COVER REVEAL: Little Lies by H. Hunting

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I used to be the one who saved her. But I don’t want to save her anymore.

From New York Times bestselling author, Helena Hunting writing as H. Hunting, comes an unforgettable, beautiful and angsty new adult romance. Little Lies is releasing November 16th, and we have the irresistible cover!

LittleLies AMAZON (1)

I don’t want you. You mean nothing to me.

I never loved you.

I turned my words into swords.

And I cut her down.

Shoved the blade in and watched her fall.

I said I’d never hurt her, and I did.

Years later, I’m faced with all the little lies, the untruths, the false realities, the damage I inflicted, when all I wanted was to indulge my obsession.

Lavender Waters is the princess in the tower. Even her name is the thing fairy tales are made of.

I used to be the one who saved her. Over and over again.

But I don’t want to save her anymore.

I just want to pretend the lies are still the truth.

Little Lies - PO

Pre-order your copy today! Amazon: https://amzn.to/3gn18sL Apple Books: https://apple.co/2Yp95HS Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/littlelies Nook: https://bit.ly/34rwvzR Kobo: https://bit.ly/3hmdHpD Google Play: https://bit.ly/2E9yxu3 Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/3aWyq0C

Photographer: Michelle Lancaster Model: Andy Murray Cover Designer: Hang Le

About Helena Hunting

HelenaHunting

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 Twitter: http://bit.ly/2mloUim Facebook: http://on.fb.me/Zt1xm5 Facebook Fan group: http://bit.ly/2kN5yCD Website: http://www.helenahunting.com/ Never miss an update! Subscribe to Helena's mailing list:

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H. Hunting

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COVER REVEAL: THE DEVIL’S CROWN PART TWO by Monica James

THE DEVIL’S CROWN 

PART TWO

Monica James 

With the enemy dead, my throne awaits my return. But the reason I’m still standing is being held captive by another foe.

I’ll move heaven and hell to find her, but when I do, everything changes forever. Ella is broken, broken because of me.

The only way to save her is to return to the ruthless leader I once was.

A war has been waged, and to win, I need to kill every last traitor and rebuild my kingdom to make her feel safe once more.

However, this war is like no other. And my enemy won’t stop until one of us is dead. But he doesn’t stand a chance. None of them do.

I’m a bad man. And I’m okay with that.

This is my world.

My rules.

I’m the goddamn king, and it’s time to adjust my crown.

The Devil’s Crown-Part Two 

Series: All the Pretty Things Trilogy Spin-Off 

Genre: Dark Romance 

Cover Model: Frankie

Photographer: Ren Saliba @rensaliba

Cover Designer: Sommer Stein—Perfect Pear Creative Covers 


Release date: September21st

Pre-order your copy NOW:

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UK

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Australia 

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Canada

Kindle: https://tinyurl.com/y32d4yj6

Bio

Monica James spent her youth devouring the works of Anne Rice, William Shakespeare, and Emily Dickinson.

When she is not writing, Monica is busy running her own business, but she always finds a balance between the two. She enjoys writing honest, heartfelt, and turbulent stories, hoping to leave an imprint on her readers. She draws her inspiration from life. 

She is a bestselling author in the U.S.A., Australia, Canada, France, Germany, Israel, and the U.K.

Monica James resides in Melbourne, Australia, with her wonderful family, and menagerie of animals. She is slightly obsessed with cats, chucks, and lip gloss, and secretly wishes she was a ninja on the weekends. 

Stalk Me

Website: authormonicajames.com

Facebook: facebook.com/authormonicajames

Twitter: twitter.com/monicajames81

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EXCERPT REVEAL: The Anti-Boyfriend by Penelope Ward




Title: The Anti-Boyfriend
Author: Penelope Ward
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 31, 2020

Blurb

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new standalone novel.

At first, my neighbor Deacon frustrated me.

Sure, he was great-looking and friendly.

But our walls were thin, and on occasion, he’d bring women to his place and keep me awake while he “entertained” them.

As a single mother to an infant, I didn’t appreciate it.

So, finally it was my turn.

When my daughter wouldn’t stop wailing one night, Mr. Manwhore came knocking on my door.

Miraculously, at the sound of his voice, Sunny stopped crying. And when he held her…she eventually fell asleep in his arms.

Deacon was rough on the exterior, but apparently on the inside? Mr. Single-and-Ready-to-Mingle was a baby whisperer.

After that night, we became friends.

He’d go for coffee runs. Come over to chat. Normal friend stuff.

But over time, our conversations ran deeper. We got closer.

Until one night we crossed the line.

Our friendship turned into a complicated mess.

I’d gone and fallen for a guy who’d sworn off commitment and kids.

I knew Deacon was starting to care for me too, even though Sunny and I didn’t fit into any plan he’d ever imagined for himself.

He was wrong for me—so wrong that I’d dubbed him the “anti-boyfriend.”

Then why did I wish more than anything that I could be the one woman to change him?







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Excerpt

Copyright © 2020
By Penelope Ward

Today, just as I got back to my door, Deacon was exiting his apartment.
“Oh, hey, Carys-Like-Paris. How goes it?” He flashed a wide smile.
When people ask me my name, for some stupid reason, I sometimes answer, “Carys, like Paris,” particularly when I’m nervous. That was the case the first time I met Deacon.
A whiff of his amazing smell put my body on alert. He looked handsome as always. Today he wore a camel-colored suede coat with a shearling collar. His blue eyes, which stood out against his tanned skin, glimmered under the fluorescent lights overhead, which also brought out the copper tint to his otherwise medium-brown hair. He was at least six-foot-two—a beanstalk to my five-foot-four self.
This was my opportunity to bring up last night. But now that he was right here, towering over me, his musky smell saturating the air, I seemed to have lost the words. Still, I was determined to speak up now or never.
My heartbeat accelerated. Here goes. Still out of breath from my sprint up the stairs, I said, “Well, honestly, in answer to your question… I’d love to say I’m doing great, but I had a hard time getting to sleep last night. So, I’ve been better.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Actually, it’s sort of your fault.”
Deacon’s forehead crinkled. “My fault?”
“Yeah. I don’t know if you realize this, but your bed is right up against mine, on the opposite side of the wall. Your…interactions…last night woke me up, and I had a hard time getting back to sleep.”
Boom.
There.
Said it.
Deacon closed his eyes momentarily. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were right behind me.”
“Yeah. It’s basically like I’m…right there.”
“Well, that was rude of me. I should’ve invited you to join.”
What? It felt like all my blood rushed to my head.
He held out his palms. “I’m kidding. Bad sense of humor comes out when I feel awkward, I guess.”
Slipping a piece of my hair behind my ear, I brushed off his comment. “I know you’re kidding.”
“Totally kidding.” He smiled. “But I’ll try to be more considerate now that I know you can hear everything. You should’ve said something.”
I tilted my head. “How exactly would that have worked? Barging in on two naked people? That’s why I’m saying something now.”
“Solid point. But I take it last night wasn’t the first time you overheard things?”
I looked down at my feet. “No, it wasn’t.”
“You could’ve banged on the wall or something.”
“I’m not one to rudely interrupt someone’s…personal happenings. I just wanted you to be aware of the situation. We don’t need to discuss it further.”
“Maybe we should come up with a code.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, If I’m disturbing your peace, you play a song and crank it up to send me a message.” He snapped his fingers. “Something ironic like ‘The Sounds of Silence’ by Simon and Garfunkel.”
“Can’t exactly crank up a song when a baby is sleeping.”
His smile faded. “See? That goes to show you how clueless I am. Clueless and so sorry, Carys. Truly. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”
“It better not, fuckboy!” a voice shouted from behind one of the apartment doors.
Deacon and I turned around in unison. I noticed Mrs. Winsbanger’s door move across the hall. The old lady must have been listening in. She lived alone, and I often spotted her peeking out her door, spying on people.
Deacon grimaced. “Mrs. Winsbanger loves me.”
“Apparently I’m not the only one who overheard things last night,” I said.
His face turned red. His embarrassment was a bit surprising. I’d expected him to be more cocky.
“I’ll move my bed to the other side of the room. That should help.”
“Well, that would be nice, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s not.”
Happy to have the conversation over with, I let out a long breath. “Okay, well, I’ll let you get going.”
He didn’t budge and seemed to be examining my face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You seem frazzled.”
Well, yeah. I didn’t get good sleep, I’m trying to get things done in possibly the only hour of the day I have free, and we just had the most awkward conversation EVER.
“This is just me—my life. I have what could be barely more than an hour to eat my lunch and have some quiet time before my daughter wakes up from her nap.”
“Ah.” He scratched his chin. “How old is she now?”
“Six months.”
Deacon knew I was a single mom. He’d run into me one day and helped me bring groceries in while I tried to juggle Sunny and her stroller.
I was just about to head back inside my apartment when his voice stopped me.
“Do you need anything?”
I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. “Like what?”
“Something from the store? A…coffee, maybe? I’m just headed out to run a quick errand, but I can stop somewhere on the way back.”
“It’s the least you can do, monkey balls!” Mrs. Winsbanger chimed in from across the hall.
She was apparently still listening.
“Did she just fucking call me monkey balls?” he whispered.
At that moment, I lost it. Laughter got a hold of me, and it took almost a minute before I could even speak. Deacon laughed, too, but I think he was more cracking up at my reaction.
“No idea why she just called you monkey balls. But I haven’t laughed this hard in weeks.”
After I finally calmed down, Deacon repeated his earlier question.
“Anyway, as I was saying, can I get you a coffee or something?”
His offer gave me pause. It was rare that anyone asked if I needed anything. I had a couple of good friends in the city, but they worked and had busy social lives. It wasn’t like they were around in the middle of the day to run to the store for me. And given that it was fall in New York, it was getting chilly out. I had to have a damn good reason to take Sunny out in the cold.
Honestly, I was dying for a latte from Starbucks. Running to the coffee shop was definitely something people without babies took for granted. It wasn’t worth having to bundle Sunny up.
“I would love a vanilla latte from Starbucks, if you pass one on your way back,” I finally said.
“Done.” He smiled. “That’s it?”
“Just one pump of vanilla would be great.”
“One pump. Got it. Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough? It’s hardly a necessity. I shouldn’t be taking advantage.”
“Take advantage of me. What else do you need? Seriously. It’s the least I can do after disturbing your peace last night.”
Take advantage of me. Yup. Mind straight in the gutter. “You’re not my gopher.”
“Carys….” His baritone voice turned serious, and he repeated in a slow and exaggerated manner, “What. Do. You. Need? I could run to the store.”
There was something else I desperately needed.
“Diapers?” I said hesitantly.
“Okay.” He laughed. “You’re gonna have to help me out with those. I’ve never purchased them in my life.”
Before I could tell him what size, he handed me his phone. I was all too aware of the brief touch of his hand.
“Enter your digits. I’ll text you from the store to make sure I get the right kind.”
I did as he said before handing him back the phone, once again enjoying the contact from that brief exchange. Cheap thrills were as good as it got these days.
He put it in his pocket. “Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Alright. Well, if you change your mind, you can let me know when I text.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“Talk to ya in a bit,” he said before heading down the hall.
I stood by my door and watched him walk away. The view from the back was just as good as the front. And moreover, it seemed Deacon was just as lovely on the inside as he was on the outside.
“One pump my ass,” I heard Mrs. Winsbanger say before she slammed her door.



Author Bio


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 21-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.


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COVER REVEAL:The Setup by Meghan Quinn

THE SETUP COVER REVEAL!!

The Setup by Meghan Quinn

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Releasing: September 10, 2020

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I’ve fallen victim to a heinous act. An act so vile, so downright dirty, that I’m not sure as a twenty-year-old man I'll ever recover. Brace yourself, because what I’m about to tell you might have you gasping in secondhand horror. Ready? Here it goes . . . I’ve recently become the pawn of a meddling mom. Yes . . . A MEDDLING MOM--who's been trying to set me up all summer. Now, I understand it’s not a crime for a mother to want her child to fall in love, but when she makes it her relentless MISSION, the heinous act should be classified as a misdemeanor at least. Of course, my mom, the evil matriarch in the devil’s leggings, made her final stab at finding a girl for me days before I went back to college. And I hate to admit it, but she saved a doozy for last. A titan in black skinny jeans. A boss of nonchalance. And a girl who would not only turn my life upside down, but do it while juggling a soccer ball, looking effortlessly gorgeous around campus, and is one hundred percent against relationships. Of any sort. Thanks, Mom.

THE SETUP RELEASES SEPTEMBER 10TH!

Add to your Goodreads TBR: https://bit.ly/3gaQvsQ 

Preorder your copy: mybook.to/TheSetUp


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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

M_Quinn_photo

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.

COVER REVEAL: Heresy by Lily White

Title: Heresy
Series: Antihero Inferno #4
Author: Lily White
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: September 23, 2020
Cover Design: Lori Jackson 
Designs Cover Model: Chad Hurst 
Photographer: Michelle Lancaster

Sixth Circle
Heresy
Also Known as Shane Carter
There are no rules with this man.
No courtesies.
No acceptable behaviors he’ll conform to in order to be accepted.
He marches to his own beat.
Gives the finger to expectations.
And does whatever pleases him because nobody can control him.
Arrogant.
Aggravating.
Absolute Chaos.
Shane is the last person you want walking into your world.
It’s too bad he walked into mine.
Now I can’t get rid of him.
Not that I’m sure I want to.
He wants something from me.
He’s playing a game.
And every time we come together, I can’t help feeling like I’m dancing with the Devil.
It all started with a chance meeting.
With the exchange of a few angry words.
And now that I’m trapped in this man’s maze, I fear I won’t be strong enough to resist being seduced.
*** Each novel in the series depicts a unique romance, but the plots through each book connect in one world. For the best experience, read the series in order.
Nine Ruthless Men. Nine Unrepentant Sinners. Nine Irresistible Manipulators.


  



Lily White is a romance writer who likes to dabble on the taboo side of eroticism. She is most known for her Masters Series, Target This, Wishing Well, and Asylum. In addition to dark romance Lily writes contemporary romance, taboo romance, and psychological thrillers. Lily enjoys stretching her writing muscles by continuing to challenge herself with each book she publishes.



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NEW RELEASE REVIEW: That Swoony Feeling by Meghan Quinn

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THAT SWOONY FEELING: by Meghan Quinn

Release Date: August 6th

Genre: Romantic Comedy

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

THATSWOONYFEELING

AVAILABLE NOW!!!

FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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

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

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

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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.
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PROLOGUE:

**BRIG**

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.
🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒🍒 🍒🍒

Brig Knightly is the 🍒cherry on top of the delicious Knightly Brothers series.

It is soo true, Author Meghan QUinn saved the best brother for last. Brig has been bumped up to my number 1 favorite Knightly brother.

He is so sexy, so swoony, so sweet and totally loveable.

Ruth Barber is the perfect girl for Brig. I enjoyed their build up of their friendship to lovers.

I was smiling and laughing tons while reading this book.

This book just made me happy :)

Go One Click it!
**ARC kindly provided in exchange for an honest review***
5 Cherries Popped

    

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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.


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Connect with Meghan:

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

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

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorMegQuinn

Website: http://authormeghanquinn.com

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

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

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