Review – Tapping Her by Max Monroe

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What Worked For Me:

This novella picks up where Tapping the Billionaire leaves off.  Our happy couple is on their honeymoon…and what a decadent treat it is!  Kline and Georgia’s chemistry is as blistering hot as their honeymoon destination so make sure you are drinking lots of water and wearing cool clothes while reading!  The sex scenes are delightfully erotic and frequent…your heart rate will definitely be sky rocketing!  There is tons of whitty banter and emotion between the two and even some tension between them as Georgie and Kline come to terms with her new job and the demands it is going to place on her.  And the dilemma with Walter….I can’t spoil that but I can tell you it is absolutely adorable and just as equally hilarious.  This novella also gives us a very good glimpse into the relationship that is starting to develop between Thatch and Cassie.  These two are very clearly meant for one another and I am thoroughly intrigued as to how that is going to play out.  Their conversations are clever and engaging, albeit sometimes slightly juvenile, but I do think that is the perfect balance for what is going to be one hell of a romance. The situation they find themselves in with Walter is over-the-top funny and personally I want a front row ticket to a comedy show featuring these two.  It would make for a very entertaining sitcom!  Tapping Her is the perfect setup to tell their story and while it does leave you hanging just a little bit (not as a cliffhanger but more as a “Are you kidding me? I want the rest of the story NOW” kind of way) the anticipation for their story is now in overdrive.  And even though I’m still wondering who the duo of Max Monroe really is, the story and this series is taking on a life of its own and I’m thinking less about who they are, and more about how much faster they can write.

Would I Recommend This Book:

Yes, especially to readers who like Erotic Romance with lots of laughter.

Final Star Rating:

4.5

THLivegraphic

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Blissful in Bora Bora…

Kline and Georgia Brooks are fresh off their wedding and ready to indulge in the honeymoon of a lifetime.

Luxurious and private, their overwater bungalow in the South Pacific is the perfect backdrop for fun, sun, and enough sexiness to necessitate a dip in the clear water to cool down.

But marriage means more, and Kline and Georgia may have to find a different way to handle the heat.

Nowhere near normal in New York…

Thatcher Kelly loves wild women, and Cassie Phillips is about as wild as they come. Put them together and they are a match made in chaos.

Bound by cat-sitting responsibilities, Cass and Thatch have to find a way to right their mistakes—and wade through the dense cloud of sexual tension that seems to suffocate the room whenever they’re together.

Will they be able to resist?

And more importantly, will Walter be okay?

THLiveWalter

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Nook & Kobo to come!

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 Blitz Wide Giveaway

Blog Tour – Hanging By A Thread by Jenna Sutton

 

HANGING BY A THREAD
Riley O’Brien & Co. #3
Jenna Sutton
Releasing June 7th, 2016
Berkley Sensation
Thirty-year-old Bebe Banerjee is desperate to get rid of two things: her fiancé and her virginity. Escaping her arranged marriage might be impossible, but she refuses to give her firsts to an entitled jerk who lives on another continent. Instead, she devises a plan that
guarantees another man will get her momentous firsts. But she never imagined that man would be Cal O’Brien, the gorgeous heir to the Riley O’Brien & Co. denim empire…
Although Cal has always been fascinated by Bebe’s brilliant mind and beautiful eyes, he’s never pursued her. She can’t stand the sight of him, and every time they’re in the same room, they end up trading insults. Yet when he finds out about Bebe’s bold plan, he makes
his move, unaware of her upcoming nuptials. He promises to make her firsts unforgettable, but he doesn’t know how hard it will be to forget her when their arrangement ends.
 
BUY NOW
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Chaste. Untouched. Maiden. Pure. Innocent. The words that described a virgin might sound pretty, but the truth was downright ugly, at least in Bebe Banerjee’s opinion. She was convinced her virginity was the reason her heart raced, her breath seized, and her palms sweated whenever she was near Cal O’Brien.

Bebe surreptitiously studied Cal, trying to ignore the wave of lust that surged over her. If she’d had some experience between the sheets, she was sure she’d be able to handle the way he made her feel.

If she had gotten naked with a few guys, maybe she wouldn’t obsess about his glacier-blue eyes and his thick, dark hair. Maybe she wouldn’t notice the way his jeans clung to his tight behind and long legs. Maybe she wouldn’t fantasize about his lips, his smile, his big hands . . .

Bebe desperately wished she could just avoid him, but his little sister, Teagan, was her best friend. If she wanted to spend time with Teagan, she had to put up with Cal. She said no to a lot of Teagan’s invitations to hang out because of him, and she had to be very careful not to offend her best friend.

That was why the object of her X-rated fantasies stood next to her in a club-level suite at PacBell Park. The San Francisco Giants were in the playoffs, battling against the Atlanta Braves to win the National League pennant, and Teagan had invited her to attend the game in the Riley O’Brien & Co. suite.

Founded by Teagan’s great-great-grandfather, Riley O’Brien & Co. was the nation’s oldest designer and manufacturer of blue jeans. Americans had worn Rileys for nearly two centuries. In fact, Bebe was wearing a pair right now.

Teagan and her brothers were involved in the day-to-day operations of Riley O’Brien & Co. She managed the company’s law department, while her oldest brother, Quinn, served as president and CEO, and Cal handled global marketing and communications. Even Quinn’s wife, Amelia, was involved in the company, heading up the women’s division.

Beside her, Cal shifted slightly and took a pull on his Shiner Bock. He was close enough to touch, and she clenched her hands into fists just in case her fingers suddenly decided to act out her secret fantasies. He didn’t even look her way, and he probably wouldn’t unless he felt the need to toss an insult at her.

“How was Antigua?” Cal asked, directing the question to his sister and her new husband, Nick Priest.

“It was the most amazing place I’ve ever been,” Teagan said, her blue eyes shining and her glossy lips turned up in a smile.

Teagan and Nick had just returned from their three-week honeymoon to the Caribbean island. Both of them were glowing from their tans and their newlywed status.

“We were lucky we had our own private beach because Nick is apparently an exhibitionist,” Teagan added with a lustful gleam in her eyes.

Nick was a former professional football player, and he had been voted as one of the “Sexiest Men Alive” by People magazine. With his blond hair and bright green eyes, he was gorgeous, no doubt about it. But in Bebe’s opinion, he wasn’t nearly as gorgeous as Cal.

No one is as gorgeous as Cal.

Nick leaned down and whispered something into Teagan’s ear, something that was obviously naughty because her face turned the color of cherries. When he straightened to his full six-five and saw her red cheeks, he chuckled.

“You’re so bad,” Teagan muttered, lightly slapping Nick’s chest. In response, he grabbed her hand, hauled her up against him, and kissed her . . . with tongue.

Cal made a gagging noise. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, “do you have to do that in front of me?”

Teagan pulled away from Nick. “Please,” she shot back, her voice full of disgust. “Do know how many times I had to listen to my high school friends talk about you and your big—”

Much to Bebe’s disappointment, Cal covered his sister’s mouth with his hand and cut off the rest of Teagan’s sentence. She tried to pull his fingers away, and finally she got free by elbowing him in the stomach.

Laughing, Cal stumbled sideways into Bebe, almost knocking her over. He grabbed her forearm to steady her, his hand hot against her skin, and she gasped. Even the slightest touch from him made her pulse pound, and she tugged her arm to get away from him.

Instead of releasing her, his fingers tightened. She looked up . . . way up. He was almost as tall as Nick, and he loomed over her by more than a foot. He was a little leaner than Teagan’s husband but still solid muscle. His faded Giants T-shirt showed off his broad shoulders, impressive biceps, and ropy forearms. He’d paired the shirt with ancient Rileys that fit him like a glove and well-worn boots.

“Sorry about that, Cookie,” Cal apologized offhandedly.

“I told you not to call me that,” she snapped, trying to jerk her arm free.

She hated it when he called her Cookie, and he knew it. Of course, that was why he did it.

He had come up with the nickname right after he’d found out she had a medical degree in addition to her MBA and law degree. He’d claimed it was a better moniker than Bebe since she was such a smart cookie, but she knew it wasn’t a compliment.

“I thought you liked nicknames.” He smiled angelically and widened his eyes to look innocent. “You call Teagan kanya all the time.”

Kanya was Bebe’s nickname for her best friend. It meant “girl” in Hindi, the native language of her Indian ancestors. She had been born and raised in the United States, but using Hindi words was one way she stayed connected to her heritage.

“Teagan and I are friends,” she pointed out.

He got her message loud and clear because his eyes got all squinty. “I can be friendly.”

Yes, he could be friendly. In fact, he was friendly to everyone but her. He never had anything nice to say to her, and she returned the sentiment.

She wasn’t sure who had struck first, probably her, but now they launched verbal missiles at each other with frequency and precision. He went out of his way to be rude and antagonistic, and she did the same.

Bebe knew the real reason she acted like such a bitch around Cal. She liked him, and she didn’t want him to suspect how she really felt. She didn’t want to be the pathetic geeky girl with a crush on the hot guy.

Before Cal, she had never been attracted to any man. She’d never even experienced a high school crush because she had entered the ninth grade when she was twelve and had graduated when she was fifteen. She had immediately headed off to college, and she’d obtained two bachelor’s degrees in three years.

By the time she had been able to vote, she had been in her first year of medical school. She’d become accustomed to being viewed as a study partner rather than a sex partner.

She wasn’t oblivious, though, and over the years, she had noticed good-looking men. But she had never felt that zing of sexual attraction until she had met Cal four years ago. She hated the way he made her feel: gauche, nervous, and overstimulated. When he was near, sounds were louder, colors were brighter, and smells were stronger.

Right now, she could smell him, a panty-soaking aroma of warm male and expensive cologne. It was so delicious, she could barely concentrate on the conversation swirling around her.

“Even though Antigua was amazing, I’m glad to be home,” Teagan said, ignoring Cal and Bebe’s sniping. “I missed everyone. Mom and Dad. Quinn and Amelia. Bebe. Letty.”

“You didn’t miss me?” Cal asked, feigning hurt feelings.

Bebe knew Teagan had intentionally excluded Cal, trying to annoy him. The O’Brien siblings teased one another mercilessly. Their relationship was so different from the one Bebe had with her older brothers.

She rarely talked with Pritam and Ranjit, and when she did, they definitely didn’t tease her. They didn’t even call her Bebe. They insisted on referring to her by her full name, Bindu, which she hated.

“No. I missed Kim more than I missed you,” Teagan replied, referring to the woman who did her nails at the swanky spa she frequented.

Teagan’s snarky response made laughter well in Bebe’s throat. Before she could choke them back, giggles escaped her. Cal stiffened next to her, and she mentally prepared for their next verbal battle.

Ready. Aim. Fire.

 

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Jenna Sutton is a former award-winning journalist who traded fact for fiction when she began writing novels. Surprisingly, the research she conducted for her articles provided a
lot of inspiration for her books.
 
Jenna is the author of the Riley O’Brien & Co. romances including All the Right Places and Coming Apart at the Seams. She has a Bachelor’s degree in Journalism from Texas Christian University and a Master’s degree in Integrated Marketing Communications from Northwestern University.
 
Jenna and her husband live in a 103-year-old house in Texas affectionately known as “The
Money Pit”. You can find out more about her and her books by visiting www.jennasutton.com.

 

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Release Day Launch – Stripped Bare by Emma Hart

sbcover

What do you get when you mix a bachelorette party, the queen of dating disasters, and a stripper so hot he was forged from the fires of hell? Screwed. You get screwed….

Cocky. Commanding. Powerful. Relentless.

Those four words all summed up West Rykman perfectly.

So did filthy, dirty, sexy, and addictive.

He was supposed to be my one night stand…not my new marketing client.

He was definitely not supposed to be back inside my pants, not that anybody told him that.

I knew one thing: What West Rykman wanted, West Rykman got.

And he wanted me.

What happens in Vegas… might just make you stay.

 

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Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | Amazon CA | Barnes & Noble | iBooks

 

HARPERQUOTE

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“You should have come and got me when that prick made you uncomfortable.”

I turned to face him. “Are you seriously telling me off?”

We paused as the traffic stopped, and he cut his gaze to me. “I couldn’t see you. I told you it wasn’t safe for you to go alone.”

I rolled my eyes. “He was only there for two minutes. I would have stabbed him with my stiletto before he could do anything.”

“And I believe you, but it doesn’t change the fact that he made you uncomfortable.”

We turned a corner.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you just because you’re determined to do market research.”

“Nothing happened to me.”

“Mia, it doesn’t change the fact that it couldn’t. He only left because I showed up. I watched the entire fucking thing.”

“And you only came in at the end? Gee, thanks, West. Knight in fucking shining armor right there, aren’t you?” I ran my fingers through my hair and looked away. The light curls were still in place, although they were more of a lazy wave, and I stared at my reflection in the side mirror. “We should probably not do this again.”

“On the contrary, I was having fun until the end. I don’t have fun much.”

“Looking out for me was fun? Yeah, okay.”

“I told you,” he said, pulling up outside my apartment block, which was really more of a converted three-story house. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I’d feel bad.”

“Well, thanks. I’m gonna look over these notes in the morning and I’ll e-mail you. Okay?” I paused with my hand on the door and glanced back at him.

He was out of the fucking car.

Why was he out of the fucking car?

“Why are you out of the car?”

He smirked. Damn that smirk. “I’m taking you up.”

“Like hell you are.” I slammed the door and walked around the sleek Audi to stand right in front of him. I looked up at him and caught his gaze. “I can make it in and out of an elevator.”

“I’m sure you can. But I’m still taking you up.”

“No. You’re not!”

“All right, then.” He grabbed my waist and lifted me.

A shriek escaped between my lips as he swung me upward and over his shoulder. I scrambled to keep hold of my purse, but he ignored me as he carried me inside and pushed the elevator button.

“West! Put me down right now!”

He ignored me again and tightened his grip around my thighs when I tried to wriggle down. His strength was crazy. I was stuck there.

“Put me down! Now!”

He shook his head, this time acknowledging my words. But that was it. A fucking head shake.

“This is hardly professional!” I yelled, my voice echoing off walls of the metal box that was the elevator. I couldn’t believe he’d slung me over his shoulder like some kind of caveman.

Yo, Wilma, Betty? Fred and Barney escaped. I found one of them.

“West Rykman, I swear to a god I don’t believe in that, if you don’t put me down right this goddamn second, I’m going to tear your balls off with my bare hands and shove them up your ass!”

The elevators doors opened, and he took the few steps toward my door before finally, slowly, lowering me back down to the ground.

“Ugh!” As soon as my feet hit the floor, I stepped back and glared at him. “How dare you manhandle me?”

He fixed his bright, Caribbean-blue eyes on mine and curved his lips. “I told you I was taking you upstairs. I didn’t tell you I was walking you up.”

“You’re an animal.”

“You weren’t coming up alone. I was raised a gentleman.”

That made me stop rummaging for my keys and raise my eyebrows in disbelief. “You take off your clothes for a living, and the first time we met, you flexed your cock against my face.”

He grabbed my waist for a second time tonight and spun me against my door. I dropped my purse in my shock, but I couldn’t reach for it because he’d cupped my chin and forced me to look at him.

“And the second time we met,” he said in a low voice, “you flexed my cock against the back of your throat. What point are you trying to make, angel?”

“That you’re no more a gentleman than I am a lady,” I shot back. “Now, let me go so I can go inside and consider how we continue this professional relationship.”

West searched my eyes for a long moment before dropping his hand. He took half a step back, and I went to reach for my purse, but he changed his mind.

He smoothly spun back to me, and no sooner had I met the flash of his blue eyes than he had his mouth on mine. I let out a quiet moan when he swept his tongue across the seam of my lips and wrapped one arm around my waist. He pulled our bodies together, my shoulders pressing into the door, and kissed me deeply.

My head swam. I couldn’t make head or tails of this, and although it was wrong, so wrong, I couldn’t stop.

The kiss was hot—oh god, so hot—and my whole body felt like it was on fire as I wound my fingers in the collar of his shirt and held him closer to me. His fingers twitched against my back as one of his hands slid down and cupped my ass. He squeezed, pulling my hips to his. His erection was obvious, pushing into me, and I whimpered into his mouth.

God, I wanted him.

He pulled away from me as abruptly as he’d kissed me, but he didn’t move. His mouth eased its way across my jaw to my ear, and his hot breath skittered across my skin when he paused there.

“I might call you angel, but I have a feeling you’re going to be my own personal sin, Mia O’Halloran.”

He kissed the tender spot just beneath my ear, making me shiver, and released me. I struggled to control my breathing as I watched him walk away toward the stairwell. He paused at the top, and I sank my teeth into my bottom lip.

He turned.

Dropped his gaze to my mouth.

Met my eyes.

Disappeared.

I sank back against my door. I could still feel his touch. His taste lingered on my lips, and although it wasn’t anything incredibly specific, he was there, teasing me without being near me. I brushed hair from my face, picked my purse up, and dug for my key. I found it and let myself into the dark apartment.

I locked the door behind me and walked to my bed. I’d barely undressed and retrieved my phone with its alarm before I buried myself beneath the sheets.

Shit.

SBlive

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DSC_9249By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies – usually wine – and writes books.

Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.

She likes to be busy – unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.

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