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Hi I'm Janna and I am a book whore! I started this blog after being a part of another for years. While being a big blog may be nice I like to stay true to me having a love for books, that's why I blog. I love books and I want to share that love with my readers of this blog. I love to read, books are my escape and a huge part of my life besides my husband and two children. I am honest and sometimes sassy in my reviews but never mean. Some of my favorite authors include Kristen Ashley, Penelope Douglas, T.M. Frazier, M.N. Forgy, Rachel Van Dyken, Meghan March and Vi Keeland to only name a few!

Please note that I am the ONLY reviewer on the blog beyond a few guest reviews. It has been brought to my attention that people not associated with my blog have been requesting ARCs please if you ever question a request please email me at the blog's email.


Friday, June 15, 2018

Release Boost! King Of Hearts By Natalie Bennett



The road to hell...
Well, there is no road to hell.
I already live there.

I was forced to partake in a rigged game of seduction, manipulation, and murder.

Mateo Remmington is my formidable opponent.

He makes the devil look like a saint.

He’s immoral.
He's ruthless.
He's a goddamn king.

King of a clandestine empire who sits on a throne covered in innocents’ blood.

I’ve become his obsession.
He’s becoming my deadly addiction.

And if I make one wrong move he’ll end my life. 


18+ This trilogy contains various dark themes and subject matter.







AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited





Also Available


AMAZON US / UK / CAAU

Free in Kindle Unlimited


Coming Soon


Releasing June 22, 2018

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU



Author Bio

Natalie Bennett is your average socially awkward author that turns her spontaneous head ramblings into stories. 

She has a penchant for writing about villainous immoral men, crazed anti-heroines, and tends to deviate away from traditional HEA's.

She likes chocolate, Netflix, and Prickly Pear Margaritas.

When she isn't writing she's hanging out with her husband and their three boys.

You can find Natalie on Social Media!


Release Blitz! Comfort Zone By Missy Johnson


There's nothing quite like watching your professor as he motorboats a stripper.

The expression on his face when he looked up and saw me standing there would've been funny if I wasn't so mortified. I wanted to turn around and run, but I couldn't do that to Jake. It was his bachelor party, after all.

So, instead, we stumbled our way through the world's most awkward conversation, because what do you say after witnessing that?

At least things couldn't get much worse, right?

Wrong.

The real fun began when the guys figured out how we knew each other.

Have you ever heard of the term frottage? Yeah, neither had I. Just like I'd completely underestimated how awkward it would be getting a lap dance from another woman while my professor watches, or how turned on I'd be.

My first mistake was going there in the first place.
My second mistake was not leaving the moment I saw him.
My third mistake, and the one I regret most?

Applying for that TA position with him last week…


** Comfort Zone is a M/F student/professor romance **

**Awkward Love is a series of sexy, fun novels that can be read in ANY order. Each book is COMPLETELY separate from the next, so you can read one, or you can read them all**






AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited




Also Available


AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited



AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited



AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited



Author Bio

Missy lives in a small town in Central Victoria with her husband, and her confused pets (a dog who think she's a cat, a cat who thinks he's a dog...you get the picture).

When she's not writing, she can usually be found looking for something to read.


Author Links

Review & Excerpt Tour! Unconscious Hearts By Harper Sloan

 

    Ari Daniels didn’t count on her whole world tumbling down around her in a mess of shredded promises, broken love, and unbelievable heartbreak. Alone and stricken with grief, she shouldered the blame and eventually closed her heart off, refusing to open it for another. After all, anytime she tried, guilt and regret were waiting in the wings to remind her how painful it was. A bet and one steamy night with a stranger force Ari to confront all she’s been hiding behind. She tries to move on, but he refuses to stand down, wanting what she is terrified to give—herself. This man may very well destroy her in the end, especially when it’s clear he has his own demons. What happens when two broken souls come together, finally allowing themselves to believe in the beauty of love … only to have to fight harder than ever to keep it.      


There are some authors, for me at least that I have read since their first book has come out and Harper Sloan is one of those. I have loved her books since I first read Axel years ago so I was so excited for Unconscious Hearts and let me tell you I was NOT disappointed in any way. I think this is her sexiest and best book to date and I am so excited to have more from this series.

If you are looking for a dirty talking, alpha, sexier than hell hero, well you have found him in Thorn. More than once I was clenching my thighs with some of the super-hot scenes between him and Ari. I love watching a big alpha male get brought down by a woman that he didn’t see coming. I think Thorn very well may be my favorite character from all of Harper Sloan’s books and that is saying something since I have a couple who I never thought could be topped.

My heart hurt for Ari, for what she goes through. The pain, the heartbreak, the destruction of trust all are things that made her who she is today. Thorn was the best thing to have happened to Ari, even if their start wasn’t in a traditional sense at all. The chemistry between them is off the charts and you could feel the pull between them from the start. The way Ari and Thorn are together just makes you believe that the perfect person for you is out there and you never know when you will find them. Both Ari and Thorn have pasts that are painful, but they begin to heal each other.

There is an added element of suspense and danger that just added to the story and kept me on my toes. I couldn’t put Unconscious Hearts down, I had to know what was going to happen. I am already on edge waiting for the next book because I have a feeling that it very well may even better than Unconscious Hearts is. If you are looking for your next read Unconscious Hearts is what you should be grabbing because this is one you won’t want to miss!






AVAILABLE NOWAmazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | Amazon CA | BN | iBooks | Kobo


    His eyes get hard for a beat before his features smooth back out. “Yeah, beyond sure. No one to pass this shit down to, and even if there was, I wouldn’t be givin’ someone ideas of materialistic bullshit if I did. More to life than all this shit.” “Okay, well, in that case …” I cough, not wanting to fight with him about our views when it comes to expensive wants versus needs. Last time I tried to argue the benefits of learning to care for and value something you work hard to buy, I had a black eye for almost two weeks. “In that case, I’m prepared to offer you a lump sum as a buyout for the whole collection, but I also want to mention, again, that consignment would be a more lucrative approach. Our buyout is just a standard percent of resale value, but consignment would allow us to mark up each to give you a larger profit.” “Told you, babe, want it gone. I don’t give a shit about making it more lucrative. Look around you, hardly hurting.” “Still, it’s my obligation to make sure you’re informed.” “Consider me informed.” “Okay … so I can offer a tentative amount of three million. I would need more time to inspect each item in depth for any defects that could affect the value and also to research a few pieces I feel may be limited editions so that could also affect the value. Meaning that amount could go up or down, but I wouldn’t expect it to be less than two point five or more than four point seven-ish. I wouldn’t need but maybe five days tops, and I can come during the day if that works better for your schedule.” “You get this gone in two days, and I’ll take one mil.” My whole body jerks back as if I had been slapped, staring at him like he was absolutely insane. “That’s absolutely insane,” I tell him, voicing my thoughts. “No, that’s me not giving a shit and wanting it gone so I can get out of this place and sell it and all this shit some hand with care placed around each room. Woulda left this shit in and sold it with the house, but for some reason I’ll never understand, you’re here, and I still just want it gone. You don’t need five days when I’m taking a two mil hit, babe. That would waste your time and mine, and I’m not a huge fan of wasting my time. Way I see it, you win, and I get a cold mil for some shit I didn’t buy nor care about. So you get this shit outta here, and all I need is that.” “Thorn, I can’t in good conscience accept that.” “Then dirty that conscience up and laugh your tight little ass all the way to the bank. Don’t give a shit as long as it’s gone, and I don’t have to do anything to make it that way.” “This is insanity.” “Insanity would be tossing it all at the Goodwill drop-off. I’m making money. You’re making money. Only thing sweeter than making money is doing it while I’m getting my cock wet, and babe, that only happens when my stock rises at the same time my cock does.” He steps closer, and I back into the island, my chest burning as I hold my breath. “Course, never had four mil worth of shit to sell to a woman who makes my cock rise without even trying.” “Thorn,” I whisper, placing my hand against his hard chest with the intention of pushing him back. Only, the second his warmth burns through his shirt and hits my skin, I can’t move an inch. “Ari,” he mocks, his eyes bright. “I, uh, the paperwork …” I close my eyes and focus on my breaths and the words my mouth can’t seem to form. When my heart slows enough that I won’t die of a heart attack right here in heaven, I look back up at him. “You’re breaking my brain, Thorn. Please step back so I can think clearly without my body trying to die on me.” The corners of his eyes crinkle as he continues to gaze down at me, but he does step back. My arm falling down to my side. “As much as I wish I could have this room cleared out for you tomorrow, it will take at least until late Monday. I’ll need to meet with you beforehand to have some legal paperwork signed for the sale due to its size. But my lawyer is an old family friend, so I can have that by tomorrow around dinnertime, if you wouldn’t mind meeting me to take care of that. I won’t be able to get the cashier’s check until after those are signed, so late Monday is the best I can offer you.” “Want this shit gone, but it’s hardly a hardship to wait a few more days if that means I’ve got a few more opportunities to try to make you want me as much as you want this shit around you,” he says, his deep voice thick with desire. “Good heavens, you don’t stop, do you?” “Not unless you beg, babe.” “I think it’s best we went back to keeping things professional, Mr. Evans.” This time, it isn’t a ghost of a smile on his lips. Oh, no. Not this time. If I thought he was handsome before this moment, I was a fool. Because Thorn Evans giving you his full, unhindered smile and a gaze so thick with unspoken promise as it washes over you and creates a fire of the desire you already felt … well, that expression on him turns him from sinfully hot to heart-stopping and irresistible instantly. “It would take me five minutes to get you to beg me for it, Ms. Daniels. Admit it.” Offended at the thought that I’m easy, I narrow my eyes. Finally. At least anger is an emotion I’ve had plenty of practice dealing with. “I’m not sure what kind of women you’re used to, but I promise you, I am not that type of woman.” “Maybe three,” he oddly says, ignoring me. “Three, what?” I snap. “Minutes, sweetness. Three minutes and you’d be begging me for all this shit and my cock.” My mouth flounders, and I gasp. “Though, pretty sure I could get that in less than a minute and get you doin’ all the work while I watch from my back.” My arm is up, palm cracking against his cheek before I have the ability to do anything to stop it. “I think we’re done here.” I walk around him, ready to find my way out and let him find someone else to take all of this off his hands even if it kills a little part of my lux loving soul. When his hand curls around my bicep—not painfully, but firm enough to make me stop—I look over my shoulder with a frown. For a man who was just slapped, he looks almost gleeful. “One minute, Ari. Give me a minute and if you aren’t ready to beg me for it, when those sixty seconds are up, you can take this shit and not give me a penny for it.” Walk away, Ari. Walk. Away. No amount of money is worth being some man’s whore. Spinning away from his hold, I jerk my arm free and step toward him with a roll up to my toes, getting my face as close to his as I can. His scent overwhelms me. The subtle notes of his cologne fog my rational thought, making me drunk with need, and I sway slightly before correcting myself. “Thirty seconds,” I retort, my jaw tight with stubbornness. I’m not sure who I shocked more—him or me. I have my answer, though, when I see victory flash in his eyes. Oh, my God … what have I done? “You’re on,” he agrees, his eyes alight with the promise backed up by his devilish grin. I nod, incapable of anything more. I stand there in shocked silence as he takes my phone, his thick fingers moving quickly over the screen. I vaguely hear a chime from his pocket and before I can so much as blink, he’s handing me my things. “Tomorrow, I’ll text you. Paperwork first, then you beg.” I gulp, jerk my head in what I hope resembles a nod of agreement, and then … I flee.  
   

harper1Harper is a NEW YORK TIMES, WALL STREET JOURNAL and USA TODAY bestselling author residing in Georgia with her husband and three daughters. She has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books, hibachi, tattoos and Game of Thrones. When she isn't writing you can almost always find her with a book in hand. Facebook | Website | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page

Cover Reveal! Scarred By Elizabeth Knox



Release Date: July 28, 2018

I had it all, or at least I did according to everyone else.
I had the club, I had the most powerful husband, the Prez of the Demons of Hell MC.
I had a family.
He’d told me time and time again the club was my “family”.
My “family” let a lot of things happen to me that shouldn’t of.
My “family” did a great job of turning a blind eye.
My “family” was great at letting me be the punching bag for their mistakes. For all of his pent up anger and frustrations.
My “family” was the reason I almost died.
When Rage came into my life I saw nothing else.
His name was a warning and I didn’t listen.



Author Bio

Elizabeth is a romantic suspense author most popular for her Mob and MC books, the international bestselling author of Reign, Redemption, Revenge, Relentless, Promised, Tough as Steele, Stripping a Steele & Blackjack. 

Author Links

Blog Tour! A Wish For Us By Tillie Cole




From the author who brought you A Thousand Boy Kisses comes the new emotional novel, A Wish For Us.
A story of music. A story of healing. A story of love conquering all.


Nineteen-year-old Cromwell Dean is the rising star of electronic dance music. Thousands of people adore him. But no one knows him. No one sees the color of his heart.

Until the girl in the purple dress. She sees through the walls he has built to the empty darkness within.

When Cromwell leaves behind the gray skies of England to study music in the South Carolina heat, the last thing he expects is to see her again. And he certainly doesn’t expect that she’ll stay in his head like a song on repeat.

Bonnie Farraday lives for music. She lets every note into her heart, and she doesn’t understand how someone as talented as Cromwell can avoid doing the same. He’s hiding from his past, and she knows it. She tries to stay away from him, but something keeps calling her back.

Bonnie is the burst of color in Cromwell’s darkness. He’s the beat that makes her heart skip.

But when a shadow falls over Bonnie, it’s up to Cromwell to be her light, in the only way he knows how. He must help her find the lost song in her fragile heart. He must keep her strong with a symphony only he can compose.

A symphony of hope.
A symphony of love.
A symphony of them.
A Wish For Us is a heartbreakingly beautiful story that had tears flowing down my face and my heart going on an indescribable emotional rollercoaster ride that I would willingly ride all over again. I am tearing up once again just trying to type this review that I know will not give justice to this book. I am trying not to spoil anything because this is a book that you have to ride that emotional rollercoaster for yourself. The emotions that you will feel, the angst, the ups and downs, this entire book was to put it simply beautiful. Now I get emotional and I cry when I read a book, but only a few have ever completely broken me while reading and this is one of those books.

Cromwell will have you hating him, he will have you loving him, he will make you want to scream, he will make you want to cry and he will make you fall head over heels in love with him. His character has a depth that I didn’t expect. His colors, his emotions, his music are both bright at times and dark during others. Pain has driven him for a while and they have made him who he is.  When he meets Bonnie, let’s just say he was an ass but slowly she breaks down his walls and slowly heals him. Bonnie, she has a beautiful soul, and my heart broke for her so much. I can’t say what happens because I refuse to spoil it but I had to put my kindle aside and just cried for a good twenty minutes before I felt as if I could continue reading and this happened more than once. Damn it I am tearing up again.

A Wish For Us will stay with me for a long time to come. Listening to music will hold a new meaning to me, and music is a huge part of my life. Tillie Cole has once again reminded me why I love her books so much, because she writes some of the most beautiful and emotionally driven books that are unforgettable.



I let the rush of nicotine fill my lungs and closed my eyes. As my eyelids shut, I heard quiet music playing somewhere nearby. Classical. Mozart. My drunken mind immediately drifted off to when I was a little kid . . . “What do you hear, Cromwell?” my father asked. I closed my eyes and listened to the piece of music. Colors danced before my eyes. “Piano. Violins. Cellos . . .” I took a deep breath. “I can hear reds and greens and pinks.” I opened my eyes and looked up at my father as he sat on my bed. He was staring down at me. There was a funny expression on his face. “You hear colors?” he said. But he didn’t sound surprised. My face set on fire. I ducked my head under my duvet. My father pulled it down from my eyes. He stroked my hair. “That’s good,” he said, his voice kind of deep. “That’s very good . . .” My eyes snapped open. My hand started to ache. I looked at the bottle in my hand; my fingers were white as they gripped the neck. I sat up, my head spinning from the mass of whiskey in my body. My temples throbbed. I realized it wasn’t from the Jack, but from the music coming from further down the beach. I pushed my hair back from my face then looked to my right. Someone was only a few feet away. I squinted into the lightening night, summer’s early rising sun making it possible to make out the features of whoever the hell it was. It was a girl. A girl wrapped in a blanket. Her phone sat beside her, a Mozart piano concerto drifting quietly from the speaker. She must have felt me looking at her, because she turned her head. I frowned, wondering why I knew her face, but then—“You’re the DJ,” she said. Recognition dawned. It was the girl in the purple dress. She clutched her blanket closer around her as I replayed her accent in my head. American. Bible Belt was my guess, by her thick twang. She sounded like my mum. A smile tugged at her lips as I stayed mute. I wasn’t much of a talker. Especially when my gut was full of Jack and I had zero interest in making small talk with some girl I didn’t know at four in the morning on a cold beach in Brighton. “I’d heard of you,” she said. I stared back out over the sea. Ships sailed in the distance, their lights like tiny fireflies, bobbing up and down. I huffed a humorless laugh. Great. Another girl who wanted to screw the DJ. “Good for you,” I muttered and took a drink of my Jack, feeling the addictive burn slide down my throat. I hoped she’d piss off, or at least stop trying to talk to me. My head couldn’t take any more noise. “Not really,” she shot back. I looked over at her, eyebrows pulled down in confusion. She was looking out over the sea, her chin resting on her folded arms that lay over her bent knees. The blanket had fallen off her shoulders, revealing the purple dress I’d noticed from the podium. She turned to face me, cheek now on her arms. Heat zipped through me. She was pretty. “I’ve heard of you, Cromwell Dean.” She shrugged. “Decided to get a ticket to see you before I left for home tomorrow.” I lit up another cigarette. Her nose wrinkled. She clearly didn’t like the smell. Tough luck. She could move. Last time I checked, England was a free country. She went quiet. I caught her looking at me. Her brown eyes were narrowed, like she was scrutinizing me. Reading something in me that I didn’t want anyone to see. No one ever looked at me closely. I never gave them the chance. I thrived on the podium at clubs because it kept everyone far away, down on the dancefloor where no one ever saw the real me. The way she was looking at me now made nervous shivers break out over my skin. I didn’t need this kind of crap. “Already had my dick sucked tonight, love. Not looking for a second round.” She blinked, and even in the rising sun, I could see her cheeks redden. “Your music has no soul,” she blurted. My cigarette paused halfway to my mouth. Something managed to stab through my stomach at her words. I shoved it back down until I felt my usual sensation of numbness. I sucked on my cigarette. “Yeah? Well, them’s the breaks.” “I’d heard you were some messiah or something on that podium. But all your music comprised was synthetic beats and forced repetitive bursts of unoriginal tempo.” I laughed and shook my head. The girl met my eyes head-on. “It’s called electronic dance music. Not a fifty-piece orchestra.” I held out my arms. “You’ve heard of me. Said so yourself. You know what tunes I spin. What were you expecting? Mozart?” I glared at her phone, which was still playing that damn concerto. I sat back, surprised at myself. I hadn’t talked that much to anyone in . . . I didn’t know how long. I took in a drag, breathing out the smoke that was trapped in my chest. “And turn that thing off, will you? Who the hell goes to hear a dance DJ spin, then comes to a beach to listen to classical music?” The girl frowned but turned off the music. I lay back on the cold sand, closing my eyes. I heard the soft waves lapping the shore. My head filled with pale green. I heard the girl moving. I prayed she was leaving. But I felt her drop beside me. My world darkened as the whiskey and the usual lack of sleep started to pull me under. “What do you feel when you mix your music?” she asked. How the hell she thought her little interview was a good idea right now was beyond me. Yet, surprisingly, I found myself answering her question. “I don’t feel.” I cracked one eye open when she didn’t say anything. She was looking down at me. She had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen. Dark hair pulled off her face in a ponytail. Full lips and smooth skin. “Then that’s the problem.” She smiled, but the smile looked nothing but sad. Pitying. “The best music must be felt. By the creator. By the listener. Every part of it from creation to ear must be wrapped in nothing but feelings.” Some weird expression crossed over her face, but hell if I knew what it meant. Her words were a blade to my chest. I hadn’t expected her harsh comment. And I hadn’t expected the blunt trauma that she seemed to deliver right to my heart. Like she’d taken a butcher’s knife and sliced her way through my soul. My body itched to get up and run. To pluck out her assessment of my music from my memory. But instead I forced a laugh, and spat, “Go back home, little Dorothy. Back to where music means something. Where it’s felt.” “Dorothy was from Kansas.” She glanced away. “I’m not.” “Then go back to wherever the hell you’re from,” I snapped. Crossing my arms over my chest, I hunkered down into the sand and shut my eyes, trying to block out the cold wind that was picking up and slapping my skin, and her words that were still stabbing at my heart. I never let anything get to me like this. Not anymore. I just needed some sleep. I didn’t want to go back to my mum’s house here in Brighton, and my flat in London was too far away. So hopefully the cops wouldn’t find me here and kick me off the beach. With my eyes closed, I said, “Thanks for the midnight critique, but as the fastest-rising DJ in Europe, with the best clubs in the world begging for me to spin at their decks—all at nineteen—I think I’ll ignore your extensive notes and just keep on living my sweet as fuck life.”





Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.

After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.

Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.

Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.

When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.


Author Links




Thursday, June 14, 2018

Release Blitz! Loyal Subjects By Eva Charles



Allegiance, faithfulness, honor...
Loyalty goes by many names.

Emmie Landon is off-limits. She has a young son, works with my brother Jake, and lugs around enough baggage to fill an entire football stadium. But I can't resist her long, shapely legs and thick, soft curls, begging to be wrapped around my hands. 

Mark Harrington is too-everything. Too good looking, too funny, too charming, too brutally honest, too impulsive. He's accustomed to getting his way, and never afraid to throw down the gauntlet. So what if I can't stop thinking about his devilish blue eyes and his lip-smacking happy trail?

He needs someone to love.
She needs someone to love her. 

Two seemingly incompatible lives...
Two hearts capable of total devotion. 

**Despite being volume five in The New American Royals Series, Loyal Subjects may be read and enjoyed as a standalone contemporary romance.** 

Loyal Subjects may be book five in this series but it can be read as a standalone easily. I wanted to be blown away by Loyal Subjects, I wanted to be able to fall in love with the characters and story but sadly I did not. I think I was just not in the mood for this type of book when I read it and I hate when that happens because the book was written well as well as the characters. I am not going to sit here and go on and on about it because that is not fair to the author nor the book. As always form your own opinions maybe this will be the book that blows you away.







AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
B&N / KOBO

Available at iBooks soon

Also Available


AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS


Author Bio

After being a confirmed city-girl for more than thirty-five years, Eva moved to beautiful Western Massachusetts in 2014. There, she found herself living in the woods with no job, no friends (unless you count the turkey, deer, and coyote roaming the backyard), and no children underfoot, wondering what on earth she’d been thinking. But as it turned out, it was the perfect setting to take all those yarns spinning in her head and weave them into romantic tales.

When she’s not writing, trying to squeeze information out of her tight-lipped sons, or playing with the two cutest dogs you’ve ever seen, Eva’s creating chapters in her own love story.


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