18 October 2017

Cover Reveal:: The Other Brother by Meghan Quinn

18 October
Check out this amazing cover for THE OTHER BROTHER by Meghan Quinn!


THE OTHER BROTHER
NA Romantic Comedy
Model: David Harris


I got the call. The dreaded call every child fears. My dad wasn’t well, and the man who had always been my everything needed me.

There was only one thing to do; pack up and head back to my hometown. I had finally made my dream life in the city with the great job and loving boyfriend. But was there really a choice not to go?

I found a wonderful job, a quaint house to rent, my boyfriend was working on joining me in Binghamton, and my favorite pizza place was only miles away. Life was good.

Until I met my neighbor.

It's been three years since I'd seen Aaron Walters, and my God is he all kinds of sexy gorgeous. Figures. He was supposed to be my forever, the man I grew old with, but he had different plans. How can a man who ripped my heart apart still trip me up? How can he make me still want him now more than ever?

I’m tempted, I’m drawn toward him, I’m completely and utterly unaware that I’m dating his biological brother.

Now two men own my heart. The question is, which brother will I choose?




About the Author:

Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if "It's Raining Men" starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.

Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking.

Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!


Find me on Goodreads:

Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/

17 October 2017

Release:: Drive by Kate Stewart

17 October

We're celebrating the release of DRIVE by Kate Stewart!


Contemporary Romance
Stand Alone
Designer: Q Designs
Scheduled to release: October 17, 2017

PURCHASE HERE:
Paperback US: http://amzn.to/2wSsOj4

BLURB:

Music . . . the heart’s greatest librarian.

The average song is three and a half minutes long; those three and a half minutes could lead to a slow blink, a glimpse of the past, or catapult the soul into heart-shattering nostalgia.

At the height of my career, I had the life I wanted, the life I’d always envisioned. I’d found my tempo, my rhythm. Then I received a phone call that left me off key.

You see, my favorite songs had a way of playing simultaneously. I was in love with one man’s beats and another’s lyrics. But when it came to the soundtrack of a life, how could anyone choose a favorite song? So, to erase any doubt, I ditched my first-class ticket and decided to take a drive, fixed on the rearview.

Two days.

One playlist.

And the long road home to the man who was waiting for me.

EXCERPT:

Breathe. Breathe. This is in the bag, Stella. You can do this, so do it.


I clicked on the camera and quickly glanced at my notes.

One minute.

Electricity shot through my veins and seeped through every pore, reminding me that this was it.

Thirty seconds.
I took a sip of water and set it beside my laptop as I waited.

Ten seconds.
A flicker of doubt processed for mere seconds before I wiped it away.

Five.
I expelled a stressed breath, clicked Go Live, and addressed the camera.

“Womanizer, bully, genius, recluse, and the world’s greatest MC. Even with all those labels, Phillip Preston, also known as Titan, is still a bit of an enigma. Despite the universe he’s constructed with storytelling lyrics, he’s always left it up to us to decipher his truth from his fiction. He burst onto the music scene fifteen years ago, an underdog in the belly of rap, with chaotic and desperate rhymes that resonated and pushed him into an unexpected level of stardom. With one hundred and eighty million records sold, he still holds his title as heavyweight and remains a household staple for his die-hard fans, collecting an army of new followers over the past two decades. I must admit, I was a bit intimidated when I sat down with him this past weekend in his Chicago fortress. I, like millions of others, am a huge fan of his genius. The simplicity of our surroundings in his home studio was shocking, to say the least. The feeling was a bit clinical and there were no platinum records on his walls, no personal photos, and there was no hint of the history he’d made as the world’s most notorious rap star. He sat in a leather chair next to his soundboard, water bottle in hand, and spoke about his love of rap, while subtly redirecting questions about his personal life—though we know he recently broke up with his long-time girlfriend, Jordan Wilson.”

My eyes nearly watered as I watched the live view box tick to a hundred thousand. I had a hundred thousand people watching my podcast in a matter of minutes. I took a deep breath.

“But it seemed my reputation had preceded me because when I sat down with the rap mogul, Phillip appeared ready for the firing squad. We dueled well as I asked the hard questions—the questions of a fan. Questions I know so many of his loyal listeners want answers to, and I think you’ll be surprised to hear his answers. So, without further ado, take a look at my exclusive with the man behind the myths. Feel free to form your own opinions, but above all, remember it’s the music that matters most.”

I linked my pre-recorded interview and watched the ticks explode as soon as his face hit the screen.

That was the moment my career peaked.

With pride, I watched my interview with the white whale, the Moby Dick of the music industry. Gorgeous, brilliant, and highly elusive, Phillip Preston was the hardest artist to get personal with in an interview. And I was the woman he reached out to, to break his silence about his road to success, his parents, his ex-wife, and finally—after some careful eggshell coaxing—he spoke about his recent relationship. He had delivered to me, on a silver platter, highly personal details about his life where so many other journalists had failed, and it was nothing short of miraculous.

It was my greatest accomplishment as a music journalist. I was flying, soaring as my phone began to blow up with message after message. I hadn’t told a soul, not a single person about my exclusive. I was high on adrenaline when the notifications began to ping on my phone. A hundred, two hundred messages, and then I saw the viewer ticks had jumped drastically to half a million. Half a million! I laughed out nervously and checked Phillip’s social media. He had just posted my podcast link to our interview. My jaw dropped. He had over eighty million followers on one forum alone.

And the viewer counts just kept rising. I had done it. I gasped when the ticks went past a million.

A million people were watching my podcast.

A million people were watching my podcast!

“AHHHHHH!” I screamed to no one as I looked around the vacant room. I raised both hands in the air when the ticks rolled past two million. “Oh my GOD!” I shot up from the desk, my eyes full of incredulous water.

I’d never had more than a million views. Ever. And those took months to accrue. It was the greatest career high of my life. I looked back down at my phone, anxious to talk to someone, anyone. Lexi’s middle finger popped up on the screen, and I couldn’t resist answering her call.

“AHHHHHHHH!” I screamed into the phone..

“Stella?”

“Yes! Is it good? You think I asked the right questions? I edited for like nine hours.”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? Titan’s interview.”

“You interviewed Titan?”

A small amount of my excitement dispersed. “Yours was the wrong call to answer.”

“You fucking interviewed Titan?”

“Yes. I wanted to surprise everyone.”

“And you didn’t bring me?”

“Sorry. I’ll feel guilty later.”

“Yeah.” Her voice dropped. I heard a toilet flush. “Yeah, Stella, that’s so cool.” Another toilet flushed.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the bathroom at the Marquee.”

“Okay. Well, I’m buzzing right now, woman. Like, literally, my phone is exploding. Five million hits, Lexi. Five million!”

“I’m so happy for you, Stella.”

I frowned. “Yeah, with that amazing monotone, I can tell.”

“I’m so sorry.” And then her voice broke. My best friend doesn’t cry. Ever.

“Oh, shit. What’s up?”

“I’ll call you back, okay? I don’t want to ruin this.”

“You aren’t ruining anything. You couldn’t ruin this. I promise. I’ll be high for days. So, tell me. Why are you in the bathroom?”

“I’m on a blind date. He took me to a wedding.”

“Okay. You need an excuse? That’s not like you. You’re ballsy. Just give him your usual, it’s not me, it’s you.” I chuckled because she’d used it in front of me on a bass player with a cowlick and halitosis.

“Stella.”

I knew that tone. That tone was the bearer of bad fucking news.

“What? Say it.”

“It’s his wedding.”

I eyed the clock while I zipped my suitcase. I had an hour and a half before my flight. I was cutting it close. “Whose wedding?”

“Stella.”

“I know my name. Damn, who—” Realization struck and my heart met the floor. I stayed mute while she rambled on nervously.

“What are the odds? What are the goddamn odds? I don’t know what to do. Do you want me to leave? There’s no handbook for this. Did you even want to know this? That he’s married? I can’t believe I just watched him get married! Who in the hell ends up at their best friend’s ex-boyfriend’s wedding? I couldn’t not tell you.” She sniffed as the toilets repeatedly flushed around her.

“Stella, please say something.”

I pressed the sting back. “I’m alright, of course. I’m fine. Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know.” She sniffed. “Ben called me last night, and things are just so fucked up, and today this shit happens, and I know you’re happy. I know you are. But . . . I mean, this is—”

I put my hand up as if she could see it. “Don’t tell me anything else, okay? I’m good.” I looked at my reflection in the mirror from the bed into the adjacent bathroom. Nothing had changed. I wasn’t leaking. I was fine. “I’m okay. I’m glad you told me. I have to leave for the airport now, or I’ll miss my flight.” A slew of questions was on the tip of my tongue. Did he look happy? Was she beautiful? And more questions I hated myself for that Lexi would never be able to answer. Still, my head and heart refused to keep those questions bottled.

Was she prettier than me? Did he look at her the same way? Did he propose to her with half his heart? Did he think of me when he did it? Was any part of him thinking of me now? Was I in his dreams the way he drifted through mine sometimes?
All my thoughts were selfish. All of them. And of all the thoughts I could have had that day, self-loathing was not the one I expected to nudge its way front and center. I forced myself to speak.

“Stay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, of course. I’m fine.”

“This freaky shit always happens. Always with you.”

“I know.”

“It’s like karma or God or someone hates you. It’s so fucked.”

I laughed ironically, though inside my heart was pounding.

Silence passed over the line as we both waited for some sort of solution that wasn’t coming.

“Stella, God, I’m so sorry.”

“About what? Stop. You know I would have told you if the situation were reversed. I should go. Love you.”

“Love y—” I hung up the phone before she could finish, frozen in the middle of the hotel room.





About the Author:

Kate Stewart lives in Charleston, S.C. with her husband, Nick, and her naughty beagle, Sadie. A native of Dallas, Kate moved to Charleston three weeks after her first visit, dropping her career of 8 years, and declaring it her creative muse. Kate pens messy, sexy, angst-filled contemporary romance as well as romantic comedy and erotic suspense because it's what she loves as a reader. A lover of all things '80s and '90s, especially John Hughes films and rap, she dabbles a little in photography, can knit a simple stitch scarf for necessity only and does a horrible job of playing the ukulele. Aside from running a mile without collapsing, traveling is the only other must on her bucket list. On occasion, she does very well at vodka.

Contact Kate- Email-authorkatestewart@gmail.com

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16 October 2017

Release with Review:: Start With Me (Start Again #3) by J. Saman

16 October

Title: Start With Me
Series: Start Again Series Book Three
Author: J. Saman
Genre: Contemporary Romance Standalone
Release Date: October 16, 2017
Claire
No relationships. No falling in love. 
Those are my rules. Simple. Easy. Uncomplicated. 
Then Kyle Grant walks into my life and tries to mess all that up with his GQ looks and irresistible charm. 
He’s everything I want.
But can never have.
Kyle
The moment I laid eyes on Claire Sullivan, I knew she was different. 
Then reality hit me. She’s my brother’s assistant. She lives in Seattle and I live in New York.
As if that wasn’t enough, she reminds me with annoying frequency that she doesn’t do relationships. 
But I don’t care. I want her. 
Now I just have to convince her to be mine.
"J. Saman has made a MUST READ for anyone who loves to watch Fate and the Inevitable carve out a great big heart with a smirky face inside. START WITH ME is a light romance lover's dream asClaire and Kyle meet and dance around the elephant in the room dressed in hearts and flowers. Leave it to J. Saman to have me grinning like a Chesire cat, talking out loud and rolling my eyes all for love!" ★★★★★ TomeTender
"Her words and characters really come alive to me with depth and personality. Some of my favorite authors lately have taken conflicts, hidden secrets and impossible situations and worked them chapter by chapter in such a satisfying way for me! J. Saman has done this for me in this book and is a favorite indy author. Her talent has blown me away." ★★★★★ Luv My Books
"A page turner so full of heart and gripping emotions you'll feel like their personal cheerleader by the time the story ends. An added bonus is Saman's trademark humor and snappy, snarky dialogue. The characters sound like me and my friends, they react the way real people react to situations and thatmakes it easy to slip seamlessly into the narrative." ★★★★★ Author Erin Lee Daniels
"J. Saman has such a wonderful way with words, engaging my whole heart on each and every page. What a fantastic experience getting to be in Kyle and Claire's world! "Start With Me" is such an amazing story with pretty amazing sexy hotness too! This is a must-put on your TBR!!" ★★★★★Romazing Reader's Reviews
Kyle
        “Here,” I say to Claire as I hand her the diet coke she requested.
        “Thanks,” she says, taking it from my hand and setting it on the small white table next to her. Claire is lounging back on my balcony, reading a book while I study for the goddamn bar exam. Again.
        To be honest, I don’t even know how she got here. We seem to be falling into a pattern of showing up. We meet at the coffee shop in the morning without even discussing it or scheduling it. We just do it and then without asking, we follow the other one home or wherever they’re going, and hang out or go to work together.
        Never in my life have I ever been like that with anyone.
        It doesn’t even feel like we’re imposing on the other. It’s just sort of the way things have developed. I ride with her to work or she rides with me, even though we both have cars. On weekends, we do things like go to street fairs and paint the walls of my apartment and go out to eat, and I listen to Claire play and make music a lot. She tries to quiz me on the bar exam, but doesn’t really do the best job with that one.
        It’s like we’re in a relationship without being in a relationship.
        It’s actually what I picture marriage being like when you’re old and have been together for fifty plus years. We don’t have sex. We don’t kiss on the lips.
We do, however touch each other in completely platonic safe places. And that’s another thing—we’re always touching each other. When we’re out, my arm is usually over her shoulder. If we’re watching TV on one of our respective sofas, she’s snuggled into my side.
All of this is something I’ve never experienced with a friend before. Not that I’ve had that many female friends over the years. Yet, I’m unbelievably happy.
        It’s an odd sensation.
        But right now, with Claire here and the warm fragrant wind on our faces and the sounds of the city below us, it’s the one word that seems to be repeating through my head at an annoyingly peppy rate.
        Claire wanted to paint my apartment, so she led me to a hardware store. She wanted to hit up an outdoor street fair, so we did. She wanted to eat weird Tibetan food, so I tried it. I’m starting to get the impression that if she asked me to go sky diving right now, I’d acquiesce with little resistance. Can someone become pussy whipped when they’re not actually getting any pussy?
        This girl . . . wow, I didn’t even see it coming.
I slide myself down next to her. We’re lounging on the double chaise on my balcony, even though there are other chairs and single chaises that we could very easily sit on. But we’re not. We silently sat on this one together.
Claire takes a sip of her soda, setting it back down on the table and bringing her knees up so that her Kindle is resting against the exposed skin of her thighs above her shorts. Her very short shorts. She has one arm propped behind her head, her hot-pink framed sun glasses perched perfectly on her nose.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asks without taking her eyes away from her e-reader.
“Just wondering what you’re reading,” I say as I take a sip of my regular Coke. I really only keep Diet Coke here for her. And wine. And large Swedish Fish, which she chews on constantly. And organic cheddar crisps that are really an expensive version of Cheez-It crackers.
“Nothing you’d like,” she says, which of course piques my interest, making me lean over to try and catch a few words on the screen.
“Why won’t you tell me?” I ask, trying to snatch the e-reader off her lap, but she pulls it away, angling it so I can’t see it.
“Why do you care?” she counters, nudging me with her elbow, trying to push me away.
I laugh, nudging her back. “I’m just curious. Don’t you want to know what I’m reading?”
“I’m gonna be real honest with you,” she says, pulling down the bridge of her glasses so she can look at me. “No. I don’t.”
“It’s smut, isn’t it? You’re reading porn.” I try to grab her Kindle again, but she holds it out so I’d have to practically climb on top of her to get it.
“Fuck off,” she laughs, pushing me away with her free hand. “Mind your own damn business. Last I checked, you have a big important exam to study for.”
“Why won’t you tell me?” I say, ignoring her jab. “What are you hiding?” I get up on my knees, angling my body over hers and grab the arm that’s holding the e-reader.
“Hey,” she yells, but she’s laughing now, trying to push me off and struggling to maintain her control of the Kindle. “It’s nothing. It’s just a stupid book.”
“Bullshit,” I argue, pulling her arm to me and snatching the book because Claire seems to realize that it’s a losing battle.
She lets out a huff, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. She’s not embarrassed, but I don’t think she wanted me to read this either. My eyes scan the text for a moment, widening as they go.
“It is porn,” I laugh, dropping back down into my seat. Claire reaches out, trying to swipe her device from my hands but I push her back by the forehead. “No way, cupcake. I’m into this now.”
“You’re a dork.”
“And you’re a secret porn reader.”
“That was a really pathetic come back. It’s not porn. Well, I guess it sort of is. I mean, it’s erotica. But it has a story to it and not like what you’d see in a real porn. It’s not like the cable guy is coming over and the girl opens the door in lingerie before she fucks him.”
“Oh,” I say glancing in her direction. “You’ve seen that one too.”
Another eye roll.
“‘His fingers traced small circles up her thighs until he reached her sex,’” I read and then look back over at Claire. “Her sex? Really? Why don’t they call it her pussy?”
“I know, right?” she laughs. “I never got that and you read it all the time in these sorts of books. They have all sorts of vagina euphemisms. Sometimes you’ll see it referred to her as cunt or snatch and yes, pussy is used, but in this book, it’s called her sex, even though the sex scenes are super graphic.”
“Wow,” I say with a big smile that I can’t contain. “I can’t tell if that’s hot or not.”
She nods, leaning back and looking up at the blue sky. “Wouldn’t it be awesome if they used words like penis fly trap, or cave of wonders, or pink taco?”
“Pink taco?” I snort. “That’s fucking nasty. But then again, I really love to eat both, so maybe it just makes sense,” I muse, sitting back to read more of this crap. “What do they call a penis? I’m assuming the words cock or dick aren’t used?”
She shakes her head. “No. At one point she used member, and another time it was his arousal.”
“So, explain to me why you’re reading this one if you don’t like the cheese factor of it.”
She shrugs, reaching over and taking her Kindle from me. “It’s trash and trash can sometimes be fun to read.”
“Do you always read trash?”
“I read all sorts of books, but to be honest, this is the first book I’ve read in a while. I’ve been writing a lot more music lately than I’ve been reading.”
I smile at that, pulling her into my side almost absentmindedly. It’s become a reflex. Something I do without thinking too much, but enjoy far more than I should. “Will you play something for me that you wrote?”
“Next time I’m in front of my keyboard.”
I kiss the side of her head, before picking up my own e-reader so I can get back to my studying. “Why don’t you have a real piano?”
Claire turns her head to me, her expression seems to be challenging my basic sanity.
“What?”
“You do realize I have like zero room in my apartment, right? And my music room is already overcrowded with my other instruments. I’d love a piano.” She shrugs. “Maybe if I ever move, I’ll get a real one. For now, I’m stuck with the keyboard. But it’s fine. It does the job.”
“Huh,” is all I can think to say, staring down sightlessly at my book.
“What are we doing tonight?” she asks, staring back at her own book.
“To be honest, I’m really not up for going out. I think I’ll probably just order something in and either study or watch a movie or something.”
She nods. “I’m up for that if you’re up for some company.”
I laugh, nudging her side again. “When am I ever not up for your company?” It’s a rhetorical question and clearly, I said it in an off the cuff way, but it still makes me cringe, because that question is suggestive despite its simplicity.
“Good. But if we’re getting pizza, can we get it from that really snobby gourmet place that has those specialty pies? And I don’t really want to watch anything too serious. Maybe an action flick or a comedy.”
“Jesus, you’re pretty fucking demanding considering you’re the invited guest. I thought the benefit of friendship was that the woman didn’t get to dictate everything. Otherwise, what’s the point?” I ask, looking down on her. “It’s not like I’m getting sex out of the deal.” I can’t help but raise an eyebrow.
“No,” she says, looking up at me with a small grin on her ruby-tinted lips, her blue eyes covered by her shades. “I guess that’s true. How’s this then? I’ll let you pick the actual movie.”
“Wow,” I deadpan. “That’s the most generous thing anyone has ever offered me. I would have personally gone for the sex, but choosing the movie might just be better.”
“See.” She nods her head. “They don’t make people more giving than I am. You really are lucky to have me as your friend.”
“True.” I lean back in the chaise, enjoying the way I sink into the cushion. I take a sip of my soda and Claire goes back to her reading.
“How often do you masturbate?” she asks and that sip of soda that I was in the process of swallowing immediately comes out my mouth and nose in a gush of fizzy spray. “Wow.” She smirks, trying to hide her laugher. “I’ve never actually seen anyone spray soda out of their nose like that. I didn’t realize it was possible.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, wiping my face and trying not to grimace from the persistent burn inside my nostrils.
“That as unpleasant as it looked?”
“Yup. So, try not to say something like that the next time I take a drink.” I raise my hand, stopping my thought. “On second thought, any time I drink or eat something, try not to speak. I’m afraid one day I’ll actually choke and you don’t look like the type to know CPR.”
“Au contraire, mon frère, I am excellent at mouth to mouth.”
“That was a softball.”
“It was, but you set it up nicely. So, answer my question.”
“How often do I masturbate?” I look over at her, my eyebrows at my hairline.
“Yeah, I’m curious,” she taps on the edge of her e-reader, “because in this book, the guys are always taking cold showers to knock their hard-ons down. I don’t get it. If you’re alone and in the bathroom, why not just whack one off? Saves time and prevents frostbite.”
“Yeah, I have no real answer for that.”
“Oh, come on, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“Claire, knowing you, I assume you get off at least once a day.”
She winks at me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I would, but that’s really not the point.
And in fact, now all I can see is an imagine of Claire making herself come. “Stop visualizing or I’ll do it back.”
I grin at her. “That a threat or a promise?”
“I don’t typically make threats I’m not willing to back up. It misleads people.”
“What exactly are we talking about now?”
Claire shrugs, leaning back a little against the cushion, parting her thighs absentmindedly. Holy fuck that’s hot. “Honestly, I don’t know. I sort of got lost in the mental image thing. But really, I want to know why men take cold showers instead of jerking off in books.”
“I don’t know, Claire. I’ve never actually taken a cold shower to get rid of an erection. Usually I just jerk off in the shower if I’m that hard up.”
Claire smiles big. “Thank you. That’s all I wanted to know.”
Now I can’t concentrate. How am I supposed to go back to reading business law after that conversation? It’s impossible. I need to change the subject because all I can think about is Claire naked, spread out with her hand between her legs. Or even better, my hand between her legs. And now I’m getting hard, which is just ironic in a bad porn movie sort of way.
So, I say the first thing that comes to mind other than the obvious. “I heard Kate say that it’s your birthday next week.”
Claire sighs, straightening her legs and letting her book lay flat against them. “Are you fishing here, Kyle? Did Mama Duck put you up to this?”
“She might have,” I admit.
Claire lets out another sigh. “I’m not all that into my birthday and Miss Kate has a real hard time accepting that.”
“Why aren’t you into your birthday?”
Claire is silent for a moment, just staring out at my view. “I’m just not,” she finally says. “So, when you report back, tell her that you tried and I wasn’t receptive. I don’t want a party. I’m not being one of those girls who says one thing, but really wants the opposite. I’m not.”
“Kate loves you. She wants to make you happy and to her, that’s making a big deal.”
“I know and I love her back for it. I really do. If I was a good little egg, I’d just smile through it. And with some things I do. But not this. No parties. No cake. No singing or presents.”
“Can I get you something?” I ask, already having an idea of what I want it to be.
The corner of her mouth twitches up. “You really are the perfect guy,” her head tilts in my direction, “aren’t you, Kyle Grant? You must have women dropping their panties for you constantly.” She smiles bigger. “I don’t need anything.” Claire reaches out, her fingers gliding across my cheek until her hand cups it. “You already give me so much more than you realize.”
She turns away from me, picking up her smut and bringing her knees back up. She’s dismissing me. Changing the subject without having to say another word.
I don’t know if I’ll ever really understand the contradiction that is Claire Sullivan.
But she’s crazy if she thinks I’m not getting her a present.
The thing I want to get her might just be a bit over the top. Might go way beyond something a friend would give. But it’s something that’s been on my mind since I first went to her apartment, and after our conversation today, I really can’t stop the wheels from spinning. That, and I cannot think of someone I want to spend my bonus money on more than her.
Claire might not want the attention that comes with a birthday party. I won’t even pretend to understand the reason behind it. She says I’ve given her more than I realize. She has to know it’s the same for me. That she has become the most important thing in my life.
I just want to make her happy because it’s exactly what she deserves.
Hopefully, that’s what my present will do.

Review:
This was a perfect tale of two friends that get to know each other very well. Claire and Kyle meet through mutual friends and family. They get along and have similar personalities. I loved the banter between them. J. does such a good job of keeping us up to date with their friendship until they are actually in the same city. Once that happens then things start to progress for this friendship. Claire doesn’t do relationships and Kyle wouldn’t mind if his job would stop getting in the way.
The building of and destruction of their relationship will keep your heart pounding until the end. I loved the details you get with their thoughts. You are given every detail to why Claire feels they shouldn’t be together. You get the heart and soul of Kyle.  I loved the other characters and the relationship with them. I loved the progression of everyone’s futures told in this series ender.
 
Author J. Saman lives in New England with her husband and three daughters. When she's not writing romance and looking after her busy family, she works as a nurse practitioner. J. is a lover of picking at old wounds and second chance romances. She likes strong female leads and sexy alpha men with a sweet side. 
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