Blog Tour + Excerpt & Giveaway: Intercepted by Alexa Martin

We are sooo close to the release of Intercepted by Alexa Martin, the first in an all new sports romance series! I’ve got a sneak peek and giveaway below to prepare you for tomorrow’s release!

Intercepted by Alexa Martin
Series: Playbook #1 (full reading order below)
Publication Date: September 11th 2018
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Marlee thought she scored the man of her dreams only to be scorched by a bad breakup. But there’s a new player on the horizon, and he’s in a league of his own…

Marlee Harper is the perfect girlfriend. She’s definitely had enough practice by dating her NFL-star boyfriend for the last ten years. But when she discovers he has been tackling other women on the sly, she vows to never date an athlete again. There’s just one problem: Gavin Pope, the new hotshot quarterback and a fling from the past, has Marlee in his sights.

Gavin fights to show Marlee he’s nothing like her ex. Unfortunately, not everyone is ready to let her escape her past. The team’s wives, who never led the welcome wagon, are not happy with Marlee’s return. They have only one thing on their minds: taking her down. But when the gossip makes Marlee public enemy number one, she worries about more than just her reputation.

Between their own fumbles and the wicked wives, it will take a Hail Mary for Marlee and Gavin’s relationship to survive the season.

Buy Links:
Amazon EbookAmazon PaperbackBarnes & NobleiTunes

Now here’s an excerpt from Intercepted! ❤

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The idea of Gavin showing up to my family home sets the butterflies in my stomach free. I have to remind myself he doesn’t remember me, he’s just being friendly to a teammate’s girlfriend. End of story.

“Don’t you wish. Chris isn’t even promised a seat. Quarterback or not, my family doesn’t share well when it comes to pasta.”

“Well, I’m awesome, and Chris is questionable. Your family would love me.”

“Maybe they could find a seat for you, but I’m not sure the room is big enough for your ego to tag along.” I ignore the jab at Chris, handing Gavin the final plate.

“Damn. You got jokes?” He acts insulted, but there’s a smile on his face when he says it. I shrug it off and give him a hand towel. I tend to forget not everybody knows my sense of humor. Something I should try harder to remember when it concerns my boyfriend’s coworkers.

He hands me the last plate to dry, and his fingers graze mine. The contact is so minimal, I shouldn’t have noticed it. But when it comes to Gavin, I notice everything. “Thanks for helping, but I really do have work to finish.”

I hang the towel from the stove and try to play it cool. I’m not a relationship expert or anything, but I’m pretty sure I’ve watched enough reality shows to know crushing on your boyfriend’s coworker is generally a no-no.

“TK told me you did his website. I checked it out and it looks fantastic. Are you taking on new clients?”

When I turn away from the stove and face him, he’s in the same spot, watching me with what I think is either curiosity, mistrust, or kindness.

Yes, I’m aware those are all different, but I’ve never been very good at reading people.

“Always. It’s rare for me to ever turn down a client.” I look for something else in the kitchen to keep me busy.

“Good, because my website needs an overhaul since I switched teams.”

Oh no. Not gonna happen. Seeing him on occasion is one thing, but working for him is on a whole other level of asking for trouble.

“Your website? Didn’t you already have somebody design your website?” I scramble for any excuse to say no. “I doubt you need a new one, just a few tweaks, and I don’t like messing with other people’s work.”

“You just said you didn’t turn down a client. I want a new website. I’ll have Madison email you some pictures of me in Mustangs gear and shots of my charity events.”

Oh lovely, Gavin and Madison. This keeps getting better and better.

“Your girlfriend is your secretary? How very old-school.”

“Madison isn’t my girlfriend. She’s an old friend who happens to work in PR.” He shakes his head, acting like the idea of him with the leggy beauty is outrageous. “Think about it for me. I’d really appreciate it, and I promise to recommend you to everyone I know.”

Dammit. Doing this would be huge for me. I got my degree in graphic design from the Art Institute five years ago and started doing some freelance work to keep me busy. Business has been growing slowly over the past five years . . . which is fine. Chris gets all offended when I offer to pay for anything so I shovel all my money into savings and paying off my student loans.

I graduated with my masters in marketing last spring and have spent all summer (unsuccessfully) trying to find an adult job complete with medical. Unfortunately for me, the closest I got to medical was the marijuana dispensary next door to an interview I went to. So while I wait to find the apparent unicorn job I’ve spent my entire life preparing for, I might just have to build a website for my ex-fling turned current boyfriend’s coworker.

I’m about to agree when the intercom buzzes and Chris’s voice booms through the kitchen. “Marlee, can you go find Pope for us?” he asks. He hangs up before I have the chance to answer.

“I guess that’s my cue.” Gavin starts walking out of the kitchen but stops before he makes it all the way out. “By the way, I think you dropped this.” He pulls something small out of his pocket, tosses it to me, and is gone before I even realize what I’m holding.

My grandma’s necklace. The one my mom gave me after she passed.

The one I lost four years ago in a Chicago apartment.

Holy shit.

He kept it?

Holy shit.

He remembers me!

Reading Order: Playbook series

 

#1 ~ Intercepted: EbookPaperback • AudibleGoodreads
#2 ~ Fumbled: EbookPaperback • Goodreads (June 4, 2019)

about the author button

Alexa Martin is a writer and stay at home mom. She lives in Colorado with her husband, a former NFL player who now coaches at the high school where they met, their four children, and a German Shepherd. When she’s not telling her kids to put their shoes on…again, you can find her catching up with her latest book boyfriend or on Pinterest pinning meals she’ll probably never make. Her first book, Intercepted, was inspired by the eight years she spent as an NFL wife.

Website • Twitter • FacebookInstagram • Goodreads

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(1) Paperback of Intercepted by Alexa Martin (US only)

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Blog Tour + Excerpt: The Raging Ones by Krista & Becca Ritchie

Who else is just as excited as I am for Krista & Becca Ritchie’s very first YA, traditionally published, sci-fi romance!? I’ve got a fantastic excerpt for you below, so check it out!

The Raging Ones by Krista & Becca Ritchie
Series: The Raging Ones #1
Publication Date: August 14th 2018
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From New York Times bestselling authors Krista and Becca Ritchie, comes The Raging Ones, an edge of your seat sci-fi romance with twists and turns that you will never see coming!

In a freezing world, where everyone knows the day they will die, three teens break all odds.

Franny Bluecastle, a tough city teen, dreams of dying in opulence, to see wealth she’s never known. Like the entire world, she believes it’s impossible to dodge a deathday.

Until the day she does.

Court Icecastle knows wealth. He also knows pain. Spending five years in Vorkter Prison, a fortress of ice and suffering, he dreams of life beyond the people that haunt him and the world that imprisoned him.

Mykal Kickfall fights for those he loves. The rugged Hinterlander shares a frustrating yet unbreakable connection with Court—which only grows more lawless and chaotic as their senses and emotions connect with Franny.

With the threat of people learning they’ve dodged their deathdays, they must flee their planet to survive. But to do so, all three will have to hide their shared bond as they vie for a highly sought after spot in the newest mission to space. Against thousands of people far smarter, who’ll live longer, and never fear death the way that they do.

Buy Links:
EbookHardcoverBarnes & NobleBAMIndieBound

Now here’s an excerpt from The Raging Ones! ❤

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On the cobblestone walk of a city sheathed in ice and snow, I slam my frostbitten fist against a Plexiglas cashier win­ dow. “Excuse me!” I call out for assistance that never arrives. Five minutes till closing, and the bank has already snapped the blinds shut.

“Excuse me!” I shout again. “I’m dying tomorrow!” I bang harder, my frustrated breath smoking the chilled air. My wool coat, missing four buttons and brandishing more than a few torn holes, warms me less than my irritation. Which grows with the incoming silence.

I’m truly dying tomorrow, but death is normative. I die. You die. We all die. The only difference between the bankers and me—I will die at seventeen.

I die young. They die old. And so it goes.

I spot a bulky camera positioned on the brick of the Bank Hall’s outdoor window. You see me, don’t you? They just refuse to an­ swer. “I’m allowed my Final Deliverance check! Do you hear me?!” I yell up at the lens while simmering in place.

Behind me, men in sleek tailored suits and fur­-lined wool coats amble along the alabaster­-white sidewalk. Their hot, disparaging gazes heat my neck. They can act all miffed by me, but Fowler Street, Avenue Thirty­Four contains every shop for every type of person: hair salons, dentists, pubs, quaint overnight inns, and most importantly for me—the only bank.

And all the grand streets—all the ones with cigar parlors and high­end fabric shops that smell of rose petals and fig—hug the grimy ones. The streets with cheap apartments, crumbling brick, and foul, pungent odors with each step past. So in the end, the rich­ clothed men have always seen as much of me as I’ve seen of them.

We just might not end up in the same place.

I watch some strut ahead, careful on slick cobblestone, scarves bundled up to their lips. They disappear past the warmth of a stone pub, nestled on the corner of Fowler. The opulent Catherina Hotel is only one block away, and by the men’s attire alone, I imagine that’s their true destination.

Really, they’re not a priority to me. Not today. Most definitely not tomorrow.

With numb fingertips, I dig in my pocket for my identifica­ tion. I raise the card toward the camera lens. “I’m Franny Blue­ castle,” I declare, possibly speaking to no one. “Can you see my deathday?” I point at the print beneath my name. “I’m dying tomorrow.”

A shadow passes behind the window, someone stirring. Blinds rattle and I press my nose against the chilled glass, scraping my fingers down. “Please! I’m on time!” Backbiting insults and curses nip my tongue, and I swallow them, going down bitter like blood.

The blinds suddenly spring upward, and I’m met with russet curls, thin lips of boredom, and stern, auburn eyes.

I speak before the fortysomething woman can. “I need to collect my FD check. In bills.” I keep a watchful eye on the old me­ chanical drawer beside the window. She has to dispense my cash, and once the drawer opens, it’ll finally be in my hand.

Most plan out their deathday to the finest detail. At six years of age, I watched my mom die.

I traced her steps around her bed, a single­room apartment above a butcher shop. The scent of slaughtered pig clung more to our well­worn clothes than to the musty air.

She lit candle after candle and hummed to the gods, casting smiles back at me. Youth sparkled in her gaze.

And I’d known, like any stranger could see, that we did not match. It wasn’t only my cool, beige skin and silky black hair— but the differences of our eyes, the heart shape of my face to her squared, and as I grew, I didn’t develop curves or a chest like hers. Even knowing she’d die by twenty­four, my mother found the will and courage to provide me a home when she was just eighteen. She adopted me as an infant, and I always knew that I’d say goodbye to my mother in only a handful of years. She prepared me for the day, so I’d be at peace with her.

And I was.

Moments after her smile, she blew out the tender flames and crawled onto the squeaky bed.

“Be careful of how you die, my little Franny,” she told me. “You can set your terms but not the day.”

Without question, I nodded in reply.

When we’re born, we all know the day we’ll die. It’s been this way for over a thousand years.

Maybe someone solved a mathematical equation.

Maybe a scientist drummed up this revolutionary discovery.

I can’t recall our history front to back like an Influential. I never attended school or read their books, and I didn’t really care to listen.

I only have so much time to live, so why waste it on a history that won’t be mine for long?

My mom snuffed the candles, avoiding Death By Fire as her ending. In my country of Altia, people about to experience their deathday must follow Injury Prevention Laws. Like me tomorrow.

Stay indoors.

Stay away from large groups of people. Relax. Stay calm.

Be at peace.

Defying the first two could lead to mass accidents.

A boy of fourteen dumbly and selfishly took a joyride around Bartholo’s packed and icy city streets on his deathday. The car spun out and collided with Mr. Rosencastle who was innocently locking up the butcher shop.

Since Mr. Rosencastle won’t die until he’s seventy­seven, all he lost was an arm. Not his life.

And ever since I witnessed my mom’s death—the serenity in her upturned lips, the warm flush in her cheeks before her heart slowed to a stop—I’ve dreamed of my own deathday.

I might have planned it poorly, but I dreamed well.

I imagined using the last of my money for a one­night stay at the Catherina Hotel. Where harpists welcome guests through re­ volving doors, men in tuxes offer gold­foiled chocolates and sweet liqueur, where feathered pillows and satin sheets blanket beds made for five bodies.

At the orphanage, I sleep on a narrow bunk, coiled springs bruising my back. Only with my Final Deliverance check can I afford this single­night luxury. I’ve only heard stories, never seen it with my own eyes, but I still dream.

I want to lie against those sheets and gaze up at the hand­painted ceiling mural and smile as I drift off, as my heart slows or as my brain shuts down, as the gods take me.

The banker presses a button, and her monotone voice crackles through the speakers. “We’ve closed out today. No more trans­ fers, deposits, or withdrawals until tomorrow at six o’morning.” She reaches for the cord to the blinds.

“No wait!” This is not how I end. “You can’t botch this for me! Listen to me. You have to listen to me.” My desperation curdles my stomach, and I claw at the window, my hot breath fogging the glass. “I need this money now. I could die at midnight.”

The banker scrutinizes my long hair: black roots growing in among vibrant blue and green knotted strands that contrast her natural hue. She homes in on my silver piercings: stuck along my black brow, a ring beneath my nose and another hooped around my lip.

It’s possible that she ignored me because of the bright dye and piercings.

about the author button

Krista & Becca Ritchie are New York Times Bestselling Authors and identical twins, one a science nerd, the other a comic book geek. With their shared passion for writing, they combined their mental powers as kids and have never stopped telling stories. Graduates from the University of Georgia in Biology and English & Journalism, the twin writing duo now lives in Atlanta. The Raging Ones is their first young adult novel.

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Blog Tour + Review & Excerpt: Playboy by Katy Evans

Welcome to today’s stop on the blog tour for Playboy by Katy Evans!

Playboy by Katy Evans
Series: Manwhore #5 (full reading order below)
Publication Date: July 29th 2018
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It started as a game.
We flirted. We played. Most importantly—we won.
Then I discovered who he was: Gambler. Famous playboy. Silver-eyed player who never plays to lose.
…And my best friend’s soon-to-be brother in law, Cullen Carmichael.
He needed a good luck charm, I needed a distraction.
So we made a gamble and set off for Vegas—but pretty soon—I was in too deep.
My heart, soul, and body weren’t supposed to be part of the deal.
But somewhere between big wins and long nights, my house of cards started to tumble.
What was this devil with those piercing eyes doing to me?
I’d given up on love, but the wicked, all-in Cullen Carmichael was upping the ante and wouldn’t stop until he’d won it all.

Buy Links:
AmazonBarnes & Noble • iTunes • Kobo • Audible

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When I first started the Manwhore series, meeting Wynn as Rachel’s friend, I was hoping she would get back together with her chef boyfriend, Emmett, and it seemed like they would by the end of Womanizer. But now that I’ve read Playboy, I’m so glad Katy Evans decided on Cullen for Wynn. He is alpha, sexy and sweet all at once, wanting to give everything to the girl who deserves it all. I adored both of these characters and their love story. If there’s an author who can make the love and romance between her characters feel real, it’s Katy Evans.

“I won’t fit in my lucky black dress tomorrow,” I worry in a whisper out loud.
Cullen eyes me and partly smiles, lifting his hand to stroke his thumb along the underside of my cheek. “Not a problem. You’re my lucky charm, not that dress of yours.”

After breaking it off with the man she imagined her happily ever after with, Wynn is ready to get back in the game and find a partner who’ll cherish her this time. Unfortunately, it’s not the guy she’s on a date with, who’s taken her to a poker game. But that’s where she meets Cullen Carmichael, the gorgeous man her date is playing against. There’s instant attraction and want on both ends – and once Cullen makes a bet with Wynn, they’re off to Vegas, where the stakes (and emotions) are higher.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Whoever you do in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
My Cullen.
Ugh.
We had a silly wager.
That’s all it was.
But I’m hooked on him, not because of what he is or how much he can spoil me.
It’s because of who he is. Who I am when I’m with him. Who we are together.

Despite the label of “Playboy,” Cullen is very much into Wynn and only Wynn. He shows her the glamorous side of being with a successful professional poker player, treating her like a queen, but once they leave Vegas, will the charm rub off? Wynn and Cullen have fallen head over heels for each other, but with that love last outside of Vegas?

“That’s what I am to you,” I remind him “We’re playing a game.”
“You’re playing a game.” He shakes his head somberly, his poker face gone, his eyes livid with heat. “I’m playing for keeps.”

Wynn and Cullen are perfect together. I love the way Cullen dotes on her the way Wynn deserves, and the way Wynn softens the hard edges Cullen has. The chemistry between them is off the charts – Katy Evans knows how to turn up the heat in her books, and the way Cullen can focus all of his desire, dominance, and need onto Wynn has me all heart-eyed and fanning myself. And besides these two lovely characters, I’m happy we get to see all the previous characters in this book. If this is the last Manwhore book, which I’m praying it’s not, because I could read about all of these characters for ages, it ended the series perfectly!


lacey

Quotes are taken from the arc and are subject to change in the final version.

Now here’s an excerpt from Playboy! ❤

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“So you just kissed me because you wanted to.” I speak on a breath.

“Very good. You’re perceptive. Intuitive.”

I realize he’s teasing me in that low, terribly rumbly voice and I wish he would smile at me.

He takes my hand and fingers my palm with his thumb as he leads me to our suite.

I’m sizzling where he touches me, nervously prying my hand free when he leads me into the biggest, most spectacular two-bedroom penthouse suite I’ve ever seen. Not that I’d seen one before in person, only movies.

There’s a kitchen area, and windows from floor to ceiling. A living room, a pool table, gold brass chandeliers, a brown-and-beige-patterned carpet, dark woods, Italian leathers. Gorgeous! I could move in here.

Now I see the appeal but won’t admit as much.

Thinking of our bet, I pay attention to the art on the walls. It’s expensive. I can tell by the numbered print and the signature. Painters with indecipherable and artistic signatures are often the artists to watch. It’s like they know from the moment they paint their first work that they’re on to something big, something that will distinguish their work from all others.

I wish Cullen loved art as much as I do. Maybe I could drag him away from the tables to a local gallery.

“Wow. I could just live he—” I spin around and bump into his big warm body, and he bends his head and kisses my words right out of me.

Kisses me stupid. Kisses my toes curled. Kisses my brain blank. Kisses my heart crazy.

Reading Order: Manwhore series

Manwhore by Katy Evans Manwhore +1 by Katy Evans Ms. Manwhore by Katy Evans
Ladies Man by Katy Evans  

#1 ~ Manwhore: My Review • Ebook • Paperback • Audible • Goodreads
#2 ~ Manwhore +1: My Review • EbookPaperbackAudible • Goodreads
#2.5 ~ Ms. Manwhore: My Review • Ebook • Paperback • Audible • Goodreads
#3 ~ Ladies Man: My Review • Ebook • PaperbackAudible • Goodreads
#4 ~ Womanizer: My Review • EbookPaperback • Audible • Goodreads
#5 ~ Playboy: EbookPaperbackAudibleGoodreads

about the author button

Katy EvansKaty Evans is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her debut REAL shot to the top of the bestselling lists in 2013 and since then 9 of her titles have been New York Times bestsellers. Her books have been translated into nearly a dozen languages across the world.

Website • Facebook • Twitter • Katy Evans


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Blog Tour + Excerpt: Rehearsal Dinner by J.R. Ward (Free!)

Don’t miss #1 New York Times bestselling author J.R. Ward’s three-part ebook serialization: The Wedding From Hell. This exclusive prequel to her upcoming standalone suspense Consumed (available in Fall 2018) takes us back to where it all started between arson investigator Anne Ashburn and ‘bad boy’ firefighter Danny Maguire. The Wedding From Hell is a sexy standalone novella that sets up Consumed’s storyline, leaving fans hungry for more and dying to snatch it up.

Rehearsal Dinner by J.R. Ward
Series: The Wedding from Hell #1 (full reading order below)
Publication Date: July 17th 2018
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It’s a classic recipe for disaster: Take one bridesmaid who thinks pink is the root of all evil, mix with a best man who’s hotter than a four-alarm fire, add in their explosive sexual attraction, a nightmare bridezilla, two cat fights, and an emergency call, and you have the wedding from hell.

Experience the sizzling start of Anne and Danny’s intense relationship. Is this the start of something good…or just an erotic one-night stand that rocks their world, but must never be repeated?

Buy Links:
Amazon • Barnes & NobleiBooksGoogle Play

Now here’s an excerpt from Rehearsal Dinner! ❤

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Thursday, October 29
T minus 48 hours ’til blastoff
College Row, New Brunswick, Massachusetts

Because women are not frickin’ groomsmen! That’s why she can’t be in the goddamn wedding!”

As Anne Ashburn walked in the back door of the shotgun apartment, that happy little explosion was not only what she’d expected all along, it also offered her the out she’d been praying for. And it was probably the one and only time she was ever going to agree with the bride.

Not about the role of females in bridal parties, but that Anne wasn’t going to be in the “goddamn wedding.”

Everyone standing in the kitchen turned and looked at her: Deandra Cox, the impending wearer of the white dress; Robert “Moose” Miller, her exhausted fiancé and Anne’s fellow crew member down at the 499 fi rehouse; and . . . Dannyboy Maguire.

Who was the only one she really noticed and, for that reason, the person she refused to look at.

Too bad Danny always made an impression. Like most firefighters, he was in great physical shape, his big body thickly muscled and ready to snap into motion in an instant. With his heavy arms linked over that chest and his long legs crossed at the boots, he was leaning back against the chipped countertop, his too-blue stare missing nothing. He was fresh from a shower, his glossy black hair wet, and Anne tried not to picture him naked under the spray, his tattooed torso arching as he rinsed the shampoo out of his—

She put her hands up to stop herself as much as the argument. “Look, I don’t want to cause any problems. I’m happy to step aside—”

“And now I have one too many bridesmaids.” The bride-to-be refocused on her intended. “My count is wrong. You wait until two days before the wedding to tell me this when you know I’m not going to like it, and now my count is off!”

As the groom focused on the linoleum floor, it was impossible not to picture a wax version of the couple on a multi-tiered cake: Deandra in skinny jeans and that tight cashmere sweater, her dark hair streaked blond, her body cocked forward like she was going to throat-punch the man she was going to marry; Moose in his New Brunswick Fire Department T-shirt, all broad-shouldered and bearded around the face, easing back like someone with the flu was about to sneeze in his face.

Ah, true love.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Moose muttered. “Anne’s a member of the four-nine-nine crew, and everyone else is with me.”

“She’s a girl.” Deandra pointed at Anne. “It throws off everything.”

“I really don’t want to cause any problems.” Anne put her hands up again. “So I’ll just be in the congregation. It’s perfectly fine—”

Deandra’s glare swung Anne’s way. “The count is still wrong. And my friends have already paid for their dresses. They were a hundred and twenty dollars apiece.”

And that’s my cue to go, Anne thought. Moose may have volunteered for this, but no one else had or needed to—

“I think women can be whatever they want.”

As Danny spoke up, everyone looked at him—including Anne, who suddenly felt shades of what Deandra was throwing out.

Don’t you dare, she mouthed at him behind the bride’s back.

Danny just shrugged like he’d thrown on a pantsuit and was channeling Oprah, Michelle Obama, and Hillary Clinton all at once. “I mean, Deandra, you’re above all that sexism, aren’t you? No one’s going to tell you what’s right and wrong for your own wedding. You’re more secure than that.”

I am going to kill you, Anne vowed. “I think Deandra wants things done properly for her only wedding.”

Danny frowned in pseudo-confusion. “So you’re saying it’s okay to have a double standard for men and women? That’s a shocker given how you are at the station. I thought you believed in equality.”

“I do,” Anne snapped. “But this isn’t about equality.”

“You sure? I don’t know how you can support traditional gender roles when it comes to a wedding ceremony at the same time you defend the right for women to be firefighters, cops, and on the front lines in the military.”

“Spare me someone who’s never been in a dress having an opinion about women’s issues, okay?”

“I’m just pointing out that you don’t want women out of dresses.”

“It’s her wedding.” Anne jabbed a finger at Deandra. “She’s the bride. She gets to say what’s right and wrong for her, and she does not need some man telling her what to do.”

“Even if I’m defending the rights of women?”

“Until you grow a set of ovaries, you can shut the hell up about our rights!”

As Anne’s voice ricocheted around the kitchen, she realized that she’d marched right up to Danny—and that Deandra and Moose were watching the two of them in total stillness.

She cleared her throat and took a step back. “Anyway, Deandra’s made up her mind. And I support her decision.”

Deandra’s eyes narrowed on Danny, and something about the way the woman looked at him didn’t seem right.

“Actually,” the bride said, “maybe she should be in the wedding party.”

Anne prayed her expression stayed neutral. “Don’t compromise your vision on my account.”

“I won’t.” The woman stared at Danny. “Fine. Let’s put her in a tuxedo like the rest of the men. She can walk my sister down the aisle, just like a man should. Her shoulders are too big for a gown, anyway, and that way my count stays the way it should.”

Anne rolled her eyes. Let’s hear it for girl power.

“So it’s settled,” Deandra said with a tight smile. “You need a tux. Unless you already own one.”

For a moment, Anne waited for somebody to argue with the woman. Like Moose. But he was clearly done falling on swords over the wedding details, and Danny had just gotten what he wanted so he wasn’t going to say a damn thing.

And the truth was, after how many years of fighting fires with these men, they were her brothers in all but blood. Even though she thought Moose had lost his ever-loving mind marrying this beautiful but sour woman after knowing her for a matter of months, Anne was still going to stand up for the guy if he wanted her to—and he did. He’d asked her down at the stationhouse specifically.

“Where did you guys rent your suits?” Anne said to him.

“Tuxedoes,” Deandra corrected.

The groom blinked like he’d forgotten how to speak English. Then again, he’d been doing that a lot at the firehouse lately. “You’re actually going to wear one?”

“What the hell do I care?”

“Yes, she is wearing one,” Deandra cut in.

Danny spoke up. “I’ll go with you. I know where the place is.”

Reading Order: The Wedding from Hell/Firefighter series

 

Rehearsal Dinner: EbookGoodreads
Consumed: EbookHardcoverAudibleGoodreads (Oct. 9, 2018)

about the author button

J.R. Ward is the author of more than thirty novels, including those in her #1 New York Times bestselling Black Dagger Brotherhood series. There are more than fifteen million copies of her novels in print worldwide, and they have been published in twenty-six different countries around the world. She lives in the South with her family.

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Blog Tour + Review & Excerpt: Mogul by Katy Evans

Mogul, an all-new standalone from Katy Evans is available now!

Mogul by Katy Evans
Series: Standalone
Publication Date: May 31st 2018
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He’s my most delicious secret.
The hot Suit I had a one-night stand with one evening.
I didn’t know anything about him, not even his name.
Only that we shared a taxi, and he was staying at the hotel where I worked.
We met in room 1103. Where he commanded not only my body but my soul.
The next day he was gone and I only had a memory of him.
I could still taste his kisses, feel his demanding touch.
I searched for him for months. Daydreaming about him. Wondering if I’d ever find him.
Until the day I find myself staring face to face with his jeweled black eyes again.
He says lets keep it casual, and my heart knows that falling for this workaholic in a three-thousand-dollar suit is off the table.
Because he has a secret. One that’s a deal breaker for me.
My Suit has a name.
Ian Ford.
And this is our story.

Buy Links:
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There’s no one who writes a better man-in-a-suit than Katy Evans. I adore her alpha, possessive heroes, and the women who knock them off their feet. Mogul is her latest standalone, and though it is connected to a previous novel of hers, Tycoon, it can be read as a standalone. It’s sexy, intense, and romance, basically everything I hope and expect from a Katy Evans book. If you’re a long-time fan, you’ll definitely want to get your hands on Mogul!

When Ian and Sara meet, they experience a chemistry that neither of them can deny. They fall into temptation when Ian checks into the hotel Sara works at and have the best night of their life – but they leave each other without exchanging names or numbers. Sara unfortunately gets fired and they have almost no way of finding each other again… until a chance encounter with Sara’s new job as a dog walker for Ian’s grandmother has them reuniting. But Sara finds out that Ian is currently in the middle of a divorce with a wife he’s been separated from for years – can she trust Ian’s true intentions, or will she forever be on the sidelines?

I love how slightly obsessive both Katy’s heroes and heroines become when they meet the love of their life. Katy writes her characters falling in love in such a magical way that I feel as if I’m falling alongside with them. I highly enjoyed getting to know Ian and Sara and watching them work their way towards a hard-earned HEA they deserve. Sara teaches Ian to give love a second chance and that there’s more to life than work, while Ian teaches Sara to go after her dreams. I couldn’t get enough of these two, and that’s my only complaint: that the book was too short. I would’ve loved delving a little more into Ian and Sara’s lives, but I’ll take what I can get from Katy Evans. Right now, I’m dying for a certain secondary character to get her book!

4 hearts
lacey

Now here’s an excerpt from Mogul! ❤

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My eyes lock on a third figure sitting with them. As I near, the man glances my way before quickly shifting his gaze. I continue to stare at him as I approach, and it doesn’t take long for his gaze to return to me. His large figure rises to full height as he stands to greet me, and I feel a bolt of electricity hit me in the chest as familiar eyes stare back at me.

He’s tall. Dark-haired. Gorgeous. With deep, thick-lashed eyes you want to sink into. And lips to suck on like they’re all that exists between you and heaven. I stop walking, stop breathing, because . . . he is here.

A moment passes and Bryn seems to notice my shock.

But shock doesn’t come close to it.

Because never in my whole life has my heart leapt so far and fast. It feels as if it’s ripping out of my chest. I can barely force my legs to move for fear of hearing my knees knock together. I struggle for air, but it feels like someone cut off my windpipe connecting my nose and lungs.

He wears a white dress shirt and black slacks, and his face is chiseled and brooding. The real shock lies in the intensity brewing in his dark eyes as they stay locked on mine. My heart speeds up as I hold his gaze. The city bustles around us. Making eye contact is not something I do often, living in a city of millions, but I can’t take my eyes off him.

The memory of having him inside me returns with a vengeance.

Bryn begins to introduce us. “Um. Ian, this is—”

“Sara. We’ve met,” Hot and Dirty Workaholic interrupts with a stiff smile.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment it feels like nothing else exists.

His name is Ian.

Fucking Ian, with his serious, handsome face and shiny, black hair. He’s as lit as I remember. Straight out of a Suits episode, and I am dying.

Though Mogul can be read as a standalone, there are characters that have first appeared in Tycoon.

My ReviewEbook • Paperback • Audible

about the author button

Katy EvansKaty Evans is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her debut REAL shot to the top of the bestselling lists in 2013 and since then 9 of her titles have been New York Times bestsellers. Her books have been translated into nearly a dozen languages across the world.

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