True love never fades…

Broken With You, the next suspenseful tale in the all-new Stark Security series of standalones, from New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner, is available now!

After surviving a troubled childhood, Denise can’t believe that she’s blissfully married to her partner and soulmate. She’s confident that not even Mason’s long-term, deep-cover assignment will shake their bond. And she certainly doesn’t anticipate that when he finally walks back through her door that he’ll have no memory of her, himself, or their time together…

When Mason is pulled out of an operation gone bad, all he knows is what he’s told — that he was a covert agent, that he has information vital to national security somewhere in his head, and that they can tell him no more for fear of burying those hard-fought secrets even further. They tell him nothing else; not even that the beautiful woman who makes his heart beat faster is not just his partner, but also his wife.

The secret she must keep wrecks Denise, who wants only to return to Mason’s arms. But despite the desire that still burns hot between them, she can’t tell him who she is—or that she’s carrying his child.

But when dark forces threaten both their lives in order to retrieve the information trapped in Mason’s mind, it’s not their past that will be tested, but the tenuous new love now burning hot between them.

You don’t want to miss this sexy, suspenseful amnesia romance!

Excerpt:

The sidewalk was clear on both sides, and only a few empty cars dotted the parking area as heat shimmers rose off the asphalt. The world was a fucking inferno, but all things considered, that seemed apropos. Hadn’t he been tossed right out of the frying pan and into the fire?

A sign that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the fifties sat perched atop vertical steel poles and identified the rundown little motel as the Stay-A-While Motor Inn. Hopefully that was only a suggestion, because he wanted to get out of there sooner rather than later.

He walked down the sidewalk toward the sign, passing the pasted colored doors along the way. Green, room 106. Blue, room 105. Yellow, room 2014.

This path was familiar, and there was some comfort in that.

At the same time, having the full extent of his remembered life marked by the Easter egg colors of a half dozen doors weren’t exactly enough to have him jumping for joy.

The same woman was in the office. About sixty with Lucille Ball hair-he remembered I Love Lucy!

She smiled at him from behind a counter. “Well, you’re looking much better today. Got yourself some sleep, I guess?”

“I did,” he said, then cleared his throat as he glanced around the room. “You got a bus schedule?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, no. Where you heading?”

“Just meandering,” he said, as if he was Jack Reacher, and it was perfectly normal to wander aimlessly around the country.

“Well, let me see if I can find a schedule online for you.” She inched toward a computer that looked to be older than he was, but stopped midway down the counter to answer the phone as she rummaged through a drawer.

He cocked his head, his hand sliding into his pocket as his senses went on high alert.

The phone.

He relaxed.

Of course, He should have realized immediately. The numbers. They were a phone number. 323-555-0717.

“Oh, good, I found it,” she said after ending the call. She pulled a crumpled brochure from a drawer. “So the Greyhound station’s not too far away. That what you’re looking for? Or did you want local routes?”

“Greyhound,” he said, thinking of the 323 area code. “I need to make a phone call. And then I think I’ll head to Los Angeles.”

“Friends there?”

“I guess I’ll find out.”

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 4 Stars

Broken With You is not your typical second chance romance! What do you do when your husband comes out of a secret mission that caused him to have amnesia and you can’t tell him anything about your relationship for fear that he will never regain his memories and put national security at risk? It’s a slippery slope for Denise!

I felt her angst over not being able to tell Mason the truth, and all of the half-lies she had to tell him. And poor Jack/Mason! What a half-state he’s living in! It’s amazing, though, the things your body just remembers without even thinking about it. There were some really nice moments between them even when Jack had no idea he was Mason.

This book is part of a series that is a spin-off of JK’s Stark Security series; I have not read any of the other Stark books, but did not feel like I was missing pieces to the puzzle. While characters do cross over, this story is absolutely Denise and Mason’s tale.

I received an advanced copy and voluntarily left a review.

Download your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2V7GD9o

AppleBooks: https://apple.co/2SFsALc

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/BrokenWithYou

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About J. Kenner

Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over one hundred novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.

Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, “chicklit” suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal mommy lit.

JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations” and by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A six time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy) and in 2017 for Wicked Dirty in the same category. Her Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series (as Julie Kenner) is currently in development as a television show.

Her books have sold over three million copies and are published in over twenty languages.

In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas. She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats.

Connect with J. Kenner

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JKennerBooks/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/juliekenner/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/j-kenner

Stay up to date with J. Kenner by joining her mailing list: http://juliekenner.com/contact/subscribe-to-the-julie-kenner-newsletter/

Website: www.jkenner.com

The Locker Room by Meghan Quinn

Release Date: June 20th

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44010609-the-locker-room

AVAILABLE NOW!!!

FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2In9iDF

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Blurb:

Have you heard the rumor around campus about the locker room?

If you haven’t, let me enlighten you: Legend has it if you bring a girl into the sacred after-game domain of the baseball locker room, it will end with a walk down the aisle. One rowdy and naked encounter against the lockers with the girl of your dreams will make her your wife.

Translation: baseball players are stupidly superstitious and believe the locker room has magical powers.

But not all baseball players are superstitious, me included.

So when the girl I’ve fallen for brushes me off, I start to question if I need to switch my way of thinking. Maybe it’s time I finally hand out a coveted invitation to the locker room.

The only question is, will she accept?

Excerpt:

This map is useless.

Easy to read, my ass. I need a magnifying glass to make out any of the color-coded buildings on this thing and unfortunately, I left my magnifying glass in my other skirt. That was sarcasm, if you didn’t catch it.

Standing next to a wonky-looking tree, I try to act as casual as possible—hip popped out, interested glances, the usual—as I hide a school map beneath the pages of Pride and Prejudice , while off-handedly looking for the MacMillan building. But the wind—though subtle—isn’t making things easy.

Recently transferred from Cal State, Fullerton, I’m attempting to avoid making a fool of myself on the first day of fall classes at my new school, Brentwood University.

Unfortunately, I’m way out of my element.

For one, I know nothing about this school other than they have the best library sciences program in the country. Making the transfer a no-brainer for me the minute I realized I wanted to be a librarian. I dabbled in business at Cal State, but who was I kidding? I had no right trying to figure out micro-and macroeconomics.

A California girl through and through, Illinois is nothing like the palm trees and beaches I’ve grown up with. Don’t get me wrong, there are trees here, huge, plush, green trees everywhere, the kind of trees Bob Ross made dance on his canvas. But the smog . . . I have no idea where that is. Breathing fresh air almost feels wrong. And apparently pizza is a big deal here. I’ve heard at least three separate arguments since I’ve moved about which pizza in town is best. Let’s all be friends and be grateful there is good pizza here.

And even though this is a “small” school town outside Chicago, it’s larger than life with boisterous personalities and ivy-covered buildings that cause me to believe I’m walking on the hallowed grounds where the prosperous were educated.

Plus, I had to buy leggings for all my skirts, because the temperature doesn’t call for bare legs out here.

The wind picks up again, lifting my skirt and map at the same time. Not wanting to be known as the resident flasher on campus, I save the skirt—because even though I have leggings, I chose not to wear them today—and tamp it back down on my legs as the map lifts from my book, floats into the air, twirling and swirling only to smack a passing guy right in the face.

Whap .

“What the—?” He startles and I jump into action.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, scrambling to hold my skirt down while clutching my parted book at my chest.

The map is slowly peeled away and a pair of beautiful light blue eyes peek past the paper first, followed by the sharpest jawline I’ve ever seen, defined and tense. Light scruff matches his dirty-blond hair that is swept to the left and cut short on the sides. Dressed in a green Brentwood baseball sweatshirt and wearing a jaw-dropping smile, he chuckles and hands me the map while eyeing me up and down.

Why is he so familiar?

Those eyes.

“Not a problem, but you could have asked for help if you were lost. Slapping me with a map is an aggressive tactic, effective, but aggressive.”

That voice, that smirk. I know it from somewhere.

Feeling a light blush creep up my cheeks, I say, “Not used to the wind.”

He nods and thumbs behind him. “Lake Michigan. It’s a bitch in the winter.” He studies me for a second and then nods at my map. “Where you headed? I can help.” There is the smallest southern drawl in his voice, nothing strong, but enough to tell me he’s not from Illinois.

I know that voice. I remember specifically thinking it was hot.

Tamping down my map and folding it in my book that I snap shut quickly, I say, “I promised I’d figure this all out on my own, but looks like I might need a little help after all.”

“Don’t blame yourself; this campus is a maze with no rhyme or reason. I was lost my entire first semester. Can’t tell you how many times I was late to class.”

“That’s reassuring.”

He tilts his head to the side and gives me a small once-over. “I know you.” I don’t say anything and just as his eyes land on my chest, a smile creeps over his face, a light bulb lighting in his head. “You’re the girl who helped me find my room on Saturday.”

Oh.

Shit.

It’s the yellow-door baseball guy.

He leans forward, hands stuffed in his pockets and says, “I never forget a good pair of tits.”

As if I wasn’t blushing enough already.

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 5 Forever Oreos

Holy Oreos! The Locker Room had me laughing so hard — and then crying. From the first moment they met, Knox and Emory had my heart.

Emory has some major walls around her heart, due to a past relationship gone bad. Knox is completely smitten, but agrees to just be friends. So he can wear her down, perhaps! Little by little, Knox proves to Emory that he’s nothing like her ex, and shows her how she should be treated, revered and worshipped.

What I really loved about The Locker Room is that Em and Knox have a no-sex bet. I can’t remember the last time I read a college-set YA book where the H/h are purposely not having sex! But that device works so incredibly well in this story. Not only does it lead to some hot dry-humping scenes, but the build-up and anticipation was just about killing me! But it also leads to some incredibly sweet and romantic moments. The scene where Knox takes care of her when she’s suffering from a migraine? Swoon!

And then… this book slayed me. I wanted to throw my kindle and yell at Meghan for pulling such a stunt. Was I really reading that they way it happened? MQ has a great way of using text messages in her book to show the evolution of a relationship, but in The Locker Room, she uses the exchanges to show the decline between Knox and Emory. Everything they promised wouldn’t happen did, all of the rules they wrote down were broken.

When they finally find their way back to one another, it is magical. Once they move past the anger and rage and hurt, the reunion is worth every bit of the wait.

The secondary characters — both Knox and Em’s friends — are entertaining, and left me hoping that we will see them be the focus of their own books. Heck, I’d even love to see Knox’s mom find a guy. The woman is hysterical! And there’s a great wink to sports agent Roark from MQ’s Diary Of A Bad Boy!

The entire time I was reading The Locker Room, I was wondering when the heck Knox would take Emory there. And when he finally — FINALLY — does, it’s at the perfect moment to seal the deal on their relationship. I absolutely adored this book! I received an advanced copy and voluntarily left a review.

About the Author:

USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.

Connect with Meghan:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

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Website: http://authormeghanquinn.com

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/meghan-quinn

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2LitE4x

Handle With Care, an all-new romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting is coming August 27th, and we have a sneak peek!

HE WANTS TO LOSE CONTROL.

Between his parents’ messed up marriage and his narcissistic younger brother, Lincoln Moorehead has spent the majority of his life avoiding his family. After the death of his father, Lincoln finds himself in the middle of the drama. To top it all off, he’s been named CEO of Moorehead Media, much to his brother’s chagrin. But Lincoln’s bad attitude softens when he meets the no-nonsense, gorgeous woman who has been given the task of transforming him from the gruff, wilderness guy to a suave businessman

SHE’S TRYING TO HOLD IT TOGETHER.

Wren Sterling has been working double time to keep the indiscretions at Moorehead Media at bay, so when she’s presented with a new contract, with new responsibilities and additional incentives, she agrees. Working with the reclusive oldest son of a ridiculously entitled family is worth the hassle if it means she’s that much closer to pursuing her own dreams. What Wren doesn’t expect is to find herself attracted to him, or for it to be mutual. And she certainly doesn’t expect to fall for Lincoln. But when a shocking new Moorehead scandal comes to light, she’s forced to choose between her own family and the broody, cynical CEO.

Pre-order your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2VGJ83p

AppleBooks: https://apple.co/2VXTyvK

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/HandleWithCare

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Excerpt from Chapter One

Chapter One

What Have I Gotten Myself into?

Wren

I slip onto the empty bar stool beside the lumberjack mountain man who looks like he tried to squeeze himself into a suit two sizes too small. He’s intimidatingly broad and thick, with long dark hair that’s been pulled up into a haphazard man bun thing. His beard is a hipster’s wet dream. His scowl, however, makes him about as approachable as a rabid porcupine. And yet, here I am, sidling up next to him.

He glances at me, eyes bleary and not really tracking. He quickly focuses on his half-empty glass again. Based on the slump of his shoulders and the uncoordinated way he picks up his glass and tips it toward his mouth, I’m guessing he’s pretty hammered. I order a sparkling water with a dash of cranberry juice and a lime.

What I could really use is a cup of lavender-mint tea and my bed, but instead, I’m sitting next to a drunk man in his thirties. My life is extra glamorous, obviously. And no, I’m not an escort, but at the moment I feel like my morals are on the same kind of slippery slope.

“Rough day?” I ask, nodding to the bottle that’s missing more than half its contents. It was full when he sat down at the bar an hour ago. Yes, I’ve been watching him the entire time, waiting for an opportunity to make my move. While he’s been sitting here, he’s turned down two women, one in a dress that could’ve doubled as a disco ball and the other in a top so low-cut, I could almost see her navel.

“You could say that,” he slurs. He props his cheek on his fist, eyes almost slits. I can still make out the vibrant blue hue despite them being nearly closed. They move over me, assessing. I’m wearing a conservative black dress with a high neckline and a hem that falls below my knees. Definitely not nearly as provocative as Disco Ball or Navel Lady.

“That solving your problems?” I give him a wry grin and tip my chin in the direction of his bottle of Johnnie.

His gaze swings slowly to the bottle. It gives me a chance to really look at him. Or what I can see of his face under his beard, anyway.

“Nah, but it helps quiet down all the noise up here.” He taps his temple and blurts, “My dad died.”

I put a hand on his forearm. It feels awkward, and creepy on my part since its half-genuine, half-contrived comfort. “I’m so sorry.”

He glances at my hand, which I quickly remove, and refocuses on his drink. “I should be sorry too, but I think he was mostly an asshole, so the world might be better off without him.” He attempts to fill his glass again, but his aim is off, and he pours it on the bar instead. I rush to lift my purse and grab a handful of napkins to mop up the mess.

“I’m drunk,” he mumbles.

“Well, I’m thinking that might’ve been the plan, considering the way you’re sucking that bottle back. I’m actually surprised you didn’t ask for a straw in the first place. Might be a good idea to throw a spacer [CD3] in there if you want tomorrow morning to suck less.” I push my drink toward him, hoping he doesn’t send me packing like he did the other women who approached him earlier.

He narrows his eyes at my glass, suspicious, maybe. “What is that?”

“Cranberry and soda.”

“No booze?”

“No booze. Go ahead. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He picks up the glass and pauses when it’s an inch from his mouth. His eyes crinkle, telling me he’s smiling under that beard. “Does that mean Imma wake up with you beside me?”

I cock a brow. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Shit, sorry.” He chugs the contents of my glass. “I was joking. Besides, I’m so wasted, I can barely remember my name. Pretty sure I’d be useless in bed tonight. I should stop talkin’.” He scrubs a hand over his face and then motions to me. “I wouldn’t proposition you.”

I’m not sure how to respond. I go with semi-affronted, since it seems like somewhat of an insult. “Good to know.”

“Dammit. I mean, I think you might be hot. You look hot. I mean attractive. I think you’re pretty.” He tips his head to the side and blinks a few times. “You have nice eyes, all four of them are lovely.”

This time I laugh—for real—and point to the bottle. “I think you might want to tell your date you’re done for the night.”

He blows out a breath and nods. “You might be right.” He makes an attempt to stand, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, he stumbles into me and grabs my shoulders to steady himself. “Whoa. Sorry. Yup, I’m definitely drunk.” His face is inches from mine, breath smelling strongly of alcohol. Beyond that, I get a whiff of fresh soap and a hint of aftershave. He lets go of my shoulders and takes an unsteady step back. “I don’t usually do this.” He motions sloppily to the bottle. “Mostly I’m a three drink max guy.”

“I think losing your father makes this condonable.” I slide off my stool. Despite being tall for a woman, and wearing heels, he still manages to be close to a head taller than me.

“Yeah, maybe, but I still think I might regret it tomorrow.” He’s incredibly unsteady, swaying while standing in place. I take the opportunity for what it is and thread my arm through his, leading him away from the bar. “Come on, let’s get you to the elevator before you pass out right here.”

He nods, then wobbles a bit, like moving his head has set him off balance. “That’s probably a good idea.”

He leans into me as we weave through the bar and stumbles on the two stairs leading to the foyer. There’s no way I’ll be able to stop him if he goes down, but I drape one of his huge arms over my shoulder anyway, and slip my own around his waist, guiding him in a mostly straight line to the elevators.

“Which floor are you on?” I ask.

“Penthouse.” He drops his arm from my shoulder and flings it out, pointing to the black doors at the end of the hall. “Jesus, I feel like I’m on a boat.”

“It’s probably all the alcohol sloshing around in your brain.” I take his elbow again, helping him stagger the last twenty feet to the dedicated penthouse elevator.

He stares at the keypad for a few seconds, brow pulling into a furrow. “I can’t remember the code. It’s thumbprint activated though too.” He stumbles forward and presses his forehead against the wall, then tries to line up his thumb with the sensor, but his aim is horrendous and he keeps missing.

I settle a hand on his very firm forearm. This man is built like a tank. Or a superhero. For a moment, I reconsider what I’m about to do, but he seems pretty harmless and ridiculously hammered, so he shouldn’t pose a threat. I’m also trained in self-defense, which would fall under the by any means necessary umbrella. “Can I help?”

Read the rest of Chapter One: http://bit.ly/2ZBt0RL

About the Author:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She’s writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

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The Man I Need (Ward Duet #2) by Shanora Williams
Release Date: June 13th

Add to Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44438612-the-man-i-need

THE WARD DUET IS COMPLETE!!

Grab The Man I Need Today!!
FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2MvUMgR
Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/TMIN

Start the Duet with The Man I Can’t Have
FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2LqXsMv
Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/TMICH

Blurb:
There are things that women want, and things that women need.
I know deep down, with every fiber in my body, that I need Mr. Ward.

He started out as my landscape designer, but became so much more.
Now, my life is on the line while living with the devil himself. I have been torn down and broken, and I don’t think I can take anymore.

The man I need was never the one I married.
No, the man I need is the one I was never supposed to have. He’s the one who showed me gentleness, kindness, and true love.

Ward would put up a fight for me at any cost.
I know for a fact, I could be so much happier with him…

But when I come face-to-face with reality, I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to risk it all for someone I’ve just met, even if it seems like Mr. Ward and I are a match made in heaven.

Excerpt
When I hear a door slam upstairs, I weakly push up to a stand. I sniffle loudly as I clean up the broken shards from the glass, careful not to cut myself with any of it. I wipe up the water and spaghetti next, leaving the stained red rag in the sink.

Turning toward the double doors, I draw in a shaky breath and push them open. I walk out, crossing the patio to get to the gate that leads to the beach.

I don’t know why, but I feel numb now. My mind is reeling, but my body moves, doing its own thing.

Wrapping my arms around myself as soon as my feet hit the sand, I walk close to the shoreline and finally, my mind syncs with my body.

I break down, knees hitting the gravelly sand as my face lands in my hands.

I’m not sure how long I cry, sob after sob taking over me, but when I stop, the sunset that was just ahead of me is barely visible now.

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 4 Stars

The Man I Need is the second book in a duet, and picks up right where The Man I Can’t Have left off with a shocking cliffhanger. So stop right now, and go read that book first.

Poor Gabby has been through so much. And despite everything working against them, Marcel is so patient and kind and supportive. The man she needs is the man she shouldn’t have. Cheating is usually a non-starter for me, but that is such a part of Gabby and Marcel’s forbidden story that I just had to accept it and move on. The cheating does not happen just for the sake of cheating, because Gabby’s story as a victim of domestic abuse is so much more intense than that.

This book definitely has some triggers, but the story is beautifully written and intense and raw and extremely emotional.

I received an advanced copy and voluntarily left a review.

About the Author:
Shanora Williams is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who loves writing about flawed heroes and resilient heroines. She is a believer that love outweighs all, but doesn’t have a problem making her characters fight for their happily ever after.

She currently lives in Charlotte, North Carolina and is the mother of two amazing boys, has a fiercely devoted and supportive husband, and is a sister to eleven.

When she isn’t writing, she’s spending time with her family, binge reading, or running marathons on Netflix while scarfing down chocolate chip cookies.

Connect w/Shanora:
Website: https://shanorawilliams.com/
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