Wednesday, August 27, 2014

The Botticelli Affair by Traci L. Slatton



Gorgeous, reformed art forger Laila Cambridge misses her father. She’s a grad student in art history and her father disappeared five years ago. She’s blocked writing her dissertation and she’s flat broke. She’s out drinking one night when she meets sexy, mysterious John Bolingbroke, who knows way too much about her. Then he bumps into her as she guides a tour around the Met. He tells her that her father is still alive—but in lethal danger.

Bolingbroke claims to be an art collector. Two weeks ago, he saw Robert Cambridge searching for a legendary lost Botticelli painting. Bolingbroke overheard a plot to pursue Robert, take the painting, and kill him. Bolingbroke knows that Laila has connections in the seedy art underworld; he wants Laila to help him find Robert and the painting. Time is short. The group pursuing Robert has unlimited resources. They have a week at most before the group murders her father.

From New York, through Paris, Amsterdam, and Rome, Laila pursues her father, the painting, and her own redemption... 


Laila Cambridge is a highly skilled art forger. When she is forging pieces, it’s as though the original artist inhabits her body and is painting through her. Deciding to give up that particular skill, she has laid down her paintbrush until a mysterious half-vampire, John Bolingbroke, seeks her out telling her father has been kidnapped and the lost painting of Botticelli is the only thing that can save him.
 
I liked the book and as a painter myself I enjoyed that aspect of it. The concept was intriguing as was the approach take with the vampire. The writing was amazing; I wished more authors would write this way, although I have heard some readers say that you should keep a dictionary handy.  
 
There was incredible chemistry between John and Laila but I don’t feel as though the novel ended with an HEA not even really with a happy for now ending. It just sort of ended on a rather odd note which makes me hope for another book to end it properly.
 
While I loved this book— and literally devoured it in one sitting—, what drove me and my inner art historian mad was the fact the author made a slipup with painting she was referring to.
 
The author decided as a little plot twist, John was the man who posed as Mercury in Botticelli’s Primavera. Brilliant device used! The problem is she mistakenly said that Mercury was in the far right side of the paining when in reality he was in the left. It drove me mad. So throughout the entire book, all I could think about was the fact the author got it wrong.


Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Wicked Temptation: A Nemesis, Unlimted Novel by Zoe Archer





Award-winning author Zoë Archer returns with another novel of breathtaking suspense as Nemesis, Unlimited schemes to avenge injustice…and conquer a woman’s heart. 
FATE BROUGHT THEM TOGETHER.
Newly widowed, Bronwyn Parrish’s fortune has been spent settling her late husband’s debts—thanks to an unscrupulous business manager—and now there’s nothing left. Society has no place for a woman without means, and with nowhere to turn, Bronwyn is lost…until, from out of nowhere, a handsome gentleman steps in and makes her an offer she can’t refuse.
WILL DESIRE TEAR THEM APART?
Secrets and subterfuge are in Marco Black’s blood. As one of Nemesis, Unlimited’s most senior agents, Society women aren’t his usual cup of tea. But Marco’s sixth sense tells him that there’s more to Bronwyn than meets the eye…and he wants to help the brazen beauty retrieve her lost fortune. But is his attraction to her worth the risk? His mission will lead him all the way to Les Grillons, France’s most ruthless crime syndicate. Soon, Marco and Bronwyn will find themselves facing a danger that could cost them their lives—and a passion that is priceless.





After the death of her husband, Bronwyn Parrish had to sell off nearly everything she owned to pay off her late husband’s debts, thanks to a dodgy business manager. Now without the means to support herself or the life she has grown accustomed to, Bronwyn has nowhere to turn until a handsome man walks into her life offering to help her.
 
Marco Black, one of the founders of Nemesis, Unlimited, has made a vow to help those in need. What he’s having trouble with is the fact that his newest client is a Society woman. Although something’s telling this spy that there is more to Bronwyn than meets the eye, which is why he agreed to help her reclaim her lost fortune.
 
Normally his missions are a singular endeavor but for this one he needs Bronwyn in tow and he finds himself drawn to her even as danger closes in around them.
 
This is my first Nemesis, Unlimited novel and it will not be my last. The characters were engaging, the plot was perfectly paced, and the chemistry was sizzling.
 
Bronwyn was an interesting heroine. She was strong and willing to fight for what was hers. I loved that she didn’t fight her attraction to Marco or hide behind the fact her period of mourning wasn’t over. I also loved that she was up for just about everything.
 
Oh, Marco Black, you beasty thing, you. There was so much mystery, allure, and passion stored up in Marco I could have been happily content reading a novel that consisted solely of him and his proclivity for Italian hand gestures. In chapter two, Bronwyn says that Marco reminds her of a ‘beautiful knife’ and indeed, his character does come off as sharp, lethal, and intelligent yet he is also loving, kind, and gentle. I also loved that Marco was Italian; I think this was the first romance novel I’ve read where the hero was.
 
Another thing that appealed to me was that this was set in the Victorian era. Often romance novels are in the Regency era, so this was a refreshing change.
 
Overall, I could not put this book down. Imagine MI-5 set in the Victorian era and laced with passion.



 
Title: Wicked Temptation
Series: Nemesis, Unlimited
Author: Zoe Archer
Publisher: St. Martin’s Paperback
ISBN: 978-1-250-01561-7
Format: Mass Market Paperback $7.99 U.S./ $9.99 CAN.
Released June 2014
Format Read: ARC from Publisher
Rating: 5 Cups


 


Monday, August 25, 2014

Pocket Star-E Nights1001 EROTIC NIGHTS: PART II: BARBARIAN'S CONCUBINE by Lisa Cach and TEMPT ME ETERNALLY by Gena Showalter



Grab your e-reader and enjoy 1001 EROTIC NIGHTS: PART II: BARBARIAN'S CONCUBINE by Lisa Cach and TEMPT ME ETERNALLY by Gena Showalter and many more e-books this summer. Wherever you go, Pocket Star-E Nights are guaranteed to make your evenings shine!
 





 After Clovis becomes king of his tribe of Salian Franks he reunites with Nimia. He soon realizes how useful her Phannic gifts will be, and with her help, plots to take down Soissons. She is in love with Clovis, however, and while he says he loves her, too... there is a calculating coldness in his eyes sometimes that makes her wonder if he knows what love is.

Sygarius, meanwhile, is outraged that Nimia fled, and he too has realized that she has useful powers. He wants her back. And he is prepared to fight for what’s his.
 
Terix heaved a put-upon sigh. We’d had this same argument a hundred times over the past month and a half as we fled from Sygarius and toward . . . toward . . . Well, that was the issue. Toward what? The only answer that had any meaning—to me, at least—was to find my lost people, the Phanne. And the only clue I had to finding them was the story that a tattooed man named Maerlin had once met my onetime lover (and only one time, gods rot his betraying heart), the Frankish prince Clovis, on the shore of the channel. Maerlin had told Clovis that he was of the Phanne and going to Britannia, and that Clovis must remember this fact, for someday it would give him what he sought.
 
An annoyingly mysterious statement, that.
 
“He’ll want more from you once we’re on his boat. You’ll have to give it to him, too,” Terix tried.
 
I hoped so.
 
Hades, what had come over me? This was not the Nimia I was familiar with, for most of her life untouchable and untouched, the consecrated sexual-toy-to-be of Sygarius.
 
Or maybe I was the same Nimia: I had spent those untouched years lusting for the feel of another’s hand on my skin. Perhaps it should be no surprise to anyone, least of all myself, that once my virginity was gone I would seek to gorge myself on that which I had so long been denied.
 
Jax was the first attractive opportunity to do so. How convenient for me that we needed his help.
 
“Better a cock rubber . . .” I said, reviving an old joke between us.
 
“Than a pot scrubber,” Terix answered, but then made a face. “That was only funny when we were slaves with no choice.”
 
“There’s never a choice for the likes of us. Not here in Gaul, anyway, with Sygarius hunting us. We have to get beyond his reach.”
 
Terix threw up his hands. He knew I wasn’t going to be dissuaded. “It’s your cunny.”
 
“My cunny isn’t part of the deal, you know that.” At least, not yet it wasn’t. One look at my tattoos, and no matter how horny Jax was for me, he’d be a lot hornier for the ten-soldi reward. “It’s the only way, Terix.”
 
Terix turned his shoulder to me, and made grumbling comments to his cup of mead that I chose not to decipher.
 
I slid my gaze to Jax, and sent him my answer in a small smile and a nod.
 
Jax rose at once, leaving his friends to their dice and drink. He wove through the crowd, coming toward me with an easy, natural confidence, his arms relaxed, his narrow hips and sinewy frame moving without hurry, but with purpose. A sudden certainty came to me that a man who moved through a crowd like that, with no sign of either arrogance or caution, was a man who didn’t blink at killing anyone who got in his way.
 
A shiver ran down my spine and landed in my loins. I was a fool if I thought I was in control of this situation.
 
My cunny pulsed in response to the thought.
 
“All is agreed?” Jax asked when he reached me. His Latin had an accent I couldn’t place; I guessed that he’d not grown up amid Romans. How old he might be, I couldn’t say: deep crow’s-feet spread from his eyes, and grooves ran from the edge of his nose to the corners of his mouth, but a life on the water would do that to even a young man. His hair hung thick and dark brown, and his teeth flashed white in his tanned skin.
 
I nodded.
 
He took my elbow in a gentle grip and guided me from the tavern into the scorching heat of the day. The sun felt like flames on my skin. My stomach fluttered as I realized this was happening; I was going alone with Jax to the stables. I had agreed to suck his cock in exchange for his agreeing to take us on as paying passengers, and he was not a man who would let me change my mind.
 
  




 
 The huntress becomes the hunted in this sizzling paranormal romance from New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Gena Showalter, previously published as part of the Deep Kiss of Winter anthology with #1 New York Times bestselling author Kresley Cole, now available as a stand-alone ebook!

With only skin-to-skin contact, Aleaha Love can change her appearance, assuming any identity. As an AIR (Alien Investigation and Removal) agent, her newest mission is to capture a group of otherworldly warriors. So imagine her surprise when the hunter becomes the hunted, and she’s taken captive by dangerously seductive Breean, a golden-skinned, iron-willed commander, who threatens everything Aleaha stands for—and makes her want to be only herself, for the first time in her life
 
EXCERPT:
They were coming.
 
Warriors unlike any other. Monsters of unimaginable power. Otherworlders. Fierce creatures with the ability to look inside your soul, glimpse your greatest fear, and present it to you with an unrepentant smile.
 
Should’ve stayed home, Aleaha Love thought. ’Cause we’re gonna get spanked. Hard. And not in a good way. Instead, she’d answered her cell and her captain’s call to action, and now found herself crouched in the middle of a gnarled forest, staring into a snow-laden clearing, moonlight shooting bright amber rays in every direction as flakes wafted in the breeze like fairy dust.
 
Though she wore white from head to toe, had a pyre-gun stretched forward, and was burrowed in a drift as cover, she felt exposed. Vulnerable. And yeah, damn cold.
 
What in the hell did I get myself into?
 
“Everyone in position?” a voice whispered from her headset.
 
A whisper, yeah, but it startled her. She managed to cut off a yelp, but couldn’t stop tremors from sweeping through her. Steady. She’d never hear the end of it if she accidentally fired her weapon before the fight had even begun.
 
“Premature weapon ejaculation,” they’d say with a chuckle, and she wouldn’t be able to deny it.
 
One by one, twenty teammates uttered their assent. They had wicked cool nicknames like Hawk Eye and Ghost. Her turn, she said, “Lollipop, in place.”
 
She rolled her eyes. “Dress her up and watch her play bad alien, delicious cop,” the boys had laughed before giving her the stupid moniker her first day on the job. “Naughty lawbreakers will want to taste her, not outrun her.”
 
That had been, what? Five weeks ago, she realized with a jolt. Oh, how life had changed since then. From hiding in the shadows, afraid of what she was, to working cases with New Chicago’s elite team of smart-asses, content with her somewhat pampered existence. A pampered existence she didn’t deserve and hadn’t earned, but whatever. No guilt for her. Really.
 
“Need someone to snuggle against, Lolli?” a quiet, amused male voice asked. Devyn, supposedly a king of some sort and a self-proclaimed collector of women. He wasn’t really a member of Alien Investigation and Removal but was a special contractor, as well as the man who’d once wired her gun to blow bubbles rather than fire at target practice.
 
Word on the street, he was more powerful than God and deadlier than the devil, though no one would tell her outright what he could do. He was an otherworlder, that much she knew. That, and most of AIR’s flunkies kept their distance from him. They feared him, which only heightened Aleaha’s need to keep her own secrets.
 
She, too, was different.
 
She didn’t know whether she was human or alien. Or both. She didn’t know whether there were others like her or not. She didn’t know who her parents were or why they’d abandoned her on the dirty streets of the Southern District—a.k.a Whore’s Corner—of New Chicago, and she didn’t care. Not anymore. All she knew was that she could assume anyone’s identity with only a touch. That person’s face became hers; their height became hers; their body became hers.
 
For years, she’d lived in fear of being found out, of being hunted and tortured for her unnatural ability, afraid that everyone who looked at her saw the truth and knew she wasn’t who she claimed to be. But she couldn’t drop the mask. As herself, she was wanted for theft, assault against a police officer, and more theft. And then maybe kinda sorta murder. Not that she was culpable. He’d deserved it.
 
She’d rather lose a limb than spend any more time in jail.
 
Her fear of discovery was waning, though, and she was settling comfortably into her newest life as Macy Briggs. Maybe one day I’ll even be worthy of it. Again, not that she felt guilty. Really.
 
But with Christmas only a few weeks away . . . ugh. Worst. Holiday. Ever. Her “friends” would bake Macy’s favorite foods, not Aleaha’s. They would give her gifts meant for Macy, and reminisce fondly about good ole days she knew nothing about, and she would have to smile through every minute of it. And yeah, okay. Fine. Then she would feel guilty.
 
“What, ignoring me?” Devyn said with another of those snarky laughs. “Wasn’t like I was going to ask to feel you up or anything. I mean, I was just gonna surprise you with my handsiness.”
 
God, she was on the job, yet she’d lost track of her thoughts. Mortifying. “Can you take nothing
seriously?”
 
“Hello, have you met me? I take making out very seriously.”
 
All the men on the line snorted in their attempts to muffle their laughter. They might be wary of him, but they couldn’t help but enjoy his perverted sense of humor.
 
“Fuck you, Chuckles,” she said, trying not to reveal her amusement. Irreverent bastard.
 
“Excellent. We’re on the same page, because that’s exactly what I’m trying to do to you.”
 
Give herself to Devyn? Not in this lifetime, and not because he wasn’t attractive. If anything, he was too attractive. Hell, he was total screw-like-ananimal perfection. Tall, with dark hair, wide amber eyes, and skin that glittered like a jewel; there was no one else like him. There was a recipe for his smile, though: wicked desire dipped in acid, wrapped in steel and sprinkled with candy. The recipe for his laughter? Well, that was wicked desire tossed in the gutter, wrung out in a whorehouse, and slathered with scented body lotion. Women threw themselves at him constantly, and he ate it up like they were his own personal smorgasbord.
 
They probably were. Thank God she wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend. Or, rather, a lover, since that’s all someone as fickle as Devyn could ever amount to. Macy—the real Macy—had been dating a piece of scum Aleaha was still trying to lose and she didn’t have the time or patience to throw anyone else into the mix.
 
“Temper, temper,” Jaxon Tremain chided. He was one of two agents who hung out with the sexy otherworlder, and the resident smoother. There was something unnaturally calming about his presence, as if he could slink inside a person’s psyche and wash away her fears. “Would you kiss me with that mouth?”
 
“Funny,” she said dryly.
 
She could hear the others chortling and snorting with more surprised amusement. Someone said,
“Soliciting kisses from women, Jaxon? Mishka will kill you for that.”
 
“If by kill you mean seduce, then yeah,” Jaxon replied. “You’re right.”
 
Mishka was Jaxon’s wife and a hired killer who possessed a robotic arm. Aleaha had only seen her once, but that had been enough to scare ten years off her life. Never had she seen eyes so cold or heard a voice so uncaring. Of course, the moment Mishka spied Jaxon, her entire demeanor had changed. So had Jaxon’s, for that matter. Usually he was as con- servative as a priest. One glance at Mishka, though, and he’d morphed into gutter man.
 
Aleaha had marveled at the change in him, a change she was witnessing once again. Empathetic as he was, perhaps he was veering onto the perverted track now to get her mind off the bloody massacre sure to begin. Apparently, though, she didn’t need help today. She couldn’t concentrate worth a damn. What was wrong with her?
 
“Well,” Devyn said, drawing the spotlight back to him. As always. “Be a good lollipop and answer the man. Will you kiss him or not?”
 
“I could give you a list of all the things I’ll never do to you with my mouth,” she muttered. “How ’bout that?”
 
Devyn laughed, and, yep. It was wicked desire. “She reminds me of Mia when she talks like that. Tell us, Lolli, is that list for everyone or just Jaxon?”
 
“All right, team,” Mia Snow herself interjected before Aleaha could reply. “Save it. You know I only want you to stun these men. Do not burn them. I repeat, do not burn them. An open wound will bleed and that will spread their infection. And believe me, I will kill every single one of you myself if that happens.”
 
There was a moment of frightening silence. Infection. What a delightful reminder. Not only were the warriors coming here vicious, there was a possibility that they were bringing the plague with them.
 
“Good,” Mia continued. “I’ve got your attention. Solar flare approaching in ten.” She was inside a van about a mile away, watching the action on a night- vision monitor with a handful of backup agents. “Nine.”
 
Aleaha tensed. A few months ago, a big case had busted wide open and AIR had learned that otherworlders were traveling to Earth through interworld wormholes that initiated with solar flares. Then, a few weeks after that, another case had come to light. Members of a race of aliens known as the Schön had descended, their bodies carriers of a virus that passed to humans through their blood and ejaculate. This virus turned men and women into cannibals. Their queen—or living host of this sickness—was on her way here, due to arrive in the near future.
 
Tonight, ten members of her horde were supposed to utilize one of those wormholes. Their purpose: to smooth the way for her. Which meant, destroying AIR.
 
“Six.”
 
Shit. The countdown. Despite the frigid temperatures, sweat beaded on Aleaha’s brow, dripping from the brim of the white cap she wore. Stay calm. You have to stay calm.
 
“Five.”
 
Though her résumé claimed she’d worked as a cop for more than two years, this was actually Aleaha’s first mission.
 
What seemed forever ago but had only been a few months, she’d stumbled upon the body of a woman who’d been raped and killed in a back alley—a woman she’d recognized as Miss New Chicago’s Finest in Uniform calendar girl, Macy Briggs.
 
She’d almost walked away. The higher the public profile, the more scrutiny she received. But . . .
 
Already tired of the adult-toy-store clerk identity she’d previously stolen, Aleaha had seized the chance to better herself, hiding the body and shifting so that she was an exact match to Macy’s appearance, thereby claiming the woman’s life as her own.
 
Only later had she learned that Macy had applied to AIR and been accepted. To back out would have looked suspicious and changing identities yet again hadn’t appealed. So she’d done it. She’d attended that first day, then the next. And the next. They’d watched her suspiciously, as if they knew the truth, but they had never accused her and she’d realized she was probably paranoid. Soon they’d even relaxed, accepting her as one of their own. Now, here she was, done with trials and on mission one.
 
“—was actually your warm-up,” Mia said, cutting into her thoughts. “Ten. Nine.”
 
Shit. She’d missed the end of the first countdown? She was practically begging to be killed tonight.
 
“Seven. Six.”
 
Oh, God. What if she did, in fact, die out here? What if she lost everything she’d worked so hard to gain? Her gun hand shook. You have to stay calm, damn it.
 
With bouts of extreme emotion, she shifted from one identity to another without any control. “Four. Remember, guns set to stun and only stun.”
 
Her pyre-gun was already dialed to the proper setting, so she curled her index finger around the trigger and swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Breathe in, breathe out. You do know how to fire a weapon, at least. A skill she’d learned from her only true friend, Bride McKells. A vampire, and her champion. They’d been separated more than a decade ago, chased apart by cops who’d caught them breaking into homes for food, and Aleaha hadn’t been able to find her since. She’d never stop looking, though.
 
“One.”



 

 


Monday, August 18, 2014

Pocket Star-E Nights TRY ME ON FOR SIZE by STEPHANIE HAEFNER and LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES by VICTORIA VAN TIEM



Grab your e-reader and enjoy  Try Me On For Size by Stephanie Haefner and Love Like The Movies by Victoria Van Tiem  and many more e-books this summer. Wherever you go, Pocket Star-E Nights are guaranteed to make your evenings shine!
 







With their business in trouble, Mia and Bryn must pull out all the stops to save their shop. Things get sticky when Mia, owner of Classy ‘n’ Sassy Lingerie, has to go on five blind “dates” to find the right model for the big marketing plan that will save the store. But they aren’t your ordinary blind dates. Mia has to test out the “goods” to find the perfect spokespenis—the model for Classy ‘n’ Sassy’s newest line of lifelike dildos.

Not realizing Mia is on a mission, Oliver Christensen approaches her in a bar and Mia mistakes him for model #1. Oliver decides to play along. But just how far is he willing to take this charade in order to get closer to Mia? And what happens if Mia’s Blind Date #1 turns out to be The One?
A sexy, laugh-out-loud love story about a woman trying to save her failing lingerie business with a new product—“personal massagers” made to the specs of the spokesman of her choice! But when she falls for the first model she meets, how can she prove she’s his perfect fit?
 
EXCERPT:
 “We need a new product,” Bryn said, finally adding to the conversation. “Something different.”
 
“Different how? Like shapers or something? Those are all the rage.”
 
“No. I mean really different.” Bryn stood. “We built this business by catering to two kinds of women and their significant others. The ones who like simple and classic bras and panties, and the ones who want something sexier, edgier. We have something to spark the interest of every lover, no matter what his or her tastes are, from beige cotton to red lace. But what about the women who don’t have a man? Or don’t want one?”
 
“Uh, you kinda lost me,” Mia said.
 
“Look, I no longer have a husband. And at this point in my life, I honestly have no desire to replace him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss a certain part of his anatomy every so often, if you know what I mean. Without giving all the dirty details, I have, on occasion, partaken in some . . . selfpleasuring. And so far it hasn’t been all that orgasmic. It’s hard as hell ordering things online. The products are never how they’re described. And it’s not like people love going to their local porn shop. So why don’t we give our customers the opportunity to shop for these beloved intimate accessories in a friendly, comfortable environment?”'
 
“You want to sell vibrators?” Penny asked.
 
“Well, yes. And other things. But I only want to carry products we know are good.”
 
“You volunteering to test them out before stocking them?” Mia asked.
 
“Why not? Our customers have always come to us for quality products and solid advice. That’s what sets us apart! And for this new venture, I want our customers to trust us in helping them satisfy this . . . need.”
 
Penny jumped in with her thoughts. “We can throw a launch party for the line. Keeping it classy, of course, and show women it’s okay to own these types of things.”
 
The wheels in Mia’s head began spinning, too. They needed something big if they were going to survive. A line of tried-and-true toys wasn’t enough. They had to offer their customers something exclusive.
 
“We need something special. Something women can’t get everywhere else.”
 
“Like what?”
 
Mia remembered an ad she’d seen in the back of a lingerie catalog. A do-it-yourself dildo mold. Any woman could make a rubber replica of her man’s junk to use when he was away.
 
“How about selling those custom dildo-making kits? Couples can take them home and make it together.”
 
“That’s good. I think you’re on the right track.” Bryn’s brow furrowed as she walked to the window. “But how many women out there are like me and don’t have a model at home to mold?”
 
“So, maybe we can find guys to mold. Like have a catalogue of penises or something?”
 
Bryn spun around, smile wide, eyes all glittery like the new bra-and-panty sets that came in the week before. “No. Just one penis. One guy to be our signature penis. A spokespenis!”
 
“Oh, I like it!” Penny said. “He can make appearances at the store. Women can buy his replica and get his autograph.”
 
“Yes. Exactly! A hot guy women can meet and have a face to take home with the toy. They can chat with him, flirt, take pictures.”
 
“I don’t know,” Mia said, needing to add her thoughts to the conversation. “Is this really what we want for the store? I don’t want to change the reputation we’ve built. We shouldn’t cheapen it, ya know?”
 
Bryn shook her head. “No. I think women will love it. And if you ask me, it’s time for a change. We need something big if we’re gonna survive. Yeah, it’s a risk, but anything we do now is a risk, including sticking to the same formula we’ve used for eight years.”
 
She had a point. “Okay. It’s worth a shot. But if we’re gonna do this, we do it right. And by that I mean interviewing legitimate models. I don’t want some random guy who’ll get off on having his penis cloned.”
 
“No. We’ll have a strict screening process, including references, drug testing . . . STD testing.”
 
“Yep. All that.” Mia made some notes on her pad. Whoa. Back up. “STD testing? Why would we need that?”
 
“Well, like I said. We need to test the toys before we sell them. And I’m not going to mold random penises that aren’t any good.”
 
“How are we gonna test that?”
 
Mia knew that glint in Bryn’s eyes. And she was not going to like the answer.
 
“By using it before it’s molded.”
 
No. No, she couldn’t mean that.
 
“Someone needs to have sex with the models to make sure their member is adequate.”
 
“Why? Can’t we tell that just by looking at it?”
 
“No. Different girths and lengths have different feels. You can’t know how it will feel by just looking, or even touching them with your hand. Only a real live vagina can get the data we need to do this right. We need someone who can do this objectively and make an informed decision. And
since Penny is married and Grant can’t do it, that only leaves . . .”
 
Bryn eyed Mia, the mischievous grin back.
 
“Oh, no. What about you, Miss Sassy? You’re the one who said the penises need to be tested.”
 
“I can test the already-made toys. I can’t test the models.”
 
“Sure you can.”
 
The smile faded from Bryn’s face. “You know I’m not ready.”
 
“Well, I am not having sex with random strangers.”
 
“They wouldn’t be random. They’d be thoroughly screened. I can call legitimate modeling agencies and tell them what we’re looking for. We’ll send them for full health screenings. We’ll select guys for the final round and then you’ll have sex with them. But not real sex. Just test it out and see how it feels from different angles. Make sure it’s thick enough, long enough. Not bent or anything funky.”
 
“Are we seriously having this conversation?”
 
Penny sat there, giggling. “I think it’s brilliant.”
 
“No. I’m not doing it. End of discussion. There has to be another way.”
 
But it wasn’t the end of the discussion. And there wasn’t another way that would get them the exact data they needed.
 
This venture couldn’t fail. It had to be done without error.




 In this irresistible romantic romp, movie fanatic Kensington Shaw is thrown into love—Hollywood-style—when her gorgeous ex presents a series of big screen challenges to win back her heart.

What girl wouldn’t want to experience the Pretty Woman shopping scene? It’s number two on the list. Or, try the lift from Dirty Dancing? It’s number five. One list, ten romantic movie moments, and a handful of shenanigans later, Kenzi has to wonder…should she marry the man her family loves, or risk everything for a love like the movies?
 
EXCERPT:
 With a fresh cup of coffee, I’m back at my desk just as Clive’s door opens. Bradley and Shane both emerge. With my back ramrod straight, I open a new document and tap away at the keys like I’m deep in a major idea storm and can’t keep up with the flow.
 
They’re walking over here. Without looking up, I type the same sentence again, and then ad lib. Idea storm and can’t keep up with the flow. Tons of ideas. Lots of ideas
 
Shane’s standing right in front of my desk. “Good morning, Kensington.” His floppy dark hair is pushed back off his face and a hint of growth now covers his jaw. His lips are curved slightly and my gaze falls to them.
 
“Hi, hon,” Bradley says, striding up beside him before I can respond. He looks polished and handsome in the light-blue shirt I bought for his last birthday.
 
I peer over my laptop screen and smile brightly at him, ignoring Shane. “Morning, what’s on the agenda today?” I keep typing random sentences, because I’m much too busy to stop. I type, much too busy to stop.
 
“I thought we could brainstorm during an outing. Maybe hash out the list,” Shane says to the side of my head because I’m still smiling at Bradley. My fiancé. Who’s still upset with me.
 
I pause and do my best to look apologetic. “Oh, it’s Wednesday. Bradley and I have a standing lunch date.” There. I looked at him.
 
Bradley rocks back on his heels. “Oh, yeah, sorry, can’t. Tonya and I are meeting with the Indianapolis Symphony about a new print initiative.” His eyes narrow. “Is that a new dress?”
 
I can feel my face warm. “What? No, you’ve seen this before.” He actually has. I furrow my brows in a you-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about look.
 
“Sorry ’bout lunch, but I may be able to score symphony tickets from today’s meeting.”
 
“Great,” I say and smile even brighter at Bradley. It’s megawatt and directed only at him. I love the symphony. It’s an excuse to get dressed up and the theater’s absolutely beautiful. It also doesn’t hurt that he said that in front of Shane. See? We’re happy. In fact, I’m beaming.
 
Bradley taps my desk and smiles. “I do like that dress. You look gorgeous.” He nods to Shane. No smile. “Bennett.” He turns and walks toward his office.
 
Yay, Bradley. I’m so wearing something silky for him this weekend. I look back at my computer screen and keep ignoring Shane in case Bradley—yup, he just looked back. I smile. Having Shane here is bothering him. I just need to not aggravate the situation and stay focused on what’s at stake: job, bonus, wedding, and family . . . in other words, everything.
 
Shane’s still standing here.
 
“So, what time are you free?” He moves to my side of the desk and peers down at the screen.
 
What is he doing? I try to bring up the Microsoft Office calendar again, but I already closed out. I can’t just close the laptop. It’ll appear like I’m hiding something.
 
My chat window pops up. It’s Ellie. Can Shane see the screen? I can’t tell. The back of my neck warms as I glance at the message.
 
ELLIE-BELL: Has your ex Mr. Britain seen you in that dress yet? Did his jaw drop?
 
I turn quickly, to distract him. “How ’bout noon? I’m sure that’ll work.” My voice is shaky, trying to play it off.
 
“Actually, I have a late lunch over at the mall. Can you meet me there around four? Front entrance?”
 
“Sure. Oh, um, would you mind if we met in front of Fossie’s? I have to grab a baby gift off the registry for my sister-in-law, so I could meet you after . . . ?”
 
“It’s Fossie’s at four then.” Shane turns to leave but then looks back, his gaze skimming the length of my dress. “For the record, I, ah, prefer your overalls. But I can see why Bradley likes that dress.” A sly smile twists on his lips.
 
Without another word he turns on his heels, leaving me to slowly bleed out from embarrassment. I drop my head in my hands. Ugh . . . this dress. So much for confident, together, and ready for business.
 
Approaching the registry kiosk, I type in Ren’s name and wait for the printout. I haven’t even thought of registering yet. With my luck, when it’s time for a wedding shower, Mom will want to have Ren’s big baby shower. My stomach wrenches and sours.
 
I’m watching the machine slowly spit out Ren’s list: mahogany crib and dresser set, glider chair for the nursery, all-terrain jogging stroller . . . there’s nothing under four hundred dollars. What is she thinking?
 
When I look up, I spot Shane in the main aisle walking in my direction. Wait, he’s early. I dodge a woman who’s pushing a stroller with one hand and holding on to a toddler with the other. The little girl has adorable blond curls and rounded cheeks. She waves at me with a chubby hand and I can’t help smiling.
 
My expression drops as I near Shane. “Hi, you’re early. You said four, right?” I point back toward the direction I came. “I, um, haven’t even started yet.”
 
Shane looks at his watch. “Oh, so I am. Not a problem.” He motions toward the department and begins walking. “When’s your sister-in-law due?”
 
“Oh, um, not until spring.” I match his stride. So he’s coming with me? “I guess my engagement dinner is now an engagement slash early baby shower with the family, so we’re giving our gifts now.” My words spill out with an unintentionally wounded tone.
 
Shane looks puzzled. “Wait, I thought you said your mom had everything planned? Why would they change it all of a sudden?”
 
My cheeks warm. I forgot I told him. “Um, I must’ve gotten it wrong. The phone disconnected, and I guess, well . . .” I look away and say under my breath, “Ya know, I assumed.”
 
“Some things never change.” Shane huffs and shakes his head, then looks around. “I’ll, ah, be right back.”
 
There’s a warm glow in my chest from his words. Shane’s spent time with my family and gets how it is for me. He always took my side.
 
At this point, I think my family should just forget about the engagement dinner. We can make the get-together about Ren. The whole thing feels like an obligation, anyway. Like I’m an inconvenience imposing on Ren’s special day. Not quite good enough to merit my own.
 
My attention falls on a display table with little baby booties. They’re knitted to imitate miniature fashion boots. As I run my fingers over the texture, a goofy grin fixes on my face. They’re so stinkin’ cute. When I glance up, I find Shane watching me from across the display.
 
“They’re just so tiny.” My nose wrinkles. “Can you imagine the little feet, and the itty-bitty toes that would fit in these?”
 
“I can imagine a lot of things.”
 
My whole body stiffens. An unexpected tsunami of displaced emotion detonates without warning, washing over me in an instant. I look away. Anywhere. The booties. My hands. His.
 
Wait. “Why do you have scanner guns?”
 
 


 


Tuesday, August 12, 2014

The Game And The Governess by Kate Noble

 
 
Trading Places meets Pride and Prejudice in this sexy, saucy romance—first in a new series!
 
Three friends. One Wager. Winner takes all.
 
The Earl—‘Lucky Ned’ Ashby. Pompous, preening, certain that he is beloved by everyone.
 
The Miller—John Turner. Proud, forced to work as the Earl’s secretary, their relationship growing ever more strained.
 
The Doctor—Rhys Gray. Practical, peace-loving, but caught in the middle of two warring friends.
 
Their wager is simple: By trading places with John Turner and convincing someone to fall in love with him, Ned plans to prove it’s him the world adores, not his money. Turner plans to prove him wrong.
 
But no one planned on Phoebe Baker, the unassuming governess who would fall into their trap, and turn everything on its head...
 

The Earl of Ashby is known for his luck, he’s even earned the moniker, ‘Lucky Ned’. Although when his secretary, John Turner, tells Ned that his luck has more to do with his title than his personality, Ned is determined to prove him wrong and a bet is laid. The two switch places while visiting Ned’s childhood home and Ned, now playing the part of the secretary, must win a woman using only his luck.
 
Circumstances forced Phoebe Baker into becoming a governess and she blames it solely on the Earl of Ashby. So when the Earl and his secretary arrive, and stay, at the home where is employed, Phoebe is determined to avoid the Earl although she is strangely drawn to the secretary.
 
Although as Ned grows closer to Phoebe, he starts feeling guilty about lying to her.
 
I go bananas for romances where the heroine is a governess. So, when The Game And The Governess arrived in my mailbox, I eagerly devoured the novel.
 
The prologue of the book was engaging but, if I’m being honest, I didn’t really get hooked on the book until chapter 9, then I couldn’t put the book down. I was eager to see the relationship between Ned and Phoebe grow and just as eager to see how the truth was revealed and the fallout that resulted from it.
 
I liked Phoebe, I thought she was strong and was able to hold her own. Ned, on the other hand, while he was an engaging hero, I found him to be a wanker at the start although as he takes on the role of secretary he becomes more likable.
 
While I enjoyed this book, I think too much was going on and too many characters were introduced. If the characters had been limited to a handful, I think things would have smoothed out a bit and more time could have been given to the hero and heroine.
 
Overall, I liked the book and will be looking forward to reading more from Kate Noble.



Title: The Game And The Governess

Author: Kate Noble

ISBN: 978-1-4767-4938-9

Publisher: Pocket Books

Format: Mass Market $7.99 U.S./$9.99

Released On: 7/22/2014

How I Read It: Mass Market Arc from Publisher

Rating: 3 Cups