Today we are thrilled to be sharing MEET ME ON LOVE LANE,
a small-town romantic comedy by Nina Bocci, USA Today bestselling author of On the Corner of Love and Hate.

Charlotte Bishop is out of options in New York City. Fired, broke, and blacklisted by her former boss, she’s forced to return to her hometown of Hope Lake, PA to lick her wounds. Although she’s expecting to find a miserable place with nothing to do, she is pleasantly surprised to discover it is bustling and thriving.

She’s only supposed to be in Hope Lake temporarily until she can earn enough money to move back to New York. She’s not supposed to reconnect with her childhood friends or her beloved grandmother. She’s not supposed to find her dream job running the local florist shop. And she’s definitely not supposed to fall for not one but two of Hope Lake’s golden boys: one the beloved high school English teacher, the other the charming town doctor.

With a heart torn between two men and two cities, what’s a girl to do?

A perfect blend of humor and heart, Meet Me on Love Lane is the second in a new series from USA TODAY bestselling author Nina Bocci that is sure to charm fans of Josie Silver and Sally Thorne.

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Narrated by Maxine Mitchell, Meet Me on Love Lane is now available in  Audible!

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Reviewed by Sharon Thérèse at KFF

If you haven’t read the first book in Bocci’s Hopeless Romantic series, no worries. Meet Me on Love Lane is a stand-alone; however, you will meet up with characters from On the Corner of Love and Hate, become familiar with them and everyday life in Hope Lake. Yes, the author has taken her readers back to the small town where everyone knows everybody’s business in an endearing way.

What I couldn’t quite fathom out was why Charlotte seemed to be having trouble remembering what she’d left behind. And then I tried to do the same and it’s not easy. Twenty-one years is a long time, details escape us, things change and people move on. Hope Lake had changed for the better and to top the lot, Charlotte has a couple of admirers. Don’t get me wrong, there’s no love-triangle involvement, just a confused lass trying to find her way after recently experiencing an unfair happening.

‘Hope Lake seemed like the best, well, hope to get my life back on track.’

Even though she hasn’t got a bad bone in her body; at times her blurred feelings got the better of me. I wanted her to stop dwelling on the past and value everything around her. Granted, her family’s backstory has a lot to do with her being as she is but the question is, will she make this enchanting town her home or leave the folk who want her to stay!

“Think about it. Tell me what would make you run back there when you have all this and all that”—

Henry has a good-guy-next-door vibe about him. I have no complaints regarding Charlotte’s, viewpoint, but I do think if Henry had had his say, it would have given the story more depth. Especially observing what was going on and how he felt about it. Also, being drop-dead gorgeous was kind of irrelevant for me since he has such a gentle personality. Charlotte’s attitude towards relationships I found a tad peculiar but hey…I didn’t dislike the soft-spoken Dr. Max who’s also vying for her attention.

‘…I wanted temporary. Dr. Max was okay with that. Henry was not. I needed to keep reminding myself that.’

Henry’s best mates, Cooper and Nick play an important part and even though Nick’s a tad tactless, he certainly tickled me pink. And who cracked me up was Gigi, Charlotte’s grandma. She’s kept up with the times, giving words of encouragement when they’re due.

“She had to teach your father how to use his Apple Watch. She’s a pro.”

I did feel that some areas of the story needed a little more editing but to be fair, the copy I read was an early one. If you like easy-to-read feel-good romances low on angst and high on laughs, friendship and family, this book is for you. Looking forward to Nick’s story and wink-wink, hoping to see Charlotte’s bestie, Parker in the spring, too!

Praise for Meet Me on Love Lane

Graphics by Tempting Illustrations

NINA BOCCI is a USA TODAY bestselling novelist that loves reading and writing about swoony, relatable heroes and smart, witty heroines. If it’s set in a small town, even better. You can always find her chatting on social media about her massive, crazy Italian family, and her favorite person in the world, her son.


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CODE OF SILENCE, a brand new Arranged Marriage/Mafia stand-alone romance by Shantel Tessier is releasing 13th January, and today we have the teaser reveal!

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“This isn’t a marriage. It’s a contract signed in blood.”

Full blurb coming soon!

Meet Shantel

Shantel is a Texas born girl who now lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma with her high school sweetheart, who is a wonderful, supportive husband and their two daughters. She loves to spend time cuddled up on the couch with a good book.

She considers herself extremely lucky to do what she does while getting to work from home. Going to concerts and the movies are just a few of her favorite things to do. She hates coffee but loves wine. She and her husband are both huge football fans, college and NFL. And she has to feed her high heel addiction by shopping for shoes weekly.

Although she has a passion to write, her family is most important to her. She loves spending evenings at home with her husband and daughter, along with their cat and dog.

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THE FALL OF LEGEND by Meghan March is LIVE!

Today we are thrilled to be sharing New York Times bestselling author Meghan March deliciously dangerous alpha hero in
THE FALL OF LEGEND, the first book in the brand
new and utterly addictive Legend trilogy.

We come from two different worlds.

I’m from the streets. She might as well live in an ivory tower.

I made my living with my fists. I doubt she could even throw a punch.

Our paths never should have crossed.

We never should have met. 

That doesn’t change the facts.

I would sell my soul to taste those red lips.

Fight the devil himself to hear her laugh.

Burn in hell to have a single night.

Scarlett Priest shouldn’t even know men like me exist, but sometimes temptation is stronger than will. 

If this is how I go down, it’ll be worth every second of the fall.

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The Fall of Legend today!

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Meet Meghan

Making the jump from corporate lawyer to romance author was a leap of faith that New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Meghan March will never regret. With over thirty titles published, she has sold millions of books in nearly a dozen languages to fellow romance-lovers around the world. A nomad at heart, she can currently be found in the woods of the Pacific Northwest, living her happily ever after with her real-life alpha hero.

Find Meghan online here: | Facebook | Instagram |  Twitter | BookBub Goodreads | Book+Main | Amazon

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Sometimes you meet people who are out of this world, so you make them a part of yours.

IN THE UNLIKELY EVENT, an all-new “messy, sexy, laugh-out-loud, cry-out-loud romance” from USA Today bestselling author L.J. Shen is coming 19th November, and today we have a sneak peek of chapter one just for you!

In the Unlikely Event AMAZON

A one-night stand born from vengeance in a foreign land.

An explosive chemistry neither of us could deny.

We signed a contract on the back of a Boar’s Head Pub napkin that said if we ever met again, we would drop everything and be together.

Eight years and thousands of miles later, he’s here.

In New York.

And he’s America’s music obsession.

The intangible Irish poet who brings record executives to their knees.

The blizzard in my perfect, unshaken snow globe.

Last time we spoke, he was a beggar with no intention of becoming a king.

But a king he became, and now I’m his servant.

I’m not the same broken princess Malachy Doherty put back together with his callused hands.

I have a career I love.

A boyfriend I adore.

An apartment, a roommate, a life.

I changed. He changed, too.

But Mal kept the napkin.

Question is, will I keep my word?

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Cover designed by Hang Le

Sneak Peek from In the Unlikely Event: Chapter One

© 2019 L.J. Shen
All rights reserved.

Present day


My life is contained in a round, beautiful snow globe.

The kind no one has bothered to pick up from the dusty shelf in years. Unshaken. Quiet and still. From the outside, my manicured Swiss village looks perfect. And it is. Kind of. At twenty-six, it appears I have my life together.

Perfect job.

Perfect apartment.

Perfect roommate.

Perfect boyfriend.

Perfect lies.

Well, they’re not lies, per se. All my accomplishments are real. I worked hard for them. Problem is, I promised eight years ago to give them all away in the blink of an eye if I bumped into him again. But back then, I wasn’t the same person I am today.

I was lost. Grieving. Broken. Confused.

Not that it matters, because that was then, and this is now, and it’s not him I’m staring at. Nope. There’s no way.

It’s not.

…Then why can’t I tear my eyes from the mysterious stranger who glides through the doors of The Beerchman Hotel’s ballroom, turning every head along the way?

Ruddy cheeks tarnished by the unforgiving winter, an aristocratic square jaw, Roman nose, and lips made for the darkest sins and most sordid pleasures—all framed by tousled, coal black hair curling at the ears like ivy, rumpled in a thousand different directions. His slanted, brooding eyes, broad shoulders, and narrow hips make him more than handsome. He’s perfect. Too perfect.

As with all cruel, fairy-tale princes, I long to spot something that would indicate his immortality, a lack of humanity. Something that would prove his perfection truly is impossible.

Pointy ears. Long fangs. A little tail.

C’mon, God, give me something to work with here. Anything.

He is tall, but not enough to demand any special attention. No, Malachy Doherty doesn’t need imperial height, fancy clothes, or millions in the bank to justify the awe he triggers in people. His existence alone is enough to make women fall to their knees. I saw it then. I see it now.

All eyes at the ball are on this enigmatic man, mine included.

Stop it, Rory. It’s not him.

If only I could see his eyes. Then I’d be able to put this to rest, to know for sure. No one else has those eyes. A rare shade of violet, like crushed crystal candy.

Lack of melanin mixed with light reflecting off red blood vessels,” Mal explained the night he took my innocence, heart, and panties all in the same breath.

I watch as the man strides past security and into the VIP area without missing a step, ignoring the curious glances and lip-biting female admirers. Even celebrities throw themselves at him, chasing his lazy stride, trying to strike up a conversation as the large, bald bouncer unhooks the red velvet rope separating the mortals from the deities.

The man who cannot be Mal ambles toward the bar, his eyes zeroed in on something. Or rather someone: record label tycoon Jeff Ryner, who has up-and-coming R&B darling Alice Christensen, known onstage as Alicious, sprawled in his lap. Jeff’s forty-something face is hued pink by excessive drinking and cocaine.

As the man approaches, Ryner stands, letting Alicious slip from his lap, her ass hitting the floor with a thump. Stepping over her body, he rushes to Mystery Man, falls to his knees theatrically, and plucks a large stack of cash from his breast pocket to wave in the stranger’s face. The man who is not Mal lets loose a cold smirk, plucks the money from Ryner’s sausage-like fingers, and slips it into his coat pocket, saying something that makes Ryner stand up in a rush.

Well, that puts a lid on things.

Mal would die before making a deal with a bigwig like my boss. Set himself on fire before attending a glamorous gala. Drink cyanide straight from the bottle before associating himself with the likes of Jeff Ryner.

Mal is not cold, or arrogant, or high-browed. He cuts his own hair and high-fives strangers and thinks brown sauce is the cure for all of the world’s problems. Mal hates lavish events, entertainment journals, mainstream record labels, and elegant food. He loves his mammy, having the craic, getting shit-faced, and songwriting while lying under the flawless night sky in his backyard. He refused a check for sixteen-grand a pop sweetheart tried to give him to buy one of his songs, simply because he had a good laugh watching her confused manager and agent try to decipher the word no.

But that was eight years ago, a little voice inside me points out. For a period of twenty-four hours.

What do I know about today’s Malachy Doherty?

What did I ever know about him at all?

“There she is.”

Callum’s arms wrap around my waist. I jump in surprise, his posh, English accent startling me for a second.

“The belle of the ball.” His lips, still cold from the outside, brush my ear from behind.

“You made it.” I turn around, wrapping my arms around his neck and giving him a peck on the lips, like punching a time card. He’s still wearing his pale gray suit from the office.

Don’t I always?” He scrunches his nose.

He does. Callum is the most precise, trustworthy man I’ve ever dated. The exact opposite of spacey, unreliable Mal. When I look again, I see that my boyfriend has remembered to wear my favorite tie. Dark green with strings of gold. When we spotted it in the store, about two weeks into our relationship, I told him it reminded me of Ireland, and he immediately bought it.

I yank the Nikon D18 he bought me for my birthday from my purse and snap a picture of him, capturing his rich-boy, pouty smile as he searches my face for approval.

I’ve been freelancing as a photographer for Blue Hill Records ever since I got my arts degree four years ago. It pays next to nothing, but next to nothing is still better than actual nothing, which is what I got paid when I interned here for the first three years. I work a part-time job as a bartender to pay my astronomical Manhattan rent.

It’s not that I have to live the poor Manhattan girl cliché. I have an inheritance from my late father, but I refuse to touch it. Using it never even crossed my mind. I’d burn the money if I could, but that would give my mom a heart attack, and I don’t want that on my conscience.

I never wanted the money. I only ever wanted my dad in my life.

“You look gorgeous, love.” Callum captures my chin with the back of his thumb, tilting my head up.

Do I, though? I’m the opposite of what a man like Callum would usually go for. I have pale, borderline-sickly skin, big green eyes always framed by an industrial amount of eyeliner, a nose hoop, and an undying love for everything punk rock, which is probably getting a little old at my ripe age of soon-to-be twenty-seven.

Right now, my red-gold roots are showing at the top of my long, silver-ombre hair. Like strawberries in the snow, Callum says when my roots are showing. I’m wearing a messy ponytail, and I have on a striped red and white dress, which I paired with Toms and a studded choker. Put simply, I could pass as a Victorian ghost who got lost at Spencer’s.

Sometimes I suspect that’s what drew Callum to me in the first place. That eccentric, vibrant shell that could elevate his status more than any plastic trophy wife could.

“Look how open-minded and hip Callum is, with his hipster, artistic, holds-on-to-an-actual-job girlfriend. Her breasts are unenhanced, and she is not on a first-name basis with the saleswomen at Neiman Marcus.”

“I look like something from the cast of Beetlejuice.” I laugh, kissing his neck. His low rumble vibrates against my body.

Callum removes a lock of my hair that has escaped my hair tie with the back of his palm and presses his lips to the flesh he just exposed at the base of my neck.

“I like Beetlejuice.”

He’s never watched it. He told me so on our first date, but correcting him seems redundant, and like I’m trying to find non-existent issues in our relationship.

“You know who else I like?” He dips his head down for another kiss. “You, in that Tiffany’s necklace I bought you.

Eh, yeah. The one he gave me, along with a sensible dress, because I’m cool, but not always cool enough to look the way I do next to his friends.

“Careful. I’m turning twenty-seven in a couple months. You might give me ideas,” I tease. The words feel empty on my tongue, but I know how much pleasure he takes in hearing this.

“My father told me not to threaten a whore with a dick. Do you know what that means, Aurora Belle Jenkins?”

That’s my tall, stockbroker, Wolf of Wall Street boyfriend. With his Eton and Oxford education. With his impeccable manners and dirty mouth.

The man whose only fault is being exactly what my mother wished for me.

Rich. Powerful. Well-bred.

Stable. Sweet. Boring.

What Mom doesn’t know is I like Callum despite all of those things, not because of them. It took me six months to relent to his persuasion, because I knew she’d like him, and the things my mother likes are usually artificial and shallow.

He’d been chasing me around for months. Finally, he showed up at the bar located beneath his apartment—coincidently the one I work at—and slammed his palm against the counter.

“Tell me what it’d take to make you mine,” he slurred that night.

“Stop looking put together and on the sanity spectrum,” I deadpanned. “You remind me of everything my mother wants. And my mother wants all the wrong things.”

“Is that why you keep saying no?” He frowned, confused. “I come here every night, begging for a chance, and you turn me down because your mother could like me, God forbid?”

I shrugged, reaching for another steaming-hot glass, wiping off the condensation.

“I’m a clusterfuck, love. I failed my first year at Oxford. Miserably. And not for lack of trying.”

I arched an eyebrow, giving him a really? smile. I needed more to work with.

Callum blew out air, shaking his arms like he was getting ready for a marathon.

“All right, let’s see. I have a birthmark the size of my fist on my arse. I still eat Lucky Charms for breakfast. Every. Single. Day. My personal trainer says I have the arms of Rhys Ifans, also known as Hugh Grant’s roommate in Notting Hill. I…I…I can’t swim!” He threw his arms up in the air, triumphed, as everyone around us lifted their heads from their drinks and smiled.

I chuckled, shaking my head. Maybe he was imperfect, but he was far from the kind of mess I was usually attracted to. Debbie, AKA Mom, had always complained that I only went for the last of the litter. The broken, misunderstood, messed-up ones who couldn’t offer me more than a heartache and STDs.

It wasn’t untrue. I didn’t look at men very much, but when I did, they always came with more issues than Vogue.

Callum had leaned forward then, his entire torso plastered on the counter, and framed his mouth with his hands, pretending to whisper in my ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“I’ve a feeling you will, anyway.”

“I think you were put on this earth to destroy me.”

I laughed, taking a step back. The conversation with Mal from all those years ago floated to the front of my mind, reminding me I’d heard those words before. Things Mal and I said to each other always lurked in the recesses of my thoughts.

Mal had told me I could kill him.

He didn’t know that in a way, he’d killed me, too.

Every day I lived without him slugged by like a snail, leaving a trail of slimy goo in its wake.

“Okay, fella. Time I call you a cab.” I tapped the back of Callum’s hand.

That was before I knew he owned the penthouse upstairs.

“I’m serious,” he pouted again.

He knew he was attractive. Knew his angles, the charm in his accent, how to work a girl into giving him her number. Unfortunately, I was immune.

Putting another clean glass aside, I threw the cloth over my shoulder.

“Can I tell you another secret?” He dragged his thumb across his lips.

That’s when I noticed his lips were ridiculously kissable, even without the pout.

“Do you always ask for permission before you say things?” I cocked my head.

He laughed. “Usually, believe it or not, I’m the one people ask permission from. Anyway, I’m not even drunk. This beer? It’s the only pint you’ve served me tonight, and it’s full. I don’t come here to get pissed, Aurora. I come here because of you.”

I paused, my eyes glued to his pint. He was telling the truth. I knew because I served him every night. It occurred to me that he was the exact opposite of Mal—the fancy clothes, the properness, the sobriety. Maybe he was what I needed to rid my mind of lingering thoughts of the Irish poet.

Which meant Callum was also the exact opposite of my father.

Which meant that for the sake of my sanity, I should at least give him a chance.

He was my redo. My second chance. My redemption.

“So? Would you give me one date?” he begged. “I promise to prove to be wonderfully unstable, with a dash of incompetence, and provide you with plenty of unpredictability.”

Fine.” I rolled my eyes with a giddy smile.

“Ha!” He slapped the bar in triumph. “It was the unstable bit that did it, wasn’t it?” He settled himself back down, pushing his beer away like he finally could, like it revolted him. “Always gets the ladies,” he said.

I take a deep breath, meeting Callum’s eyes in the ballroom. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me all about the whores and the dicks,” I say, his erection throbbing between my legs through his cigar pants and my dress.

For the record: Callum lied that night at the bar. Not one bone in his entire body is messy, risky, or uncalculated. As for the birthmark? His skin is as unmarred as a blank new sheet of paper.

Callum Brooks is attractive in a Nantucket-summer-house, two-point-five-children, Polo-shirts-and-golf-tournaments kind of way, with his pulled-up white socks, sandy blond hair, impressive height, and runner’s body. Summer, my best friend, likes to joke that he looks like David Duke’s dream candidate.

He looks into my eyes. “I’m a serial monogamist, thirty-two, and have been dating you for almost a year. Commitment doesn’t scare me, Rory. If I have it my way, you’ll move in with me tomorrow morning.”

I unbutton his blazer and loosen his tie, just to do something with my hands. I like Callum, too, but a year is still early in our relationship.

It took you twenty-four hours to promise Mal your forever, says the voice in my head.

I was also new to dick and non-self-induced orgasms. I proceed to make excuses for my eighteen-year-old self.

Callum ushers me to our table. We sit down next to a bunch of suits from accounting and marketing, who munch on their first-course ceviche and talk about hedge funds and newly popular beach towns that are driving people out of the Hamptons. Callum slides into the conversation effortlessly, sticking to his club soda—as he does, still without a drop of alcohol. I focus on my colleagues, trying to put the man in the VIP area behind me.

As I said before, it’s not Mal. And, okay, fine. Let’s humor the craziest part of my brain and say that it is him—so what? He didn’t see me. And I’m not going to approach him, either. He’s probably in town for a few days. Mal’s extremely devoted to his family, his farm, his country. I knew that when I met him. That man wouldn’t move to America. Not even for a girl.

Especially not for a girl.

Definitely not this girl.

As for money? He doesn’t care for it. Never did.

I nibble on a breadstick, down two glasses of wine, and find myself engrossed in a heated conversation, which has taken a turn from beach houses to the best public restrooms in Manhattan (Crate and Barrel on the corner of Houston and Broadway is in the lead), when Whitney, Ryner’s bitch-from-hell assistant, sashays over to our table, her hips swinging like a pendulum. Her short, platinum bob is cut with a precision that implies her hairdresser uses a ruler. She is wearing some sort of BDSM gown made of leather stripes that cover her nipples and midriff, and not much more. She cocks her head, pouting her scarlet lips.

Everyone stops talking, because Whitney knows how to keep a secret like I know how to stay away from carbs. Exhibit: breadsticks and wine.

“Aurora,” she purrs, parking a manicured hand on her waist.

Everyone calls me Rory, but Whitney calls me Aurora. I made the mistake of expressing my dislike for my name once during a pop star’s photo shoot she attended with Ryner. Since then, I’ve been Aurora to her. If I told her I was allergic to money, she’d immediately wire the company’s entire budget into my bank account.

There’s an idea.

“Whit.” I pop the last piece of breadstick into my mouth, not bothering to meet her eyes.

“Mr. Ryner would like to have a word with you on the balcony.” She glances at me under pinched eyebrows. I swear Whitney takes orgasmic pleasure in clearing her throat and adding suggestively, “Alone.

Squeezing my shoulder blades together and tilting my chin up, I head toward the VIP area’s terrace, knocking back my third glass of wine for liquid courage. Ryner is always two hundred pounds of sexual harassment, but especially when he is high and drunk. Which he definitely is right now. I tuck the napkin with the hotel logo into the pocket of my dress. Glancing back, I see Whitney sliding into my seat and casing her red-nailed claws on Callum’s shoulder, shooting him a sugary smile. Whitney would love nothing more than to prove she’s better than me. And she certainly is, if the criteria is best Desperate Housewives imposter from a plastic suburban neighborhood.

The last thing I catch is her whispering something intimate to Callum. He frowns and shakes his head, no. Whatever she told him, he seems upset by the suggestion.

Walking through the double doors, I find the balcony completely empty. It’s colder than my mother’s heart in here. I rub my arms, cursing myself for leaving my coat inside, and gait to the railing, admiring the view.

Not only is it freezing, but I’m always cold. Ever since I was born, ever since I can remember, I wear sweaters and fluffy jackets everywhere. It’s like there’s an invisible layer of ice coating my skin at all times.

I look up, blinking back at the stars, admiring their beauty even in this weather.

Approaching footsteps clack on the floor behind me. Something heavy falls on my shoulders. A rich wool coat, still warm from body heat. It smells masculine and expensive: clean earth, pine, smoke, and the type of cologne that’s too pricey for mass retail. A shadow looms by my side. He puts a glass of whiskey on the wide marble bannister, his elbow next to mine, almost touching, but not quite.

I twist my head, expecting to see Ryner, and come face to face with…Mal.

My Mal. It is him after all.

Malachy Doherty, with the lilac eyes. With the hypnotic smile. With the contract I signed on the napkin.

With the piece of my heart he never gave back.

Only he is not smiling anymore. It doesn’t look like he’s happy to see me.

He said if we ever met again, he’d marry me, no matter what. But that was almost a decade ago—under the influence of alcohol and lust and youth. Of possibility.

Mal opens his mouth. “Hello, darlin.”

At his rough Irish accent, my knees buckle, and I find myself grasping the bannister.

The first flakes of snow fall around us. On my nose. Eyelashes. Shoulders. A storm is brewing inside my snow globe.


LJShen.jpgL.J. Shen is a USA Today, Washington Post and Amazon #1 Best-selling author of contemporary, New Adult and YA romance. Her books have been sold to nineteen different countries.

She lives in California with her husband, son, cat and eccentric fashion choices, and enjoys good wine, bad reality TV shows and catching sun rays with her lazy cat.


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REVIEW TOUR ~ DIRTY LETTERS by Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward

Today we are thrilled to be sharing our review of New York Times bestselling authors Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward’s all-new contemporary romance stand-alone, DIRTY LETTERS

I’d never forgotten him—a man I’d yet to meet.

Griffin Quinn was my childhood pen pal, the British boy who couldn’t have been more different from me. Over the years, through hundreds of letters, we became best friends, sharing our deepest, darkest secrets and forming a connection I never thought could break.

Until one day it did.

Then, out of the blue, a new letter arrived. A scathing one—one with eight years of pent-up anger. I had no choice but to finally come clean as to why I stopped writing.

Griffin forgave me, and somehow we were able to rekindle our childhood connection. Only now we were adults, and that connection had grown to a spark. Our letters quickly went from fun to flirty to downright dirty, revealing our wildest fantasies. So it only made sense that we would take our relationship to the next level and see each other in person.

Only Griff didn’t want to meet. He asked that I trust him and said it was for the best. But I wanted more—more Griff, in the flesh—so I took a big chance and went looking for him. People have done crazier things for love.

But what I found could change everything.

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Narrated by Andi Arndt & Jacob Morgan

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Reviewed by Sharon Thérèse at KFF

When Ward and Keeland get together, I don’t even have to read the blurb because I know their dual-penmanship is going to get more than a laugh out of me. Seriously, this read stirs all the feels and has everything I look for in a romance. It’s different, refreshing and super entertaining. But saying that, the storyline has an incredibly sensitive touch to it, making me root full out for the heroine.

‘Stopping our communication was probably one of my biggest regrets in life.’

What the heck do you do when crowds make you come undone? It’s not an easy feat for Luca to handle her anxiety. She wants to. She just doesn’t know how to go about it. In steps her eccentric but adorable shrink and bestie who will make you giggle, listen to his solid advice and bowl you over with his hobby. Less said about this the better since you’ll find out that birds of the feather haven’t got as much to do with the plot…or do they! Okay, what is it about these two authors obsession with animals! They introduced us to the fainting goat in Cocky Bastard. Here, ladies, we have a PIG! An adorable squeaky, oink-oink creature which if you’re that way inclined, will make you want one, or at the very least, give it a hearty cuddle!

‘In my next life, I want to come back as a pig and be adopted by you. Is that weird?’

With made-up names, penpal letters had been the only way they’d communicated as youngsters. They’d become close friends and figuratively speaking, held each other’s hand in times of need. Suddenly, there was no news but then years later, a letter is received out of the blue. One conveys their grudge on paper without knowing the whys and wherefores of the other’s years of silence. Nonetheless, interests are piqued.

‘My mum used to say I hold grudges. But I prefer to think of it as I remember the facts. And the fact of the matter is, you suck.’

These two wasted no time getting to know their adult likes and dislikes. The Furbies…remember them? Once you find out what Luca told Griffin, I can see you all shopping online ‘cause they worked a steamy dream for her! Now then, I’m not really into reading so many subparagraphs but they are so enthralling that I couldn’t wait for either of them to receive each other’s reply. Naughty isn’t in it. Just wait until these two get together!

“Anyone I have to murder?”
“Not unless it’s a Furby.”

Griffin is to me like white chocolate. Not at all bitter and when its creamy flavour melts in your mouth, all those tastebud sensations rage for more. That is he! Nope, I’m trying not to swoon but honestly, he’s learning how to get to know this gal and being awfully considerate to boot. So how can a long-distance relationship work for them with so many handicaps? For sure, if it weren’t for the constant flow of letters and texts between these two, the whole story would have fallen flat.

“Just because something is easy doesn’t make it better. We have our issues. But being with you still feels better than anything in the world…”

Flirtatious banter is something Vi and Penelope have always given their readers. I also loved the music references and although Luca is happy for Griffin’s success, it’s short-lived because the mere fact is she knows if she can’t overcome a past happening, she’ll never fit into his world. She has the means, so why it’s such a struggle kinda caught me off balance. That being said, I have no personal reference to compare her fear factor with. You’ll have to read the book to see if she’s capable of grabbing the bull by the horns and doing something about it.

“We’re just so different, Griff. You’re a round hole, and I’m a square peg. We don’t fit.”

Low on angst but great one-liners, character development and a plot with a difference make for a worthy read. Bravo ladies!


© 2019 Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward
All rights reserved.


The small dining room table had a pile of mail. I’d had Dad’s mail forwarded to my house, so mostly it was just catalogues and junk. Once a month, Mrs. Cascio sent me everything that arrived, even though I’d told her it wasn’t necessary. I mindlessly fingered through the pile, not expecting to see anything worth keeping. But I stopped at an envelope addressed to me—well, not me, but Luca Ryan. That was a name I hadn’t heard in a long time. In second grade, my teacher, Mrs. Ryan, started a pen pal writing program with a small town in England. We weren’t allowed to use our real last names for safety reasons, so the entire class used her last name—hence I was Luca Ryan. I checked out the return address for the sender’s name.

  1. Quinn

Wow, really? It couldn’t be.

I squinted at the postmark. It was from a PO box in California, not England, but I didn’t know any other Quinn other than Griffin. And the handwriting did look pretty familiar. But it had been close to eight years since we’d exchanged letters. Why would he write now? Curious, I ripped it open and scanned right to the bottom of the letter for the name. Sure enough, it was from Griffin. I started at the beginning.

Dear Luca,

 Do you like scotch? I remember you said you didn’t like the taste of beer. But we never did get around to comparing our taste in hard liquor. Why is that, you might ask? Let me remind you—because you stopped answering my letters eight damn years ago. I wanted to let you know, I’m still pissed off about that. My mum used to say I hold grudges. But I prefer to think of it as I remember the facts. And the fact of the matter is, you suck. There, I’ve said it. I’ve been holding that shit in for a long time. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not obsessive or anything. I don’t sit in my house thinking about you all day long. In fact, there have been months that go by when thoughts of you don’t even enter my brain. But then some random thing will pop into my head out of the blue. Like I’ll see some kid in a pram eating black licorice, and I’ll think of you. Side note—I’ve tried it again as an adult, and I still think it tastes like the bottom of my shoe, so perhaps it’s that you just have no taste. You probably don’t even like scotch. Anyway, I’m sure this letter won’t find its way to you. Or if by some miracle it does, you won’t answer. But if you’re reading this, you should know two things.

  1. The Macallan 1926 is worth the extra cash. Goes down smooth.
  2. You SUCK.

 Later, traitor, Griffin

 What in the hell?

I’d never forgotten him—a man I’d yet to meet.

Griffin Quinn was my childhood pen pal, the British boy who couldn’t have been more different from me. Over the years, through hundreds of letters, we became best friends, sharing our deepest, darkest secrets and forming a connection I never thought could break.

Until one day it did.

Then, out of the blue, a new letter arrived. A scathing one—one with eight years of pent-up anger. I had no choice but to finally come clean as to why I stopped writing.

Griffin forgave me, and somehow we were able to rekindle our childhood connection. Only now we were adults, and that connection had grown to a spark. Our letters quickly went from fun to flirty to downright dirty, revealing our wildest fantasies. So it only made sense that we would take our relationship to the next level and see each other in person.

Only Griff didn’t want to meet. He asked that I trust him and said it was for the best. But I wanted more—more Griff, in the flesh—so I took a big chance and went looking for him. People have done crazier things for love.

But what I found could change everything.

Meet Penelope

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.

With over two million books sold, she is a twenty-one time New York Times bestseller and the author of over twenty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.

Sign up for Penelope’s mailing list now and be the first one notified when her new releases go live ➜ HERE

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Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over a hundred Bestseller lists and are currently translated in two dozen languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.

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other books by Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward

Park Avenue Play

Amazon: U.S | U.K | CAN | AUS 

Amazon Print: U.S | U.K | CAN | AUS

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Hate Notes

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Rebel Heir


iBooks | Nook | Kobo

Rebel Heart


iBooks | Nook | Kobo

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Dear Bridget, I Want You


iBooks | Nook | Kobo

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Cocky Bastard

Amazon | iTunes  | Kobo | B&N

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Stuck-Up Suit

Amazon | iBooks | B&N | Kobo

Also available on Audible and Paperback

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Playboy Pilot


iBooks | Nook | Kobo | Google Play


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Mister Moneybags


iBooks | Nook | Kobo 

Other books by Penelope

The Day He Came Back

Amazon: U.S | U.K | CAN | AUS

Apple Books | Nook | Kobo 

Amazon Paperback: U.S | U.K | CAN | AUS

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When August Ends

Amazon: U.S | U.K | CAN | AUS 

Apple Books | Nook | Kobo | Google Play 

Amazon Print  | Audio

KFF’S  4.5 ★ Review ➜ HERE

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Love Online

Amazon eBook: U.K | U.S | CANADA | AUSTRALIA 

Amazon Paperback 

iBooks | Nook | Kobo | Google Play

Amazon Audio | Audible

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Gentleman Nine


iBooks | Nook | Kobo | Google Play

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Drunk Dial


iBooks | Nook | Kobo

KFF’S  4 ★ Review ➜ HERE

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Mack Daddy


iBooks | Nook | Kobo

KFF’S  4 ★ Review ➜ HERE

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Room Hate


iBooks | Nook | Kobo 

KFF’S  4 ★ Review ➜ HERE

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Stepbrother Dearest


iBooks | Nook | Kobo

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Neighbor Dearest


iBooks | NookKobo

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Sins of Sevin

Amazon: US | UK

iBooks | B&N | Kobo

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Jake Undone (Jake #1)

Amazon | B&N | iBooks | Kobo

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Jake Understood (Jake #2)

Amazon | B&N | iBooksKobo

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Amazon | B&N | iBooks | Kobo

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My Sylar

Amazon | B&N |  iBooks | Kobo

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All Grown Up

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Apple Books | Nook | Kobo | Google Play

Amazon print | Audio

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We shouldn’t!

Amazon: U.S | U.K | CAN | AUS

Amazon Paperback | Audio

AppleBooks  | Nook | Google Play

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The Naked Truth


iBooks | Nook | Kobo | Google Play

Amazon print | Audio

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Sex, Not Love

Amazon | iBooks | B&N | Kobo

KFF’s  5 ★ Review ➜ HERE

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Beautiful Mistake


iBooks | B&N | Kobo | Google Play

KFF’s 5 ★ Review ➜ HERE

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iBooks | B&N | Kobo | Google Play


KFF’s 5 ★ Review ➜ HERE

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Amazon: US UK 

iBooks | B&N | Kobo 

KFF’s 5 ★ Review ➜ HERE

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The Baller

Amazon: US | UK 

iBooks | B&N | Kobo 

KFF’s 5 ★ Review ➜ HERE

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Life on Stage series (2 standalone books)


Amazon: US | UK

iBooks | Kobo | B&N

KFF’s 5 ★ Review ➜ HERE

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Amazon: US | UK

B&N | iBooks | Kobo

KFF’S  5 ★ Review ➜ HERE

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MMA Fighter series (3 standalone books)

Worth the Fight (MMA Fighter Series, Book One)

Amazon | B&N | Kobo Smashwords | iBooks

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Worth The Chance (MMA Fighter Series, Book Two)

Amazon | B&N | iBooks | Kobo | Smashwords

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Worth Forgiving (MMA Fighter Series, Book Three)

Amazon | B&N | iBooks | Kobo

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The Cole Series (2 book serial)

Belong to You (Cole Series, Book One)

Amazon: US  | UK | B&N | iBooks | Kobo

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Made for You (Cole Series, Book Two)

Amazon: US | UK | B&N | iBooks | Kobo

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Left Behind (A Young Adult Novel) by Vi Keeland & Dylan Scott

Amazon: US | UK

KFF’S  5 ★ Review ➜ HERE



Today we are thrilled to be sharing a brand new teaser for New York Times bestselling author Kendall Ryan’s all-new stand-alone novel in the
Hot Jocks series, TRYING TO SCORE,
releasing 12th November!

Teddy King excels at many things. Playing hockey. Check. Scoring on and off the ice. Check. Being stupidly attractive … Double check.

Despite his demanding schedule, he still finds time to annoy me. I knew him way back when. Before he was the guy everyone wanted a piece of, he was just a rebellious college co-ed and one of my more energetic study partners.

But secrets have a way of getting out, and a steamy encounter from our college days (that we probably shouldn’t have filmed) is about to cause a major scandal. Unless we can work together to stop it.

Teddy’s no stranger to hard work … but the thing he wants most?

Is me.

Note: This high-heat standalone is chock-full of scorching banter and steamy good times. He’s a testosterone-dripping hockey player who wants a second chance. She’s a tough as nails attorney intent on making partner. Frienemies to lovers. No cliffhanger. Enjoy!

Your favorite hot jocks are back with an all-new stand-alone novel. If you like sexy, confident men who know how to handle a stick (on and off the ice), and smart women who are strong enough to keep all those big egos in check, this series is perfect for you!

Pre-order is now available with your preferred retailer

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Add to Goodreads

Start listening to Try to Score narrated by Jason Clarke & Savannah Peachwood on 12th November!

Amazon: U.S | U.K | CAN | AUS


A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than three dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 2.5 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world.

Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than 70 times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine.

She lives in Texas with her husband and two sons.

Visit her at for the latest book news, and fun extras.

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Insatiable - CR banner

After all those years of being just friends, suddenly we’re insatiable.

Insatiable, an all-new irresistible friends-to-lovers romance from USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow is coming November 28th and we have the gorgeous cover for you!

Insatiable AMAZON

I didn’t mean to see him naked–it was an accident.

It had to be, right?

Because Noah McCormick and I have never been anything more than friends. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never once laid a finger on me. And even though he was a cute lifeguard at 16 and a hotter-than-hell sheriff’s deputy at 34, he’s always been that protective guy I could trust to keep his hands to himself. I never wanted to mess with that.

Until I walked in on him getting out of the shower and saw his hard, muscular body totally bare and dripping wet. At that moment I never wanted to mess with anything so badly in my entire life.

I should have covered my eyes. Said I was sorry. At the very least, I could have handed him a towel.

After all, I was only in town for a few days, and he was just doing me a favor by escorting me to my sister’s wedding. It wasn’t a real date.

But I didn’t apologize. And he didn’t cover up.

(Talk about a hot mess.)

After all those years of being just friends, suddenly we’re insatiable.

He’s made it clear he’s not interested in romance. Which is fine with me because

I’ve got a plane ticket back to my real life at the end of the week.

It’s all in fun…or is it?

Insatiable - PO

Pre-order your copy of Insatiable today!

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Be notified FIRST when Insatiable goes live

Cover Designer By Hang Le

Photographer: Regina Wamba

Insatiable - Teaser 8 PO

Harlow Headshot ColorMEET MELANIE

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, Succession, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.

Melanie is the author of the ONE & ONLY series, the AFTER WE FALL series, the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

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