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Donna’s Review of The Last Guy by Ilsa Madden-Mills & Tia Louise

by Ilsa Madden-Mills, Tia Louise
Genres: Sports Romance

One Uptight Reporter.

One Ex-NFL Star.

Too Much Fireball.

The Last Guy is a new standalone romance from Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author Ilsa Madden-Mills & International Selling Author Tia Louise.  

ONLY $0.99 and FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

 

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2teJOy6

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2slYI9n

Paperback: http://amzn.to/2slxCyZ

 

Blurb

 

From Wall Street Journal bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills and international bestselling author Tia Louise…

The first rule of office romance is don’t do it—especially if your dream is to hold the anchor spot on the nightly news and your boss is trying to get you fired.

But one look at Cade Hill, the sexy new sports director, and uptight reporter Rebecca Fieldstone is daydreaming about other things.

Sex in his office…

Sex in the on-set kitchen…

Sex in the supply closet…

She can’t stop thinking about the former NFL quarterback and how perfect he’d look between her sheets—except he’s an arrogant jerk with a huge…ego.

He’s the last guy she’d ever have a one-night stand with.

Cade Hill draws a thick professional line on office romance—until it comes to the hyper-focused Rebecca. He wants her, and he gets his wish when a chance encounter has them having the hottest sex of their lives.

It’s just a hook-up, she says.

When can we do it again? he says.

With Rebecca determined to keep Cade in the friend zone, it’s going to be an uphill battle for Cade to convince her he’s the last guy she’ll ever want.

SEE the inspiration board on Pinterest: https://goo.gl/ZfBjiq

LISTEN to the playlist on Spotify: https://goo.gl/AXnGKe

Review

When I first picked up this book I thought I was gonna get the norm from one of these kinds of books but I was mistaken. It was although the same, it was completely different as well. It had a vibe and flow about it and I have to say, I laughed loads and loads and yep I cried heaps too.

The characters were brilliant Rebecca aka Stone was a fantastic, sassy lead that had a sharp witty tongue. Rebecca although beautiful, wasn’t perfect she had her issues with weight but she rocked it. Cade was brilliant as well, he was a hot as hell ex football player (American) that became a sports presenter due to injury. He has wit and charm by the bucket load and his sites set firmly on the quirky reporter that is Stone. The supporting cast especially Chassy and Trent were brilliant.

I just love books like this, the cat and mouse and the whole, is he attracted to me or is he is real dog or just misunderstood. We if you have the same loves you will definitely enjoy this great read. It’s a huge recommend from two really great authors.

Reviewed by Donna

 

About the Authors

 

Wall Street Journal bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills and the “Queen of Hot Romance” Tia Louise are not a secret duo, but simply themselves.

Great friends, former English teachers, and southern gals in real life, they’ve teamed up to bring you laugh-out-loud naughty romances with strong leading ladies and sexy alpha males who know how to please their women—and who sometimes you just want to slap.

 

 

Ilsa’s Amazon Page: http://amzn.to/2rf1oow

Ilsa’s BookBub Page: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ilsa-madden-mills

Tia’s Amazon Page: http://amzn.to/2rRxJy2

Tia’s BookBub Page: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tia-louise

Review: Hard Ball by Heather Stone

Genres: Contemporary Romance, Sports Romance

 

 

 

Title: Hard Ball
Author: Heather Stone
Genre: Adult Contemporary/Sports Romance
Release Date: April 3, 2017

 

Blurb
Arrogant.
Womanizer.
Sexy as hell.
These are all words that have been used to describe my best friend. They might be true, but to me, he’s just Cole Calloway. The one person who has always been there. Now it’s my turn to reciprocate. Coming off an injury, Cole needs me. I won’t let him down.
It’s easy to fall back into old habits with friends, but with Cole something is different. He’s different with me. The touches are gentler. His eyes linger on me. There’s something there that wasn’t before. My heart flutters just a little too much every time I look at him. What’s the worst that could happen if I stopped overthinking and just let go?
Purchase Links

 

99c for a limited time

 

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited

 

Review

This is a sweet romance that makes the reader feel good.

Heather Stone is a new author to me but I’m happy as I really enjoyed her writing.

Makenzie and Cole are really close friends and have been for years. Makenzie is a nearly qualified physical therapist and Cole is a professional baseball player. When Cole finds himself injured he calls on Makenzie to help with his rehabilitation.

This is a fast paced story that is an extremely easy book to read and become absorbed into the two main characters lives. Each character is easy to relate to and understand. The passion is very hot, raw and sensual. There is a fun element that sparkles with good natured humour.

I was a little confused with the timing towards the end however it isn’t a huge deal.

There are a couple of twists that help to make things exciting and the reader a little more on their toes! A thoroughly entertaining book.

Reviewed by Robyn
Author Bio

Midwest born and raised, Heather Stone has lived her life in the clouds. Constantly daydreaming and concocting stories in her head, she finally decided to give writing a shot. Heather is a wife to her price charming and mother of two.

 

Author Links

 

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Review: Hot as Puck by Lili Valente

by Lili Valente
Genres: Romantic Comedy, Sports Romance

 

 

 

Title: Hot as Puck
A Bad Motherpuckers Novel
Author: Lili Valente
Genre: Steamy Romantic Comedy/Hockey Romance
Release Date: April 3, 2017
Blurb
The NHL’s biggest bad boy is about to fall for the virgin next door…I am the world’s biggest dating failure. We’re talking my last date went home with our waitress kind of failure.

But I have an ace in the back pocket of my mom jeans—my sexy-as-sin best friend, NHL superstar forward, Justin Cruise.

Justin owes me favors dating back to seventh grade, long before he became a hotshot with a world famous…stick. So in return for my undying platonic loyalty, all I want is an easy-peasy crash course on how to be a sex goddess.

How hard can it be?

***

I have never been so hard in my life.

The things I want to do to my sweet, kindergarten-teaching, mitten-crocheting best friend Libby Collins are ten different kinds of wrong. Maybe twenty.

But I’m a firm believer in teaching by example, and by the end of our first lesson, we’ve graduated to a hands on approach to her sexual education: my hands all over her, her hands all over me, and her hot mouth melting beneath mine as I prove to her there isn’t a damned thing wrong with the way she kisses.

Give me a month, and I’ll transform Libby from wall flower to wall banger, and ensure she’s confident enough to seduce any guy she wants.

Problem is… the only guy I want her seducing is me. 

Hot as Puck is a sexy, flirty, friends-to-lovers Standalone romantic comedy from USA Today Bestseller Lili Valente.

Purchase Links
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Review
What a truly delightful story!

Lili Valente has done it again, written a fast paced, smooth flowing and fun story. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of this book and also the peek of the next one that I will definitely be getting.

Libby is a quiet, helpful kindergarten teacher who at nearly twenty-five is still very innocent. She has been friends with Justin for a long period of time, they lived next to each other however Justin is three years older so a long term friendship evolved. It was Libby who introduced Justin to the joy of craft! Justin, at 28, is a seasoned hockey player for the Portland Badgers and no stranger to the allure of a pretty woman. Until…Libby asks a favour of him. Then things start to change.

The characters are really easy to relate to and admire. The situations the two get into are fun as is the banter and expressions between all of the characters..e.g. “Holy mother of cannoli, just say something!”- Libby thinks! There so many more hilarious sayings and I was going to share some more, however I didn’t want to give away any more of the story. Just be prepared for some good old fashioned chuckling!

Reviewed by Robyn
Author Bio
U.S.A. Today Bestselling author Lili Valente has slept under the stars in Greece, eaten dinner at midnight with French men who couldn’t be trusted to keep their mouths on their food, and walked alone through Munich’s red light district after dark and lived to tell the tale.These days you can find her writing in a tent beside the sea, drinking coconut water and thinking delightfully dirty thoughts.

Author Links

WEBSITE
TWITTER

Review: Game On by S C Daiko

by S.C. Daiko
Genres: Contemporary Romance, Sports Romance, Young Adult
 
If I wasn’t her student, it would be 
Title: Game On 
Author: S.C. Daiko 
Genre: Contemporary, YA, Sports romance
Cover Designer: RBA Designs 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
If I wasn’t her student it would be game on.
 
RYAN
There was only one thing I wanted in life:
to play professional rugby.
I lived and breathed it
until I met Beth.
She’s beautiful, sweet, and so incredibly sexy . . .
but she’s out of bounds.
Beth wants me, I know she does, and I want her.
If I wasn’t her student it would be game on.
 
BETH
There was only one thing I wanted in life:
to be a good teacher.
And I was
until I met Ryan.
He held me against his hard body on a hot Ibiza night,
and I lost myself to him.
Six months later, he’s in my Spanish class…
what I feel for him is totally against the rules.
Soon rugby isn’t the only game Ryan is playing.
But when his past catches up with him, and everything starts to go wrong . . .
will it be game over for the two of us?
 
Warning 1: Game On is about a super-fit young rugby player who has the hots for his sexy Spanish teacher.
 
Warning 2: Game On might melt your panties. Proceed with caution. Readers aged 18+ only.
 
Warning 3: Game On is filled with feels, angst, and off-the-chart chemistry. A taboo relationship, a black moment, and then a happy ending. Enjoy!
 
Only 99c for a limited time. Free to read on Kindle Unlimited.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 
 
The music takes me away, the throbbing bass rhythm carrying me into a whirlpool of movement; I sway my hips, arms crossed above my head. I’ve drunk too much but what the hell… I’m having fun. Moving my ass in time to the beat, I head back to the table and take another sip of vodka lemon, trying to act as if this is what I do every Saturday night. The drink burns its way down to my belly, and stokes my excitement.
Megan, my bestie and the bride-to-be, grins at me from where she’s sprawled on the corner sofa of the nightclub. “You okay, my lovely?”
Having a blast,” I say, giving her a high-five.
We’re here on the party island of Ibiza for her hen weekend… me, my twin sister Sophie (who’s not drinking as she’s trying for a baby) and Meg’s sister, Lowri, who’s had more than Meg and I combined. Lowri shoots me a tipsy look. “You’re such an amazing dancer,” she slurs.
Dance is my exercise of choice, and I love it. I grab her hand and pull her onto the floor, spinning her around while I shimmy to the sound, tossing my hair back from my face. “Oh God,” Lowri squeals, and her face turns green, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
Oops,” I lead her back to the chair she just vacated. “Put your head between your knees, sweetie, and I’ll fetch you a glass of water.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m back on the dance floor, having left the recovering Lowri with Meg and Soph. I’m lost in my own world, a world of music and movement. All around me, people are caught up in the buzz of the rave, a mosh-pit of gyrating bodies high on hedonism. Dutch house bounces off the walls, the floor vibrates beneath my feet, and lights strobe across the ceiling.
I smell him before I see him, a mix of musky male sweat and woody cologne. He towers over my five foot six frame, broad shoulders, slim waist, and absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. I’m not wearing my glasses, and his denim-blue eyes clash with mine. He smiles, his teeth flashing white in a tanned face. “Hola,” he smirks, and it’s a smirk full of promise. “Cómo te llamas?
Beth,” I shout to be heard above the high-volume music.
English?”
I nod as he steps forward to grasp my hips with strong hands. We sway together and I feel his hardness pushing against my tummy. My head tucks under his chin and I breathe him in. It’s been too long since I felt the pleasure of a man…
No need to ask his name. He’s almost certainly a local and I doubt I’ll meet him again. I’ll just enjoy this for what it is: a brief encounter. I’m so turned on; I can feel my knickers sticking to me under my party dress.
His hot breath tickles my earlobe as he bends his head to nuzzle my neck. And then he’s kissing me, his lips warm and filled with lust, his tongue chasing mine. “Come, princesa,” he breaks away and tugs on my hand. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”
The sensible voice in my head tells me not to be stupid. That I don’t have one-night stands. Never have. Never thought I would. But the past three years have taken their toll, and I’m fed up with listening to sensible Beth. Just this once. What harm can it do? I’ll make sure we use protection…
The cool night air is a relief from the sweaty heat of the club. We stagger through the fire escape and into an alleyway, where he picks me up as if I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist; he presses me against the brick wall under a street light and kisses me again, harder this time, sucking my lower lip into his mouth before biting down on it and making me yelp with delight. His hands palm my needy tits, and I feel my nipples peak. Sweet Jesus, I’m so wet I could come right now.
So, princesa,” he breathes, “you staying on the island long?” His voice is deep and melodic, but it doesn’t sound Spanish. It sounds… Welsh. No, that can’t be right. I must be in an alcohol-induced fog.
Just for the weekend,” I manage to say between panting breaths. I run my hands over his ripped abs. God, he’s hot. I lean my weight into the wall and brace myself.
He pulls at my knickers, his fingers delving, testing. “Gonna fuck you, princesa. Is that what you want?”
Oh, yes, fuck me, please,” I groan.
He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a foil packet, ripping it open with his teeth.
But a shout echoes down the passageway and a skinny young man comes running up to us. He holds out a cell phone, and gives it to my Ibizan (as I’ll think of him for the next six months). It’s then that I notice the tattoo of a scorpion on his hand… it burns its way into my memory like a branding iron, its tail raised ready to sting. I shiver to myself.
He puts me down and holds the phone to his ear, his blue eyes meeting mine. “I’m sorry, Beth,” he says, pocketing the device, “there’s been some trouble at home.” He pauses. “Really nice meeting you, but I have to go.” He kisses me briefly on the forehead, and I notice the regret in his expression.
It’s okay,” I say, even though it isn’t. I was burning up for him. “Hope you get the trouble sorted.”
Me too,” he gives a hollow laugh.
I watch him stride away from me, and sensible Beth’s voice in my head tells me I’ve had a lucky escape. Six months later, I learn she couldn’t have been more wrong.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
This book wasn’t what I expected it to be, I was expecting a huge taboo read but it so wasn’t that. It was a well written book and it was a great love story but I expected so much more.

The chemistry was off the chart and it a lovely love story it just wasn’t what I was expecting. But it was enjoyable to read. I would recommend it a nice quick read.

Reviewed by Donna
 
 
S C Daiko is a romance junkie who loves writing about strong heroines and hot alpha males. Her stories are sexy and emotional reads. Originally from the UK, she now lives in Italy with her husband and two cats. Nothing makes her happier than connecting with readers and fellow authors.
 



 
 
 
 
 

 



 

Offensive Rebound by MJ Fields – Review

by MJ Fields
Genres: Sports Romance

Offensive Rebound by MJ Fields is

NOW AVAILABLE.

Meet Trae in this sports romance TODAY!

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Blurb

TRAE
It’s a call that changes my life–and my little girl’s. Years ago, playing for the NBA was the dream, but the Seattle Stallions suck. Worse than that, my old teammate is now the star center–not to mention my number one rival. There has to be a catch, some sort of agenda. Before I was injured, I was the best. Now? There’s no way they want me.

But when I see the roster and salaries, it all comes together. It’s a chance to get on the court again and change our lives. And I just can’t wait for the opportunity to finally take him down. What I never counted on is Courtney Cohen being the game changer.

COURTNEY
I inherited the Bad News Bears of the NBA. When I discovered the star center, my ex fiancé, cheating on me, all I want is to jump ship before the whole thing sinks. But with revenge on my mind, I exact a plan. Take down the dirty player and save my father’s dream.

Suddenly twelve minutes is too little time, and a season is not long enough.

 

Review


I enjoyed this book so much but there was a little something missing and I am not quite sure what it is. Maybe it’s just me. However I Did love the story and the way most of it played out. I also loved the characters and the chemistry that they shared. I think it lacked a little depth and that’s what I am to troubled  about I wanted less game description and more about the daughter and how they got on. I guess it was just not written how I would have loved it to be.

I recommend it as the story is great and you may love it loads and loads.

Reviewed by Donnna

EXCERPT

 

“You still afraid of me?” Courtney asks. I push her hair out of her face. “No.” “I’m afraid of you.” “No beer muscles tonight?” I ask, glancing at her empty glasses. She shakes her head. I scoot in closer to her. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.” “Liking you too much,” she says then takes a drink. I turn her in her seat so she’s facing me. “You’re gonna like me even more when I’m inside you.” Her body grows taut. “You can’t say stuff like that. It makes me uncomfortable.” “Well, now I’m going to have to do it more often to get you used to it; make you crave it, beg for it.”

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author MJ Fields love of writing was in full swing by age eight.

Together with her cousins, she wrote a newsletter and sold it for ten cents to family members.

She self-published her first contemporary, new adult romance in January 2013. Today she has completed seven self-published series, The Love series, The Wrapped series, The Burning Souls series, The Men of Steel series, Ties of Steel series, The Rockers of Steel series and The Norfolk series.

MJ is a hybrid author and publishes an Indie book almost every month, and is signed with a traditional publisher, Loveswept, Penguin Random House, for her co- written series The Caldwell Brothers. Hendrix, Morrison, and Jagger. All three books in the series are published. The Caldwell brothers don’t grow into alphas, when their mother passes away they become her legacy, her good in the world of bad.

MJ was a former small business owner, who closed shop so she could write full time. She lives in central New York, surrounded by family and friends. Her house is full of pets, friends, and noise ninety percent of the time, and she would have it no other way.

Stalk Her:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr | Pinterest | Goodreads

Sign up for MJ’s monthly newsletter with giveaways: http://bit.ly/mjupdates

 

GIVEAWAY

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Charlie’s Whiskey by Harlow Brown

by Harlow Brown
Genres: MC Romance, Sports Romance
charlieswhiskeybanner

Title: Charlie’s Whiskey

by Harlow Brown Author

Genre: MC romance meets sports romance meets suspense meets oh-so-sweet-revenge

Series: Book one of The Chosen series

Photographer: Turner Classic Photos ( can be found on Facebook)

Cover design: Concierge Literary Promotions

charlies-whiskey-ebook-cover

Blurb

Charlie Winstead pushes aside the pain and anguish she suffers daily and puts all her energy into her women’s softball team, the Regulators. If only temporarily, the abuse bestowed upon her by her boyfriend halts for the time that she is behind the plate. Hensley has been her boyfriend for three years and the relationship progressed into a domestic nightmare. Realizing this, Charlie does what she needs to do to protect herself.

Whiskey Williams is a patched member of the Chosen Legion motorcycle club. He finds himself running from a dark and dirty past, looking for a new start. He relies on his brothers from the mother charter to help him. Once he arrives in Rudy, he sees Charlie and knows something has to be done to help her. However, seeing as she is fresh out of her abusive relationship, she wants nothing to do with men.

Will the attraction between the two be enough to make Charlie give the troubled biker a chance? Or will he strike out?

The game of love is not as easy as three up, three down.

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Buy Links

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iBooks: http://apple.co/2hC9Rt6
B & N: http://bit.ly/2hn4D5D
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2gqa7dP
Amazon: http://getbook.at/charlieswhiskey

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Teasers

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About Harlow

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I am a debut author, but most importantly, I am a mother of two beautiful kids. I am a wife to my soul mate and my better half, whom I was lucky enough to find when I was a child. Since the age of 15, we have been together, and there isn’t a moment that I regret. They say everyone has their person; I was lucky enough to find mine when I was just a kid. He and my children are my everything. They are my reason for existence.
I love to read, write, play softball, watch baseball, and help coach my daughter’s softball team, and watch my son play his sports. We are always on the go, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I realize that one day there won’t be anyone to take to practice and games. I embrace the utter chaos that is our lives right now because it will be over before we know it.
I appreciate every single one of you that are reading this right now. There is one motto that I live by. It just sucks that it took losing someone really close to me to realize the truth about it. Don’t Look Back.

Author Links

Facebook | Goodreads

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Hooked by Brenda Rothert – Review

by Brenda Rothert
Genres: Sports Romance

HOOKED by Brenda Rothert is now LIVE!

A sultry novel featuring a brooding NHL player who’s hell on skates—and the no-nonsense woman who forces him to clean up his act.

hooked

Purchase Now:

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BLURB:



From the author of the On the Line and Fire on Ice hockey romance series comes a sultry novel featuring a brooding NHL player who’s hell on skates—and the no-nonsense woman who forces him to clean up his act.

Miranda: Even though I’m broke, putting myself through college, and working two jobs, I’m trying to make the best of it. Meanwhile, Jake Birch, hockey’s hottest bad boy, lives in a luxury hotel in downtown Chicago—and still complains about every little thing in his penthouse. But after I tell him off, instead of getting me fired, Jake requests me as his personal housekeeper. Then he starts flirting with me. Only I’m not flirting back . . . at least, I’m trying not to. Did I mention that he’s hockey’s hottest bad boy?

Jake: I’ve met the best woman at the worst possible time. Miranda is the fire to my ice—a sexy, charmingly candid spark who breaks down my walls and reminds me what it’s like to feel again. But I’m being forced to date my team owner’s daughter to keep my job, so I can’t be caught with Miranda. Still, we’re getting closer—until Miranda finds out about my “girlfriend.” And that’s not the only secret I’ve been keeping. But Miranda’s the one I want . . . even if she doesn’t believe me.

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Review

3.5stars

This book Is really good and I thoroughly enjoyed this story that was a quick but a tiny bit of a predictable read.

The story of Miranda and Jake is beautifully written and my heart was happy with this Cinderella story.

I recommend this really entertaining book. Brenda is a new author for me but I will certainly read more of her books.

Reviewed by Donna

——

AUTHOR BIO:

Brenda Rothert is an Illinois native who was a print journalist for nine years. She made the jump from fact to fiction in 2013 and never looked back. From new adult to steamy contemporary romance, Brenda creates fresh characters in every story she tells. She’s a lover of Diet Coke, chocolate, lazy weekends and happily ever afters.

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/BrendaRothert
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1TyGXds

Newsletter: http://brendarothert.com/subscribe/
———-

Hail Mary by Nicola Rendell – Review

by Nicola Rendell
Genres: Sports Romance
 
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At a boxing gym in Chicago, Mary Monahan accidentally knocks out the most handsome man she’s ever met. After she wakes him up with a few slaps and some smelling salts, the very first thing he does is ask her out for ribs and beer. His name is Jimmy. He looks like a Gillette model. And he’s just too hunky to resist.

Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi is mystified that Mary has absolutely no idea who he is. Mystified and refreshed. He is, after all, not your everyday NFL quarterback. He shops at Costco, has a soft spot for Pinterest, and is in the midst of an epic losing streak.

Jimmy falls for Mary fast and hard, the way he does everything—balls out and like it’s fourth and long. And he realizes he’s finally met his match. That stamina he’s so proud of? Doesn’t stand a chance against her Kegels.

But what they don’t know is she’s also his new physical therapist, recently hired by the Bears to work on his rotator cuff…and groin injury. If she can’t help him, he’ll be traded faster than they can say “offensive penetration.”

In spite of the thousands of internet memes featuring Jimmy’s face with captions like: “HEY GIRL, WANT TO TOUCH MY BALLS?” Mary finds herself falling for him and his unrelenting desire to make her his.

Until a toddler shows up at Jimmy’s door.

And throws their lives into total chaos.

***

To the reader: Contents includes love, sweetness, naughtiness, honey, champagne, and an HEA. Safe.


Review

4-starI enjoyed this really great read and I loved how it wasn’t all chocolates and flowers even though it was between Mary and Jimmy, it wasn’t regarding the rest of their lives. They had troubles and faults. He was the Quarterback but not the star that had no failings in his game.

This books was beautifully written and showed just much the mind can effect all parts of our lives and how sometimes when we think it’s our bodies that are the problems it is not always the case. Mary and Jimmy save each other in this story and I loved their chemistry, banter and love for each other as well.

I really would recommend this sports romance as it offers a lot more than just that. I look forward to reading more from this talented Author.

Reviewed by Donna

With her hand in mine, I hail a cab on Fullerton. She isn’t saying much, and I like that. I like talking to her, getting dirty, watching her lose her words. Because I’ll tell you what, I’m planning on her losing a shitload more than that before I’m done with her. Losing everything to me. That’s the fucking plan.
The cabbie pulls off to the other side of the road a little way up from us and puts on his hazards to tell us he’s waiting. As we head for the crosswalk, I kick aside a drift from one of the plows, but it’s unsteady footing, icy and slick. As she begins to slip, her grip on my hand tightens.
“That’s enough of that,” I tell her, and scoop her up into my arms, newlywed-style.
She squeals and hangs on tight. She fits fucking perfectly in my arms, and I love the way she feels tight against me. Her fingers slip past my collar, and her fingernails dig gently into the back of my neck. “I can walk,” she says, mostly to my mouth. Then she raises her eyes. “It was just slippery.”
I don’t answer right away. I don’t want to come on too strong. I don’t want to scare her, but I don’t want there to be any fucking mistake at all about what I want or how I plan to get it. “I know you can. I’m sure you can do pretty much everything.”
Her eyes glisten, and I hoist her up a little higher in my arms. The walk signal starts flashing its hand as we get to the other curb. “I’m no shrinking violet.”
“Good. Because I’m going to need you to come strong for me tonight.”
Her body reacts before her face does, her back arching under my hand, that bend so delicate under my palm.
“Multiple times. Loudly.”
She presses her face to my chest and moans out what sounds like, “Who are you?”
“And you’re going to tell me what you like and how you like it. We’re not going to fuck around. Communication, pussycat. That’s the key.”
There go her words again. I’m getting to know that glaze in her eye, disoriented with desire. “And what about you?”
Now we’re even with the cab, but I’ve still got some things she needs to know. “I don’t come until you do. At least twice.”
She’s got no answer for that, so I bring her chin up toward me, stretching her pretty neck out with my thumb on her jaw. “You hear me?”
She nods. She breathes. She blinks.
“That’s how it’s going to go.”
“I think I can handle that.”
I laugh, sending a plume of steam out of my nose. This girl has no idea how badly I want her. How badly I need her. How fucking hard I am already to get inside her. “Yeah? You think so? You think you can handle me?”
Her eyes widen a little. “I think so,” she whispers.
Then I let her slip from my arms, such a fucking shame, but I’m not about to let her open her own door. As she gets into the cab—on the street side, the safe side—I say into her ear, “We’ll just see about that.”
A signed copy of Hail Mary and a $50 Sephora Gift Card
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Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.
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Hail Mary by Nicola Rendell

by Nicola Rendell
Genres: Sports Romance

 

 

 

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At a boxing gym in Chicago, Mary Monahan accidentally knocks out the most handsome man she’s ever met. After she wakes him up with a few slaps and some smelling salts, the very first thing he does is ask her out for ribs and beer. His name is Jimmy. He looks like a Gillette model. And he’s just too hunky to resist.

Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi is mystified that Mary has absolutely no idea who he is. Mystified and refreshed. He is, after all, not your everyday NFL quarterback. He shops at Costco, has a soft spot for Pinterest, and is in the midst of an epic losing streak.

Jimmy falls for Mary fast and hard, the way he does everything—balls out and like it’s fourth and long. And he realizes he’s finally met his match. That stamina he’s so proud of? Doesn’t stand a chance against her Kegels.

But what they don’t know is she’s also his new physical therapist, recently hired by the Bears to work on his rotator cuff…and groin injury. If she can’t help him, he’ll be traded faster than they can say “offensive penetration.”

In spite of the thousands of internet memes featuring Jimmy’s face with captions like: “HEY GIRL, WANT TO TOUCH MY BALLS?” Mary finds herself falling for him and his unrelenting desire to make her his.

Until a toddler shows up at Jimmy’s door.

And throws their lives into total chaos.

***

To the reader: Contents includes love, sweetness, naughtiness, honey, champagne, and an HEA. Safe.


Chapter 1
Jimmy


She’s got a hell of a left hook, and her jab is no joke either. It’s hard to tell what she really looks like, with the big blue rubber mouth guard between her teeth and the black padded headgear covering her jaw and cheeks. But I know this: I want to get my hands on that body. Her tight pink tee is low cut and skin tight, and across her breasts are the words: “NOBODY’S PUSSYCAT.”
A cold draft blows in from the window, making goosebumps ripple up her arms. A thin stream of sweat runs down into her cleavage, and then I watch her nipples tighten. Christ. With little bounces, she heads back to her corner and bends over for her water bottle. Stretchy black leggings and no panty line.
Fuuuuuck.
The buzzer dings and we square up. She holds her gloves up to her face, ready to go. They’re bubblegum pink with white cuffs; the girliest weapons I’ve ever seen.
But never mind the gloves. It’s those eyes that have me. Shit, those eyes. This crazy deep green. Packers’ green. Jets’ green. Green like cash. Green that could make a guy go right out of his mind.
Pow goes a jab into my stomach and I double over, tasting my Gatorade from an hour ago. Before I can breathe, before I can even get up my gloves to slow her down, she pelts me hard with a cross to my sternum that knocks the wind straight out of me. I gasp for air and stagger back into the ropes.
“Jesus Christ,” I moan. “Who are you?”
Her eyes light up in this smile. This beautiful fucking smile that I feel way down inside. Then she bounces on her toes and smacks her gloves together out in front of her. Whap, whap. “I’m Mary!” she says around her mouth guard. “And you’re slow!”
Cute. But, yeah…no. Nobody talks to me like that. Nobody. I hurl myself off the ropes, colliding with her in the center of the ring, skin against skin now. I press into her sexy shoulder with my bicep, feeling the sweat between us. She nails me in the gut again; a solid, low-slung straight, and I think, I can’ t hit a girl, can I?
No. Fuck, no.
So I stretch my arm between us, the padding of my glove holding her steady right below her collarbone. She swings for me but I’m a foot taller and she doesn’t stand a chance. “Jerk!”
Obviously.
But on the upside, now I can really get a good look at her the way I want to; close up, but not so close that she’s pummeling me. Her legs are solid and I can even see that little curve of her hipbones barely showing through her leggings. I let my eyes follow the line of sweat to her inner thighs, to that wet, hot place where everything comes together. Fuck. I want my hands on that place. I want to feel the softness and the strength. I want to know the taste of that sweat. The way that softness gives under my tongue.
Ding goes the buzzer. I push her away, padded knuckles to her shoulder. She spins and gets into her corner, so I do the same.
I grab my water bottle and squirt it into my mouth, watching her all the time. She’s fucking beautiful, this one. Fucking gorgeous. The woman of dreams. Of fantasies.
From a pink Nalgene, she takes one big gulp, two, and a little water dribbles down her lips, rolling in drops down her throat. Her eyes stay right on mine. Her chest heaves. Her eyes flash. Her lips tighten. And that’s when it happens. She peels off her T-shirt and tosses it to the floor so that the only word showing is PUSSY.
Ding.
Her body is fucking perfect. I mean perfect. I moan into my mouth guard and I look her up and down. Lean but not thin. Sexy and strong. A fighter’s body. A woman’s body. A body strong enough to take everything I want to give it. And then some.
She turns to set down her water bottle, bending at the waist. And that’s when I see it. The tattoo. It’s a ribbon of black lace that runs in a beautiful, feminine line down her back from right shoulder to left hip, curving down into her pants. Tough as hell, pretty as can be. And with the sexiest tattoo I’ve ever seen in my life.
Stick a motherfucking fork in me. I’m done.
“Nice ink,” I tell her as we square up again.
“Thanks,” she says, leaning in to my shoulder.
“I’ve never seen one like it.” I hook my arm around her again and pull her in. I smell something familiar. I can’t place it. She slips free and moves behind me. For one second, all I can hear is her shoes on the mats.
“I rebelled when I turned 30. It was either this or a tramp stamp.”
“Of what?” I pivot so my face is close against hers.
“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” She smiles tight around the mouth guard. Her glove comes through the air, cutting through the noise of the gym. Whooosh.
I get my right hand up just in time to block her with my glove. The impact rolls down my forearm like I’m nothing but Jell-O.
She lets another jab fly but misses me—barely—and I slip around behind her. The hair at the nape of her neck is curly and wet, and a long dark braid runs down her back. That strip of wet fabric at the top of her pants, dark with sweat. “Why are we fighting?” I growl as I get closer. “Why aren’t we out drinking? Making trouble? Fucking around? Let me take you out.”
She spins to face me, her eyes wide open, surprised. “You wanna drink with me?”
“Hell yes, I do. And a lot of other things.”
“You want me? Fight me.” She fires her bubblegum pink cannons at my stomach with a one-two combination that makes me feel like I’m nothing but a 283-pound heavy bag.
I try to get in a left cross, but she’s way faster than I am and comes up from under with a hook straight out of Manila.
That one got me in my brainpan, in my marrow. “Fuck that,” I snarl.
“Atta boy!”
No way. Nobody atta boys me. I’m Jimmy Goddamned Falconi. I’m nobody’s boy. Never.
“Atta girl.” I nudge her in the shoulder with my chest.
Around her guard, she says, “You fight like you’re in molasses. But you’re strong. You some kind of athlete?”
At first, I’m about to laugh. For about one second, I think I might be on Candid Camera or something. I mean, I can’t walk to the bathroom on an airplane without someone asking me to sign a cocktail napkin. I can’t get through Costco without someone asking me to sign their shopping list. Some kind of athlete?
I’m Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi. Quarterback for the Chicago Goddamned Bears. I’m somebody.
But there’s zero recognition in her eyes. No flicker of the fangirl. No sign she’s playing it cool either. To her, I’m just a guy getting his ass kicked by a girl in pink gloves.
“Hello?” She presses into my chin with a slow uppercut from the right.
I snap out of it. I don’t even know how to answer her. I play quarterback for the Bears. Ever heard of them? Or maybe, Ever heard of football? America’s Game? Fuck. I wouldn’t even know how to start. I’ve never had to explain it. People just know. “Yeah, I like to work out.”
“Then act like it,” she says, all piss and vinegar, and puts her guard back in her mouth. Wham comes that jab into my gut. Pow goes the straight to my pecs. I loop one arm around her and pull her body in close, hooking the back of her neck with the crook of my elbow. I pull her closer, tighter, both arms around her, to get a feel for her…but also to give myself a goddamned break.
She struggles a little, trying to squirm free, but I see the smile on her face, the crinkle of the skin at her eyes.
I pull her head closer to mine. I must be twice her weight; no way is she going to get free now. We are the welterweight and the super heavyweight. Wrong class totally. But then she wedges her forehead in against my chest. I watch her wind up, her biceps flexing, and, boom-boom-boom.
Every time she connects, I lose a little more air and groan, “Fuck-fuck-fuck!”
“Atta boy!”
Fuck. That.
So I keep her pinned and she starts fighting harder, which makes me want to hang on to her more. I press my nose against her head. In her thick brown hair, I can smell her shampoo, her conditioner. Coconut.
While I’m distracted by that smell, thinking of sunscreen and ukulele music and drinks with umbrellas and her on a beach, she slips out from under my arms and pops up in my face.
Well, shit.
“What, you chicken? Gonna hit me back? Or do you want to dance around for an hour or two? Because I can totally do that. I just have to go home to feed the dog.” Whap-whap go her padded fists.
Oh no, no way. No way am I going to let a pretty little thing talk to me like that. I sniff hard and man up.
I give her a jab. A hook. A cross.
And she blocks me every damned time. Blocks me like she’s fought me before, or like she’s known all along what I’ll do when it comes down to it.
Fucking wax-on-wax off, one-two-three.
Pow-pow go her gloves into my side, and fuck. I think I feel those it in my spleen. Enough. Enough. Anger boils up through me like cheap vodka after a long night.
I’m Jimmy Falconi. And I’m gonna make this girl know my name.
I crack my neck side to side and get serious. I suck air through the holes in my mouth guard and get my fists up. I edge her into the corner and those eyes flash at me. She’s sweating hard and her mascara is smudged. Her hair is mussed and her skin is slick. It makes her look dangerous. Angry. I’d like to smudge that mascara a little more. In bed. Immediately.
But first, I’m going to show her who’s boss.
The more she works herself up, the hotter she gets. That’s when something catches my eye. There’s something written on the white cuffs of her gloves. All fuzzy, written in black marker:
On the right glove: HERE COMES…
On the left:…TROUBLE!
Whomp.
She nails me in the jaw with a haymaker, and my molars shake. “Come the fuck on,” I growl back at her, with my glove pressed to the side of my face.
She smacks her gloves together, and lowers her chin. “Are we sparring or chatting? Hit me!” Bounce, bounce, bounce. Butterfly, bee. Whap, whap, whap. “I’m not going to break!”
I work my jaw open and closed a few times thinking, Okay. Fine. Fine. I didn’t think it was going to go like this, but I can roll with a hostile defense, sure. Wouldn’t be the first time. I give her the old elevator stare—up, down, up again—and get stuck on her belly button for a little too long. But then I get a game plan together. I figure I can hit her in the stomach. Not too hard, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to let her know who’s in charge here.
Which would be me. Me, pussycat. Me.
Nudging the edge of her shoulder with my glove, I drive her backwards. Our eyes lock and I get this…this…prickle all through me.
This woman.
This one. Right here.
I want her. So fucking bad.
The fucking gym with its ten phones playing mariachi goes silent. The guys by the cooler egging her on go silent. It’s just her and me and the sweat dripping between us. Soft skin, sparkling eyes. She smells like a summer day and she’s looking at me in a way that no woman has ever looked at me. Ever.
Like she’s gonna own me and she knows it.
Which is bullshit.
She gives me a little lift of her chin and tightens her lips around the guard. She wipes her nose with her glove and then lowers her head. “Come on! You going to fight or are you just going to screw around?”
With my left hand, I jab her softly in the stomach. With the right, a play-hook to the jaw. I raise her chin on my glove so her eyes come up to mine. Then I pull her close, my arm around the back of her neck again. “You wanna screw around?” I say into her ear.
Bam, another hit to the stomach. “I haven’t even gotten started,” she answers.
Fuck it.
She wants to play? Fucking fine. I’ll play. I’ll play hard. I square up. But she gives me this eye. This champion eye. A winner’s eye. Cocky like no eyes I’ve ever seen before. Tom Brady doesn’t have anything on this kind of cocky right here. My luck, this girl’s some UFC champion. Christ.
But I can take her. Yeah, I sure fucking can.
Probably.
I decide on a straight jab; a no-fail straight jab that I plan just hard enough to send her reeling but not hurt her, not actually injure her. I know the punch. It works in bar fights and brawls on the field. An all-American move. As I wind up, everything slows down. I’m 6’6”, 283 pounds, and I throw a football for a living. When I wind up, I wind up. As I do, she ducks, fast as fucking lightning. Greased. Elegant. Lethal. So as my arm is powering through the air, as my momentum gets caught behind 12-ounce training gloves, she pops back up like a goddamned whack-a-mole.
Those eyes flash again and she smiles so hard I can see her dimples.
Dimples. Oh, fuck.
I watch her shoulder tighten, her tricep pucker, and that’s when she lets me have it for real.
The punch comes from left to right, blocking out my view of everything. I don’t see the Mexican flag on the wall. I don’t see the graffiti mural over the windows. Nope. The universe turns bubblegum pink.
It doesn’t hurt, not at first, and as I’m flying backwards, airborne, I have just enough time to think to myself, I wonder if this is what a knockout punch feels like…
Before everything flickers to black.
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Nicola Rendell writes dirty, funny, erotic romance. She likes a stiff drink and a well-frosted cake. She is at an unnamed Ivy and prefers to remain mostly anonymous for professional reasons. She has a PhD in English and an MFA in Creative Writing from schools that shall not be named here. She loves to cook, sew, and play the piano. She realizes that her hobbies might make her sound like an old lady and she’s totally okay with that. She lives with her husband and her dogs. She is from Taos, New Mexico.
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Summer Fling by Jerica MacMillan

by Jerica MacMillan
Genres: New Adult, Sports Romance

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Summer Fling

Players of Marycliff University

Book 1

Jerica MacMillan

New Adult Sports Romance

Relaunch Date: November 22, 2016

 

Blurb

One summer is all they have …

Lance is a notorious player on and off the football field who never sees a girl more than twice. But with graduation now behind him, his days of carefree flirting are numbered. As soon as his summer internship is over, his parents expect him to return to Texas to take his place in the family business. He’s done everything he can to delay the inevitable, and he’s determined to live it up his last summer as his own man.

Abby comes from a world where men don’t stick around. Lance’s interest does nothing but put her on guard, especially when she finds out he’ll be leaving in less than two months. With two years left of college and a mom who relies on her for everything, Abby doesn’t have the patience for relationships that are doomed from the start. But Lance’s persistence wears down her defenses. Abby convinces herself they’ll just have a summer fling, and she’ll be able to come through unscathed.

Will Abby be able to maintain her distance? Or will they both be heartbroken when the summer ends?

If you love steamy college romance featuring hot athletes and sassy heroines, check out this first installment in the hot new series everyone is raving about!

 

 

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Excerpt

Abby nodded, and Lance moved in to kiss her again. His tongue swept past her lips, sliding against hers, teasing and tasting. His hands, like earlier, roamed down her back and gripped her ass once again. He pulled her tightly against him, grinding their hips together.

Her hands were trapped between them. She ran them over his chest, feeling the planes of his muscles, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt to pull herself closer.

One of Lance’s hands traveled up to her back, sliding under the hem of her tank top, teasing the skin just under the waistband of her shorts. His fingers slid lower, sliding along the top of her ass, while his other hand kneaded her flesh through her clothes.

With a small sound of frustration in the back of his throat, Lance broke off the kiss. He led her the few steps to his bed, sitting down on the edge and positioning her between his legs.

Abby wasn’t sure what he was doing.She stopped caring when he raised her shirt and began kissing her stomach, his tongue teasing along the edge of her belly button.Her hands went to his head, threading her fingers through his hair, enjoying the feeling of his mouth against her skin.She felt his hands slide up the backs of her thighs.He gripped her ass briefly before sliding around to the front.He made short work of unbuttoning and unzipping her shorts, pulling back so he could look at her face and watch her reaction.

He didn’t immediately push her shorts off her hips like Abby had expected. He left them hanging there, running his hands back around, caressing her waist and hips before finally sliding his hands under the fabric.

He groaned when he encountered bare skin. “Abby, are you wearing underwear?”

She licked her lips and nodded. “A thong.” Her husky whisper matched his.

“Can I see?”

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About Jerica MacMillan

Jerica MacMillan is a lifelong reader and lover of romance. Nothing beats escaping into a book and watching people fall in love, overcome obstacles, and find their happily ever after. She was recently named a semi finalist in Harlequin’s So You Think You Can Write 2015 contest.

Jerica is living her happily ever after in North Idaho with her husband and two children. She spends her days building with blocks, admiring preschooler artwork, and writing while her baby naps in the sling. Join her Book Club at www.JericaMacMillan.com and get a free book!

 

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