Gilded Lily by Staci Hart- Blog Tour

My Take: This book is a wonderful example of what romance novels can be- full of humor, love, heat, drama, but most of all romance. It’s pure poetry combined with the occasional dick joke. There was section after section I had to reread because it was so enchantingly written I didn’t want to miss one single word or intention. Truly this is Staci’s most beautifully written novel so far, and I was already a giant fan.

I tried highlighting my favorite lines but I found I was just highlighting multiple pages at a time, which defeats the purpose of a highlight. I guess the whole thing was my favorite part. It is a book to take your time with, curl up with, let it take over and make you fall in love.

The wait is over! Gilded Lily, the second standalone in Staci Hart’s Bennet Brothers Series, is LIVE! Trust me when I say you do NOT want to miss this one! Lila & Kash are everything. Grab your copy today on Amazon or snag this beauty in Kindle Unlimited today!

They say there’s no such thing as perfect.
But I’ve built my life to perfection—the perfect boyfriend, the perfect apartment, the perfect career planning celebrity weddings. My job—my only job—is to make sure every event is absolutely and completely perfect.
What’s not perfect? Kash Bennet.
And I wish I didn’t find that so appealing.
I could have told you every perfectly imperfect thing about the gardener at Longbourne. Like his hair, lush and black and far too long. Or his nose, the flat bridge of a Greek god, bent a little like it’s been broken. Or his size. Beastly. Roped and corded with muscles, gleaming with sweat and peppered with dirt.
There’s no escaping him, not if I’m going to use his family’s flower shop for my events.
But nothing is what it seems. And in the span of a heartbeat, my perfect life is turned inside out.
They say the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody new. When Kash offers his services to the cause, it sounds like the perfect plan.
What’s not part of the plan? Falling in love with the gardener.
But they were right—there’s no such thing as perfect.
And I’m the fool who finds out the hard way.

A SPADE’S A SPADE

KASH

Heaven existed within the walls of our greenhouse.

The shuck of my shovel against the iron wheelbarrow was the second hand on my day. Rich soil mounded on my spade, and I transferred it into the bed of Black-eyed Susans, turning it to feed the sleepy dirt already gathered at the flowers’ feet.

I caught sight of the snowy top of my father’s head between stalks of amber amaranth down the row where he knelt, hands in the earth. He hummed along with the music playing from the portable speaker on our work cart, and with another shuck, I drove my shovel back into the wheelbarrow.

It was peaceful and familiar, the rhythm of our day, the slanting sun, the humid air and smell of flowers. I’d worked in my family’s greenhouse during high school—as had all my siblings—but where they made their way into the world, I hung back, content to hang back at Longbourne with Dad, unable to leave Mom without anyone to fuss over. And if there was one thing Mrs. Bennet required from life, it was someone to fuss over.

I found myself smiling at the thought. She’d see us all married off—in fact, she played the matchmaker like it was her full time job—but I had to wonder what she’d do with herself once we were all gone. Press us for grandchildren and divert her attention to them, if the rest of the Bennet brood was lucky.

The crack of the swinging metal door against the wall wiped that smile off my face. I shot up from my task with a hard look, appalled and accusing, prepared to smite whoever had disturbed our sanctuary.

Lila Parker blew in like a gale, heels clicking like hammers against the cement floor. At the sight of her, my fury abated, replaced by a curious wonder and the incremental slowing of time that always accompanied her entrance.

She was a study in white, pristine and stern in a pantsuit that belonged in some fancy lady’s luncheon, not a greenhouse. Her legs were ten miles long in those white pants, the matching jacket cut low. A sliver of silken nude fabric was the only thing to mar the line of her cleavage, which my eyes followed before climbing up her lily-white skin, up the long column of her neck, to the set of her uncompromising little jaw.

God, she was pretty when she was mad. Shame she had a boyfriend.

I’d known Lila since high school, the notorious rule follower and teacher’s pet, thumbing her nose at the trouble the rest of us got in and refusing invitations to parties in favor of SAT prep. Her sister, Ivy, worked here then and stuck around like I had, and though Lila’d had every opportunity to join the gang, she’d happily declined. She’d ignored me then, and she ignored me now, outside of storming into our flower shop to get onto us—or me specifically—for whatever wedding we had, were, or would provide flowers for. As a high-profile wedding planner, I supposed that was her right.

The only bearable thing about it was the chance to give her just a little hell, simply because I knew she could take it and I could take whatever she gave back.

As she approached, her lips set in a firm line, red as blood against the milk of her skin. The bridge of her nose was short, though long enough to look down at everyone from her high horse—or high heels, as it were—but her eyes always struck me beyond all else, cool and gray as a winter’s afternoon, tight with suspicion, hard with the bite of demand. Incongruent to the impeccable, pallid shades of snow was her hair, a shining crimson too bright for all that ivory. It was as perfectly right as it was utterly unnatural, the only indicator that she ran on hot coals and gasoline, just waiting for a match to strike so she could ignite. Just as she had once a week—typically in my direction—since she’d started using Longbourne’s flowers for her events.

That red hair bounced with every click of her heels as she rounded the corner of the aisle and marched toward me, her eyes narrowing another tick when they met mine. Tess, our lead florist, followed with an apologetic look on her face.

My lips tilted higher on one side. And with a shield of calm, unaffected charm in place, I leaned on the handle of my shovel, ready to catch whatever Lila threw at me.

“Coral,” she snapped as she approached. “You were supposed to give me coral chrysanthemums for the Berkshire wedding, and you sent pink.” She stopped a few feet in front of me, crossing her arms.

I offered an easy smile. “I cut those flowers myself, picked the best stock from our Gigi mums, just like you asked.”

“Then why were they the wrong color? Do you have any idea the tantrum Johanna Berkshire threw over those flowers? She tried to get me fired.”

A chuckle through my nose. “Sounds like she needs to get some real problems.”

She eyed me as she drew a breath to fuel her furnace. “For years, my sister has begged me to bring Longbourne business, and I refused for exactly this reason. If it hadn’t been for all your recent press, I never would have put my ass on the line. But if I say coral, I expect coral. Not pink. Not fuchsia. Not goddamn watermelon or flamingo or anything but coral.”

“Sorry, Ms. Parker,” I answered lazily. “Won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t.”

“How about we issue the Berkshires a partial refund for the trouble?”

Suspicion sparked in her gaze. “I’m sure that would help.”

“Then consider it done.”

Those cool eyes narrowed even more. “I need someone to come to a venue in Midtown to measure for arbors and garlands. They’ve requested an archway, and one of you needs to come take the measurements.”

Dad cast me a glance that said not it. The way Tess glared at the back of Lila’s head, I figured she’d just as soon claw her in the back with a hand rake than help her measure anything. Lila’s sister Ivy—who was a florist at Longbourne—was entirely too pregnant to measure anything but her uterus, and Wendy, our newest addition, just wasn’t experienced enough.

My brother Luke might have done it, but something told me I wanted to be the one to handle Lila Parker.

“Sure. When and where?”

“Tomorrow, if you can manage it. I can meet you at three, 49th and 5th. I’m going to need an archway long enough for the wedding party to stand inside, and the arbor will need a special design built in the shape of a triangle. It’s at the—” She paused, lips flattening. “Shouldn’t you be taking notes?”

I tapped my temple. “Got it all right here.”

Color rose in her cheeks as she drew a slow breath through her nose. “I really think you should write it down.”

“What, don’t trust me?”

“I don’t know what instills more faith—that you can’t tell the difference between shades of pink or that your shirt says Can You Dig It? on the front.”

I glanced down at my chest, flicking at a streak of dirt like I gave a shit what she thought. “Listen, Priss. I’ll be where you say, when you say, ready and at your service.”

A pause while she stared me down, seeming to weigh her options. “All right, Filthy. Can you at least wear a clean shirt? This venue books for two-hundred-thousand per event, and I don’t want to have to get you in through the service entrance.”

“Deal,” I said, extending a hand in challenge. It was as filthy like she’d said, with crescents of dirt under my nails and enough soil in the creases of my palms to grow zucchinis.

Her eyes dropped to my hand, and for a moment, I was positive she’d refuse. But somewhere in that pretty little head of hers existed some form of manners and a healthy helping of pride, so she slipped that spotless, manicured hand into my dirty, callused one.

It was soft and warm, though her fingers were strong, gripping my hand and pumping it once, firm and definitive, before taking it back.

Instantly, I felt guilty for daring her—her skin was spoiled with streaks and flecks of dirt. To her credit, she didn’t even dust it off. Instead, she held up her chin and gave me a quietly confrontational glare.

“I’ll give Ivy the exact address. At least I know she’ll write it down.”

“Whatever you have to do,” I said, returning my forearm to the handle of the shovel, not missing the flick of her eyes to my shoulders and the cross of my arms.

“Tomorrow, then. Don’t be late.” She tugged tugged the hem of her jacket, straightening it to match the yardstick that was her spine, and once again I lamented taking her hand. A scuff of dirt now sullied the very edge of that white tailored coat.

Before I could apologize, she turned on her heel to walk away.

What she didn’t realize—the cat had taken up post directly behind her.

The moment stretched as she tilted in a successful attempt to avoid impaling Brutus with her heel, and when that heel came down, it caught in the seam of concrete. Her long legs twisted, arms shooting out for balance but finding none. Fast, but not fast enough, I moved for her, the shovel hitting the ground with a clang as that pristine white ass of hers landed flat in the Black-eyed Susans and that fresh coat of soil I’d just laid down.

Brutus took a seat next to Tess’s feet, curling his tail around himself and watching Lila with what I swore was a wry smile.

My urge to laugh was so intense, it caught in my chest, frozen by the sheer outrage on her face and utter hysteria of the sight of her, so clean and white against the browns and greens and golds of the flowerbed. A slow heave of her chest as she breathed fire. The pink of her cheeks flaring to red. The gray of her eyes igniting into a cruel shade of blue, illuminated by the inferno of her thoughts.

I stepped up, unable to school my face as I extended a hand, this time to help her up.

But she scowled, slapping my hand away. “I’ve got it,” she shot, planting her palms in the dirt to push herself up.

As I backed out of the way, I watched her swipe at her ass, too furious to realize she’d only smudged the dirt around.

Tess removed her hands from her mouth, unable to right her face any better than I had. “Here, let me help you—”

“I said, I’ve got it.” Lila’s voice was deadly calm, and at the sound, Tess pinned her lips between her teeth and stepped out of the way.

“Tomorrow,” Lila snapped at me over her shoulder, smoothing the shining waves of her hair, which remained undisturbed by her tumble.

“See you then,” I answered with a nod.

And then I watched that dirty ass stride proudly out the door.

The second it swung closed, laughter bubbled out of Tess, and at the sound, there was no containing my own. Even Dad joined in, shoulders shaking gently.

“Oh, the poor Susans,” Tess said, swiping at a tear. “Look, her ass print is still there,” she squeaked before succumbing to another bout of laughter.

“The look on her face,” I said with the shake of my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody so mad. Not even you, Tess.”

“And that’s saying something,” she added, resting her palm on her belly like she’d just done a hundred sit-ups. “God, if Ivy and Lila didn’t look like twins, I’d never believe they were related.”

“I didn’t remember her being this…” I started.

“Bitchy?”

“I was gonna say bossy, but okay.”

Tess sighed. “She wasn’t kidding about sticking her neck out. She’s handling this huge celebrity wedding on her own, and her senior is a total asshole, breathing down her neck and micromanaging her at every turn. Addison is constantly looking for reasons to throw Lila under the bus, and if we screw up, Addison will blame Lila. But even though she’s a pain, the business is good for us. Archer Events handles the biggest weddings in the city, and that’s putting us in the spotlight. We’ve just gotta deal with all the stress that comes with doing weddings.”

“Like bridezillas and entitled wedding planners?” I asked.

“Exactly.” Tess sighed. “Although, I don’t know what we’re going to do with Lila when Ivy is on maternity leave and isn’t here to manage her. Today was bad enough, and Ivy was just at a doctor’s appointment.”

Dad dusted off his hands. “If she got past you, Tess, I fear for us all.”

“I tried to tell her it wasn’t your fault,” Tess said, her eyes full of apology. “Those flowers went through three florists before it got to the wedding—which I told her—but she stormed right past me to yell at you about it.”

I shrugged. “Don’t worry about me, Tess—I can handle her.” At the disbelieving quirk of her mouth, I added, “I mean it. She can get as mad as she wants and I won’t get riled. I’ll hold the bucket so she can dump all her rage into it, and when she’s empty of it, I’ll get whatever done that she needs done. Trust me when I promise you this—Lila Parker cannot get to me.”

At that, Tess laughed. “Famous last words.”

And oh, if I’d only known how right she was.

Want more Bennet Brother goodness?

Grab Coming Up Roses, the first stand alone in the Bennett Brothers series, available now on Amazon in Kindle Unlimited!

Everyone hates parts of their job.
Maybe it’s the paperwork. Maybe it’s the day-to-day grind. Maybe it’s that client who never knows what they want, or the guy who always cooks fish in the microwave.
But not me. I love every corner of the Longbourne Flower Shop, every flower, every petal, every stem. I love the greenhouse, and I love Mrs. Bennet, my boss. I love creating, and I love being a florist. I don’t hate anything at all.
Except for Luke Bennet.
The Bennet brothers have come home to help their mom save the flower shop, and Luke is at the helm. His smile tells a tale of lust, loose and easy. He moves with the grace of a predator, feral and wild. A thing unbridled, without rules or constraint. When he comes home to save Longbourne, I almost can’t be mad at him. Almost.
He doesn’t remember that night I’ll never forget. That kiss, touched with whiskey and fire. It branded me like a red-hot iron. But it meant nothing to him.
Everyone hates part of their job, and I hate Luke Bennet.
Because if I don’t, I’ll fall in love with him.

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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The Lineup by Meghan Quinn- Now Live!

The Lineup by Meghan Quinn is now live!

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2Y9Oupy


Get it here:

FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/37ZUQw9

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2OL5cZe

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2RgzLHK

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/34JOTkR


Blurb: Want to know a secret?

It’s about that girl over there.
Don’t look, but she’s the one in the power suit—with the long, black hair and the serious expression, the one I’m about to go on a date with . . .

Yeah, according to her, she “accidentally” donated an obscene amount of money to my charity — The Lineup — to win said date but I found out the truth. Miss. Button Up Blouse has a secret, passionate crush on me.

I didn’t know her name until two days ago, despite the friends we have in common.
Was I oblivious? Probably.
Was I blind to it? Definitely.

But I’m no fool, I see it now. The High Heel Harlot wants more than just a date with Jason Orson, she wants to be able to claim the best butt in baseball as hers.


EXCERPT: 

**JASON**

It isn’t in my nature to cry over burnt ham, but here I am, tearing up like a jackass, because the meal I’ve been reluctantly slaving over for the past four hours is two shades away from charred dust.

I had it all planned out. The timing was right, the recipes perfected, the table decorated with impeccably folded napkins that impersonated angelic swans, and polished silver that I scrubbed for an hour until I could see my balls in the reflection. Nothing says polished silverware like a spoon that gives you a clear upside-down view of your gonads.

But even with countless hours of preparing this feast, naked as the day I was born with only an apron to cover my man-loins, I still ended up with a scorched ham doused in fire extinguisher agent because somehow, the damn thing caught on fire.

Imagine this, a grown-ass man—no, not just a grown-ass man, but a man at the fresh age of twenty-eight, built like a linebacker with buttocks you can bounce rocks off . . . thanks to squatting for a living—dancing around the kitchen on his twinkle toes, arms flailing with pink and white potholders attached to his hands, screaming like a banshee, as flames light up the Jenn-Air double oven where the brown sugar and pineapple ham resided.

Are you seeing it?

Add the imagery of said man naked, dick and balls harmoniously bouncing in panic while the apron his “girlfriend” got him that says Eat my food, Lick my dick, unravels in the fit to unleash the fire extinguisher.

That was me . . . a minute ago.

Frantic, screaming, and all in all losing any last shred of my man card I had left.

It’s why I’m currently weeping like a nitwit into the flaps of my apron, wondering where I went wrong.

If we’re going to be honest with each other—and I would like to establish honesty with you—I’ll admit, I’ve always leaned toward the sensitive side. You know, the cuddly grizzly bear. Big and intimidating but a fucking gooey butterball heart on the inside.

Tell me a love story. I’ll listen the crap out of it.

The Bachelor? Why yes, that’s one of my favorite shows.

Do I smile when sharing a candlelit dinner with myself, followed by a nice long soak in a bubble bath while Enya—the fucking goddess of all voices—plays in the background? I sure as shit do.

But if some ignorant asswipe gets in my face on the ball field, stirring up trouble, I’m the first to lay a fist across his jaw and the first to be thrown out of a game.

And I’m not even sorry about it.

People are arriving in an hour. I’m vulnerable as fuck with my bare ass resting against the cold white-oak floor of my girl’s apartment, while a lonely tear streams down my freshly shaven cheek. I have no main dish, and the apartment smells like burnt rabbit turd.

Why am I in this hopeless predicament?

Because of one person.

One single person who flipped my life upside down.

A bombshell in a suit, a ravenous sex-fiend in the sheets, a classy and sophisticated tight-ass in the boardroom. She’s a knockout who’s always on my mind. She’s the girl you do things for, that you never thought you’d ever do . . .

Like cook a fancy-as-fuck four-course meal for her and her business associates while practicing interesting conversational starters to ensure the night flows smoothly.

Back in college, I might have been referred to as the mother hen of the boys. I might have cooked at least two meals a week for the guys in the loft, and yeah, I was the ironing wizard, the one everyone turned to, to get out the most stubborn wrinkles. The title has carried on over the years, but my creativity in the kitchen has dwindled with the lack of time, my ironing is now done by my apartment keeper once a week, and the fresh flowers scattered around my place? They’re more dead now than alive.

My point—I’m not the lady of the house I used to be. But I’ve been getting back into the swing of it.

So when my girl asked me to perform the impossible feat of an intimate dinner for four, I should have ordered in, tossed everything in serving dishes, and called it a night.

But nooooooooo, I had to attempt to be a goddamn hero and try to cook everything myself.

And all for what?

For one girl?

No. Not just one girl. The girl who owns my balls, who has a grip so tight on them that if she asked me to bellow out my ABCs in soprano while swirling my finger around my belly button . . . I would.

Who is this girl that has brought me to the brink of boo-boo smush bear insanity and caused me to weep like a schoolgirl in the corner of the apartment?

There’s only one lady with more than enough ovaries to buckle the knees of the mighty Jason Orson.

The one and only Dorothy “Dottie” Domico.


About the Author: 

USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.

M_Quinn_photo

Connect with Meghan:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

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Website: http://authormeghanquinn.com

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/meghan-quinn

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2LitE4x

Gilded Lily- Now Live!

Gilded Lily, the second book in Staci Hart’s Bennet Brothers series is now live! Full review and excerpt to come on Friday, but trust when I say it is beautiful and you should not hesitate to get it!

Blurb:

They say there’s no such thing as perfect.

But I’ve built my life to perfection—the perfect boyfriend, the perfect apartment, the perfect career planning celebrity weddings. My job—my only job—is to make sure every event is absolutely and completely perfect.

What’s not perfect? Kash Bennet.

And I wish I didn’t find that so appealing.

I could have told you every perfectly imperfect thing about the gardener at Longbourne. Like his hair, lush and black and far too long. Or his nose, the flat bridge of a Greek god, bent a little like it’s been broken. Or his size. Beastly. Roped and corded with muscles, gleaming with sweat and peppered with dirt.

There’s no escaping him, not if I’m going to use his family’s flower shop for my events.

But nothing is what it seems. And in the span of a heartbeat, my perfect life is turned inside out.

They say the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody new. When Kash offers his services to the cause, it sounds like the perfect plan.

What’s not part of the plan? Falling in love with the gardener.

But they were right—there’s no such thing as perfect.

And I’m the fool who finds out the hard way.

Shelf Awareness by Katie Ashley- Blog Tour!

My Take: I really liked this book! Finley needs a new start after discovering her husband is cheating on her with her male trainer. She moves to Green Valley where her Grandmother and her girl gang all live and gets a job at the local library, where she meets the mysterious Zeke. Finley felt real in the way she wallowed then bucked up and moved forward. Zeke was a true gentleman and it was a treat discovering where he came from and what he’s going in Green Valley. I really enjoyed them together, and it was a great addition to the Green Valley library series- in fact, it was by far my favorite.


Blurb: After catching her husband in a compromising position, Finley Granger finds herself in a new hell: reentering the dating world. When she moves in with her grandmother, her great-aunt, and their best friend, Finley finds herself surrounded by a trio of well-meaning yet bumbling matchmakers.

In spite of their efforts, Finley only has eyes for one person, and that’s Zeke Masters—the 6’4”, impossibly built, and ridiculously good-looking new man in town. Along with her nether regions, Finley’s journalistic spidey-senses tingle as to why he’s on sabbatical from Seattle. Is he on the lam or escaping a bad breakup? What’s his story?!?!

As Finley finds herself reluctantly drawn to the gorgeous IT guy, she can’t help but wonder: should she indulge in a rebound tryst with the mysterious Zeke, or has she finally met her match?

‘Shelf Awareness’ is a full-length contemporary romantic comedy, can be read as a standalone, and is book #4 in the Green Valley Library series, Green Valley World, Penny Reid Book Universe.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited! 

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Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2lAahaG


 Except

As Zeke worked on uploading the census records, I hoisted one of the many boxes from the Henderson’s donation onto the table. It kicked up an epic dust cloud. I reached inside to pluck out one of the moldering tomes of historical literature. Wrinkling my nose, I fought the urge to sneeze. Instead, I cleared my throat. When it still felt like I had swallowed a wad of sawdust, I coughed. And that was my grievous mistake. 

The force of the cough dislodged the Ben Wa ball, sending it into an epic downward dive. Yes, ladies and gentlemen the Ben Wa ball had left the building. Whirling away from Zeke, I used my hand to try an inconspicuous crotch shuffle to send the ball back to its point of origin. What happened next was truly against the laws of motion. Because the universe apparently hated me, the ball escaped the confines of my thong. As it started its descent down my thigh, I squeaked and clamped my knees together. 

“Are you all right?” Zeke asked behind me. 

I threw a glance at him over my shoulder. “Uh, yeah, I . . .” Okay, I had no idea how I was going to get out of this one. It wasn’t like I could say, “Well, here’s the thing. The Ben Wa ball I was using to strengthen my pelvic floor muscles to keep my vagina healthy for the D just slipped out and is about to make a very unhappy trail down my leg.”

“I think a bug bit me or something.”

“Oh no. Want me to take a look?”

“No!” When Zeke’s eyes widened at my outburst, I said, “Sorry. I’m okay.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Totally.”

“I think I might’ve found something interesting for your research.”

The only thing I was interested in at the moment was getting the Ben Wa ball out of my pants without Zeke seeing it. “Oh?”

“I definitely see some Native American female names.”

Damn him for being enthusiastic about my research. The last thing I wanted to do was walk the couple of steps back over to him while trying to keep a Ben Wa ball from rolling down my pants leg. Since I couldn’t see any other way out of it, I nodded. Gritting my teeth, I started shuffling over to him. 

When I started lurching like Frankenstein’s monster, Zeke tilted his head curiously at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine,” I muttered. 

Just as I reached his chair, my knee shifted because of what I imagined was panic sweat overtaking me. As the ball became dislodged, I bit down on my lip to keep from squealing again. There was no saving the ball now or my humiliation for that matter. 

As soon as it plopped onto my shoe, I flung my foot, sending it ricocheting into the desk. Of course, it’s size caused it to make a tremendous ching-ching noise, which in turn caused Zeke to rip his attention away from the screen. “What was that?”

“What was what?” I questioned innocently. 

He furrowed his brows at me. “You didn’t hear that noise?”

“Uh, no.” Plastering a smile on my face, I said, “I’m sorry. I was just so into what you were saying.” 

Ignoring my response, Zeke quickly assessed the area around us. After I’d flung the ball away, it had come to a rest to the right of his desk chair. When he bent over to examine the ball, I inwardly began screaming noooooo while at the same time cursing Estelle for even bringing the Ben Wa ball into my orbit. 

Since the universe hadn’t tortured me quite enough yet, Zeke picked up the ball. “Interesting,” he murmured as he twisted it between his fingers.

I decided it was best to play absolutely and completely clueless in this situation. “What is it?” Silently, I prayed he wouldn’t respond with, “It looks like one of those sex balls you shove up your cooch.”

“I don’t know. Maybe a part off one of the desks or chairs. I should probably give it to maintenance, so they can check all the furniture in here.”

Oh hell no. Without a second thought, I snatched the ball out of his hands. Since I did it rather abruptly, Zeke’s surprise was apparent on his face. Waving my free hand dismissively, I said, “Don’t bother yourself with that. I’ll take it to them.”

“Thanks, Finley.”

After wheezing out a breath, I replied, “You’re welcome.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll go do that right now.”

I didn’t bother waiting for Zeke to reply. Instead, I power walked right out of the history room. I’m sure if he was watching me he would have been puzzled at my miraculous recovery, considering I’d been limping earlier. 

At the first trash can I could find, I deposited the Ben Wa ball. It seemed abundantly clear that neither I nor my vagina were quite ready to handle the responsibility. 

About Katie Ashley

Katie Ashley is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon Top Five Best-Selling author of both Indie and Traditionally published books. She lives outside of Atlanta, Georgia with her daughter, Olivia, her two rescue dogs named for Disney Princesses, Belle & Elsa, an out-numbered cat, Harry Potter, and one Betta fish. She has a slight obsession with Pinterest, The Golden Girls, Shakespeare, Harry Potter, and Star Wars. 

Connect with Katie Ashley

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Shaking the Sleigh by Delancey Stewart- Now Live!

My Take: This is a very sweet, very swoony story of two people who hate Christmas that come together to learn to love the season (and each other perhaps?). It’s filled with humor, cute kids, romance, and heat. I highly recommend this sweet holiday love story. 4/5 stars


BLURB

I’ll just admit it right up front—I don’t love the holidays.

In fact, Christmas makes me downright cranky.

Call me the Grinch if you must, but if your dad chose that day to decide he was wrong about that whole wanting a family thing, you’d grow up miffed about mistletoe too. Every candy cane, ugly sweater, and falalalala reminds me of the worst day of my life.

So when my uncle—a bigwig network executive—gives me one last shot to salvage my disastrous TV production career on a show called Holiday Homes, I’ve got no choice but to suck it up, head to the small town of Singletree, and fake festive.

The problem? 

Callan Whitewood. The sexy, sullen former pro-soccer player might be the one person on earth who hates the holidays more than I do. After a devastating injury ended his career, he’s left with a limp, no idea what to do with his future, and a cheerless attitude worthy of Ebenezer Scrooge. But I’ve got a TIME LIMIT to convince the gorgeous grump to allow his home to be featured as the pinnacle of the Christmas episode of the show that’s going to save my career.

That is, if I can keep my hands off him… but I’m having a bit of trouble sticking to the task. 

SHAKING THE SLEIGH is a standalone holiday romantic comedy with a satisfying happily ever after, plenty of festive chuckles, some sexy times and a few chinchillas. Maybe a cat. (And there might be a wombat because wombats really do fit into almost any story.)

GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48368966-shaking-the-sleigh 

PURCHASE LINKS 

US: https://amzn.to/2LRJilJ
UK: https://amzn.to/2omwomy
CA: https://amzn.to/334YKR6
AU: https://amzn.to/31SHb6y 

Free in Kindle Unlimited

AUTHOR BIO 

Delancey Stewart is an award-winning author who writes fiction with humor, heart and heat!

Get the first book in her new sports rom-com series — MR. MATCH — absolutely free by joining her newsletter here: https://www.subscribepage.com/delanceystewart 

Find her at www.delanceystewart.com and www.authordlstewart.com Facebook: www.facebook/DelanceyWrites.com and www.facebook/authorDLStewart


AUTHOR LINKS

Website: http://www.delanceystewart.com 

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/delanceywrites 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/DelanceyStewart 

Newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/delanceystewart Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/delanceystewart

Outmatched by Kristen Callihan and Samantha Young- Blog Tour

Outmatched, an all-new standalone contemporary romance by New York Times bestselling authors Kristen Callihan and Samantha Young, is LIVE!


My Take: Well this was enjoyable as heck. It was a very well done enemies to lovers, fake romance. Rhys was so growly and stoic, Parker was so quirky and relatable. Definitely highly recommend checking it out, but only if you like humor, sparks, or strong family centric men.


Blurb: What happens when a boxer finds chemistry with a geek?

Parker Brown can’t believe she needs to hire a fake boyfriend. When she landed her dream job in renewable energy, she thought she’d be entering a world at the forefront of progressive thinking. But the head boss prefers to promote employees who are “settled.” Thankfully, she’s found the perfect candidate, a fellow intellectual looking for some quick cash. What Parker gets is his protective big brother—Rhys Morgan. The tall, muscled ex-boxer with a foul mouth shows up just as her boss does, and now she’s stuck with the manipulative jerk.

Responsibility weighs heavily on Rhys. Now permanently out of the ring, he’s trying to hold together his late father’s gym and keep his younger brother, Dean, on the straight and narrow. To save Dean from himself, Rhys takes his place, ready to give this society girl a piece of his mind. Instead, he finds an opportunity. Even though they can hardly stand each other, posing as Parker’s boyfriend is a win-win deal. She gets to keep her job, and he’ll charm her star-struck boss into sponsoring his gym.

Problem is, they can barely keep their hands off each other. And what started as an easy deal isn’t so easy anymore. Because what future can a rough ex-boxer, afraid to open his heart, and a polished society geek, who has sworn off real relationships, possibly have?

They say opposites attract. These opposites are about to combust on impact.

Download your copy today! 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ZwJjPt

Amazon Worldwide: mybook.to/OutmatchedKCSY

Kobo: http://bit.ly/OutmatchedKCSYKobo

Apple Books: https://apple.co/2zsHUyR

Nook: http://bit.ly/368dv84

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/OutmatchedKCSYGR


Excerpt:

     AngryTink: Hey. This is Parker. Parker Brown.

My phone dinged loudly. I fumbled around my bed, finally finding the damn thing under a pillow. Wiping the sleep off my face, I rolled onto my back and read the text that had pulled me out of a pleasant sleep. I smiled. It was just so … Parker. Settling in, I answered her. 

RhysThis: Don’t have to tell me who you are. Your number is programmed on my phone. What do you want? 

AngryTink: Well, good morning to you too, Happy Pants.

My smile turned into an evil grin. The girl was always going to punch back and make it count. 

RhysThis: That’s Mr. Happy Pants. Though, TBH, my pants aren’t too happy at the moment. Want to help me out with that?

AngryTink: Tempting. Truly. But, no. 

RhysThis: RU sure? ‘Cuz Happy Pants Rhys is much more agreeable than Sad That He Had to Self-Satisfy Rhys. 

AngryTink: Would you please behave? 

RhysThis: I’m not the one who mentioned the emotional state of my pants.

AngryTink: ARGH! 

A chuckle rumbled in my chest as my thumbs tapped out a response I knew would piss her off more. 

RhysThis: Was that even English? Honestly, Ms. Brown, I thought you were educated. 

She took a moment to answer. I could picture her, phone in hand, grinding her teeth. 

AngryTink: You’re deliberately trying to annoy me, aren’t you?

RhysThis: You’re quick. I’ll give you that. 

AngryTink: Mr. Morgan, I’m about ten seconds away from finding an alternate fake boyfriend. A goat on a rope would be a better candidate at this point. 

It was cute she thought that was threatening. 

RhysThis: Yeah, probably. But the goat doesn’t have a signed contract. I do, Tinker Bell. 

AngryTink: ARGH@!!

RhysThis: You’re kind of cute when you talk pirate. 


About Kristen:

Kristen Callihan is an author because there is nothing else she’d rather be. She is a RITA winner and three-time nominee and winner of two RT Reviewer’s Choice awards. Her novels have garnered starred reviews from Publisher’s Weekly and the Library Journal, as well as being awarded top picks by many reviewers. Her debut book FIRELIGHT received RT Magazine’s Seal of Excellence, was named a best book of the year by Library Journal, best book of Spring 2012 by Publisher’s Weekly, and was named the best romance book of 2012 by ALA RUSA. When she is not writing, she is reading. 



Connect with Kristen:

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/KristenCallihan/

Twitter – Kris10Callihan

Website – http://www.kristencallihan.com/

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Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/Kristen_Callihan

About Samantha:

Samantha Young is a New York Times and #1 International bestselling author from Stirlingshire, Scotland. On Dublin Street was Samantha’s first adult contemporary romance series and has sold in thirty countries. She has since published over thirteen romance titles including the New York Times Bestsellers Into the Deep, Hero, and her most recent contemporary romance Play On. When writing Adult Paranormal romance she writes under the pen name S. Young. 

Connect with Samantha:

Social media links:

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSamanthaYoung/

Website – http://authorsamanthayoung.com

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Pinterest – https://www.pinterest.co.uk/samyoungauthor/

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The Lineup by Meghan Quinn- Cover Reveal!

Blurb: Want to know a secret?

It’s about that girl over there.
Don’t look, but she’s the one in the power suit—with the long, black hair and the serious expression, the one I’m about to go on a date with . . .

Yeah, according to her, she “accidentally” donated an obscene amount of money to my charity — The Lineup — to win said date but I found out the truth. Miss. Button Up Blouse has a secret, passionate crush on me. 

I didn’t know her name until two days ago, despite the friends we have in common. 
Was I oblivious? Probably.
Was I blind to it? Definitely.

But I’m no fool, I see it now. The High Heel Harlot wants more than just a date with Jason Orson, she wants to be able to claim the best butt in baseball as hers. 

Here’s another secret . . . she has no idea I know. 

THE LINEUP RELEASES DECEMBER 5TH!!!!

Add to your Goodreads TBR: https://bit.ly/2ZxlFGJ

Pre order your copy here: mybook.to/THELINEUP