Hate The Player by Max Monroe- Blog Tour!

I hate him. 
I want him.
He’s a jerk.
A player.
Addicting.
Trouble. 

Hate the Player, a slow burn and hilarious romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available now!


My Take:

(ARC Review) This was a very sweet, very funny enemies to lovers romance that was super fun to read. I was craving something lighthearted and this baby fit the bill! Sometimes it’s comforting to read romance that you know won’t break your heart but will still make you swoon.

The banter between Birdie and Andrew is top notch. I loved how they couldn’t stop riling each other up, but I loved even more when they realized they no longer wanted to play that game.

I thoroughly enjoyed Andrew’s journey from renowned Hollywood player to lovesick, sweet, caring boyfriend. Highly recommended if you want something funny and romantic that won’t make you cry!


“Roses are red, violets are blue, stay away from Andrew Watson’s *ahem* because no other women ever do.”

That’s quite the way to start a conversation at a casual lunch, huh? Grilled chicken, French fries, and pelvic-fatigue, oh my!

And that’s not even the worst of it.

My friend Raquel didn’t pull any punches when she warned me about my brand-new co-star and his notoriously player-esque ways. Apparently, my most important mission on my first role in a feature film is to stay immune to his charms.

Are you kidding me? Production costs on this movie are in the hundreds of thousands a day, and staying away from a panty-whispering, vajayjay-charmer is supposed to be at the top of my list? Pfft. Puh-lease.

It doesn’t matter that he’s annoyingly attractive, uber rich, crazy famous, and lusted after by ninety percent of the female population; Andrew Watson is trouble with a capital T—especially for a woman like me.

As a preventative measure, I’ve decided to go ahead and hate him.

Don’t worry, you guys, I’m completely in control. There’s absolutely no way I’m going to do something stupid like fall in love with him.

I can hate the player but still secretly love his addictive game.

I’m sure of it.

Download your copy today or read for Free on Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2C7tklj

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/HateThePlayer

Add Hate the Player to Goodreads:  https://bit.ly/2ZLb2y4


Excerpt

  Birdie 

  True to my name, I’m about to take fucking flight. At least, I would if I could. 

  In this moment, it really would have been helpful if my trainer hadn’t successfully eliminated all the extra flappy meat on my upper arms. Surely, if I got them going fast enough, the wind beneath those bat wings could have carried me up and through the ceiling of this place. 

  C’mon, you big baby, I coach myself. You can do this. 

  One cavernous breath into my lungs and then another and another, and eventually, just before my vision turns tunneled, I will my feet to move away from the door. 

  Gleaming marble floors, golden statues, and a freaking fountain in the center, the lobby of Capo Brothers Studios is everything I should have expected and more. 

  If everything is bigger in Texas, then everything is most certainly richer in LA. 

  I check in with security quickly, my voice only a little croaky thanks to the frog in my throat, and head for the elevator bank at the far side of the lobby. 

  I’m to head to the fifteenth floor, I’m told, and then go straight down the hall to the glass doors on the left at the end. There, I’ll find William Capo’s office—the head honcho and only surviving brother of Capo Brothers. 

  My cowgirl boots are noisy on the marble floors when I do as instructed. The sound you make when you walk is such a small detail—one I don’t normally think about—but the echo of their clack today makes my heart feel like it’s knocking into my rib cage and each step across the ornate floor is merely a sound effect. 

  Fifteen floors eclipse quickly—clearly, they’ve spared no expense on their elevator—and the hallway that leads to William’s office seems strangely one-directional. Like once I go down it—once I take this step—there will be no going back. Which is probably why, after forcing myself to go the distance to the end, I pause at the open door, the points of my booted toes just shy of crossing the line. 

   “Good morning.” A pretty assistant dressed in a white power suit greets me before I’ve even cleared the threshold of the door, and all thoughts of escape are dashed. Like it or not, I’ve just been shoved over the line. I will my feet to do the same as she continues to speak. “Can I help you?” 

  “I’m Birdie Harris,” I answer and have to swallow hard against the dryness threatening to close my throat. “I have an audition.” 

  My nerves are so obvious, the assistant offers a sympathetic smile. 

  If she were from my childhood hometown in West Virginia, she’d most likely be thinking Bless her heart

  She taps something across the keyboard of her iMac and places her hand to the Bluetooth at her ear. “Mr. Capo, I have Birdie Harris here.” Immediately, she looks away from the computer and meets my eyes. “They’ll be ready for you shortly. You can take a seat over there.” She points behind me, back through the door and across the hall to what I’m assuming is a fancy-schmancy waiting room of some sort. I haven’t encountered a place in the building that doesn’t have some sort of gilded or marble inlay, so I highly doubt I’m going to step through that door and into a room styled by the set designer for Saw. Though, I can’t say some sort of torture device wouldn’t be completely misplaced right now. I’m already doing a pretty good job of mentally waterboarding myself with worry. 

  I offer a little nod, keeping my twisted, sicko thoughts to myself. I doubt they’re interested in hiring a woman on the brink of a hysterical episode. 

  The secretary quirks a brow, and I realize, though I’ve nodded my affirmation of understanding, I’ve yet to move. 

  Good God, Birdie! Go sit down. 

   Annoyed with myself, I turn on my boots and march across the hall so violently, it’s like there’s an invisible person helping me along with a heavy hand at the nape of my neck. 

  When I cross into the room, a man is sitting on a swanky leather sofa with his booted feet up on the coffee table. He glances up briefly before returning his eyes to the phone in his lap. Embarrassed, I smooth my clomps instantly. 

  You’re a gazelle, Birdie, not a herd of buffalo, I coach. Move like it. 

  With his attention occupied, I survey him more closely as I move to take a seat across from him. He’s wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt, and his jawline would make steel beams look weak. Seriously. Confronted with an earthquake, I would seek shelter right under the eave of his jaw. 

  I’d love to get another peek at his eyes just to study the color, but fearing the eye contact that would require, I’m careful not to make any overt noises that might draw his attention again. 

  When he smirks, a devilish proposition-like smile at the screen of his phone, I don’t have to wonder anymore. 

  Oh no. I know exactly who this man is. 

   Andrew Watson

  The very man Rocky warned me about and I subsequently Instagram stalked. A laundry list of different women dotted through his timeline, it confirmed everything Rocky told me and then some. 

  All relaxed and cool, he sits on the white leather sofa with one arm outstretched across the back. Confidence and charm ooze from every freaking cell in his body. No doubt, Andrew Watson is more than capable of commanding the attention of everyone in the room, no matter the situation. 

  No wonder he’s one of Hollywood’s most famous actors. 

  The only time I have that kind of quiet confidence is when I’m onstage, singing my songs, lost in the music I created. 

  Just play it cool, Birdie. 

  On a deep breath, I force the uncertainty and unease out of my shoulders and settle my ass into the sofa across from him. He shifts again, crossing one ankle over the other and casually adjusting the denim at his crotch. 

  My eyes are immediately drawn to his bulge, and thanks to Rocky’s colorful descriptions of his favorite appendage, a little penis-shaped soldier is burned in my brain. After a few seconds of imagining the shape of his helmet and intensity of his salute, I jerk my gaze away in a panic. 

  Jesus. As if this audition wasn’t screwing with my head enough! Now I have Saving Ryan’s Privates, a military-themed porno my head just made up starring Staff Sergeant Dick Richardson, complicating things even more! 

  I must make a noise I don’t realize—the sound of my saliva gurgling in my throat while I choke on it, perhaps—because Andrew looks at me with curious eyes. I try like hell to keep my calm and act like I haven’t just gone to mental war with the soldier in his pants, but there’s only so much hysteria containment my mind is capable of. 

  “Uh…hi,” I say, trying so dang hard not to glance back down at his crotch that I start spewing diarrhea of the mouth about goddamn military-themed movies. “I never saw A Few Good Men, but I hear Tom Cruise was good in it.” When I realize what I’ve just said makes absolutely no sense to him—punctuated perfectly by his eyebrows drawing together noticeably—the gurgling saliva turns into a full-blown choke, and suddenly, the only way to breathe is through a hacking cough. 

  Holy shit, I’m too anxious to be around other humans right now! Also, I’m going to kill Rocky for putting this crap in my head about this guy’s penis. 

  “Are you okay?” he asks, and I hold up my hand in some kind of gesture. I’m not sure of its technical name, but its meaning is clear—please forget I exist right now. 

  He asks me once more, but I nod, and once the embarrassing coughing fit passes, I meet his piercingly gray-blue eyes—seeing their color is strikingly unavoidable now—and I offer a halfhearted smile. 

  “Sorry,” I apologize. I didn’t mean to drag him into an impromptu SNL sketch where I choke on spit and say ridiculously inappropriate, off-the-wall things. “I guess you could say I’m a little nervous.” 

  His responding smile gleams so bright, I have to wonder if he has an endorsement deal with Crest toothpaste. His mouth would make a dental hygienist get on their hands and knees and thank the Lord above. 

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. There’s no need to be nervous around me,” he responds, punctuating his words with a wink. 

  If my mind were a screenplay, the nerves would be exiting stage left. 

  Did he seriously just wink at me after assuming that I’m nervous to be in his presence? 

  Surely, I’m hearing this wrong. No one is that obsessed with themselves…right? 

  “Excuse me?” I ask, and his megawatt smile is still ever-present. 

  “If you’d like me to sign an autograph or take a selfie with you,” he enunciates slowly, as if my being able to understand him clearly was the problem. “I can probably sneak that in before I have to head in there.” 

  His autograph? You have got to be kidding me. He sure is a cocky bastard—and for the first time today, I’m not even talking about his dick. 

  Like the tip of a match being swiped across the edge of a matchbook, aggravation bursts into my veins. 

  “I’m here for an audition,” I assert. 

   Unfazed, he quirks a brow as if to say, my invitation for an autograph still stands. 

  Attractive or not, this guy is one of the biggest asses I’ve ever been around. 

  “I’m Birdie Harris. I’m auditioning for the role of Arizona Lee.” 

  And I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna land this acting gig just to spite this prick. 

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

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

Facebook: http://bit.ly/31XxggS

Instagram: http://bit.ly/39wuCkW

Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2HzGmau

Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/

No Whisk, No Reward- Blog Tour


No Whisk, No Reward, an all new romantic comedy with twists and turns from Ellie Kay, is  available now!

My Take: 5 very enthusiastic stars for Joel! Poor misunderstood baby. I want to give him a hug. Quiet, strong Joel is the perfect match for outgoing, sassy Sophie. It was good to see some of the regular Green Valley characters (Cletus and Beau included). It was just a very sweet romcom type story.

My only negative is the romance is somehow both slow burn and insta love at the same time, it felt a little off. This should probably knock of a star, but I liked Joel so much I’m keeping it as is. 5/5 stars


Blurb: How do you know if a risk is worth taking? If you knew, there wouldn’t be any risk.

Following a disastrous appearance on a televised baking show, Sophie Copeland is certain things can’t get any worse. Several calamities later, Sophie finds herself in Green Valley, Tennessee with no plan, no place to stay, and no prospects. But at least she has a temporary seasonal arrangement with the famed Donner Bakery. And that’s something, right?

It’s not permanent, and it’s not a home, but it’s still something.

Enter Joel Barnes, a Green Valley mystery, wrapped in rumors, and a whispered connection to the local notorious biker gang. Joel’s got a name for being bad news, but he also has an apartment for rent.

Intrigued by the dichotomy of Joel’s reputation and sexy southern pull, Sophie can’t help but be tempted, even though she knows—given her (bad) luck—she should stay far, far away. . .

Yet as everyone knows, without risk, there’s no reward.

‘No Whisk, No Reward’ is a full-length contemporary romantic comedy, can be read as a standalone, and is book#3 in the Donner Bakery series, Green Valley World, Penny Reid Book Universe.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited! 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/31zMc3a

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/NWNR

Amazon Print: https://amzn.to/2lCqhZJ

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2lyEQ0z


Excerpt

That’s when I saw Joel sitting alone in a booth by a large window, eating a sandwich, and reading a newspaper.

Oh. Hello, conflicted feelings. You’re looking extra conflicting today. Did you do something with your hair?

His gorgeous brown hair was a mess and the sleeves of his gray shirt were pushed up revealing his forearms which looked even thicker than I remembered them being, as he worked to fold the gigantic pages of the newspaper into neat manageable folds.

This man was seriously hotter than a melting ice-cream analogy.

And also, possibly involved with a crime organization! I reminded myself as I continued to stand uselessly trying to find somewhere to sit.

I tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to smile at the indelicate way he shoved the corner of his sandwich into his mouth and then proceeded to chew as though it might try to escape. 

He picked up his coffee and was mid-sip when his eyes rose up from the rim of his cup and saw me standing by the entrance staring at him.

Busted.

“Take a seat wherever you can find one, hon, I’ll be along shortly to take your order,” a lady with a nameplate that read Janice, instructed me as she hurried by with a tray of coffee and doughnuts.

I looked back over at Joel who was watching me and gestured to the empty seat across from his.

My mind immediately went to Joy and Tempest’s reaction when they found out he was my landlord, but I quickly reminded myself that he’d done nothing to warrant any rudeness on my part.

Despite their apprehension, I figured this was a good opportunity to try and get more insight into whether I thought their response carried any weight.

Plus, I really needed coffee.

I made my way over, feeling his eyes on me as I crisscrossed around tables while trying to be ever vigilant of any sudden movements from other patrons.

My good sense will not be thwarted by your blue-green eyes and frowny brows, you magnificent biker beast.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted in a smooth as hot honey drawl. I was glad that I was already halfway into the seat because I felt my knees completely give out.

Traitor knees.

My armor of detachedness was not as hefty as I’d hoped.

“Taking a break from work?” I inquired, proud of my cool, even tone.

“Yep, just grabbing something to eat. You?”

“I’m done for today,” I replied reaching for a menu and unfolding it as though it were just as informative as his newspaper.

“Nice. Got any plans?”

“Not really, I was going to check out the bookstore downstairs, but that’s about—”

I was interrupted by the feeling of fingers gently stroking my cheek and looked up to find him reaching across the table, his eyes focused on a spot as he gently swiped at something on my face.

“Sorry, you got flour or something on your cheek it was driving me crazy,” he said before pulling away and leaning back coolly against his seat.

I’m gonna get thwarted, aren’t I?

About Ellie Kay

Ellie Kay is an Australian born living in Vancouver, British Columbia Canada who honed her creative writing skills in the colorful, and imaginative world of Corporate Insurance.

Socially awkward, she loves to respond to theatre ticket vendors who say, “enjoy the movie” with, “Thanks, you too,”, but she also likes to cook, travel and spend time with her partner and cat Taako.

Ellie is on a mission to help change the stigma surrounding the Romance genre and hopes to see a day when they are no longer considered “guilty pleasures,” but rather, just a pleasure. 

Connect with Ellie Kay

Facebook: http://bit.ly/2kmkvLJ

Twitter: http://bit.ly/2lCpYOz

Instagram: http://bit.ly/2lByBcl

Connect with Smartypants Romance

Facebook: http://bit.ly/2kvDnb4

Twitter: http://bit.ly/2lzyduO

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

Instagram: http://bit.ly/2kwKsYK

Website: https://smartypantsromance.com/ 

Insatiable by Melanie Harlow- Blog Tour


Insatiable, an all-new fun and flirty friends to lovers romance from USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow is available now! 

Blurb: I didn’t mean to see him naked–it was an accident.

It had to be, right?

Because Noah McCormick and I have never been anything more than friends. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never once laid a finger on me. And even though he was a cute lifeguard at 16 and a hotter-than-hell sheriff’s deputy at 34, he’s always been that protective guy I could trust to keep his hands to himself. I never wanted to mess with that.

Until I walked in on him getting out of the shower and saw his hard, muscular body totally bare and dripping wet. At that moment I never wanted to mess with anything so badly in my entire life. 

I should have covered my eyes. Said I was sorry. At the very least, I could have handed him a towel.

After all, I was only in town for a few days, and he was just doing me a favor by escorting me to my sister’s wedding. It wasn’t a real date. 

But I didn’t apologize. And he didn’t cover up.

(Talk about a hot mess.)

After all those years of being just friends, suddenly we’re insatiable.

He’s made it clear he’s not interested in romance. Which is fine with me because 

I’ve got a plane ticket back to my real life at the end of the week. 

It’s all in fun…or is it?

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2Nnzuzw 

Amazon Worldwide: mybook.to/InsatiableMH 

Amazon Paperback: https://harlow.pub/Insatiable-pb

Add to Insatiable to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2lakefa 

Excerpt: 

Sawyer?” I said in disbelief. 

Breaking into a huge grin, she started to run. 

I was still standing there in shock when she barreled into me, throwing her arms around my neck. She smelled fucking fantastic. Feminine, sweet, delectable. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to hug her back without getting sweat or paint on her. “I thought you didn’t get in until Thursday.”

“I changed my ticket.” She let go just enough to smile up at me impishly. “I’m glad to see you too.”

I laughed. “I’m glad to see you. You just surprised me is all.”

“That was my plan.” She stepped back, and I figured my odor was probably repulsing her. 

“I stink, sorry. I went for a run earlier and I never showered. Then I painted the garage.”

“I never mind the smell of sweat. It means hard work.” She brightened. “Will you run tomorrow? I’d love to go with you.

“Sure. We can run tomorrow. I’m off again.”

“Great! Although I’m probably way out of shape.” She made a face. “My work schedule is so crazy, I don’t run as much as I used to.”

“You look great,” I told her. And it was true—she did look great. Maybe not quite as skinny as the last time I’d seen her, but the added curves looked good on her. My eyes wandered without my brain’s permission to her slightly fuller chest and rounder hips. Quickly, I attempted to look at her face again, but then my gaze lingered on her mouth. I remembered what it had looked like the other night in my fantasy as she’d wrapped her lips around my cock and moaned like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. 

My dick twitched beneath my running shorts, and I cleared my throat. “You’ve got a favorite murder? Is there something I need to know?”

She glanced down at her shirt and smiled. “It’s a podcast about true crime. I’m addicted.”

“Never heard of it.”

A sound of exasperation escaped her. “You live under a rock! I can’t believe you’re still not on social media.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Okay, I can, but it makes it really hard to stalk you.” 

I shook my head. “People like you are exactly why I don’t want to be on social media.”

She hit me on the shoulder. “I’m kidding! I just want to keep up with your life. I miss you.”

“So come home more often. Talk to my face.”

She grinned. “I do like seeing your face. Want to go grab a beer? Maybe some food?”

“Sure.”

About Melanie

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 VEEP, Game of Thrones, Succession, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.

Melanie is the author of the ONE & ONLY series, the 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: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMelanieHarlow/?fref=ts

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1NPkYKs

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/melanie-harlow

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/melanieharlow2/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/melanie_harlow/

Website: http://www.melanieharlow.com 

Stay up to date! Sign up for Melanie’s mailing list:   http://www.melanieharlow.com/subscribe/