Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Book Review: Blog Tour & Giveaway ~ Dr. OB

Dr. OB
Max Monroe

It’s just a docuseries about your career as an OB/GYN, they said.

It won’t interrupt your life during or after filming, they said.

It is a great opportunity for the hospital and your practice, they said.

Well, they—the television executives who seem intent on ruining my career and personal life with a fair number of creative liberties—lied.

Now I’m stuck dealing with the consequences of believing them.

Instead of being known as Dr. Will Cummings, Head of Obstetrics and Gynecology at St. Luke’s Hospital, I’m now being called Dr. Obscene.

What devotion I’d hoped to earn in respect, I’ve instead received in patients flashing me seductive smiles and flirtatious winks during their exams.

How’s a guy supposed to convince the most perfect woman he’s ever met that he’s not as much of an idiot in real life as he appears to be on camera?

With all of the show’s side effects taking root like parasites, it’s going to take a lot to persuade Melody Marco to be anything more than my new nurse.

But I can’t get her out of my head.

I want her.

Good thing I’ve never been one to back away from a challenge…

Get ready, Melody.

The doctor is in.

Disclaimer: We know you have a choice in authors, so we thank you for reading with us today.

Please keep your feet up and your families mildly fed during reading.

In case of a laughter induced bathroom emergency, a family member will most likely be in there to prevent you from saving your clothes. Take this time to survey the area for alternate bathrooms, keeping in mind that the closest toilet may be behind you.

In the event that your oxygen is choked off by hyena-like laughter, a mask will not drop from the compartment above you. There is no bag, and it will not inflate. Oxygen is not flowing. Take a minute to start breathing again before continuing to read.

Should a book hangover occur, follow the aisle path preorder link to the next book in the series, and tape a note with the release date securely to your chest.

Disclaimer to the Disclaimer: All readers welcome. We are not overbooked. Find a copy on Amazon, iBooks, Kobo, Nook, or Google Play.

~ FIVE Load-y STARS ~

A girl could only hold out for so long when carbs and sugar and hot sex were involved. And her heart can’t hold out at all when Will Cummings is involved.

Oh, Max Monroe. A girl can’t hold out at all when carbs, sugar and Will Cummings are involved. I mean, case and point—ME.

I fell head over twat for this sinfully sexy OB/GYN, and really, you can’t blame me. He might be slightly obscene (unintentionally) and a little awkward (aren’t we all?), but he’s also really sweet. For example, puns written on tongue depressors…

“There’s nothing depressing about your tongue.”

…and a heaping helping of other things that I can’t get into without, you know, spoilers. So, you’ll just have to trust me on this: Dr. Cummings will make your heart pound and your panties melt (which is terribly convenient when it comes time for your exam *wink wink*), and Dr. OB will tickle your funny bone.

In true Max Monroe style, this book veers toward the ridiculous (and not only because Thatch and Cassie make a cameo or four), but it’s the best kind of ridiculous. It’s free and easy, it’s witty and wild, and it’s over-the-top and outlandish. Between the docuseries business, the terrible employees and questionable patients, and those aforementioned cameos from the Billionaire Bad Boys cast, there’s a lot of things happening. But thankfully, none of truly outshines the romance.

Seeing Melody (who I think might be my new favorite Max Monroe heroine) and Will skirt around the attraction, act on the attraction, become the attraction was engaging. It was gentle and adorable while at the same being HOT enough to get girl pregnant, and it gave me all the good feels.

So, really, is it any wonder it was impossible to hold out?

Just one simple touch and my body felt like it had finally come home. I looked down at our interlocked fingers and knew in an instant. We belonged together.


Tiny Tease
“Oh, come on. If I were really trying to torture you, I wouldn’t have protected you from the fact that Savannah has been in there trying to convince Georgie that, and I quote, it’d be the most natural thing in the world for you to be her obstetrician.”

Internally, I cringed. Externally, I cringed. In fact, it felt like Kline had just jabbed me in the back of the throat with his finger, and my gag reflex was doing nothing more than reacting accordingly—hacking cough, choking sensation, slight nausea.

I loved my career as a physician in obstetrics, but I’d sign up to flip burgers at the nearest fast-food joint if it meant avoiding doing vaginal exams on my sister. The mere thought was worse than that disgusting horror flick called The Human Centipede.

Seriously, if you’ve never seen that movie, don’t fucking see that movie. 
That flick is more traumatic than the blue waffle and that “Two Girls One Cup” site combined. 
Jesus. Don’t Google those either.

~ Click on the Image to Enter ~

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Book Review: It Happened on Love Street

It Happened on Love Street
Lia Riley
4.5 Cupid STARS

“My sister’s uterus is a clown car.”

That has little to no bearing on my review, but it made me laugh so hard that I HAD to include it. Which brings me to one need-to-know fact about my experience with It Happened on Love Street: I highlighted the hell out of this book.

I couldn’t stop. Typically, choosing what quotes to include in my review is fairly easy. There’ll be several I like, but only a couple that speak to me or underscore what I want to say. Sometimes, though, it’s harder—either because the words don’t quite match, or, as is the case here, there are too many great lines to choose from.

When she looked at him, recognition sparked, like catching a glimpse of one’s reflection in a window.

Not only did this book have words that made me want to share (which shouldn’t be surprising, really, since I’ve long been a fan of Lia Riley and her way of writing just works for me), but it also made me happy.

So, so happy. It’s a charming, quirky, utterly delightful small-town romance, one which comes jam-packed with all the things that make small-town romances one of my favorite things ever. Nosy neighbors, kooky characters, whimsical, romantic street names and town histories. Plus, it had Cupid.

“A quintessential coastal Southern town up front, with the sexy, scury-dog pirates in the back. Put like that, I can see the appeal.”

Oh, my apologies. Rhett. Rhett Valentine who melted my heart *and* my panties with his animal-loving nature and his chimpanzee-cage-inducing swoon factor. When paired with Pepper—erstwhile law clerk, now dog-phobic dogwalker—he shines. They shine.

Their banter is light-hearted. Their feelings are deep. Their romance is somewhat predictable but wholly enjoyable, and as the foundation for Ms. Riley’s new series, it is absolutely on-point.

Yep, I’m incredibly excited about the future of Everland, Georgia—and I’m already hoping to highlight the hell out of a book about Beau.

“I didn’t know I’d been waiting. I didn’t know I’d been wanting. Convinced myself what I had was enough. But you, this, I’ll never get enough.”

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Book Review: Reed

R.C. Ryan
4.5 Red STARS

Love was such a fickle mistress. She could come creeping up when it was least expected.
And wasn’t that both terrible and wonderful at the same time?

You hear that? That's the sound of me blowing my nose and wiping away at my soggy cheeks.

Yep, Reed, the third book in the Malloys of Montana series, made me cry because this family… these Malloys… are just wonderful.

This series is so heartfelt, brimming with emotion and love and old-fashioned cowboy charm. I've enjoyed each installment—including the quick but lovely Christmas novella—and this family is the reason why. Yes, the individual characters are excellent (I'll get back to how much I enjoyed Reed, Ally and Kyle shortly), but the charm in this book and series lies within the fences of the Malloy Ranch.

They'll make you smile. Laugh. Ache. Cry. Love. They're a tight unit that is better together, and has all the magical qualities that a fictional family can have—wealth, true love, looks, intelligence… I could go on. It should be unbelievable, and yet, I completely bought into it. Because it is, like I said, so heartfelt. So genuine. So easy and enjoyable to read.

Love, it would seem, was alive and well in the Malloy household. It was almost enough to make her a believer.

I honestly couldn't wait to read Reed. Not just because I wanted another delicious Montana man to add to my herd, but because I wanted answers. The overarching mystery of this series has had me guessing at secrets since Matt, and R.C. Ryan rewards her readers with answers here. And also with a sweet, sexy, slow burn romance…

Ah, Reed and Ally, along with little Kyle gripped my heart in vice. I loved Ally’s will, Reed’s compassion and Kyle’s owlish glasses and adorable four-year-old appeal. I loved, too, the push/pull of this relationship—the way Reed tested but ultimately respected Ally’s boundaries, the way they complemented each other—and the ovary-exploding connection Reed shared with his “little buddy”, Kyle. (Side note: Hot cowboys and little kids = must read.)

With Ms. Ryan’s signature suspense built in, there was tension enough to grab and hold my interest until the very last page, and though I was *slightly* irked by an ending that played out in a familiar way, it worked like a charm to bring the story, and this series, full circle.

Honestly, at this point, I'm not sure if my tears were from the strong sense of family, the fact I'm a complete sap for a happily ever after, or the thought of this series coming to an end. I'm holding out hope for one more book, because Colin and Anita deserve more… and because I'm not yet ready to say goodbye.

“I’m going to try to walk away, Red. If I make it to the door, I’m not turning around to look at you, or I’ll never be able to go.”

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Friday, April 21, 2017

Book Review: Too Hard to Forget

Too Hard to Forget
Tessa Bailey

She’s the rest of my life, and she’s sitting right there where tomorrow only smoke and a memory will exist.

Tessa Bailey better be paying for my inevitable Botox, is all I'm saying. After all, I just spent hours with my chin wobbling and my (formally smooth-ish) brow furrowed as I experienced the highs and lows of Too Hard to Forget.

The exhilarating highs and aching lows.

Fused with this overarching melancholy, much-needed levity and heat spattered throughout like paint on a canvas, the feels in this book are off the charts. Honestly, I'm struggling for the words to convey how unforgettable Too Hard to Forget was. Because, for me, it was stunning. I don't want to just give you a laundry list of things I loved—which is basically everything—but…

I do want to talk about Elliott. On one hand, a bastard, an asshole, a man I wanted to hate, and yet, on the other, just a man. A sexy-as-sin man, a Kingmaker, sure, but still… a very fallible man, struggling through guilt and grief and anger. He, he is why I'm going to need Botox.

But he's also why my panties melted and my thighs clenched and—most importantly—my heart pounded.

Though, that does a huge disservice to Peggy. Because she is the reason to read this book. Her insecurities and regret, her selflessness and tenderness, her pain, her inappropriate and ill-timed humor, her functionally dysfunctional family. All of it. Her weakness for Elliott became MY weakness for Elliott, and the tears that threatened to spill over? Were for her.

And maybe also for Belmont. Because those all-too-brief and teasing moments of the gentle giant had me on the edge of my seat, hoping that the time between now and the release of Too Beautiful to Break passes quickly. But maybe not TOO quickly, since I suspect Ms. Bailey will need time to save up for more Botox—or at least, a hefty supply of tissues.

“I need your hands and eyes. I missed them most of all.”

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Cover Reveal: Preservation

Some things have to fall apart before they can be put back together.

The Walshes #7
Kate Canterbary
Releasing May 23, 2017
Vesper Press

Two lonely hearts.

Just once, she'd like to be someone's first choice.
She's strong-willed and spunky, but she's left picking up the pieces from her ex's lies and manipulations, and daydreaming about taking a scalpel to his scrotum.

Flying under the radar is what he does best.
He's laid-back and loyal, but he wants the most off-limits woman in his world, and nothing will ever make that a reality.

An arrangement of mutual benefit.

Two months, four dates.
Five, if things go well.
Five at the most.
But possibly six.
Definitely no more than six dates.
Only the appearance of a romantic relationship is required, and they expect nothing more from their time together. There will be none of those benefits involved.

One wild weekend.

After waking up in bed together—very naked and even more hungover—the terms and conditions of their arrangement no longer apply. Now they're faced with something riskier than exposing their fake relationship:  letting go of the past and zipping up the future.

Some things have to fall apart before they can be put back together.

Kate Canterbary doesn't have it all figured out, but this is what she knows for sure: spicy-ass salsa and tequila solve most problems, living on the ocean--Pacific or Atlantic--is the closest place to perfection, and writing smart, smutty stories is a better than any amount of chocolate. She started out reporting for an indie arts and entertainment newspaper back when people still read newspapers, and she has been writing and surreptitiously interviewing people—be careful sitting down next to her on an airplane—ever since. Kate lives on the water in New England with Mr. Canterbary and the Little Baby Canterbary, and when she isn't writing sexy architects, she's scheduling her days around the region's best food trucks.

Start The Walshes series for ONLY $0.99

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Book Review: The Hot Shot

The Hot Shot
Kristen Callihan

Being with Chess had been one of the most real moments of my life, and yet it also feels like a strange dream.

This is no dream. The Hot Shot could certainly be mistaken for a fever dream of epic proportions, but nope… it's real, it's wonderful, it's easily, undeniably a five star read.

Guys, I could barely pull myself away from Chess and Finn. This is a book that is light, electric and yet, somehow intense; it had this way of drawing me in and making me feel the heavy moments while reveling in the feel good ones.

The heart. The heat. The happiness.

It's impossible not to be charmed by Finn Mannus—he's kind and cute and sweet, while also being cocky and assured and H.O.T. hot. I’d almost forgotten the photo shoot that carries over from book three, The Game Plan, but Kristen Callihan quickly and easily reminded me—all while making me laugh and smile and become almost immediately invested in the outcome of Chess and Finn’s meet-cute. I loved seeing Finn with his teammates and friends, and I especially loved seeing Dex from another perspective. (NB: it's not necessary to read the previous books in this series to enjoy it, but… they're awesome, so you should).

And as for Chess? Well… at first I thought she might be too hard, too brash, too closed-off, but she surprised me. In the best way. She fairly blossomed with Finn’s friendship and there was never a question of me feeling for her, rooting for her, wanting to hug/shake her. I just did. I couldn't not.

Likewise, I couldn't not keep reading The Hot Shot. Despite Spring Break, despite the interruptions of real life, I read this book quickly, voraciously, greedily. It was a dream read—really fun, really sexy, really enjoyable.

Really real.

I feel. I live. I breathe. The world is more real when he is there.

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Saturday, April 15, 2017

Book Review: Blog Tour ~ Just Like That



AP new - synopsis.jpg

"I bet I can untangle you."

At an airport baggage claim, Penny Darling looks up from her knotted mess of ear buds to find the sexiest hunk of man she's ever seen. He's got a military haircut, a scar through his eyebrow, and he's rocking a pastel pink dress shirt like only a real man can. But Penny is on a man-free diet so she leaves the airport without succumbing to his delicious double-entendres...or his dreamy dimples.

PI Russ Macklin can't take his eyes off Penny. As she sashays out of the airport with hips swaying and curls bouncing, he suspects they may share more than just sweltering chemistry. That suitcase she's rolling along behind her? It looks a lot like his.

Because it is.

When he tracks her down, he holds her bag hostage in exchange for a date. Their night begins with margaritas and ends in urgent care, and Russ proves that Cosmo's theory about a very particular type of orgasm was oh-so-wrong.

In Penny, Russ finds a small-town sweetheart with a very naughty side. For the first time ever, he’s thinking about picket fences. Penny finds in Russ a loving, caring man who understands the power of massaging showerheads.

But Russ is only in Port Flamingo for a week. They agree it'll be a fling and nothing more. Because really, they can't fall ass-over-teakettle in love just like that...

Can they?

99k words. HEA. Dual POV. No cheating.

Featuring a big drooly dog named Guppy.


There’s all sorts of sexy Russ-rustle-rustling as he tries on his clothes. It takes all my willpower to stop myself from running over to his changing room and pressing my eye up to the slats like I’m looking through a peep hole. He slings his shirt over the top of the changing room door, then steps out of his shoes and socks. I can almost hear a drumroll in my head and then it happens: his suit pants fall to the ground.

Maybe today’s boxer briefs are light gray, like a sporty heather gray, because that would just be…

I grab a random black dress off the rack and dash into the second changing room. As I shut the door, I hear Maisie saying something like, “Boy, I sure could use some help with all these sunglasses, ahem-ahem.” But I ignore it. As the rustling next door continues, I unfasten the knot on my sundress and let it fall from my shoulders, so I’m standing in my bra and panties in front of the very unflattering full-length mirror. I’m hoping it’s unflattering. It damned well better be unflattering. But then I notice a very faint bruise on my hip, in exactly the pattern of his fingers as he gripped me last night. I slide my fingertips along it and turn to warm caramel inside.

“What kind of movie is it?” I ask him as I finagle my hands through the spaghetti straps above my head and tug the new dress down over my body. It’s a size too small and hugs me like shrink-wrap.

​“Romantic comedy.” His zipper slides up. “Workplace romance.”

​Oh, God.

I shimmy into the dress and stare at my reflection. There are times in my life when I am acutely aware of that devil-angel-shoulder situation, and this is one of them. Looking at myself in the mirror, and I can almost see the two of them in position. The devil is a real vixen. Combat boots, and a raspy, sultry voice. No bullshit and a very respectable smoky eyeliner. She likes her music feminist and her tequila straight. On the other shoulder sits the angel. She’s a dead-ringer for my fourth-grade librarian. She smells like mothballs, her lipstick flakes off when she talks, and she’s big into smooth jazz. I hate her. Also, she’s pretty much always exactly right. Double-demerit.

​The angel says, “Penelope Eloise Darling. Why can’t you find yourself a nice man with a steady job? That eHarmony questionnaire doesn’t take that long. Just think: you could find a nice Baptist minister in Tallahassee! At least you’d live in the same state!”

I suck in my stomach so hard that I feel dizzy, and try to pull up my zipper. Not even close. I cinch the fabric shut with one hand, suck in harder, and give it a yank. It bites into me, and I stretch the dress to the side as far as I can, testing the tensile strength of 1% spandex to its limit.

​The devil takes out her hip flask and downs a pull of tequila while she considers her black nail polish. “Fuck that noise, Pen. You want him, take him. Boom. Done.”

​The zipper finally cooperates. I don’t even look like myself, this thing is so tight. I spin slightly and look at my ass, over my shoulder.

Which is when the door squeaks open. I fully expect it to be Maisie, brandishing her Kindle and saying something like, “I knew I’d seen that jawline before,” but it isn’t. It’s him.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry, I thought this was my…” He trails off.

​The desire ricochets between us like a pinball trapped at the bottom of an arcade machine. He’s in shorts that fit him like a glove, and a soft navy T-shirt, with a vintage Pac-Man logo, washed out and faded. And he’s found a hat, like a super-stylish baseball hat with mesh on the back. Plus, flip-flops.

I thought he was handsome before, but this, this… Casual, and carefree, and look at those shoulders. Peeking out from the sleeve of the T-shirt is the bottom edge of his tattoo on the curve of his massive bicep.

​Here lies Penelope Darling, who died of a swoon.

​He lets out a breathy, quiet whistle. “I’m buying that for you.”

The way he talks, that dominance, makes me feel like I’m some new but treasured thing. I’m not used to it, but one thing is for sure: I like it. Except even in my haze, it’s the angel that answers first. “No, no, no. I’ll never wear it.”

“I don’t care.”

Frivolous retail purchases especially for me? “We…should get to work.”

His eyes move up and down over me again so deliciously slowly that I feel a shiver up my spine. “I'll show you getting to work.” He takes a step toward me, and runs his hand up the side of my dress.

I grab ahold of the hanger rack behind me as my knees start to get a little wobbly. “I’ll take you to the boardwalk first. Rides. Ball-and-hammer. Funnel cakes.” He’s reducing me to bullet points. I can’t even string two nouns and a verb.

He pulls his hand away with a frustrated grunt. “Fine. But I’m buying it for you. No arguments. Got it?” he says finally, and then heads back to his changing room.

The devil turns to the angel, who’s got her lips in a tight, prudish line. But the devil?  She gives zero fucks, and she raises her hip flask to me. “Here’s to romantic comedy.”

​Toodles, Man Wagon.


“All day, it’s been you. Since the minute I saw you, it’s been you. I think my whole life, even before I knew you, it was you.”

And Just Like That, I found myself swooning and laughing, and just generally being charmed by this book…

Guys, this is now the third book I've read by Nicola Rendell, and it's clear that her humor and her style pretty much work for me. Just Like That is a light and amusing—scratch that, it's laugh out loud funny—romance, and it is verily filled with quirky characters, so-hot-it-burns chemistry and a little helping of mystery.

It's adorable. It's fun. It's sweet. It has an undeniable zest for life and love.

But… it's also a little uneven. Don't get me wrong, I truly enjoyed this book. However, the pacing and timing were a little wonky for me, and although it did nothing to diminish the overall charm of Russ, Penny, Maisie and Guppy (who, FYI, is the STAR of this book), it stood out too much for me to completely ignore. If I'm completely honest, one of the plot points was a pet peeve of mine.

So, I'm a little torn. I want to shout from the rooftops about this book, because did I mention is swoony and sweet and sexy? Yep, it's the holy trifecta of S words when it comes to romance novels, and it’s a wonderfully enjoyable way to spend a few hours. But it also left me a bit disappointed, which in turn leaves me a lot conflicted.

Is this book perfect? No. Clearly. But, in the end, it IS worth reading, especially if OTT instalust/love, pink flamingos, dirty Tumblr accounts, ginormous dogs, entirely too much plaid and a best friend that we all wish we had work for you.

Just like they work for me.

It started with an accidental theft, moved to an accidental poisoning, and ended with him sleeping on my porch. And yet, it was absolutely perfect from strange start to even stranger finish.

AP  new -about the author.jpg
Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.

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