Is it possible to have her cupcake and eat it too?

Kiss My Cupcake, an all-new laugh-out-loud standalone romance filled with witty banter and white-hot sexual chemistry from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting is available now!

Blaire Calloway has planned every Instagram-worthy moment of her cupcake and cocktails shop launch down to the tiniest detail. What she didn’t plan on? Ronan Knight and his old-school sports bar next door opening on the very same day. He may be super swoony, but Blaire hasn’t spent years obsessing over buttercream and bourbon to have him ruin her chance at success.

From ax throwing (his place) to frosting contests (hers), Blaire and Ronan are constantly trying to one-up each other in a battle to win new customers. But with every clash, there’s also an undeniable chemistry. When an even bigger threat to their business comes to town, they’re forced to call a temporary time-out on their own war and work together. And the more time Blaire spends getting to know the real Ronan, the more she wonders if it’s possible to have her cupcake and eat it too.

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 5 Stars

This rivals romance was so much fun! I love all the snark that Blaire gives to Ronan, and their little game of one-upmanship is hysterical. This book is all kinds of sexy and sweet, with a dirty-talking hero and a uptight baker who can’t stand the sight of him… at first. But as Ronan and Blaire join forces against a bigger threat in the neighborhood, she finds that he’s not all that bad of a guy. And the bickering becomes the biggest form of foreplay with these two.

Her family is a bunch of whackadoodles, and I loved how — even though they were barely friends at the time — Ronan sticks up for Blaire amid all of the put-downs and slams her family dishes out along with Thanksgiving dinner. At first glance, June Cleaver-loving Blaire and “tattoo lumberjerk” Ronan are complete opposites. But as they get to know one another, they learn that they have so much in common. And her love for 50s dresses was born from a similar place as his penchant for plaid shirts.

I wish that Helena Hunting would have given some kind of recipe list to go along with Kiss My Cupcake, because some of those creations that Blaire sells sound incredible!!

I received an advanced copy from the publisher via NetGalley and voluntarily left a review.

Excerpt

I take a bite, not as big as I originally intended, because that’s probably what she expects and I want to prolong the agony of her anticipation as much as I humanly can. I intend to tell her it’s just okay, except the moment the flavors hit my tongue I groan. Loudly. “Oh my God,”I mumble, crumbs tumbling out of my mouth and sprinkling all over the counter. Which I realize is disgusting.

But Blaire doesn’t seem to care. She grins widely, satis- faction and triumph making her face even more stunning. I consider asking what this is, but decide I don’t care enough to stop eating it. There’s coffee in the icing, but it’s not overly sweet, it’s light and buttery and decadently creamy. The cake practically melts in my mouth, hints of . . . whiskey, cocoa and vanilla and with the next bite I get a hit of creamy custard with a gentle hint of . . . almond.

Blaire doesn’t seem to notice the mess I’m making. At all. She’s sucking on her bottom lip and bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her lip pops free, teeth marks still evident. “Enjoying yourself.”It’s not a question, more of an accusation.

I want to shove the rest of it in my face instead of answering, but I lift my hand to cover my mouth so I can ask a question instead of affirm what she clearly already knows. “What is it?”

A slow smirk spreads across her lips.

She doesn’t say anything right away, so I jam the rest of it in my mouth. Half of me wants to beg her for more, but I know if I do, then somehow I’ve managed to give her the upper hand. Which is ridiculous. It’s just a cupcake, and regardless of what she thinks, we’re not really competing with each other. For the YouTube thing sure, but I don’t see how she can win against me and my kickass cool bar and the axe throwing. And now the whole live bands idea and karaoke.

The cupcakes-and-cocktails theme is cute. But that’s about all it is.

I try to keep my groan in this time, but a sound of contentment slips out.

“So you like my screaming orgasms?” she asks.

Which is when I start coughing. I also try to inhale with food in my mouth and choke. And cough some more. Blaire takes a step back since I’m spraying the counter with half- chewed cupcake. It’s a travesty because I want that all in my belly and not on the counter.

“Are you okay?” she asks when I continue to cough for another solid fifteen seconds.

“Yeah.” Cough. “I just”—cough—“didn’t expect that.”

“It’s the name of the cupcake,” she informs me.

“I figured, since you didn’t scream even once.”

“I’m not a screamer.” Her eyes flare, as if she didn’t mean for that to slip out.

Now it’s my turn to smirk. “Is that right?”

She spins around, but I can see her face in the mirrored wall in front of her. Her ears have gone red and she mutters something to herself, nabbing the box from the bar behind her. She rolls her shoulders back and turns to face me again. Her cheeks are the same color as her ears. She drops the box unceremoniously on the counter. “I figured you’d want more than one.”

“Yes. Definitely.” I nod.

“Multiples really are the best.” Her cheek tics, and the tips of her ears look as if they’re going to light on fire and take all her hair with it. I wonder how much product she uses to keep it looking so perfect and if it’s soft to the touch or not.

“I love multiples.” Both the giving and the receiving. I leave that part out, because I would prefer to eat the cupcakes, not wear them, and I feel like we’re suddenly treading a very fine line. Either that or we’ve already jumped right over it. I shake my head to clear it. “Uh, what do I owe you?”

“Those are on the house. Enjoy your night.”

Blaire usually happily charges me full price for my cupcake addiction. Although she does tend to toss in an extra one for good measure. I’m tempted to ask if I’m going to end up hogtied in the trunk of a car if I eat the rest of these, but I figure that might be pushing it. “I can’t imagine anyone has ever said no to free multiple screaming orgasms.”

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About Helena Hunting

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 writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

Connect with Helena

Instagram: http://bit.ly/2kN5wdZ
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Website: http://www.helenahunting.com/
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Budget cuts.

Beach candy.

Baby stingrays being called baby sharks resulting in
momentary mass panic.

All part of the gig for lifeguard section chief, Brooklyn
Headley.

Between uncomfortably long work shifts and pineapple infused
family meals, life is almost painfully predictable.

That is until Scott “Ax” Maxwell throws her a
lifesaver.

Now she’s slow dancing to ukulele covers, trying not to fall
of surfboards, and engaging in some not so conventional activities between the
sheets.

Their fun times, however, meet new waves of trouble when her
younger sister unexpectedly needs a specific type of help that Ax is capable of
providing.

Can their relationship survive the uncharted, choppy waters
ahead or will Brooklyn be forced back to the boring shore she knows all too
well?

Download your copy Today!

🔥🔥 HOT NEW RELEASEL 🔥🔥

Troublemaker by Kayley Loring is LIVE!! A teacher is about to get schooled in matters of the heart by a single dad and his young son. #One-click today!

BLURB

TO: Alex Vega

FROM: Emilia Stiles

SUBJECT: Hello

Dear Mr. Vega,

I felt it necessary to follow up on today’s meeting, since we weren’t able to speak candidly in front of your son.

I was shocked to discover that you are Ryder’s dad. Given that your ex-wife will be out of the country for a while and you are currently his primary caregiver, I’m sure you understand why we need to establish boundaries and etiquette. I think it would be best if we just pretend that we met in person for the first time today.

Your son is a very bright (flirtatious and talkative) student and since his education is a top priority for both of us, I hope I can count on you to respectfully refrain from grinning at me, using that sexy tone of voice, and undressing me with your annoyingly beautiful brown eyes if we should happen to interact with each other again in the future.

Thanks so much,

Miss Stiles

TO: Emilia Stiles

FROM: Alex Vega

SUBJECT: Re: Well, hello again…

Dear Miss Stiles,

Great to hear from you. My son’s education is indeed a top priority. As such, I respectfully agree to refrain from doing all of the aforementioned things.

However, I can’t promise to stop thinking about that kiss at the bar this summer. I’ve been thinking about it for the past month. It’s interesting how humorless and uptight you are about my son’s totally awesome personality, given that I have personally witnessed just how flirtatious and talkative you yourself can be when mildly intoxicated.

You’re so welcome,

Alex

P.S. I volunteered to be a chaperone for your next field trip. See you then.

Add to your Goodreads TBR: https://bit.ly/TM_GR

Cover designed by Kari March Designs

Cover photo by Regina Wamba

Audiobook is coming in September and will be narrated by Zachary Webber and Mackenzie Cartwright!

PURCHASE LINKS

Amazon US ➜ https://bit.ly/TM_AMZ_US

Amazon UK ➜ https://bit.ly/TM_AMZ_UK

Amazon AU ➜ https://bit.ly/TM_AMZ_AU

Amazon CA ➜ https://bit.ly/TM_AMZ_CA

GIVEAWAY

To celebrate the release of Troublemaker, Kayley Loring is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card. Stop by her Facebook page to enter:

https://www.facebook.com/authorkayleyloring/

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 5 Stars

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Before writing steamy romantic comedy novels, Kayley Loring got a BFA in creative writing from a Canadian university and had a fifteen-year career as a screenwriter in Los Angeles (under a different name). She mostly wrote PG-13 family comedies that studios would pay her lots of money for and then never make into movies. In 2017 she decided to move to the Pacific Northwest and write about all the fun stuff that she wasn’t allowed to write about in those PG-13 scripts. Now she’s breathing cleaner air and writing dirtier words. It’s an adjustment she’s happily getting used to.

AUTHOR LINKS

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

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

Facebook Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/kayleyville/

Website: https://www.kayleyloring.com/

Release Date: August 11

When I was sixteen, I was madly in love with Ryder Casey.

He was kind, he was loving, he was everything. 

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 5 Stars

Taylor has been writing since the tender age of seven, when her mother bought her her first typewriter. Once she finished her first work, a tall tale about a girl with hair that grew too fast, her father told her she should be published. And so, her lifelong dream of becoming a published writer was born. 

“Deliciously real, modern, hot, and funny.”
—New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans

Want You to Want Me, a sexy friends-to-lovers contemporary romance from New York Times bestselling author Lorelei James is available now!

Hockey player Gabriella “Gabi” Welk spent her life in pursuit of championships, but she has little to show for it besides dusty trophies and second-place medals. Now her career consists of several part-time jobs to make ends meet. When Gabi gets a chance at her dream job, she swallows her pride and asks her nemesis—smart, sexy and savvy Nolan Lund—for help.

Since being named future CEO of Lund Industries, Nolan has tried hard to overcome his reputation as a fun-loving playboy and ladies’ man. For the first time ever, he’s more focused on the company than his personal life. He spends his free time at the ice rink his brother owns, cheering on his niece at her hockey games…and watching Gabriella Welk, the superstar athlete and assistant coach who gets under his skin in a way he can’t ignore. He’s shocked when Gabi agrees to trade a favor for a favor.

They have little in common besides their mutual mistrust, but between family crises and sibling rivalries, Nolan and Gabi realize they want to be more than just friends—much more.

Download your copy today!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3c2p2rE
Apple Books: https://apple.co/2RuWcbD
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Add WANT YOU TO WANT ME to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/34yNM8A

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 4 Stars

Meet Lorelei James

Lorelei James is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of steamy westerns in the Rough Riders series and the Blacktop Cowboys® series, steamy romance in the Mastered series, contemporary romance in the Need You series and Want You series, and the New Adult Rough Riders Legacy series, as well as several stand-alone novels and novellas. Lorelei’s books have been nominated for and won the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award as well as the CAPA Award. Lorelei also writes gritty mysteries under the name Lori Armstrong. Both she and her alter ego live in western South Dakota–yes, by choice–with her husband, and Copper, their crazy corgi who has made their empty nest more interesting.

Connect with Lorelei

Facebook: https://bit.ly/3f8sB0W
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Home

Website: http://www.loreleijames.com

THAT SWOONY FEELING: by Meghan Quinn

Release Date: August 6th

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2EoUZPv

AVAILABLE NOW!!!

FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3gdW7DK

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/3hGg860

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/3043Ka3

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/3hKMooI

BLURB:

USA Today bestselling author Meghan Quinn brings more humor and heart with the fourth novel of her Getting Lucky series: a story about breaking curses and finally finding that swoony feeling.

I’m single . . . so single it’s painful.

Yup, ladies, Brig Knightly–that’s me–is still a lonely bachelor, stumbling through the streets of Port Snow, looking for the girl he’s supposed to end up with.

That is until my brother, Rogan, presents me with the opportunity of a lifetime. The Summer of Love, a secret pen pal program in Port Snow is looking for applicants and I’m the perfect fit.

I couldn’t sign up fast enough.

I found myself quickly falling in love with a pair of red lips at the bottom of a letter. Just like in the movies . . .

Life could not have been better, that was until I started hanging out with Ruth Barber. Starting a new business right next to my shop, I found myself gravitating toward her. Her smile, her humor . . . her tea sandwiches.

My attraction for Ruth came in full force, leaving me dazed, confused, and *ahem* excited.

As new feelings for two women come to a screeching halt, I have to figure out who to choose. But when I discover my pen pal is Ruth, it might be too late.

All I want in life is to experience that swoony feeling . . . but I think I might have just missed my chance.

PROLOGUE:

Hands stuffed in my pockets, I look at Reid while nibbling on the corner of my lip. “But—”
“Brig, I swear to God,” Reid says, dragging his hand down his face while we make our way past Jackson Square, toward Café Du Monde. “Do not ask about your penis turning green one more goddamn time. We all looked at it. It’s flesh colored. Any signs of green you might have seen was from the shit lighting in the bathroom. Now, drop it.”
“Yeah, okay,” I sigh, even though I don’t feel convinced.
Something happened last night.
Something terrifying.
Something that has left me shaking in my shoes—because I don’t wear boots—wanting to rip my pants down repeatedly to make sure things are still intact.
Two days ago, I turned twenty-one, and to celebrate the youngest Knightly’s freedom to hold a beer in his hand legally, my three brothers took me to New Orleans to party in style. And we did . . . up until last night, when the depths of hell tried to swallow us all whole.
Mom warned us, saying, “Don’t get into any trouble.”
My dad slapped the back of our heads before we left and told us to use our brains.
Even our sister, the oldest and wisest of the Knightly children, stared us in the eyes and told us not to do anything stupid.
And yet, we failed all of them.
Have you ever been to New Orleans? Neither had I, but I’d heard great things about the place. Drinking in the streets and peekaboo boobs on every corner.
Beignets and rice and beans.
Scandalous fun.
Sounded like a great time.
But after doing extensive research before the trip—I like to plan ahead—the one thing I wanted to avoid, the one thing that made me extremely nervous, was the voodoo magic prevalent on the grimy cobblestone streets.
You know what I’m talking about. The dark stuff, the chilling life-altering spells that can change you as a man . . . as a human.
*Whispers* Black magic . . .
We did a great job avoiding any and all scary things, until last night, when I inadvertently ran smack dab into the palms of evil.
Shocking news: I was drunk. I couldn’t tell if I was walking on cobblestone streets last night or lobster rolls—that’s how far gone I was—so when I stumbled over a palm reader’s table and broke it, I wasn’t exactly aware of the severity of my mistake.
She roared with displeasure.
Her eyes tore through me with veritable hatred that shook me to the tip of my dick.
And her gangly fingers rattled while she spoke vehemently.
Terrified out of my wits, I held up my palm while my brothers tossed her twenty bucks and asked her to read it.
I wish I could remember what she said.
The future she spoke of is all a blur at this point. Pretty sure she said something about how incredibly handsome I am and how I outshine my brothers with the curves of my jaw, but I can’t be quite sure. The boys deny that part of the story, but they don’t deny the stark hatred that spit like venom from the petrifying woman’s mouth.
My brothers, of course, didn’t make the situation any better by making fun of her predictions. They actually sparked the flame that set the fire. I might be telling this wrong—you know, completely wasted and all—but the moment the palm reader turned an evil shade of hate, I felt every ounce of fun-loving booze seep from the bottom of my feet and out into the streets, sobering me up to the point of understanding.
In a whirlwind of vengeful movements, her arms waved about, the wind swirled around us, trash from the streets danced around my jean-covered legs, and the palm reader’s eyes turned yellow—I confirmed that fact with all three brothers this morning.
Indeed, her eyes were yellow.
And then she said something I will never forget . . .
This wretch of a wench cloaked in the devil’s garb took our fate into her own hands and punished us with broken love.
Broken.
Love.
If you know me at all, you’d know that would cut deep to my very being.
Then Reid said something about her telling us our dicks were going to fall off or turn green; can’t be sure, because I was stunned. Stunned with the notion that my entire life goal of getting married and becoming a doting husband was quickly stripped from my soul and set into blazing embers, never to be seen again.
The miscreant cursed the one thing I strive for as a man . . . that swoony feeling of being wrapped up in a warm, safe relationship with a woman.
And I can’t shake it.
No matter what my brothers say, no matter how many times they tell me to drop it, I keep worrying. I keep remembering the whirl of evil that was cast upon us. I keep trying to decode the meaning of it all.
Are we truly cursed?
“There’s a table over there,” Griffin, my oldest brother, says, making a beeline toward the back corner of the incredibly busy beignet-making icon. We came here for their famous beignets when we first arrived and decided to indulge one more time.
We catch a flight to Port Snow this afternoon and before we get back to our gossip-loving town, I want to set some things straight.
Taking seats, we quickly put in an order for beignets and a café au lait each, and when the waitress leaves, I say, “Can we talk about last night?”
Reid groans and slouches in his chair. He’s in a shit mood, and I’m not sure if it’s from the phone call he got last night that he’s not talking about or if it’s because he’s hung over. Maybe a combo of both. “Can we not?”
“Aren’t you worried?” I ask, looking around at my brothers. I can’t possibly be the only one who’s concerned here.
But it seems like I might be.
Griffin is texting. His wife, I’m sure.
Rogan is staring at the trifold menu on the table.
And Reid is rubbing his eyes with his palms, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here.
“Uh, hello? Do you guys not remember what happened last night? The whole alarming witch in a cloak thing, waving her dangly bone fingers at us. Table-breaking, palm-reading curses being flung about like beads off a balcony? Ring a bell?”
Griffin sets his phone down and lets out a deep breath. His tone is the even, oldest-brother sensible voice. “We were drunk last night, Brig.”
“Yeah, we were, but it doesn’t negate the fact that we all woke up with the same story this morning. She cursed us. You’re telling me none of you are concerned?” I glance around to all three pairs of blue eyes, the same blue eyes I share, and none of them are returning the look. Which tells me they’re not willing to admit they’re just as scared as I am.
I poke Rogan in the side. “Hello, are you listening?”
“Trying not to,” he says, his fingers pressing to his left eye. “Fuck, my head is pounding.” Rogan is my second oldest brother, the quiet and annoyed one. He’s had a rough go at life and barely cracks a smile anymore. He’s more interested in punishing himself for the decisions he’s made in the past than in parting the dark cloud that hangs over his head so he can experience the world. As a retired football player, if pushed too hard, he’s been known to fight back. I think I’ll pass on leaning on him now.
“Griff.” I turn to the reasonable one in the group. “You saw it all, the way she spouted off that little limerick about broken love. She came up with that out of nowhere. It rhymed and everything. Who does that? Who wishes broken love on unsuspecting tourists? Frankly, it’s fucked up.”
The waitress drops off our food and drinks. We give her a mumbled thank you before she takes off to serve another table in the busy outdoor seating area.
Mouth full of beignet and powdered sugar coating his lips, Griffin says, “If she was half the palm reader she said she was, then she would have known that I was already married and this curse she set upon us was flawed. Yeah, was it strange that there was wind whipping around when she raised her arms—”
“The wind was weird,” Rogan says.
“Wind freaked me out,” Reid grumbles while bringing his coffee up to his lips.
“Now you chime in,” I say with an eye roll.
“Can I finish?” Griff asks, sounding annoyed. We all silence ourselves with bites into our beignets. “The wind was a strange coincidence, but I also think she was deranged. There’s no merit to what she said, and I think we would waste time thinking about it anymore than we have. Let’s just enjoy breakfast and then get the hell out of here.”
“Agreed,” Rogan says.
“Yeah,” Reid murmurs.
“But—”
They all shoot me a death glare, and I snap my mouth shut.
I’m outnumbered, and even if I try to press it, they’re not going to change their minds. They’re chalking this experience up to what seems like a drunken it-was-all-an-illusion-we’ll-soon-forget night.
But just a quick glance around the table, and I don’t buy it.
Worried brows.
Keeping to themselves.
Shifty eyes.
They’re thinking about it just as much as I am.
Listen to me, to the words I have spoken.
From this day on, your love will be broken.
It isn’t until your minds have matured
That the weight of this curse will forever be cured.
Might not seem like a big deal, but I have a bad feeling our worlds are about to be flipped upside down.
And boy, were our lives flipped.
Griffin lost his wife.
Rogan’s high school sweetheart re-emerged with a vengeance.
Reid’s restaurant, his pride and joy, was stolen from him.
And me . . . well, I haven’t been in a relationship since the fateful day when my taut and beautiful ass tumbled over a palm reader’s table. Just bad luck? That everything good, everything we loved was taken away from us?
No.
It was the curse, but surely things would improve on their own. Wouldn’t they?
From this day on, your love will be broken.

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 4 Stars

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7360513.Meghan_Quinn

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Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorMegQuinn

Website: http://authormeghanquinn.com

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

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

I will always be here for you. There isn’t a world that exists where I’m not gonna be around for you.

When the Time is Right, a funny, sweet and emotional standalone from USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez and M. Mabie is available now!

Fate doesn’t always happen overnight.

Hudson Bradley is the cockiest, most stubborn, hard-headed man I’ve ever known. And for fifteen years, he’s been my brother’s best friend.

But lately, what I’m feeling for him isn’t friendship at all.

Why is my heart racing every time his blue eyes lock on mine?
Why does every word he rumbles in my ear make my body come alive?
And worst of all, why did I bet him that I could find a woman he and his son would both love?

If I hadn’t given up on love altogether, Hudson would have been perfect for me. After all, he was there the day my world fell apart. He’s spent the last six years piecing me back together.

There are a million reasons why we could never work, but after a single kiss, I can’t remember any of them.

Now that the time is right, I have to make him mine—before I lose him forever.

Download your copy today, exclusively on Amazon!
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Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/whenthetimeisright

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Excerpt

I did everything I could to not make eye contact.
Actually, my MO for the past week had been no contact period, but that was a little hard to do when the guy you’re dodging knows things about you. Specifically, the lock code on your front door.
“You can go home, Hudson. I’m fine.” Out of my periphery, I watched him perch his hands on his hips.
“No,” he argued. “Not until we figure this out.”
So he had noticed my ghosting. I hoped he wasn’t as good at calling my bluff.
“There is no this.”
“What about what you said at the—”
“Yeah, I must have had a cold or something. Whatever it was, I’m over it.”
Lies. Lies. Lies. Hopefully, I’d start believing them.
“Over it?”
“Yep. Hey, how was your date?” My topic-swapping skills were on point. When he stopped, only an arm’s length away, I finally seized what scrap of pride I had and looked up into his blue eyes. “Are you seeing her again?”
He huffed. “Well, that’s kind of up to you.”
“Me?” I dropped the spoon into the sink and put the ice cream down so I could cross my arms over my chest. “What do I have to do with it?”
His lids fell shut, and he tipped his head at the ceiling, stretched his neck from side to side, and then brought his gaze back to mine. “Kate seems to think that, maybe, I have a thing…for you.”
My face flushed hot, and I wondered if maybe I’d fallen down trying to get out of my leather skirt earlier and I was dreaming, passed out on my bedroom floor. The issue with that theory was I could smell him, feel the warmth from his body in front of me, and see his heartbeat thumping in the vein in his neck.
This was real, but I still wasn’t sure I could handle it.
“Well, that’s just, uh, dumb,” I contended weakly. Shaking my head to rattle myself back to sanity, I asked, “W-why did she say that?” I tried to laugh, but it was as fake as my gusto.
“Because, apparently, I talked about you the whole night.”
Okay, I was wrong. I’d thought riding in a car with him and seeing him shirtless and watching him play with Jack and seeing how much he loved my family and having him touch me and avoiding him all week had been torture.
This moment was a whole new level of torment.
“So?” I said childishly.
It didn’t matter how I felt or what I wanted. I couldn’t just leap into his arms and expect everything to turn out the way it was supposed to. That’s not how my life worked.
“So I need to find out if this, whatever’s been building between us, is something.”
Wouldn’t that be nice? Up until that very second, it had all been one-sided. I’d racked my brain all week to understand why I’d felt the crazy things I did about him.
“How you gonna do that?”
“We’re going to kiss,” he stated very matter-of-factly, and then he closed the distance between our bodies.
“We are?” I whispered. My voice had all but left the building.
“Unless you stop me right now.”
I wanted to.
I didn’t want to.
I was scared.
I was excited.
But mostly, I wasn’t stopping him.

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 5 Stars

About Aly
Originally from Savannah, Georgia, USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez now lives in South Carolina with her husband and four young children.
Never one to take herself too seriously, she enjoys cheap wine, mystery leggings, and olives. It should be known, however, that she hates pizza and ice cream, almost as much as writing her bio in the third person.
She passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a super-sized tumbler of wine by her side.

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About M. Mabie
M. Mabie lives in Illinois with her husband. She writes everything from steamy romantic comedies to angst-filled, pull your hair out drama. She enjoys it all. With her unconventional love stories, she tries to embody “real-life romance.”

She cares about politics, but will not discuss them in public. She uses the same fork at every meal, watches Wayne’s World while cleaning, and lets her dog sleep on her head. She has always been a writer. In fact, she was born with a pen in her hand, which almost never happens. Almost.

M. Mabie usually doesn’t speak in third-person. She promises.

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