste and feel of her like it’s the very first time. In a way, that’s exactly what this is. It’s been ten years since our lips last touched, and though I’ve dreamed about it, nothing could have prepared me for the real feeling of our mouths moving as one, our breaths tangling with heat and desire, or our hands wandering as our mouths keep a slow and steady pace. The kiss is so consuming and powerful that I feel an awakening within me. And when she parts my mouth with hers and sweeps her tongue over mine, a growl rumbles through me.

Meet K.K. Allen
K.K. Allen is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author and interdisciplinary arts and sciences graduate from the University of Washington who writes heartfelt contemporary romance stories that are as real as they are inspiring. K.K. is a Hawaiian girl who was raised in Seattle, and currently resides in central Florida. She works full time as a digital producer for a leading online educational institution and is the mother to a ridiculously handsome little dude who owns her heart.

K.K.’s publishing journey began in June 2014 with the YA Contemporary Fantasy trilogy, The Summer Solstice. In 2016, K.K. published her first Contemporary Romance, Up in the Treehouse, which went on to win the Romantic Times 2016 Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best New Adult Book of the Year. With K.K.’s love for inspirational and coming-of-age stories involving heartfelt narratives and honest emotions, you can be assured to always be surprised by what K.K. releases next.

Connect with K.K. Allen
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2IcBh8V
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorkkallen/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KKAllen_Author
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kkallen_author/
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2KNgUkz
BookBub: http://bit.ly/2X9wbm5
Website: http://www.kk-allen.com/
Stay up to date with K.K. by joining her mailing list: http://bit.ly/2J4ixcq

✍🏻 Professor Romance’s 2 1/2 ⭐️ Review: Emily Goodwin’s Desperate Times ✍🏻

Overall Grade: ⭐️⭐️ 1/2

Desperate Times, Emily Goodwin’s second book in her new Silver Ridge series, is a story of second chances. This book continues the story of childhood friends, Sam and Chloe. In Book 1, Backup Plan, Sam and Chloe fought the good fight and finally admitted their long-time feelings for each other. In that book, they confess their undying love with the book ending with Sam being met with a shock from his past. Desperate Times is more of Sam and Chloe’s undying love except that Sam takes much of the book to reveal his secret. I really, really wanted to like these first two books because I enjoyed reading, to various degrees, Goodwin’s Dawson Family series. It is there where I decided to read Goodwin’s Silver Ridge series as these are the brothers of Dean’s wife, Rory. Alas, I am heartbroken because I simply didn’t love these books. I struggled through Backup Plan, hoping that Desperate Times would ameliorate my struggle with that book. Unfortunately, it only underscores the idea that, I believe, Emily Goodwin needs stronger beta-readers. I hate to write those words because I understand that this book is one of Goodwin’s “babies.” However, given more care, this book and its predecessor have a ton of potential. 

For one, I don’t think Sam and Chloe needed a duet. There is quite a bit of repetition in the two books. In the first book, the struggle is allowing themselves to fall for each other. It takes most of that book for them to accept their interest and for Chloe to forgive Sam for the choices he made out of immaturity. Goodwin draws our their chemistry. In fact, between the two books, that is what Goodwin does well. However, that is also an issue, especially in Desperate Times, because Sam’s only three focuses in this second book are bedding Chloe, telling her constantly how much he adores her physical attributes in the bedroom (read between the lines here), professing his “I love yous”, and worrying over needing to share his secret. This is it. As a physician, he unravels too easily even though he claims to handle the pressure of being a trauma anesthesiologist well. He is written “uneven” for this story. 

Similarly, I am not a huge fan of Chloe’s. Between reminding us of her eccentricity and her acceptance of it, along with her own constant professions of love for Sam, she isn’t a heroine that I felt invested in. Yes, Goodwin attempts to draw her as an independent, self-made woman, but this characterization is repetitive throughout Desperate Times AND Backup Plan

Additionally, the story doesn’t really go anywhere. Desperate Times reads like a daily log of activities with some inciting incidents that never build in gravity. It takes Sam until 88% into Desperate Times to finally share his secret with Chloe. Yes, I understand the want for authors to build to a climax, but the rising action of this romance reads flat. Either Sam and Chloe are engaging in bedroom activities or Sam is worrying over his relationship with Chloe or they are remembering the past while doing present activities. It’s a merry-go-found for Chloe and Sam, and it causes the story to drag. Even more, Chapter 27 and Chapter 28 are the same chapter. 

I hate writing every word of this review because I read for enjoyment and to promote authors I’ve enjoyed in the past. For me, this book and the Backup Plan are not the normal caliber of Emily Goodwin. It was difficult to read this book because Sam and Chloe have the potential to be one of Goodwin’s best couples. Unfortunately, that potential isn’t realized in Desperate Times

In love and romance, 

Professor A

✍🏻Who’s ready for Vi Keeland’s next book? I have the cover for The Invitation. If you know, you know to run and add this to your TBR or preorder it on Apple Books. ✍🏻

Title: The Invitation
Author: Vi Keeland
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative
Photo: Tamer Yilmaz
Model: Nick Bateman
Release Date: January 18, 2021
BLURB
The first time I met Hudson Rothschild was at a wedding. I’d received an unexpected invitation to one of the swankiest venues in the city. 
Hudson was a groomsman and quite possibly the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. He asked me to dance, and our chemistry was off the charts.
I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with him, considering the wedding I was at. But our connection was intense, and I was having a great time.
Though the fun came to a screeching halt when Hudson figured out I wasn’t who I’d said I was. You see, that unexpected invitation I received? Well, it hadn’t actually been addressed to me—it was sent to my ex-roommate who’d bounced a check for two months’ rent and moved out in the middle of the night. I figured she owed me an expensive night out, but I guess, technically, I was crashing the wedding.
Once caught, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. As I bolted for the door, I might’ve plucked a few bottles of expensive champagne off the tables I passed, all while the gorgeous, angry groomsman was hot on my tail.
Outside, I jumped into a taxi. My heart ricocheted against my ribs as we drove down the block—but at least I’d escaped unscathed.
Or so I thought.
Until I realized I’d left my cell phone behind at the table.
Take one guess who found it?
This is the crazy story of how Hudson Rothschild and I met. But trust me, it’s only the tip of the iceberg.
PRE-ORDER LINKS
OR TEXT ‘BOOKS’ TO 77948 (US ONLY)
AUTHOR BIO
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over a hundred Bestseller lists and are currently translated in twenty-five languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
AUTHOR LINKS
OTHER BOOKS BY VI
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

✍🏻 Staci Hart’s newest book, Bet the Farm, is coming January 23rd. Have you preordered her cover yet? Added it to your TBR? ✍🏻

Staci Hart has a brand new rom-com standalone coming January 23rd! Bet the Farm is a heartfelt, flirty story of opposites attract and I cannot WAIT to read it! Mark your calendars and pre-order your copy today!

Amazon | AppleBooks | Kobo | B&N | Goodreads

“You said you’d stay out of my way.”

He took a step closer. “And I have. But I said no goats.”

“What’s your problem with them?”

“You gonna clip their hooves? How about mend all the fences when they bust out, because they’re a pack of brainless Houdinis. How about deworming? And you’ve gotta breed. You ever smelled a goat buck? Tell me, smartass—have you ever seen goats mate?”

I shook my head.

“Let’s just say there’s a reason the devil has goat horns, and you’re gonna have a front row seat to the horror shop. If you knew anything about anything, you’d never have started all this.”

Another step, his arms folding across his expansive chest, which was covered. And thank God. I couldn’t think when he was shirtless.

Part of me thought he knew it too.

“Lemme tell you something, Olivia. It’s gonna be me who deals with the fucking goats, not you. And I told you no.”

“Fine. I hereby take all responsibility for the goats. All hoof clipping, fence mending, and deworming will be done by me.”

He stared me down for a second, and whatever he was thinking tugged at one corner of his lips for that whisper of a smile. He stuck his hand out for a shake.

I took it, aware of every nerve touching his skin. The rough of his calluses. The warmth in his palms. The odd sensation of my hand being almost completely enveloped by his.

I squeezed and pumped our hands once.

“Just promise me one thing,” he said, still holding my hand.

“What?”

“Let me know when you’re clipping their hooves so I can make popcorn.”

Olivia Brent has one summer to save the dairy farm she just inherited.

But there’s one problem, and it’s not her lactose intolerance.

Jake Milovic.

The brooding farmhand has inherited exactly fifty percent of Brent Farm, and he’s so convinced the city girl can’t work the land, he bets she can’t save it in a summer. 

Determined to prove him wrong, Olivia accepts what might be the dumbest wager of her life.

His strategy to win seems simple: follow her around, shirtlessly distracting her between bouts of relentless taunting. And it’s effective—if his dark eyes and rare smiles aren’t enough to sidetrack her, the sweaty, rolling topography of the manbeast’s body would do the trick.

What they don’t know: they’ll have to weather more than each other. 

Mysterious circumstances throw the farm into disarray, and with the dairy farm in danger, Olivia and Jake have to work together. But when they do, there’s more to fear than either of them imagined.

Because now their hearts are on the line, and the farm won’t be the only casualty if they fail.

Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life — a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, sleeping, gaming, or designing graphics.

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✍🏻 Blog Tour & Excerpt: H. Hunting’s Little Lies – this is one of my top New Adult reads for 2020 ✍🏻

“H. Hunting pens a heartbreaking tale that leaves readers absolutely breathless from beginning to end. One of her best books yet!”
– Stacey Lynn, author

Little Lies, an all-new, angsty and emotional new adult romance from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting writing as H. Hunting is out now!

Read my 5++ ⭐️ review HERE.

I don’t want you.
You mean nothing to me.
I never loved you.
I turned my words into swords.
And I cut her down.
Shoved the blade in and watched her fall.
I said I’d never hurt her, and I did.
Years later, I’m faced with all the little lies, the untruths, the false realities, the damage I inflicted, when all I wanted was to indulge my obsession.
Lavender Waters is the princess in the tower. Even her name is the thing fairy tales are made of.
I used to be the one who saved her.
Over and over again.
But I don’t want to save her anymore.
I just want to pretend the lies are still the truth.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3gn18sL
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/littlelies
Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/3aWyq0C
Audible: https://adbl.co/32HTPIe

Add LITTLE LIES to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2IUtW0y

Excerpt

The front door swings open, and the never-ending nightmare that is this day smacks me in the face like a long-expired sausage. Kodiak stands in the doorway wearing only a pair of swim shorts, wet hair sticking out all over the place, water dripping on the damn floor. But God, is he ever glorious. Muscle layered over muscle, thick biceps flexing as he holds the doorjamb, a mischievous grin popping the dimple in his left cheek.
My heart seizes and gallops. I miss this version of him: the one that smiles and doesn’t hate me.
He ruins everything a moment later by bellowing, “Who’s fucking in the driveway?”
His gaze moves to Dylan, who looks as horrified as I feel, but as it shifts to me, his smile drops and my stomach tightens.
“You should really go,” I tell Dylan.
“I’ll see you around.” He disappears into his car and barely has the door closed before he’s backing out of the driveway and screeching down the street.
I adjust my backpack on my shoulder and head for the house, steeling my spine and my nerves because Kodiak is still standing in the middle of the doorway, his face a mask of indifference. I try to brush by him, but he stays where he is, making it impossible.
I sigh, exhausted beyond belief. I just want to go upstairs and have a good, cathartic cry. I try to mirror his apathy. “Can you move so I can get into my house?”
His brow furrows as his eyes move over my face. He lifts his hand, like maybe he’s thinking about touching me. There’s no way I can handle that. I jerk back and swat his hand away. “What are you doing?”
“Your lip is bleeding.”
“Don’t act like you actually give a shit, Kodiak.”
“Tell me what happened.” His voice is low and soft, and for whatever reason, that makes me even angrier, so I lash out, wanting to wound him the way he keeps wounding me.
“You, Kodiak. You happened, and you ruined my goddamn life. Now get the hell out of my way.” I elbow past him, almost tripping over several sets of running shoes.
I head straight for my bedroom and lock the door behind me. I slide down the wall until my butt hits the floor and close my eyes, taking deep breaths.
I imagined the concern in his voice.
I imagined the pain that sat heavy behind his eyes.
We see what we want to, not the truth, especially when it hurts.

About Helena Hunting

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

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