Category Archives: Want to read
BLOG TOUR – Grumpy Cowboy by Max Monroe
Grumpy Cowboy, an all new steam and laugh-out-loud romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available now!
ATTENTION: If you have been a victim of false advertising, you may be entitled to compensation. If you were ever hired to take care of a fourteen-year-old boy’s knee injury on a luxury ranch in the Middle of Nowhere, Utah, but that fourteen-year-old boy ended up being a tall, rough-and-tumble, muscular, one-hundred-percent all-man cowboy by the name of Rhett Jameson, you may have been put at risk for falling in love. Please seek counsel immediately.
Dear Counselor,
It was supposed to be simple favor for my very important boss, Frank Kaminsky of the Salt Lake Slammers professional basketball team—go to his good friend Tex Jameson’s luxury ranch and provide personal medical care for his recently injured teenage son.
I thought it’d be a working vacation of sorts—a chance for my city-girl self to experience something I would never otherwise do—but everything is upside down, and absolutely nothing is as I thought it would be.
For one, this patient is not a teenage boy.
He’s a real-life, blue-eyed, tough-as-nails, thirtysomething cowboy who is so darn strong he looks like he could lift a car just for the heck of it.
He’s also stubborn, rude, and we don’t get along…at all.
Add in the heart-melting vision of him as a single father to the cutest little girl on the planet, and I’ve found myself in a whole different dimension of trouble.
Lust. Feelings. A whole lot of enemies-to-lovers-style complication.
Please help me. My name is Dr. Leah Levee, I am a victim of false advertising, and if I’m not careful, this Grumpy Cowboy might just be the death of me.
Grab yours today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3tia1eA
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/GrumpyCowboyMM
Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3saZJva
Excerpt
Leah
Gently, I rap my knuckles against the wood, and moments later, an adorable little blond-haired girl comes running down the hall and right toward me.
She pushes the screen door open with one of her cowgirl boots and steps out until she can keep it open with just her hip. With pigtails and dimples and big blue eyes, she just might be the cutest kid I’ve ever see in my life.
Is this Rhett Jameson’s little sister?
“Who are you?” she asks, ignoring any sort of greeting and getting straight to the point.
I grin. “My name is Leah. What’s your name?”
“Joey,” she answers, her small hands moving with her words. “Well, Josephine, but everyone calls me Joey.”
“That’s a very pretty name.”
“And you’re a very pretty lady,” she says, and her eyes move up and down my body, taking in my hair and my face and my dress and my shoes. “Maybe the prettiest lady I’ve ever seen. Are you in movies?”
“No, I’m not in movies,” I answer on a soft laugh. “But you know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”
She giggles, and then her eyes get big. “Wait…oh my goodness! Are you here to teach me how to braid my hair?” Her button nose crinkles up in the most adorable way. “My granny told me she’d teach me how to do it, but I think she can’t remember, and is that why you’re here? Because you know how to do it?” she asks, and her short legs bounce up and down ever so slightly.
“Uh…” I pause, completely entranced by this sweet little human, but also utterly confused. “Actually, sweetie, I’m not here to teach you how to braid your hair. I’m here—”
“Aw, shucks.” She swishes one fist from her right hip to her left hip, and her tiny mouth points down at the corners.
Immediately, I feel like the worst human being alive, and it takes everything inside me not to step inside the house and ask her to get me a hairbrush.
But I rein in the emotion and offer up something I hope will soften her disappointment.
“How about this? Since I’m going to be here for the summer, I’ll make sure someday very soon, I teach you how to braid your hair.”
“Yeah?” Her big blue eyes light up like the sun. “Ya promise?”
“I promise.”
Truthfully, I’m just assuming this young girl lives here on this ranch, but I have no idea.
I don’t know if she’s Tex’s daughter or someone else’s daughter. I don’t really know much of anything. Haven’t known much of anything since I told Frank Kaminsky I’d take this job.
But so far, feeling out of the loop appears to be par for the course.
The girl steps out of the house on her tiny cowgirl boots and wraps her arms around my waist. “I’m so excited, Leah!”
I’m shocked at first by her instant affection, but it doesn’t take long before I’m putty in her teeny hands.
“Me too, Joey.” A tickled laugh emerges from my lungs, and I pat her head tenderly.
Eventually, she steps back and puts one hand to her hip. “So, if you’s supposed to be here all summer but it’s not just for my hair, why are you here?”
“I was just about to ask the same thing, Joey.” A deep, raspy voice fills my ears, and that’s when I realize someone else has joined our conversation at the door.
My eyes move up, up, up past Joey and land on a pair of perfectly worn-in jeans, over a shirtless and firm set of abs and an even firmer chest, and they don’t stop until they meet aqua-blue eyes that are pointed directly at me.
Holy shit.
This rugged, fine-as-hell specimen standing right behind Joey isn’t just any man; he’s the manliest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. His body is stretched tight with the kinds of firm muscles that do not come from protein shakes and a gym membership to LA Fitness. No. These are real muscles, made from hard, sweaty work on a big-ass ranch like this.
If you typed the words “hot cowboy” into Google, I’m pretty sure this guy would be the number one search result.
And he looks so damn strong, so physically capable of anything, I honestly think he could lift a car just for the fun of it.
With brownish-red hair that looks almost gold in the sunlight, a sharp jaw that’s peppered with some scruff, and full lips that are set in a firm line, I can’t help but wonder who is this guy?
Rhett Jameson’s…older brother? His uncle?
Some kind of familial male figure?
He clears his throat, and that’s when I realize just how long I’ve been standing here staring at this slightly irritated, but also handsome-looking, cowboy like a moron.
Uh…hello? Earth to Leah? Now would be a really great time to remember how to speak…
About Max Monroe
A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
Connect with Max Monroe
BookBub: http://bit.ly/3bJFJJh
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ReoxkK
Facebook: http://bit.ly/31XxggS
Instagram: http://bit.ly/39wuCkW
Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2HzGmau
Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/
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RELEASE BLITZ – Grumpy Cowboy by Max Monroe
He’s a real-life, blue-eyed, tough-as-nails, thirtysomething cowboy who is so darn strong he looks like he could lift a car just for the heck of it.
He’s also stubborn, rude, and we don’t get along…at all.
Grumpy Cowboy, an all new laugh out loud rom com from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available now!
ATTENTION: If you have been a victim of false advertising, you may be entitled to compensation. If you were ever hired to take care of a fourteen-year-old boy’s knee injury on a luxury ranch in the Middle of Nowhere, Utah, but that fourteen-year-old boy ended up being a tall, rough-and-tumble, muscular, one-hundred-percent all-man cowboy by the name of Rhett Jameson, you may have been put at risk for falling in love. Please seek counsel immediately.
Dear Counselor,
It was supposed to be simple favor for my very important boss, Frank Kaminsky of the Salt Lake Slammers professional basketball team—go to his good friend Tex Jameson’s luxury ranch and provide personal medical care for his recently injured teenage son.
I thought it’d be a working vacation of sorts—a chance for my city-girl self to experience something I would never otherwise do—but everything is upside down, and absolutely nothing is as I thought it would be.
For one, this patient is not a teenage boy.
He’s a real-life, blue-eyed, tough-as-nails, thirtysomething cowboy who is so darn strong he looks like he could lift a car just for the heck of it.
He’s also stubborn, rude, and we don’t get along…at all.
Add in the heart-melting vision of him as a single father to the cutest little girl on the planet, and I’ve found myself in a whole different dimension of trouble.
Lust. Feelings. A whole lot of enemies-to-lovers-style complication.
Please help me. My name is Dr. Leah Levee, I am a victim of false advertising, and if I’m not careful, this Grumpy Cowboy might just be the death of me.
Grab yours today!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3tia1eA
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/GrumpyCowboyMM
Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3saZJva
About Max Monroe
A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
Connect with Max Monroe
BookBub: http://bit.ly/3bJFJJh
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ReoxkK
Facebook: http://bit.ly/31XxggS
Instagram: http://bit.ly/39wuCkW
Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2HzGmau
Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/
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BLOG TOUR – Wild North (North Brothers #1) by JB Salsbury
Wild North, an all-new angsty romance with a bossy hero and a woman who was born to survive from New York Times bestselling author JB Salsbury is out now!
To me, he was Grizzly.
To the world, I would learn, he’s someone else completely.
I should have died on that mountain.
But he rescued me.
More animal than man, he’s cold, distant, and fiercely territorial. He seems to hate me for simply breathing, and yet, he brought me back to life.
After my return to the city, I can’t stop thinking about him. His rough hands, intense glare, and the way he cared for me as if I meant something to him.
He tells me he’s dangerous. That I’m not safe around him. I would eventually understand why he warned me away. But by then it’s too late. My heart is his.
Grab your copy now!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3a4T53v
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/WildNorth
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3s9EkCB
Nook: https://bit.ly/3eazOip
Add Wild North to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3tu4Sjn
Excerpt
“Do you plan to kill me?”
I drop my spoon into the bowl and bite back a fierce response. Are you out of your mind, you stupid, stupid girl! “Why would I save you if I’d planned to kill you?” I’m unsuccessful at keeping the anger from my voice. When she doesn’t immediately respond, I slowly turn around to see that she hasn’t touched her food. Her gaze darts to the wall where I store my weapons—buck knives, machetes, multiple hatchets, and a hunting rifle.
“Those are for hunting.” I eye her untouched food. She must be hungry. Upon further inspection, I see that her face shines with perspiration, and her lips, which had regained their pink color last night, look pale once again. The abrasion on her head has scabbed over and doesn’t look puffy or red. “Are you sick?” I stand and cross to her.
“No, I’m in pain. What are you doing?”
Having dropped to a squat, I peel back the animal pelts to see if she has any other injuries. She tries to bend her knees, make herself into a protective ball, but she winces in pain, and her legs flop out in front of her. That’s when I notice the dark stain on her gray long johns. “Are you bleeding?”
“What?” She follows my line of sight to her midsection. “I don’t think so.”
I grasp the hem of her shirt and wrench the fabric up.
“Hey, don’t touch me!” She bats at my hands but stops when her gaze lands on the bloody scratches carved into her torso. “I didn’t—”
“Fuck,” I growl and drop her shirt. “Anything else?”
Her eyes turn to slits, and her pale lips thin. “Like I meant for this to happen?”
I leave her to grab my first aid kit and throw a shit ton more wood into the woodstove. “Take these.” I hand her an antibiotic and a pain reliever.
“What are they?”
“Do you want to die? Because I’d be happy to drag you back out where I found you. If you want to live, take the fucking pills.” I rip clean gauze from its packaging, and once she’s swallowed the pills, I direct her to lie down.
She keeps a cautious eye on me when I pull up her shirt. The wounds on her stomach and ribcage are mostly superficial. I pull her shirt higher, and she fights me without success. She moans in pain as she lifts her other hand to cover her exposed breast. Where the swell of that breast meets her ribs is an angry red and bloody wound.
“Lift your arm.”
Slowly she lifts her arm above her head. “My shoulder is sore. It might be broken.”
“Dislocated.” I go about cleaning away the old blood around the wound to get a better idea of what I’m dealing with.
Her gaze snaps to mine. “How do you… You fixed it?” She flinches, and air escapes her clenched teeth when I hit a sensitive area. “I think I remember. The pain, at least.”
I grab the flashlight in the first aid kit and click it on. “Take this. Hold it right here.”
She’s a horrible help, the beam of light shines just about everywhere except where I need it. I do my best to clean the area, and that’s when I see something dark protruding from the wound. It can’t be one of her broken ribs, it’s not the right size or color.
“You’ve been impaled.”
“Impaled? Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious.” I hop up and grab a wooden spoon and a pair of needle-nose pliers. I pour boiling water over the pliers and hold the wooden spoon handle to her mouth.
“What are you doi—”
I shove the wooden spoon between her molars, and her eyes grow wide and panicked. “Bite. This’ll hurt.”
She makes some unintelligible noise that is easy enough to translate. Something like, “Oh, God, no. Please, wait. Give me one more second—”
I rip a piece of wood the size of her pinkie from her body, and she screams behind the wooden spoon. Tears streak down her face, and her breathing is so quick I think she’s going to pass out. Good. She’s easier to work on when she’s out cold. She manages to stay conscious as I stuff the wound with sterile gauze and cover it with medical tape. Her cheeks are wet with tears and sweat, but she doesn’t make a sound when I remove the spoon from her teeth. “Now eat.”
I reclaim my breakfast seat with my back to her.
“Thank you,” she pants, probably fighting through residual pain.
My jaw locks down on lukewarm oatmeal. I nod and blow out a tense breath.
Stuck with a random woman in my space is bad enough.
Stuck with a dying woman in my space would be worse.
About the Author
JB Salsbury, New York Times Best Selling author of The Fighting Series, lives in Phoenix, Arizona, with her husband and two kids. She spends the majority of her day lost in a world of battling alphas, budding romance, and impossible obstacles as stories claw away at her subconscious, begging to be released to the page.
Her love of good storytelling led her to earn a degree in Media Communications. With her journalistic background, writing has always been at the forefront, and her love of romance prompted her to write her first novel.
Since 2013 she has published six bestselling novels in The Fighting Series and won a RONE Award.
Connect with JB
Facebook: https://bit.ly/3stLCRV
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3mZRQaR
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3stsCms
Twitter: https://bit.ly/3dtpF0X
Instagram: https://bit.ly/3x7WCbh
Website: http://jbsalsbury.com/
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BLOG TOUR – While You Were Texting by Delancey Stewart and Marika Ray
While You Were Texting, an all-new laugh out loud rom com from USA Today bestselling authors Delancey Stewart and Marika Ray, is available now!
Lincoln Cunningham doesn’t do relationships. Mostly because he learned in college that he doesn’t do them well. Translation: book smart guys focused on learning the art and science of vineyard tending aren’t always girl smart, and the humiliation that comes from being the only one invested in the relationship, well, that’s enough for him.
Lincoln’s mother, however, isn’t so sure. Her oldest son found his match, and now her sights are set on Linc. Why she insists on setting him up at the Paint it Pal pottery shop is beyond anyone’s grasp.
Hannah Delacourt never dreamed of a life spent handing customers ceramic monkeys and pots of paint and explaining the inner workings of a kiln. But she also never intended to spend a year trying to figure out whether the vineyard she inherited should be sold or might actually produce wine.
When the same cute guy comes in to paint on date after miserable date, she figures out what’s going on pretty quickly. He slips her an SOS and she texts him to help him out of the latest painful date. When he texts later to thank her, they hatch the perfect scheme.
She’ll pretend to be his girlfriend while he helps her figure out if her grapes are worth keeping. Everyone wins, right? But what happens when you fall in love when you’re texting with your fake boyfriend? Worse yet, what do you do when he’s clueless?
From two USA Today bestselling authors, a RomCom so sweet you’ll want to hug your kindle and never look at texting the same way.
Grab your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3aqAiQf
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/WhileYouWereText
Add While You Were Texting to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3szvL4h
Excerpt
HANNAH
Not twenty minutes after opening for the day, the bell above the door jangled and in walked the cute guy I’d been daydreaming about this morning. Today he had a long, dark Henley on with jeans that had seen better days. Probably for the best, given the nature of painting crafts. But it was the way his brown eyes drooped at the corners that got to me.
“Morning!” I trilled as he approached the counter.
His lips quirked up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey. Can I get a frog please?”
It must have been the knock to the head by the shower curtain, but I just couldn’t let this guy paint another frog without poking my nose in his business.
“Are you sure you don’t want to move up the food chain and try a bird? We have a pretty good parrot, if I do say so myself.”
The guy leaned his hip on the counter and folded his arms across his chest. Up close, he was less lanky and more broad than I gave him credit for. His eyes held humor now and I gave myself a mental gold star for putting it there.
“But then I’d have to use more than one color of paint,” he replied, the rumble of his voice making me think of the rare rainy morning when I could burrow under the covers and sleep in.
I leaned my forearms on the counter, angling in and shamelessly inhaling his scent. He smelled like he rolled around in a pile of fall leaves before stepping foot inside my shop. “That’s generally the idea.”
He full-out grinned and my heart stopped. “I prefer a monochromatic masterpiece.”
I tossed a look over my shoulder at the shelf with his monochromatic frogs before looking back at him. “Is that what those are? Your masterpieces?”
He clutched his chest and I straightened in alarm. “Your harsh criticism wounds me.”
I didn’t get the chance to reply before the bell above the door rang. A piercing voice called out, “There you are!”
Nails on a chalkboard would have been preferable to that squawk. The guy cringed, as if expecting a physical blow. His eyes widened comically at me before he smoothed out his face and turned around.
“You must be Jessica,” he mumbled, his voice sounding far less deliciously rumbly and more grumpy grumbly.
“I am, you handsome devil. Your mama said you’d be the rugged tall one and she wasn’t kidding, was she? What are you? Let me guess! Six-foot-five? No, no. That’s a bit much. Six-foot-four?”
The woman kept talking, words just dribbling out her mouth like a fire hydrant wrenched open by kids on a city street corner. There was a hint of a southern twang, but I couldn’t tell if that was natural or an affected thing she did because she thought it was cute. Her hair matched her mouth: over the top and jaw-dropping. For a morning date, she dressed like she was going to prom, complete with the huge curls, inch-thick makeup, and a dress that put it all out there.
Seeing her thread her arm through the cute guy’s and pull him to a table made my stomach churn. Not out of jealousy, of course, but just concern for his general well-being. That woman was going to eat him alive.
LINCOLN
I focused on painting. This frog was going to be the most carefully painted of them all. I glanced over at the girl up front, feeling desperate to escape, but she was busy moving things around on shelves below the counter. I could see her dark head popping up now and then. I fought back a wild urge to join her, to get out of the laser-vision stare of my current date.
“So, uh, how do you know my mom again?” I asked the woman who’d dropped one hand across the table to trace lines across my frog-holding fingers with a long talon.
“Oh, I just met her,” she said, the sharp blood-red dagger still on my hand.
A little blossom of fear opened up inside me and I tried very hard not to think about that Glenn Close movie I’d seen as a kid, the one where the slighted woman ended up boiling a bunny. I didn’t have a bunny, though I’d been contemplating a kitten actually. Now I thought better of it.
“Where was that?” I asked, desperate to stop my mother ever setting me up like this again.
“At the grocery store,” she said, her voice taking on a dreamy quality, which was even harder to bear than the high-pitched squeak it had contained before. “She saw me crying over the artichokes, and she was just so sweet and asked me what was wrong, bless her heart.”
I knew I shouldn’t, but the words just skittered out of my mouth. “And what was wrong?”
Her nail dug painfully into the top of my hand as she answered. “Rex. My ex. He dumped me, and he wasn’t even kind about it. He said the most horrible things to me, Lincoln. Things I know you’d never say. He didn’t like my hair!” This last part was shrieked, and the sudden outburst made me pull my hand away from her violently, overturning the tiny tub of blue paint and spilling a tiny puddle on the table.
“Um, I’d better go get some more paint.” I stood, the wild animalistic need to escape a predator pounding through me. I spun and practically sprinted to the counter, where the kind dark-haired girl who worked there practically shone like a beacon of safety.
“How’s it going?” she asked brightly, but I could see in her face that she knew it was going in the most terrifying manner possible.
I looked around the countertop frantically, spotting a pen and a little pile of scratch paper notes and grabbing for one. As I scrawled across the paper, I forced myself to try to act normal. “Yeah,” I said, writing at the same time. “Going super well. This frog, well, this one is really going to be a good one. But I need more blue paint.”
I babbled on, my hand scribbling my cell phone number and the words:
“Plz txt me with fake emergency. Will die if I don’t get away.”
About Delancey Stewart
I’m USA Today Bestselling author Delancey Stewart. My contemporary romances run the gamut of settings and setups, but they always deliver humor, heart and heat. It’s a guarantee.
I write from my home in Denver, CO, where I manage a household full of boys and men. Okay, only one man. The hubs. But two boys. I mean, three if you count the hubs. (You see why I do words and not numbers. I was told there’d be no math in this bio. Someone lied.)
I grew up in California and have had more jobs than anyone on earth (personal trainer, pharmaceutical rep, copywriter, tech writer, marketing director, wine seller, elementary school teacher… I’m not kidding. The list. It goes on.) But the one I love the most is writing, in part because I get to meet people who love books and stories as much as I do! Please don’t hesitate to get in touch to say hello, and don’t forget to join my newsletter!
Connect with Delancey
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3vzxpVv
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Website: https://delanceystewart.com/
About Marika Ray
Marika Ray is a USA Today bestselling author, writing steamy RomComs to brighten your day. All her books come with a money-back guarantee that you’ll laugh at least once with every book.
Marika Ray spends her time behind a computer crafting stories, walking the beaches of southern California scoping out the lifeguards, and making healthy food for her kids and husband whether they like it or not. Prior to writing novels, Marika held various jobs in the finance industry, with private start-up companies, and then in health & fitness. Cats may have nine lives, but Marika believes everyone should have nine careers to keep things spicy.
Connect with Marika
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3gUjxBa
Facebook: https://bit.ly/333u1WP
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3t7VjFV
Instagram: https://bit.ly/3aTuyPs
Website: https://marikaray.com/
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