Archive for the ‘Adult Fiction’ Category

Bad Girls Drink Blood
S.L. Choi
Published by: City Owl Press
Publication date: May 17th 2022
Genres: Adult, Fantasy

Part sun fae, part blood fae, all abomination.

There is only one hybrid fae in existence, and that dishonor goes to Lane Callaghan.

After a life spent dodging slurs, threats, and assassination attempts, Lane gave her past the one finger salute and ditched her former fae home for good. The detective agency she and her sisters run on the edge of Las Vegas continues to limp along, with Lane doing more debt collecting and intimidating than investigating, but anything to pay the bills. Between working for low-lifes to bring down even lower-lifes, eating cheesy poofs by the bucket, and flirting with the criminally attractive bartender where she conducts business, life is good.

That ends when a routine job goes sideways, leaving Lane with a sack full of stolen sun shards—the source of sun fae power. Without the shards, the sun fae face giving up their magic completely, or risk death if they use their power. Considering they would rather see her dead, good riddance, as far as Lane’s concerned—except her father and adopted sister are sun fae. Lane must choose—return home to save the fae bastards that almost killed her, or let them burn.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

Better luck next time, hybrid.

Fury roared through me. My ears burned and scalp tingled.

“What the hell is that?”

I spun with a snarl. My fangs elongated instantly, painfully.

Teddy’s tall, lean frame bent over my shoulder as he read the napkin. My body thrummed with the surge of unspent adrenaline and possibly the intimate proximity. I flexed my fingers, curled them, flexed again.

“It’s nothing.” I snatched the napkin and jammed it into my jacket pocket. I’d deal with how exactly that woman knew I was a hybrid later. That was a secret for me and my sisters, and I aimed to keep it that way.

There was only one hybrid, and I was the unlucky genetic winner. It wasn’t for lack of fae mixing, that was something they did often and copiously, but offspring were always of one race. It kept their magic powerful, and if fae worshiped anything, it was power. My existence wasn’t an exalted position.

“But—”

“It’s nothing,” I stressed, my gaze steady on his. I meant business.

“Okay, okay.” He tipped his forehead toward my face. “You should holster those things before you hurt someone besides yourself.”

Crap, not again. All at once my lip became a persistent throb, reminding me of the pain from my fangs punching out. I dragged a finger along the edge of my mouth. It came away sticky, warm, and wet. When startled, I had zero control of the things. It was embarrassing.

Teddy tucked a clean napkin into my palm and pulled me close to whisper, “You shouldn’t be wasting blood when you refuse to drink it.”

His hot breath warmed my neck and tickled my ear. The heady mixture of woods, earth, and vanilla—Teddy’s distinct scent—filled my nostrils, made me dizzy. Something melted and puddled in my core. My gaze fastened on the way my dark red hair danced with his bourbon-brown strands. The way they both brushed against the hard line of muscle leading from his neck to his shoulder.

Damn it.

That delicious scent shouldn’t be so strong. My olfactory sense was the same as any other fae, unless I’d smelled their blood. Then again, with the amount of brawls Teddy broke up in this joint, he was bound to have bled at some point.

I stepped away and scowled in a desperate attempt to hide my reaction. “And you should mind your own business.” What was wrong with me lately? I’d known the guy for years, but recently Teddy seemed more flirt than friend. I felt disgustingly girly when he got near.

“Whatever you say, sweet fangs.” He chucked a knuckle under my chin, letting it linger long enough to turn the gesture from playful to intimate.

I rubbed my chin on my shoulder. This was Teddy. He couldn’t possibly be flirting. He’d known me since I roared into Interlands at fifteen with way more balls and bravado than sense. More importantly, I wasn’t his type—empty headed and easy.

He swaggered toward the end of the bar, and some mysterious magnetic force pulled my appreciative gaze to the way he filled out his denim. My view disappeared as he stepped behind the counter. When I looked up, Teddy watched me with a knowing grin. I bared my fangs. He laughed.

I growled under my breath and turned to leave as he circled the bar and headed for the spot across the counter from me.

“Why take these jobs, Lane? They’re bad. You’re so much more than this.”

Teddy’s earnest words stopped me, and I looked back. His bottomless black gaze gripped mine.

My chest tightened. Teddy didn’t know how misplaced his faith in me was. I grabbed a freshly filled tumbler full of amber liquid from the bar.

“Hey!” The owner of the drink turned, opened his mouth to say more, and laid eyes on me. I raised my brows in a dare. The guy wisely spun to face the bar and tapped the counter, ordering a new drink for himself.

“Because I’m really, really good at it. Besides, haven’t you heard?” I slammed my confiscated drink. The taste of gasoline chasing cinnamon scorched a path down my throat. My nostrils burned and eyes watered. I shoved down the sensation and flashed a smile filled with a whole lot of fang. “I’m a bad girl.”

Author S.L. Choi

S.L. Choi is an urban fantasy author with a deep love for humor, fast-paced action, and hit-you-in-the-heart feels. She grew up imagining goblins living in the rocks outside her bedroom window, while fairies flew through the flowers. Now she puts those stories to paper. When not writing, she is either photographing the beautiful New England area, hiking, gaming with her equally nerdy husband, or attending to the small furry overlords who rule them both.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / TikTok / Bookbub

 

GIVEAWAYS!

Giveaway 1:

.
100 eBook copies are being given away!
Enter here!

.

Giveaway 2:

.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:
XBTBanner1

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

Mistle Text: ‘Twas the Text Before Christmas …
Whitney Dineen & Melanie Summers
(An Accidentally in Love Story, #5)
Publication date: September 25th 2021
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

Twas the text before Christmas…

Twenty-eight-year-old Holly Snow is the only mother her four-year-old niece remembers. Three years earlier, when her sister and brother-in-law were killed, Holly’s dream of becoming an international flight attendant was put on hold so she could be home for baby Faith. Holly is doing everything she can to keep the rent paid, including working as an online travel agent, filing medical claims, and cleaning apartments in her building. When her friend Maggie tells her that her boss needs someone to buy his Christmas gifts, she leaps at the opportunity.

Tall, dark and Scroogy, investment banker, Archibald Harrington is too busy to do his own Christmas shopping. When his assistant tells him she knows of a professional shopper, he happily checks another dreaded task off his holiday list. The last thing Archie is expecting is for his hired elf to text him insistently to find out more about the people on list. The last thing Holly expects is to develop feelings for grumpy man who’s stealing her Christmas spirit.

Will there be a Holiday miracle, or will Holly and Archie miss their chance at love? Find out in the fifth installment of the Accidentally in Love Series.

Goodreads / Amazon

~~~~~

Check out this peek inside:

“My boss needs a personal shopper for Christmas, and I’ve already told him I know the very best one in Manhattan.” Toni gives me an open-mouthed smile, clearly expecting me to jump up and down.

“Your boss. As in Archibald Snooty Pants the Forty-Second?” I ask, pursing my lips.

She opens her mouth, but I cut her off with one finger in the air. “You complain about the man all the time.”

“It’s not like he’s a horrible person, he’s just a one trick pony—all work and no play. Plus, it’s not like you’ll have to work side-by-side with him or anything. You probably won’t even have to see him.”

“I’m not a personal shopper,” I tell her. “Unless his family and friends want ramen noodles or discount t-shirts from the guy who sells them out of his trunk in front of my apartment building, I would have no idea what to buy.”

“Yeah, well, Archie doesn’t know that.” She pumps her eyebrows up and down like a comedian.

“Toni, you told me the guy was a rich stuck-up preppy from the Hamptons. While I would love nothing more than to make some extra money, I don’t have the foggiest notion how to shop for rich people.”

“So watch some holiday episodes of Real Housewives and see what they buy each other. He’ll tell you how much to spend on each person. Come on, Holl, it’s not brain surgery. It’s shopping. You know how to shop. And you need the money.”

“What if he hates me?” I despise feeling so pathetic, but I’m totally out of my league here.

“Then he hates you. So what? Believe me when I tell you, Archibald Harrington only thinks about work. You can’t take anything he says personally.”

Dread slams into me like a wrecking ball. “How much do you think I can make?”

“Enough to pay for Christmas and at least the next three months of Faith’s preschool tuition. How can you pass that up?”

The answer is, I can’t. And if it means working for a cranky billionaire, then Toni is right. I’ll do whatever I have to do in order to take care of Faith. I just can’t guarantee I’ll like it.

“Fine,” I tell her. “How many gifts am I supposed to buy?”

“He’ll need all of his family gifts, which include his godfather’s family. He’s spending Christmas with them in Newport. He wants you to cover his business gifts, as well. The VIPs are starred, meaning those particular gifts need to be extra-amazing. I’ve also made you a list of everything that I want, so I don’t wind up with another Monte Blanc pen. I’ve already sold three of those suckers on eBay and I only get a fraction of what they’re worth.”

“I don’t even know what a Monte Blanc pen is.” My chest tightens like I’m not getting enough oxygen.

She hands me a piece of paper. “This is a list of websites to check out. You can order everything and have it delivered here.”

“Why can’t I just have everything sent to his office? What am I going to do with it?”

After taking a healthy swig of white zinfandel, Toni says, “You’re going to wrap everything up and make it look like Santa himself cracked the whip on the gift-wrapping elves. Once you have everything purchased and ready, I’ll send a car to pick the gifts up.”

“You’ll send a car, will you?” I tease.

“Yeah, well, I can do those fancy things in the name of my boss.”

“How am I going to pay for everything?” I ask. “I have about two hundred dollars of credit left on my card. I don’t think that’s going to cut it.”

Toni opens her purse and hands me a shiny black credit card. “There’s no limit, so if you don’t mind doing a little jail time, you could have a lot of fun.”

“No limit? I can’t imagine such a thing.” I fantasize about what damage I could do with plastic like this. Not only could I pay for Faith’s school for the rest of the year, but I could also get my mom into one of those nursing homes that has a hair salon and restaurant. I could upgrade to a two-bedroom apartment so Faith doesn’t have to sleep in the closet anymore, and I could even splurge and buy myself some real leather gloves.

“You’re imagining, aren’t you?” Toni jolts me out of my daydream.

“I most certainly am. The first thing I’d do is buy Faith whatever winter coat she wanted and then I’d take her out to a nice restaurant.”

Toni rolls her eyes. “If you’re going down for a crime, you’ve got to think bigger.”

I stare at the card for a second, then look back up at Toni. “How can you stand working for someone who has so much? Don’t you just want to steal cash out of his wallet once in a while?” I don’t really have the heart of a felon, I’m just tired of always being broke.

“The nice thing about Archie is that even though he has the personality of a killer shark, he’s generous. He has a Friday lunch catered for his staff every week, and he makes sure to float us enough extras that none of us are tempted to steal from him. He’s a good businessman.”

“Even though he’s a stuck-up preppy?” I ask for clarification.

“Exactly.”

I look at the list of stores she thinks I should shop at—Tiffany’s, Saks Fifth Avenue, Harrods, The House of Bijan … “What’s my budget?”

She hands me another piece of paper. The handwriting isn’t hers, so I’m guessing it’s Archie’s. “He wants me to spend four thousand dollars on his mother?!”

“Yup. He wants her to have two gifts. One of them needs to be the main. The other can be fancy ass chocolates or something.”

“Right, but probably not gas station chocolates.”

“Quit stressing, Holls, you’ve got this.”

I don’t know why, but for the life of me I can’t see this ending well…

Author Bio:

Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries — not always in that order.

Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.

She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.

Gold Medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2017.

Silver medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.

Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.

Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.

Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017

Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017

Author links:

.
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

Melanie Summers also writes steamy romance as MJ Summers.

Melanie made a name for herself with her debut novel, Break in Two, a contemporary romance that cracked the Top 10 Paid on Amazon in both the UK and Canada, and the top 50 Paid in the USA. Her highly acclaimed Full Hearts Series was picked up by both Piatkus Entice (a division of Hachette UK) and HarperCollins Canada. Her first three books have been translated into Czech and Slovak by EuroMedia. Since 2013, she has written and published three novellas, and eight novels (of which seven have been published). She has sold over a quarter of a million books around the globe.

In her previous life (i.e. before having children), Melanie got her Bachelor of Science from the University of Alberta, then went on to work in the soul-sucking customer service industry for a large cellular network provider that shall remain nameless (unless you write her personally – then she’ll dish). On her days off, she took courses and studied to become a Chartered Mediator. That designation landed her a job at the R.C.M.P. as the Alternative Dispute Resolution Coordinator for ‘K’ Division. Having had enough of mediating arguments between gun-toting police officers, she decided it was much safer to have children so she could continue her study of conflict in a weapon-free environment (and one which doesn’t require makeup and/or nylons).

Melanie resides in Edmonton with her husband, three young children, and their adorable but neurotic one-eyed dog. When she’s not writing novels, Melanie loves reading (obviously), snuggling up on the couch with her family for movie night (which would not be complete without lots of popcorn and milkshakes), and long walks in the woods near her house. She also spends a lot more time thinking about doing yoga than actually doing yoga, which is why most of her photos are taken ‘from above’. She also loves shutting down restaurants with her girlfriends. Well, not literally shutting them down, like calling the health inspector or something–more like just staying until they turn the lights off.

She is represented by Suzanne Brandreth of The Cooke Agency International.

Author links:

.
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

GIVEAWAY!

.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:
XBTBanner1

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

Dead Cat, Run
Annabelle Lewis
Publication date: February 21st 2021
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Thriller

You’re where you’re meant to be. Run, if you can.

High school senior Jenny Gallagher’s psychic abilities have made life in her small New England town rocky. Her premonitions and déjà vu have given her a reputation, one she’s not happy with. Tragedy is about to strike, however, and oddly, this time, she doesn’t see it coming. Is her gift betraying her?

Not far from Jenny, Wellesley Professor Maximus Dyer also has a gift—a painful and useless one. His ability to see the past has brought him insight into history, but otherwise, he’s never known what to make of it. The psychic shocks he receives through his unprotected hands have made any genuine human relationships beyond his grasp. Then someone who doesn’t trigger a vision enters his life—a dog?

Sidrah Keeling runs determinedly optimistic throughout her life, trying hard not to ask the big questions about why. Her foresight, her ability to see glimpses of the future in her dreams, often drives her to follow a path she doesn’t understand. Alert and listening, with the guardrails of security she’s erected in place, she’s forced again to follow her dreams. This time to a man. Who is he?

Lurking deep in his sensory deprivation tank, Turner Black sees it all. Born out of the great chaos of time, he once again feels the forces of good gathering to move against him. Not in this life. This time, his darkness will reign supreme. The hunt for his antithesis will begin again now. He can’t wait to feel his opponent in destiny bleed.

A fast-paced contemporary mystery thriller with a supernatural hierarchy, Dead Cat, Run will keep you up all night, glued to your seat.

Goodreads / Amazon

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

Max humped his way through the Wellesley College campus center, yanking his backpack onto his shoulder when it began to slide. Hungry—no, scratch that, ravenous—he snarled in frustration that he couldn’t jump in line at the pizza stand and grab a slice. He’d need to wait until he got home. He frowned, remembering he had no ready food there either. As he rounded past the heavenly smells from the greasy Chinese buffet, someone called his name, and he slowed.

“Professor Dyer,” a girl said.

Inwardly, he rolled his eyes but stopped, forcing a look of tolerance onto his face. He didn’t recognize the student, but then, he usually didn’t. It was better to avoid eye contact with the nubile freshmen. Many young girls throughout his career had presumed there was something other than scholarly interest lurking there. He tried everything he could to discourage them.

Now, though, forced to a standstill in their territory, he could have almost predicted what would happen next. Once he stopped, not one, but several young, eager smiling faces peered up at him with their batting lashes and flirty looks. It was exhausting.

“What is it?” he practically barked.

“Oh, sorry,” the one who’d spoken said.

“Office hours are posted online,” he said roughly. Regrettably, he only saw looming interest and blushing cheeks. The heat rising around the group was practically tangible. He had to get out of there. He began walking away, but out of guilt, he turned his head back. “Make an appointment. I’ll speak to you then.”

Did he hear giggles? For God’s sake. Don’t look back again. He wondered for the thousandth time if working at a women’s liberal arts college was a bad idea.

He cleared the union without further intrusions and got out into the street. He put his head down as he walked across campus, then grabbed a beanie out of his coat pocket and shoved it on. No need to bother with the gloves. He wouldn’t be touching anyone.

Looking forward to getting home, he rounded the corner of a busy street near his parking lot and ran into a group of men in suits. His backpack fell to the ground, which caused some of his items to spill out. He cursed softly as one of the men knelt to help him retrieve his gear. But then, out of nowhere, a large reddish dog shot between them, grabbed a pair of his gloves, and took off.

“Hey!” Max stood and then ran after the dog. Not more than a few long strides later, the game of chase stopped. He stared with horror as the dog ran into the street, mindless of the oncoming traffic.

“No!” He threw up his hand and yelled. His heart in his mouth, he watched in slow motion as a car slammed into the dog. He dropped his pack on the sidewalk, ran into the street, and screamed at the traffic. Everywhere cars came to a screeching halt.

His pulse raced, tears choking him as he reached the dog, hesitating only a second before he laid his hands—uncovered—without thinking, onto the soft fur. The gloves the dog had been carrying lay near her front leg, which was bent at an odd angle. Blood, too, was coming from somewhere.

“My God,” Max cried. His hands, his uncovered hands, ran down the dog’s body—without receiving a vision. Marveling at the empty sensation, he gently touched the dog’s face. The beautiful beast looked at him and released a small, pitiful whimper. She licked Max’s hand softly and closed her eyes.

Max closed his eyes, and momentarily dropped his head back with the wonder of the moment before he regained his senses and began to scream at the driver, who had been hovering nearby. He gently stroked the dog, cooing to her with tender words. Where are her tags? Where had she come from?

The only answer he had was that no one nearby came running to claim her for their own. From that moment on, Max took charge, yelling instructions. He’d see that the dog got help. Nothing in the world was more important.

Author Annabelle Lewis:

Annabelle Lewis—a pseudonym for the author—lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Regrettably? Perhaps. She still believes she’s a Texan even though the math no longer supports that. Nor her birthplace. Nor her residence. No offense, Minnesota. You’ve got your good points too, but only about six months of the year.

In her youth, Annabelle was a complete failure. Ask anyone who knew her. Any of her teachers and family would tell you this. High school graduation was a sad day for all when Annabelle walked proudly off the high school stage, her thoughts consumed with boys, beer, and after-parties, and later into the arms of her parents. Her father’s laughter and singular remark? “I didn’t think you’d make it. Get a job at the post office, they have a good retirement plan.”

A high bar and words to live by, but Annabelle wanted more. She needed to flunk out of college too. But damn, she sure did have a good time. Trivial arrest records not-withstanding, it was a growth period for our girl. And if you look closely, you’ll see a bit of what was to come when she majored in criminal justice. Her lifelong aspiration was to become a judge. Hmm.

For better or worse, Annabelle didn’t graduate from college but did find gainful employment and a fulfilling career. This path ended when she became a mom. Married to her wonderful George, who to this day can hardly remember an actual proposal, Annabelle finally became a mother. She didn’t have a clue how hard she would need to work to keep those self-imposed requirements of Downey-fresh, iron-pressed sheets, home-baked meals, and mom-of-the-year awards arriving. She composed a small self-affirmation song and made her children sing it to her for money. She was a very good mom.

After clearing the largest hurdles of motherhood and regrettably, begrudgingly, and not-without-tears, launching her children onto the world, she looked around and realized she had a lot to say. Picking up a laptop, she got to work.

Annabelle spends her days continuing to tackle the challenges of motherhood, for both her humans and canines. She also writes. And reads. And cleans. And cooks. And bakes. And cleans again. She also supports her husband, George, in an administrative capacity for their small business. She’s in charge of payroll and cuts George’s checks. This leads to no marital acrimony.

In the beginning, with the blank page staring at her and possibly in a hostile mood after being literally mauled by a dog and by the world in general, she had an idea. What if she could wield a force of good upon unsuspecting evil-doers? What if she had the resources to get the job done without dealing with committee and anyone else’s whiney-ass opinions?

It was gold. It took off. Annabelle sat down and began to write and couldn’t stop. To date, having written over a million words in the Carrows Family Chronicles and her second series on the Boston Clairvoyants, several items have become quite clear. Annabelle had a lot to say. Annabelle really enjoys writing. And although she hates all things technology, she begrudgingly pounds her head on her desk daily as obstacles are thrown in her path. Almost a hero.

Since entering her world of make-believe, she has rebelled against all intrusion of real-world responsibilities. Her house is a mess, but she tries. Her family is fed, but more often than not, on takeout. She vows to shower every day, but no, it’s a vow she’ll never keep. Her friends are neglected, but not in her heart.

Read her mordacious blog! Read her books! Follow her on social platforms! Sign up for her newsletter! These are all good things. What are you waiting for? Jump into bed with Annabelle. She’s having a swell time. You should join her.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

GIVEAWAY!

.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:
XBTBanner1

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

Renovated: A Workplace Romance
Nikki Kiley
Publication date: August 5th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

They’ve been hired to remodel a mansion. Will they end up getting a room?

Marisa Sanchez has grand designs for her future. After taking over her grandfather’s construction firm, the successful vlogger and civil engineer is about to take the next step with a new show on the Home Design Network. But she’s not pleased to find out she can only have the lucrative gig if she agrees to work with a handsome rival.

Levi Chance takes the responsibility of providing for his brothers seriously. So when his biggest client asks him to come into the spotlight to co-host a new program, he reluctantly accepts. But he fears the pretty, camera-loving partner he’s been assigned might bring his top-notch reputation tumbling down if she can’t deliver the goods.

Discovering her teammate is quite capable, Marisa battles her attraction to him as she ambitiously turns the project upside down. And the more Levi works with the smart Latina, the more he worries he’s about to push the “no sex” morality clause in their contract into forbidden territory.

Will Marisa and Levi’s fixer-upper turn into a happily together forever?

Renovated is the charming first book in the moving Chance Brothers contemporary romance series. If you like sparkling attractions, comedic moments, and steamy action, then you’ll love Nikki Kiley’s well-built romp.

Goodreads / Amazon

Check out this peek inside:

“I’m going to make a confession. I wasn’t expecting to like you, especially after our first meet and greet.” She bit her bottom lip. All I could do was stare at her mouth as she continued. “I’m not shy, I also believe in saying what’s on my mind and going for what I want, so I’m going to come right out and say it.”

I could feel the heat of her body only inches from mine as she moved closer to me. “You’re super-hot, the total package, brains, and brawn. I understand why the network wants you. Women will eat you up. They’ll imagine you as they make their honey-do lists, it’s a compliment before you get offended,” she laughed as if the joke was on her. “Shit, I would do you, but I’m not fucking this up. I won’t cross any lines that could risk the project, so we each stay in our lanes. Of course, I’m assuming you agree.”

Did she just say she’d do me? “Uh, yeah, um. . . stay in my lane, couldn’t agree more.”

.

Author Nikki Kiley

Nikki Kiley is an aspiring author of Contemporary Romance. Since she was a young girl, she dreamt of writing stories that would entertain and move her readers, like she was and still is, by talented authors.

When not working the day job running a medical office, she spends hours crafting and writing stories about heroes and heroines earning their chance at love. She makes her home in Puerto Rico with her husband, two young adult children, and a gentle giant, the bull mastiff, Kira.

She loves the beach, her Nespresso maker, and cupcakes (S’more in particular).

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

GIVEAWAY!

.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:
XBTBanner1

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

Adrift
Isabel Jolie
(Haven Island)
Publication date: June 8th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

I can be your dream girl…for a price…

Ever heard of Only Fans? It’s not my ideal job, but it pays the bills.
It’s even made me somewhat of a celebrity. My subscribers love my provocative shots, and I’m oh-so-good at teasing them.
Then he shows up in my small town and complicates everything.
See, Mr. Green-Eyed Gazillionaire is so far out of my league it’s ridiculous. We’re polar opposites.
That doesn’t change the fact that even though I’m a fantasy to most men, I only want to be his reality.
But nothing real can ever happen between us. Logically, I know that.
Too bad logic and I have never had anything but a passing acquaintance.
Because now, if I’m not careful, I’m afraid this sexy billionaire will smash my poor, pathetic heart into oblivion…

A delicious hot billionaire romance featuring two polar opposites adrift on a resort island with a small-town atmosphere, right of the coast of North Carolina.

This is a steamy contemporary romance with a happily ever after, no cliffhanger, and no cheating.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

 

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

“Did you hang up on me?” Shock enveloped his words.

“Yeah.” Get over it.

“Don’t do that. If I say something that offends you, tell me. But don’t end the call. I had a shitty day. I called you because I was reaching out as a friend.”

“Yeah, do you ask all your friends what they’re wearing when you call them? Does Tate give you a good rundown?”

“Fine. I might…I don’t know. That was bad flirting. I got it. I won’t do it again.”

I sipped my wine, waiting for an actual apology.

“How’d your meeting with the bank go?”

My emotions shimmied around uncontrollably. “Not well. I’ve decided that on my next loan application I need to take a different approach to describe my current business.”

“What did they say about it?”

“It wasn’t a they. It was a he. And…” I trailed off, unsure about what to admit.

“Did he come on to you?” he asked. I thought I picked up on a mixture of anger and disbelief. The desire to hang up on him evaporated.

“In a totally professional way. Maybe I was reading into it.” It was probably all in my head. He really didn’t do anything wrong. Some might say he was being nice.

“Tell me what he said.”

“He said I wasn’t likely to get a loan without experience running a restaurant, but he was willing to help me work on my business plan—if I met him at a hotel bar.” I held my breath for Gabe’s reaction, curious. He could say that was normal and how things were done in the business world. In Wilmington, I’d seen business executives hovering around the bar. I’d been in the exact Holiday Inn bar he mentioned once.

Gabe muttered something I couldn’t quite pick up. “Look, the restaurant sector isn’t an area I know. But let me make some phone calls. I’ll have an industry expert consult with you.”

“That’s—”

“Poppy, this is how it’s done. You learn from those with more experience and knowledge. I could tell you something off the top of my head that needs improvement in your presentation, but my feedback won’t be as useful as an industry expert. And what the banker said, about the lack of experience, that could be a legitimate obstacle. Does the chef you are partnering with have any ownership or management experience?”

“No.” I’d fluffed his experience up. Clay was currently the line cook at Jules. But he liked healthy food. And my plan was for more of a wine bar, a place for vacationing adults to come and hang out in a relaxing atmosphere, even after dinner.

“Let me make some calls.”

“How much would a consultant cost?”

“Consider it a favor for hanging out with me and letting me crash on your sofa.”

“Gabe, I don’t want to be indebted to you. How much?”

“Won’t cost a thing. I’ll call in some favors. It’ll be an initial consultation, and you can decide how you want to take it from there.”

“Thank you.”

He sighed. “No problem.”

“Why’d you have a shit day?”

“Ah, just another day in the business world.” Shrill beeps and a robotic voice sounded through the phone. “Premise is secure.”

“Are you just getting home now?”

“Yeah. I had dinner with brokers.”

I checked the time. After ten. “You sound tired.”

“I am. I wake at four a.m. This is a late-night for me. Especially given it’s only Monday.”

“Four a.m.? That’s inhuman.”

He chuckled. I sensed he spoke while walking and talking, maybe even preparing for bed.

“I suppose I should let you go so you can get a good night’s sleep.”

“I’ll have my assistant email over a consultant’s name. And, Poppy?”

“Yeah?”

“That banker was an ass. And I didn’t mean to be.”

~~~~~

 

Author Isabel Jolie

Isabel Jolie, or Izzy to her friends, is an Amazon bestselling indie author with an unquenchable thirst for a good, sexy love story. Izzy’s heart pumps faster for stories with strong heroines, down-to-earth realism, and an unexpected twist.

When she’s not writing or reading, she can often be found with a glass of wine in hand relaxing with her husband, daughters, and good friends lakeside.

Izzy fills her Instagram feed with funnies, inspirational “brain candy”, and anything that meshes with her mood of the day. #mood.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

GIVEAWAY!

.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:
XBTBanner1

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

 

Feisty
Julia Kent
(Do-Over Series, #3)
Publication date: January 28th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Synopsis

I’m not too proud to admit that finding Mr. Right involves swiping right. Right? Welcome to dating in avocado toastland.

Here I am, on my first blind date, ever, courtesy of a smartphone app and my two annoying best friends.

So what is Chris “Fletch” Fletcher doing, walking across the room, looking at his phone like he’s pattern matching a picture to find a real person he’s never met before?

Oh.

Oh, no.

The guy I drop-kicked in seventh grade cannot be my blind date. The guy who earned me this infernal nickname.

That’s right.

Feisty.

More from New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent as Fiona “Feisty” Gaskill gets her chance at love – drop-kick included.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play / Audible / Amazon Audio

Only 99¢ for a limited time!

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

My lungs have decided that the world is too dangerous to make a move, utter a sound, do anything. I’m frozen, the pulse inside me growing stronger as time ticks away. My own shut-down system is the barrier to oxygen. The disconnect between what my body needs and what my tattered psyche can handle is causing my overload to leak out in a really obvious way.

“Fiona?” Josh says, shaking me gently, Michelle looking to him for certainty.

And then suddenly, Josh is out of my sight, replaced by two clear, calm, green eyes, light brown hair, and hands that feel like anchors.

“Feisty? Feis–Fiona?” Fletch corrects. The sudden pivot to using my proper name is jarring, given the fact that every atom in the world is buzzing inside my ears and nothing anyone does will help me to breathe.

I make a strange sound. I know it’s strange because his eyebrows turn down in the middle, his facial muscles pushing them low enough to show concern.

Concern for me.

“Breathe,” he says slowly as he puts one hand on my diaphragm, fingers warm and firm.

I make a sound to indicate that I am confused and the speech centers in my brain have shut down. Empathy floods me as I realize this is exactly what my student with severe apraxia, little Myles, must feel like when he loses his words under extreme stress. For years, I’ve said “use your words” to four-year-olds having anxiety fits.

Never again.

“Breathe, Fiona,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath to demonstrate, his belly expanding in a comical way, though I know his technique is strong. Hypnotic and commanding, his voice and body tell me what to do, guide me back from being lost in the woods to a cleared trail where I can find my footing, take a rest, and possibly feel safe again, knowing I can find my way home.

I inhale, the insides of my nostrils cold, the air hitting my nasal passages a welcome assault, diaphragm spasming and sputtering back to life.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers against the curl of my ear, his breath like coffee, his hard forearm muscles all I can see, the ripped cord of his strong lines drawing my gaze. “You just breathe. It’s over now. You did it. You saved them. It’s okay to breathe.” He inhales, then slowly exhales. “Let’s do this together now.”

Author Julia Kent

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 19 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French and German, with more titles releasing in 2020 and beyond.

From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).

She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Newsletter / Bookbub / Amazon

 

GIVEAWAY!

.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

.

Hosted by:
XBTBanner1

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

 

Eventually Evie

by Cat Lavoie

Publication date: January 4th 2021
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Synopsis

How are you supposed to get your life back on track when the Universe won’t stop messing with you?

After a series of personal and professional setbacks, interior designer Evie Glass has lost faith in herself and the world. The last thing she needs is her loud, boisterous family poking their noses in her business, so that’s why she avoids opening up about anything—especially her love life—during their weekly dinners. Thankfully, her bestie and next-door neighbor, Matilda, always has her back.

When Evie is asked to cat-sit Matilda’s beloved rescue, she’s not thrilled at the prospect. One well-meaning mistake later and a distraught Evie is rushing her furry charge to the ER where she meets and is instantly smitten with Fletcher West, a charming veterinarian who seems to return her interest. That is until they both realize they’ve met before—ten years ago when he was dating her temperamental cousin. Fletch’s break-up with Bee put him at the top of her family’s hit list and makes him the last person Evie should be dating.

In addition to navigating a secret romance with Fletch, Evie must also deal with a demanding new job, an eccentric client from her former life, and an ex who’s suddenly blowing up her phone. She convinces herself she’s got it all under control, but what happens when things start falling apart and Evie learns she’s not the only one keeping secrets?

One thing’s for sure…

Eventually Evie’s got to take a chance—on love, on life, and on herself.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

Text to Matilda:

Someone just threw a meatball at my face. Talk about kicking a girl when she’s down. Rescue me?

I don’t know what I did to piss off the Universe, but she’s had it in for me for a while. And because of her latest stunt, I now have bits of ground beef stuck in my hair and Aunt Pina’s famous tomato sauce streaking my face and shirt. You could easily mistake me for an extra on the set of a mediocre horror film—one who just realized her real life will never be the quirky rom-com she desperately wants it to be. This is not what I signed up for. Who approved these script changes?

It’s my fault for allowing myself to get distracted. I sent an urgent text to Matilda, my best friend, over twenty minutes ago, and I was just checking my phone to see if she answered—she hadn’t. And then a three-year-old sniper attacked me.

My cousin Frankie’s son has been going through a phase where he throws everything that isn’t glued down as if he’s trying out for the Yankees. I’m his favorite target, so I need to stay on my toes when he’s around. Thank goodness he’s adorable and I’m a sucker for dimples. All of my adult family members are too busy screaming at each other to notice—or punish—the meatball-throwing toddler. Their voices are getting louder and louder, and even though I love everyone sitting at this table, I sometimes wish my family enjoyed the sound of silence a little bit more.

But the scene before me is completely normal. All the sharp objects on the table will be used to eat a delicious dinner, not to stab someone in the heat of the moment. Despite the loud voices and animated gestures, no one is angry.

In fact, it’s a joyous occasion. My cousin Bianca—Bee to friends and family—has just announced she’s getting married. Obviously, the earth has stopped spinning on its axis at the very news and the presses have screeched to a halt. It’s also my birthday today, but my measly milestone has once again been eclipsed by something involving Bee. It’s almost become a beloved family tradition, and I’m so used to her claiming all the attention for herself that I can’t be mad at Bee. I’m not in the mood for attention anyway.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Bee is holding up a bunny-eared iPhone so we can see a picture of the ring Mike is going to buy her—a princess cut diamond surrounded by two smaller pink stones on a white gold band. I crane my neck to get a closer look. As per the ring website, this model is their biggest seller and a wonderful way to tell her you want to spend all of eternity by her side. Gag me. But why isn’t the ring on her finger?

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Hold on a minute,” my cousin Fabrizio says between bites of crusty bread dripping in the extra virgin olive oil one of my uncles brings back from Italy every year. “Why am I looking at a picture of this ring on your phone? Shouldn’t it be on your finger?” He’s clearly reading my thoughts. (And he’s also spewing crumbs with every word, but we’re on opposite sides of the table, so I’m safe. Aunt Pina—not so much.)

Bee flicks her long, chocolate-colored hair off her shoulder and gives her brother a stern look. “We’re not technically engaged yet. But it’s going to happen. Soon. We’re just waiting for the ring to be delivered.” It’s obvious by her narrowed eyes that follow-up questions will not be accepted at this time.

It takes all the willpower in the world for me not to groan in annoyance. Does Mike know he’s just a UPS delivery window away from proposing? And won’t he wonder why no one is surprised when Bee makes her official announcement?

“You’re going to make a beautiful bride.” Aunt Pina—one of my mother’s four sisters—can’t get the words out without choking up, and she brings a linen napkin to her face to delicately wipe away a tear. Bee is her only daughter—a much-prayed-for miracle baby after five boisterous sons—and her wedding day has been planned since the second she was born. It will be a night fit for a princess—a big fat Italian wedding to top all other big fat Italian weddings. Every single guest will marvel at how delicious the food was, how gorgeous the bride looked in her designer dress, how no expense was spared from the finest champagne to a dessert table guaranteed to induce a diabetic coma and widespread jealousy and envy.

 

Author Cat Lavoie

Cat Lavoie is a chick lit writer from Montreal, Canada.
She loves writing fun and quirky romantic comedies and is the author of BREAKING THE RULES, ZOEY & THE MOMENT OF ZEN, PERI IN PROGRESS and MESSING WITH MATILDA.

A fan of all things feline, Cat loves cats and hopes to someday have a house full of them in order to officially become a crazy cat lady. (But one or two cats will do for now.)

If she isn’t reading or writing, Cat enjoys listening to podcasts (mostly comedy and true crime) and watching way too much TV. She fell in love with London many years ago and hopes to go back one day. Cat is currently at work on her next novel.

To connect with Cat and find out more about her books, visit CatLavoie.com and follow @CatLavoieBooks on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

GIVEAWAY!

.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted by:
XBTBanner1

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

 

Murder Mittens
R.J. Blain
(Magical Romantic Comedies, #13)
Publication date: December 25th 2020
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis

Becoming a bounty hunter and taking on the call sign of Murder Mittens wasn’t Harri’s brightest move, but what’s a lynx to do with millions of debt while working a customer service gig? The scars deforming her face won’t remove themselves, and she’ll bag and tag every criminal in the United States to get rid of them if necessary.

Being assigned a handler could make or break her, but did the powers that be really have to toss Sebastian Sumners her way? The lion with a stubborn streak as wide as hers tests her patience on a good day, but nothing makes her purr more than goading him into roaring.

Add in a protective family, a serial killer on the loose, and more trouble than any one cat needs, and it’s going to take a miracle for Harri to get through the most important job of her life.

Warning: contains magic, humor, cranky shapeshifters, cats, murder, and mayhem. Proceed with caution.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

~~~~~

Enjoy this glimpse inside:

Chapter One

Why was murdering irate, irrational, ignorant, and flat-out wrong customers illegal? The idiot on the phone rambled about how it wasn’t fair that dumping coffee on his router invalidated his warranty.

I thought it wasn’t fair his stupidity might lose me IQ points, and I’d learned long ago that humans—or lycanthropes, such as myself—didn’t come with warranties or guarantees. I had bills to pay, and murdering one of the customers wouldn’t pay my bills.

Then again, in prison, I wouldn’t have to pay any bills. Every day by the end of my shift, I considered incarceration as a viable option.

Free board, free food, good medical care, and asshole inmates to beat on sounded a lot better than dealing with an idiot customer.

“Sir,” I said in the hopes of circumventing his tirade. Mr. Edward Lavell ignored me.

The idiots always ignored me. I bet my gender had something to do with it. On average, the men finished their calls five minutes faster, and every supervisor to review the situation came to the same general conclusion: customers took men in tech more seriously than women, and I, unfortunately, sounded too feminine.

“Sir,” I repeated, only to be ignored again.

Why couldn’t I just hang up on him? Oh, right. I valued my job. As I valued my job, I couldn’t hang up on him, I couldn’t curse, I couldn’t threaten to rip his throat out, and I couldn’t indulge in my desire to murder him.

There was a time and a place for murder, and on the job at a call center for a cable internet company was not the time nor the place.

For the fourth time since calling in, Mr. Lavell explained that it really wasn’t his fault he’d dumped coffee on his router.

“Sir, liquid spills are right in the contract for the router. I’m sorry, but I can’t change the rules for you. Spilling coffee on your router invalidates its warranty.”

“It’s not my fault the cup holder in my computer has a mind of its own,” he complained.

Wait. What?

His computer’s cup holder has a mind of its own? The realization I dealt with someone far worse than just an idiot sank in. Every call center had legends of Code Red customers, who were in an entirely different class from the standard 1-D10T and the unfortunately common PEBKAC. With Mr. Lavell, I had it all. A problem certainly did exist between the keyboard and chair, and he’d definitely deserved his flag as an 1-D10T.

Until his call, I had remained safe from the evils of a Code Red customer.

By the time I got off the phone with him, I’d need some alcohol and someone to kill.

It’d be easier to find someone to kill than the alcohol; me and booze just didn’t mix, and I’d been banned out of every damned bar in town to keep the peace.

Maybe I could whip on some makeup, grab a gray wig, and pass for a little old lady. With my face covered in burn scars, it wouldn’t take much to pull off some makeup artistry and transform myself into an older woman rather than a mutilated one. I could become a conventional beauty given an hour and the right products. An old lady wasn’t an impossibility.

Alternatively, I could shift, pay my family a visit, and steal a bottle of liquor from one of the cabinets. With the number of lynxes running around the place, they might not even notice me before I made off with my alcoholic prize.

As sighing was not acceptable when dealing with paying customers, I took a moment to steel my nerves before saying, “Sir, computers do not include cup holders.”

That caught his attention. “What?”

“Sir, computers do not include cup holders,” I repeated, already dreading the moment I would have to explain what a CD was, how they were used, and what the player’s actual purpose was. Few systems still had any disc drives at all, as most companies had moved to online downloads of their programs and games.

The next few minutes of my life would not be fun, and I typed a message to my supervisor warning him I had a major 1-D10T on my hands, a possible Code Red situation, and to make sure he was aware I faced the demise of some IQ points, I notified him the customer had opted to use his disc drive as a coffee cup holder.

“What the hell is this thing for, then?”

“CDs, sir.” I closed my eyes and waited for the meltdown.

“First, you claim I invalidated my warranty, and now you’re telling me my cup holder plays music?”

“As this is an internet company, sir, I can’t help you with your CD player. However, it is not a cup holder, nor should it be used as one. As for your router, you owe $35.79 on the device. Once you finish paying for the damaged equipment, I can schedule a tech to come to your home and install your new router. Since you’ve been a customer for so long, I can waive the fifty dollar installation fee. Your monthly bill will not change if you opt to pay off the damaged equipment and start a new rental.”

If he gave me a hard time, I’d take my time and give him all of his options. None of them would be as good as my initial offer. I cracked open an eye and checked my messages with my boss.

He wished me the best of luck and promised to send flowers to my funeral. He also begged me not to tell my brothers about the menace wasting my time. If any one of my forty-seven brothers found out I dealt with customers screaming at me five days a week, they’d go on a rampage.

That my boss knew my family drove me crazy on a good day.

I figured my idiot family had gone on a hunt to meet my boss, and because we were all infected with lycanthropy, my boss wouldn’t have thought twice about their behavior.

Lycanthropes had a reputation.

Most days, it wasn’t a good one.

Only an idiot would piss off a bunch of male lycanthropes out to protect their precious little sister. Unfortunately for me, I counted as an endangered species, as the odds of a lycanthrope having daughters in the first place fell somewhere in around ten thousand to one.

I needed to notify my mother she needed to have more daughters. While she was at it, she needed to give me a new name, because nobody ever believed Harri was a woman’s name. I figured she’d meant to name me Harry because she’d expected yet another boy, swapping out the ‘y’ for an ‘i’ to make things easier on her.

When on the job, I went by Christine because Christine seemed gloriously feminine and nobody on the team used their real names. Technically, I was supposed to change my name every day, but I went by Christine for all new callers, and I only rotated through when I knew I was dealing with someone who gave me issues.

My method worked well enough, so my boss didn’t complain.

While Mr. Lavell spluttered and began the tedious process of mulling over his options, I began making plans for after work—assuming I escaped from my job without succumbing to the temptation of informing the customer he was most definitely wrong, he needed to go back to school to join the modern world, and it wouldn’t hurt if he learned to be civil.

I had to explain his options four times before he finally conceded he should stick with his old plan, pay for the damaged router, and move on with life. It took an extra ten minutes of listening to him whine before he finally hung up.

Above all, I hated the rule that we were not supposed to hang up on clients. It wasted time. Had I been allowed to just hang up, I would have wished him a good day, disconnected the call, and began the tedious process of adding notes to his file so the next customer service representatives stuck with him knew they had trouble on their hands.

My phone rang, but instead of a customer, my phone reported my boss wanted to speak with me. With slumped shoulders, I accepted his call and answered, “Sir?”

“I listened in on your Code Red.”

I hated when my boss actively monitored my calls; thanks to how the system worked, he could listen in on me at any time. But, a job was a job, and with my scarred face, finding a job became troublesome at best—and nobody in the call center knew or cared what I looked like. Oh, well. Before I jumped to conclusions, I’d ask. “What’s my grade, sir?”

“You did fine. You stayed professional, you didn’t come across as too condescending, and frankly, there’s no sane tech on this planet stays totally cool a Code Red. It could have been much worse.”

I checked the clock, breathing a sigh of relief that I’d hit the end of my shift and wouldn’t have to take any more calls. “What do you need?”

“I had a question about your schedule. You’re off for the next week, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” I had plans, and they involved the International Most Wanted List along with every legal bounty list I had managed to get my hands on in the past month. If my boss tried to put an end to my hard-earned vacation, I’d finally do what I should have done months ago, snap, and quit.

I wanted him to cross my last line so badly.

“Ted wants an extra shift. How would you feel about an unpaid day added to your vacation? I’ve already gotten approval if you’d like to claim the unpaid day.”

Score. I’d bid for time off almost a year ago, but sick days were the bare minimum the state allowed, which accounted to five for the entire year. An extra day tacked onto my vacation might let me bag an extra bounty.

Any day I bagged an extra bounty was a good day in my opinion.

“I can take an unpaid day, sir. That’s fine. Can you send me an email confirming the unpaid day off?”

“It’ll be in your inbox within the next ten minutes, and I’ll CC human resources notifying them you’re excused for that day.”

“Okay. Will the rest of my schedule remain the same once I’m back from vacation?”

“Yes. Ted just asked for extra hours, and the others with seniority declined the day off.”

I bet; on our income, every hour mattered. Most who worked for the call center had seen better days. I lived like I’d seen better days and I looked like I’d seen better days, but appearances lied. I only worked at the call center to maintain appearances. Thanks to depression in my teens and therapy that hadn’t gone like my parents had wanted, my entire family demanded I check in at least three times a week to ensure I remained human.

They believed if they took their eyes off me, I might shift into a lynx and never come back.

Two years ago, they wouldn’t have been wrong, but I’d found a new purpose in life. Not a single one of my brothers would approve, my mother would have yet another litter of kittens, and my father would be so disappointed.

Personally, I thought it was obvious. I worked in customer service. I was a prime candidate to become a murderous asshole. I did so legally, on behalf of the government and other legal entities, and I did so for a filthy amount of money.

Smiling stretched my scars, but I did it anyway. “If anyone needs any extra hours, I can afford another day or two off,” I offered. “I can take up to a week unpaid. I’ve been saving up to take some time off if any opportunities allowed.”

It would delay paying for the expensive procedure required to piece my face back together and remove the evidence of the fire that’d almost killed me as a child. It took a lot of magic to convince the lycanthropy virus I wasn’t supposed to be a scarred wreck.

A lot of magic cost a lot of money, and I figured I might have the three million dollars within five years if I landed a bounty every weekend and took on some of the more dangerous jobs. While I waited for my boss to mull over my offer, I considered the various jobs on offer.

I liked hunting other lycanthropes. Unmated males were easy catches, and the fugitives usually brought in a pretty penny. The last one I’d bagged as a live capture had added fifty thousand to my bank account.

Then again, if I landed an entire extra week, I’d make up the lost hours with a single small bounty, and anything else would be extra cash in my savings account.

My boss grunted, signaling he’d come to a decision. “I’ll keep that in mind and pitch the offer. I’ll email your personal and work addresses if there are any takers plus text your phone.”

“Thanks, sir. Have a good evening.”

“You, too.”

He hung up, and before something could go wrong, I clocked out, filed my paperwork for my final call, and logged out of the system so I couldn’t be sucked back into doing even more work.

If all went well, I’d be a hundred grand richer by the end of the week and that much closer to being able to look in the mirror without wincing.

 

Author R.J. Blain:

RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.

In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

GIVEAWAY!

.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

.

Hosted by:
XBTBanner1

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

 

Ain’t She Sweet
Whitney Dineen
(Seven Brides for Seven Mothers #2)
Publication date: December 15th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Synopsis

Tara Heinz began her modeling career at the tender age of twelve. After spending fifteen years drooling over forbidden foods, she does the unthinkable. She enrolls in culinary school and becomes a pastry chef.

After a nasty breakup with her rock star boyfriend that leads to tabloid war, Tara takes a job at a rural lodge in Oregon to escape the spotlight she no longer desires.

James Cavanaugh is a farmer in Oregon. His days are spent building his business and his nights are spent sleeping, so he can get up at four in the morning.

Ruby Cavanaugh has plans for her son that involve her new pastry chef. Of course, neither James nor Tara know what’s going on until it’s too late.

Goodreads / Amazon

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

After arranging an assortment of gourds on her newspaper-covered dining room table, Ruby picks up her telephone to call her oldest son, Brogan. “How are you and Addie doing?” she wants to know. As the first recipients of her matchmaking endeavor, the success of their union is integral to her confidence in setting up her younger son, James, with her new pastry chef.

“She’s great. We’re great. New York is beautiful in the fall.”

Whoever said glitter was the herpes of the crafting world never fully appreciated its hypnotic effects, Ruby thinks while spraying gold glitter paint. “I knew you two were meant to be.”

“I don’t know how you decided that, but I’m glad you did. For a while there I thought you were trying to set Addison up with James. Speaking of which, how are things going between him and Tara?”

“What do you mean?” Ruby asks, trying—and failing—to sound innocent.

“Don’t try to tell me you haven’t set your sights on her for my little brother.”

After several moments, Ruby dejectedly confesses, “It’s been hard finding ways to throw them together now that James’s farmstand is mostly closed for the season. I’ve had to resort to hiring your brother to put in a garden here at the lodge.”

“Interesting. I’m not sure I should offer, but let me know if I can do anything to help.”

“You and Addie are still coming home for Christmas, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. We arrive the second week of December and are planning on staying until the first week of March. I’ll be working on my new novel and Addie is going to commute to a hotel she’s redesigning in Portland.”

Ruby walks around the table, eyeing her decorative fall creation before firing off a final burst of sparkle. “I might need your help then. In the meantime, don’t bring up Tara’s name when you talk to James. I don’t want him to guess what I’m up to until it’s too late.”

“You make me nervous, Mom, but you did such a great job for me that I promise not to interfere in your latest project.”

“Good. Now, I’ve got to go. Your brother will be here any minute to meet with Tara about the dessert portion of the garden.”

“Does he know he’s meeting with her?” Brogan asks.

“Of course not. What fun would that be? Bye!” Ruby hangs up on her son before he has a chance to reply. After refreshing her lipstick and picking invisible lint from her sweater, she’s off to make another love connection.

 

About Author Whitney Dineen

Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries — not always in that order.

Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.

She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.

Gold Medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2017.

Silver medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.

Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.

Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.

Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017

Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

 

GIVEAWAY!

.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

.

Hosted by:
XBTBanner1

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.

 

Hasty
by Julia Kent
(Do-Over Series, #4)
Publication date: July 28th 2020
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

.

AN ALL-NEW STANDALONE FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR JULIA KENT

I never thought my perp walk would lead to true love.

Then again, I never thought I’d be arrested on RICO charges and hauled away in zip ties on camera for the world to see, minutes after closing the most amazing deal of my career.

And all of it in front of my biggest viral, billionaire wunderkind Ian McRory.

I am broke.

I am disgraced.

I am alone.

I am a sucker.

But the worst part? I have to go back to my hometown and live in my bedroom filled with relics from my childhood.

Lisa Frank never made me so mad before.

Just when I needed a rescue, I got one — in the form of help from my biggest rival.

He can’t bring back my money.

He certainly can’t bring back my reputation or my pride.

But there’s one thing he can bring back to me.

A sense of hope.

Maybe even love.

Ian sees something in me no one else does, and he’s relentless about making me see it, too. As we grow closer, I’m starting to see that while my entire life used to be a lie, the truth is staring me in the present — and it’s a truth I like very, very much, hot eyes and gorgeous smile and all.

But I have to be careful.

I can’t be too —

That’s right.

Hasty.

The final book in the USA Today bestselling Do-Over Series (Fluffy, Perky, Feisty), as Mallory’s sister, Hastings “Hasty” Monahan gets her turn at a happily ever after that starts off with an arrest.

Hers.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

Book 2, Perky, is currently 99¢ for a limited time. And also the prequel (Little Miss Perky) is free!

Check out the Excerpt:

Today is the best day of my life.

I know people say that, and they mean it, but they don’t mean this. My best day is better than anyone else’s. Trust me.

I know.

I’m sitting at a table at Essentialz, a five-star restaurant in San Francisco. Everyone at the table watches me as I tuck the signed paperwork away in my black Bottega Veneta woven leather brief bag.

I, Hastings Monahan, just signed a nine-figure investment deal on behalf of the venture capital firm I work for.

Full partner, here I come.

Of course, lawyers will handle the majority of this. The signatures are symbolic as much as they are legal. But the fellow diners at my carefully crafted table will go back to China with an exciting opportunity for their company, Zhangwa Telecommunications, to enter the North American market with climate-change technology projecting yields that are the best aphrodisiac ever.

As I sip from my glass of Montrachet Grand Cru, I catch the eye of Ming Bannerton, a consultant with Zhangwa whose father is a high-ranking U.S State Department official in China, a woman who has a hunger for financial success that I can spot in anyone in three seconds flat. There’s something special about a fellow hustler–and when I use the word hustler, I don’t mean it pejoratively.

People who hustle get things done.

We connect. We network. We pattern match. We ruthlessly apply what we intuitively feel to what we operationally know in order to produce optimal outcomes.

In short–we hustle.

And we win.

But in competition, there can only be one winner.

One.

Tonight, I’m it.

Her smile mirrors mine, red lips stretched over perfectly white teeth that are as straight as a new picket fence. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes, but an intensity infuses her. She’s about five years younger than me, with a knowing eye that tells me we need to stay in touch. Someday soon, she may shoot past me, and that’s where all the legwork pays off.

In this business, you network down as well as you network up, if you want to get anywhere.

And the manila folder resting in my brief bag, the one that feels like a warm gold ingot pressed against my lips? That, ladies and gentlemen, is how you get somewhere.

“Where is Burke?” Mr. Zhao Bai asks, his head at a slight tilt, a gesture of genuine curiosity as his eyes survey me, looking for information that doesn’t come directly from my mouth. He’s the youngest of the four men at the table, a fast talker who looks around the room like he’s a mob boss. Negotiating with him took a steady hand I didn’t know I possessed, but now I understand.

Burke is part of the deal, and I didn’t realize it.

The contracts are signed, though. That makes my husband an off-the-books addendum. No matter what, this is my accomplishment.

My husband, Burke Oonaj, is one of the hottest market makers in finance right now. Even he will have no choice but to be impressed by the deal I’ve just put together.

But the inquiry about my husband makes my uterus fall.

And it’s not like he’s around to catch it.

“Good question,” I say before taking another sip of wine, needing to buy myself a smidgen of space and time. I only need a split second.

Normally.

For some reason that I can’t explain, my emotions are tangling in my mind, and that’s an unpredictable variable I have to weed out.

Fast.

My heart feels strangely heavy in my chest, a sense of dread filling me that has no right to be here. This is MY night, I tell that sense of dread. This is MY deal. This is my culmination of six years of careful work, all coming together, right now.

Go away, dread.

But Mr. Zhao’s question is a good one, because Burke isn’t answering any of my texts or emails or phone calls, and hasn’t for the last three days.

My husband has disappeared.

Not literally, of course, because husbands don’t just do that. Business travel can be intense. Plenty of stretches of time have gone by without hearing from him. They involved twenty-four hours or less, though.

Not eighty-one hours and thirteen minutes.

Not that I’m counting.

I can’t admit any of this to anyone at this table, of course, so instead, I give what my pattern-matching brain tells me is the optimal answer, designed to make me look good.

“Burke’s fine,” I say with a grin, the glass of wine still full enough to make more sips look like an appropriate response. “He sends his best regards. He would have been here tonight, but… you know.”

Two of the men share a look I don’t like. It’s a fleeting glance, the type that is practiced and meant to look like nothing. You think I’m paranoid, that I’m inventing it all?

Wrong.

I’m in a state of hyperarousal.

No, not the sexual kind. Haven’t felt that in a long time, at least not with Burke. My hyperarousal is based around the stress hormones pumping through me from the excitement of what I just accomplished.

Me. Myself. Alone.

Independent of Burke.

As workday smiles stretch to become the more casual, intimate grins of people enjoying bottle after bottle of excellent wine, I loosen up. The answer I gave them sufficed. We can move on.

My body feels numb and excited at the same time. I’m on top of the world. The pinnacle.

I am Peak Hastings.

Which is why, when the maître d’ approaches my side, I don’t pick up on the gravity of his whisper. No one would. Because learning that my credit card has been declined for this business dinner is definitely not part of the plan, and the areas of my brain assigned to processing language literally can’t comprehend it.

“It’s what?” I whisper, standing carefully, legs still steady, my alcohol consumption measured, even if my tablemates have made their way through more wine than an entire wedding party back home.

The maître d’, José, gives me a wide-eyed but polite look. “I’m sorry, Ms. Monahan. This has never happened before when you’ve dined with us. But the credit card company was very firm. You cannot use this one.”

Mr. Zhao gives me an inquiring look. My stomach sinks. Did he overhear?

“Will you all excuse me?” I tell them, hating the disruption, my legs turning into two steel beams covered in chilled skin.

“Something must be wrong with the credit card processor,” I snap at the maître d’ as I hurry away from my group. I want to get the taint of this failure out of the way and get back to my stellar success.

Once we’re out of sight of my table, I rifle through my purse and find another business credit card. “Use this one. And let me be very clear, to you and to your boss, that this is absolutely, abjectly unacceptable.”

He inserts the card, chip side in. “I realize this, Ms. Monahan, but we cannot…”

Beep.

He stares at the credit card terminal.

I read the display upside down. “Declined!” I hiss. “This is impossible! That card has no limit!”

“Perhaps you’ve had your identity stolen, or there are fraud alerts on your account? Perhaps you’re the victim of a financial crime?” José suggests.

“I can’t be the victim of a financial crime!” I snap at him. “I’m a financial expert! This doesn’t happen to people like me. Here!” I shove a third company card at him. This one better work.

I only have one more.

My mind races ahead, conjuring contingency plans, even as my cheeks burn with shame.

Shame.

Why would I feel shame for someone else’s mistake? And yet, there it is, and I have to override it fast. Because if I don’t, it gets a toehold.

And that is the fastest way to lose your edge.

José closes his eyes and lets out a sigh through his nose, a split second before the display terminal beeps.

Again.

“Your computer system is down,” I declare, pulling out the fourth card and my phone, texting my office manager. Maybe something went wrong. Maybe José is right. Maybe we were hacked. But this is surreal enough to let the dread come inside me and have a seat, as it decides whether to become an overnight guest.

It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m staring at a mid-four-figure bill that I owe, right now, and have no way to settle.

This cannot be happening.

As he runs the fourth card, the main door opens. My spine straightens, calves stretching tall, and not just from the five-inch heels I’m wearing.

I know that man.

I hate that man.

And he’s the last person on Earth I want to see in the middle of this debacle.

Ian McCrory cannot see me like this.

 

Author Julia Kent

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 19 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French and German, with more titles releasing in 2020 and beyond.

From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).

She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub / Newsletter / Amazon

 

GIVEAWAY!

.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

XBTBanner1

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

You can find a list of my reviews HERE.

For a list of free eBooks go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE

I am an Amazon Affiliate. Product images are linked.