Friday, October 21, 2016

REVIEW + GIVEAWAY: Addicted by Alex Lucian


You know, I've heard a lot about Alex Lucian. I've heard things about Lucian's prose, characters, plot, and heat factor. I've seen lots of enthusiasm for each new book that's been released. I've seen the hot af covers. I've been very curious: Would the content match what I'd heard? Would I be the newest person on the Lucian bandwagon or wildly disappointed? 

Until Addicted we were overbooked with reading and reviews so I would buy the newest book and shelve it in the hopes of getting to it eventually...and finally, FINALLY, our schedules opened up and we had a chance to read an Alex Lucian novel and see what this writer's work was all about. 

First, if you're in our same situation and haven't read any of the books in this series, you're in luck! You can pick up Addicted and you won't really be spoiled for the first three books annnnnd you won't feel lost about what's going on in with the characters (Ruby and Elias). Addicted is a complete stand alone.

Second, I can confirm that the heat factor between Ruby and Elias is ..*fans self* hotter than hot. It's everything you've heard. So if you're looking for something that is sexy, this is a really good choice.

Everything else that I've heard was accurate as well: the prose was really clean, the characters were interesting, and the plot was fairly low angst but with enough conflict that you were curious about how an escort (Ruby) and her client (Elias) would ever make the transition from a business relationship to a personal one. 

I think what made this an interesting journey wasn't so much the 'what'--we all know in this genre that we're going to end up with a version of HEA--it's the why and the how they were in this situation that kept me reading. The 'why' for Ruby was pretty straightforward; the 'why' for Elias was more complex and while I 'got ' it, I'd love to know even more about him (and this may be where not having read the first three books would've helped). The 'how' they transitioned from one type of relationship to another was what made this fun (see the sexiness I mentioned before); their chemistry was really fun to read as was the way they got to know and love each other. 

Now that I've broken the seal on my first Alex Lucian read, I'm definitely interested in going back to the beginning to see what I've missed and if that's not an endorsement of Lucian's writing, I don't know what is? Grab this sexy new read; we don't think you'll regret it.

BUY IT: Amazon US:

Addiction: the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming. 

Ruby was sin and sex.  

The ultimate indulgence and worth every penny she cost me. I paid for her body, but didn't know she'd end up embedded in my soul.  

Elias was dark and tempting. 

Unmatched in intensity and passion compared to my other clients. He handed me cash in exchange for my touch, and he dug himself into my heart instead.  

Money changes things, firms up the lines of a relationship. But when it becomes an addictionan all-consuming, life-changing addictionthe lines are completely obliterated.  

I laughed under my breath before stepping forward and punching the emergency stop button on the elevator.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes wide in her face. Her pale face. Ever since that douche stepped into her space, all the color had been sucked from her skin.
Which is how I knew she was fucking lying to me.
No former client would have given her that kind of reaction. That guy knew her. And not just biblically, but definitely that too, given the crazy-ass gleam in his eyes when he looked at her.
When I didn’t answer right away, she fidgeted, crossing her arms over her stomach and then letting them drop again. Then she swept a hand through her hair, making sure the curls were still laying over one shoulder.
“Beck and call, right?” I rasped out, leaning my shoulder against the wall of the elevator.
“You. You’re at my beck and call for these thirty days, right? This being day one.”
She mimicked me, leaning her shoulder against the opposite wall, essentially facing off with me in the small space. “That’s right. Do we need to discuss this now?”
There was a slight edge to her voice that I’d never heard before, and I wasn’t ashamed in the slightest to say that it hardened me even further. “Why not?”
“Because I prefer not to have business discussions when I’m in a box that’s suspended sixteen floors above the ground.”
“We’re not going to have a discussion.” I straightened, undoing my belt. Her eyes tracked the slow movements of my hands.
“I’m not having sex in this elevator.”
“No, you’re not.” I raised one eyebrow, and lifted my chin at her. “You’re going to get on your knees for me. I want to know what your lipstick looks like on my dick.”
Alex Lucian is an author living on the eastern coast of the United States who appreciates being anonymous, for personal and professional reasons. Tempting is Alex's first novel.

Tempting (The Tempting Series: Book 1)
Amazon ~ FREE on Kindle Unlimited

Beguiling (The Tempting Series: Book Two)
Amazon ~ FREE on Kindle Unlimited

Provocative (The Tempting Series: Book Three) 
Amazon ~ FREE on Kindle Unlimited

Thursday, October 20, 2016

REVIEW: Back To Yesterday by Whitney Barbetti

Title: Back to Yesterday
Series: Bleeding Hearts #2
Author: Whitney Barbetti
Release Date: Oct 20, 2016
Add to Goodreads


Y'all, I was so torn at the end of Into The Tomorrows. I hated that Trista had to walk away from Jude and yet I felt like she needed to. She needed to take some time for herself. Clear her head. Begin to figure out what made her tick and what she needed and wanted from her life. I knew, just knew, that when I'd see Trista again, in Back To Yesterday, that I'd see her working through some things and yet be strong and independent and triumphant in her return to Jude. I had this optimism, this hope, this romantic idea of how she'd make her comeback. And it's this deluded mindset that shows you exactly why I'm not an author. Trista wasn't ready for the comeback I'd dreamed up for her and in Whitney Barbetti's words, I can see that now.

Barbetti wrote a Trista that was grieving and searching and unsatisfied and sad. She wrote a Trista that was unnervingly real and hard to read and yet so faithful to the path that she'd started in Into The Tomorrows. This Trista was not the one I thought I'd read but the one that needed to exist. Her experiences in this book were ones that I know many readers will sympathize for but not truly understand while just as many readers will understand and identify with immediately.

I cannot imagine the emotional toll writing this book could have taken. I have no idea how Whitney Barbetti wrote this and walk away unscathed? It was so emotional--so hard to read that I can't imagine how hard it was to write. My hope, though, is that writing about Trista's life in the years that she left Jude was cathartic and freeing. My hope is that people see the hope and light that comes through at the end.

Back To Yesterday isn't this huge, splashy angst fest. It's quiet and real. It's taking steps backwards even while trying so hard to slog forward until something happens or the day comes when you don't want to go back to yesterday, you're living in the today, and feeling hope in the tomorrows.

Thank you for this book, Whitney Barbetti. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
The distance from Colorado to Maine is not far enough to escape the memories.
The time I've been away is not long enough to heal the pain.
I left Colorado, determined to discover who I am outside of my grief, but I fell apart along the way.
I'm lost again.

When Jude follows me, I can't turn him away. But I can't let him in, either.
Not all the way.
I know when he finds out my secret, the one I keep hidden in the darkest part of my heart, he’ll leave me.
Like I was before.
“Are you okay?”
He laughed, but it was without humor. He dropped his head and stared at his plate as I had minutes earlier. “Am I okay?” Shaking his head, he said, “No, I’m not fucking okay.” He pushed away from the table hard enough that the screech of the chair across the wooden floor startled me. Jude was always so steady, and while he wasn’t necessarily predictable, he wasn’t prone to outbursts of anger like this. He picked up his plate and walked to the sink and I stared at his back, willing him to talk to me. But I couldn’t ask that of him.
Picking up my plate, I debated what to do. It was surreal almost, being in Jude’s apartment but not touching him the way I wanted to. Finally, I joined him at the sink as he worked a sponge into a lather and swiped it across his plate. “Let me do it,” I said softly, reaching a hand in to take the sponge from him.
He let go of the plate and clasped my forearm as I reached into the sink. His touch was gentle as he turned my wrist over and rubbed a thumb slowly across the length of my vein, visible through my translucent skin. I could only hold my breath as he touched me like this, like he was memorizing the blue lines that ran the length of my forearm. His hands were warm, searching, and I realized that I’d been yearning for this, for the simple act of him touching my skin like it was delicate. His fingers moved down, and my closed fist opened to give him access to my palm, where he traced the lines in my hands. It was so intimate, even in its simplicity, that all I could do was watch him as he examined my hands. “I’ve missed you,” he said in a voice that was just short of a whisper. My heart turned over as he bent my fingers gently back into my fist and rubbed his soapy fingers over the knuckles.
When he let go of my hand and turned away from me, I felt goose bumps ignite across my skin. All I wanted was for him to keep touching me, but I’d hurt him. And he’d hurt me.
We had miles of pain between the two of us, and even though we were no longer miles apart, that pain existed between us like another person, holding both of us back.
“I missed you too,” I said too late, when I’d caught my breath again.
“Please,” he pleaded as he rinsed the plate in his hands. “I can’t hear you say that right now.”
Nodding, I backed away. I understood. This wasn’t the time or place, and we were little more than strangers right now. I was a new Trista, someone he had never known.
Likely, someone he didn’t want to know.
I am a wife to one and a mom to two humans and one cat. I have a deep and abiding love for nachos - especially the kind with the liquid cheese, like from Taco Bell (sorry). I run on less than four hours of sleep thanks to copious amounts of Diet Coke. (Note: this paragraph is not sponsored by anyone except my hungry stomach.) 
As a Navy brat, I grew up all over the country, from California, up the east coast from Florida to New England and Colorado. I currently live in Idaho, where we have lots of potatoes and windmills. 
I write character-driven New Adult novels, heavy on the emotional connection. I LOVE love. I love writing about broken characters who find their soul mates. 

COVER REVEAL: Lucian Divine by Renee Carlino

We have the beautiful cover for the upcoming release from Renee Carlino, LUCIAN DIVINE releasing on JANUARY 9, 2017. Get ready for this breathtaking and unforgettable story!



“My guardian angel is a drunk.”

Evelyn Casey's life is at a standstill. She's in her mid-twenties, struggling with the dating scene in San Francisco. Nothing seems to be working out, and she’s starting to think that she’ll live out her days in her crummy apartment with her overbearing roommate, Brooklyn. It's absurd, but sometimes Evey longs for a guardian angel to show up and save the day.

And then he does. Seriously. His name is Lucian and he's a guardian angel, been on the job for two thousand years. His sudden presence in her life is both good—he's brilliant, witty, and warm—and bad—he's brilliant, witty, warm, and hot as ----. But as perfect as Lucian seems, he’s got problems of his own. He’s taken up drinking and he’s brazenly inserted himself into Evey’s life, going against the greatest cosmic law ever created.

For Evey, the rules are simple: You are not allowed to hook up with your guardian angel. But sometimes fulfilling your destiny requires a leap of faith, a confrontation with God.

Yes, God as in God.

Pre-order now Available


Like this page to receive a notification

Renée Carlino is a screenwriter and bestselling author of contemporary women's novels and new adult fiction. Her books have been featured in national publications, including USA TODAY, Huffington Post, Latina magazine, and Publisher's Weekly. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two sons, and their sweet dog June. When she's not at the beach with her boys or working on her next project, she likes to spend her time reading, going to concerts, and eating dark chocolate. Learn more at

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

NEW: A Love Letter to Whiskey by Kandi Steiner

Title: A Love Letter to Whiskey
Author: Kandi Steiner
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 13, 2016


"Ten stars for this brilliantly written love story. It's raw. It's real. It's flawed. It's simply perfection." - New York Times Bestselling Author Kim Karr

"A Love Letter To Whiskey starts out with a slow burn, but before you know it you are intoxicated and unable to stop until you reach the end. Once you hit the end, you are completely drunk in love with Steiner's words. Her best work to date and my favorite read of 2016." - Brittainy C. Cherry, Amazon #1 Bestselling Author

"You will savor Whiskey to the very last drop, and the hangover will be worth every heart-wrenching second. Steiner's writing is as smooth as scotch, as heady as whiskey, with a sweet afterburn that will leave you addicted." - Bestselling Author Staci Hart

"A Love Letter to Whiskey will get you drunk on feels. Wildly intoxicating, I could not put it down. An absolute masterpiece for angst lovers." - Angie, Angie's Dreamy Reads


It’s crazy how fast the buzz comes back after you’ve been sober for so long.

Whiskey stood there, on my doorstep, just like he had one year before. Except this time, there was no rain, no anger, no wedding invitation — it was just us.

It was just him — the old friend, the easy smile, the twisted solace wrapped in a glittering bottle.

It was just me — the alcoholic, pretending like I didn’t want to taste him, realizing too quickly that months of being clean didn’t make me crave him any less.

But we can’t start here.

No, to tell this story right, we need to go back.

Back to the beginning.

Back to the very first drop.

This is my love letter to Whiskey. I only hope he reads it.

Purchase Links



The first time I tasted Whiskey, I fell flat on my face.


I was drunk from the very first sip, and I guess that should have been my sign to stay away.

Jenna and I were running the trail around the lake near her house, sweat dripping into our eyes from the intense South Florida heat. It was early September, but in South Florida, it might as well have been July. There was no “boots and scarves” season, unless you counted the approximately six weeks in January and February where the temperature dropped below eighty degrees.

As it was, we were battling ninety-plus degrees, me trying to be a show off and prove I could keep up with Jenna’s cheerleading training program. She had finally made the varsity squad, and with that privilege came ridiculous standards she had to uphold. I hated running — absolutely loathed it. I would much rather have been on my surf board that day. But fortunately for Jenna, she had a competitive best friend who never turned down a challenge. So when she asked me to train with her, I’d agreed eagerly, even knowing I’d have screaming ribs and calves by the end of the day.

I saw him first.

I was just a few steps ahead of Jenna, and I’d been staring down at my hot pink sneakers as they hit the concrete. When I looked up, he was about fifty feet away, and even from that distance I could tell I was in trouble. He seemed sort of average at first — brown hair, lean build, soaked white running shirt — but the closer he got, the more I realized just how edible he was. I noticed the shift in the muscles of his legs as he ran, the way his hair bounced slightly, how he pressed his lips together in concentration as he neared us.

I looked over my shoulder, attempting to waggle my eyebrows at Jenna and give her the secret best friend code for “hot guy up ahead”, but she had stopped to tie her shoes. And when I turned back around, it was too late.

I smacked into him — hard — and fell to the pavement, rolling a bit to soften the fall. He cursed and I groaned, more from embarrassment than pain. I wish I could say I gracefully picked myself up, smiled radiantly, and asked him for his number, but the truth is I lost the ability to do anything the minute I looked up at him.

It was an unfamiliar, warm ache that spread through my chest as I used my hand to shield the sun streaming in behind his silhouette, just how you’d expect the first sip of whiskey to feel. He was bent over, hand outstretched, saying something that wasn’t registering because I had somehow managed to slip my hand into his and just that one touch had set my skin on fire.

Handsome wasn’t the right word to describe him, but it was all I kept thinking as I traced his features. His hair was a sort of mocha color, damp at the roots, falling onto his forehead just slightly. His eyes were wide — almost too round — and a mixture of gold, green, and the deepest brown. I didn’t coin the nickname Whiskey until much later, but it was that moment that I saw it for the first time — those were whiskey eyes. The kind of eyes you get lost in. The kind that drink you in. He had the longest lashes and a firm, square jaw. It was so hard, the edges so clean that I would have sworn he was angry with me if it weren’t for the smile on his face.He was still talking as my eyes fell over his broad chest before snapping back up to his sideways grin.

“Oh my God, are you fucking blind?!” Jenna’s voice snapped me from my haze as she shoved Whiskey out of the way and latched onto my hand, ripping me back to standing position. I’d barely caught my balance before she whipped around to continue her scolding. “How about you brush that long ass hair out of your eyes and watch where you’re going, huh champ?”

Oh no.

I didn’t even have time to call dibs, I couldn’t even think the word, let alone say it, before it was too late. I watched it, in slow motion, as Whiskey fell for my best friend before I even had the chance to say a single word to him.

Jenna was standing tall, arms crossed, one hip popped in her usual fashion as she waited for him to defend himself. This was her protocol — it was one of the reasons we got along. We were both what you’d call “spitfires”, but Jenna had the distinct advantage of being cripplingly gorgeous on top of having an attitude. She flipped her long, wavy blonde ponytail behind her and cocked a brow.

And then he did, too.

His smile grew wider as he met her eyes, and it was the same look I’d watched fall over guy after countless guy. Jenna was a unicorn, and men were enamored by her. As they should have been — she had platinum blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, legs for days and a personality to boot. Now, before you go thinking that I was the insecure best friend - I had it going on, too. I worked hard, I was talented - just not at the things traditional high school boys valued.

But we’ll get to that.

“Hi,” Whiskey finally said, extending his hand to Jenna this time. His eyes were warm, smile inviting — if I had to pick the right word for him, just one, I’d say charming. He just oozed charm. “I’m Jamie.”

“Well, Jamie, maybe you should make an appointment with the eye doctor before you run over another innocent jogger. And you owe Brecks an apology.” She nodded to me then and I cringed at my name, wondering why she felt the need to spill it at all. She always called me B — everyone did — so why did she choose the moment I was face to face with the first boy to ever make my heart accelerate to use my full name?

Jamie was still grinning, eying Jenna, trying to figure her out, but he turned to me after a moment with that same crooked smile. “I’m sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” He said the words with conviction, but lifted his brows on that last line because he and I both knew who wasn’t paying attention to the trail, and he wasn’t the guilty party.

“It’s fine,” I murmured, because for some reason I was still having a difficult time finding my voice. Jamie tilted his head just a fraction, his eyes hard on me this time, and I felt naked beneath his gaze. I’d never had anyone look at me that way — completely zeroed in. It was unnerving and exhilarating, too.

But before I could latch onto the feeling, he turned back to Jenna, their eyes meeting as slow smiles spread on both of their faces. I’d seen it a million times, but this was the first time I felt sick watching it happen.

I saw him first, but it didn’t matter.

Because he saw her.

Author Bio

Kandi Steiner is a Creative Writing and Advertising/Public Relations graduate from the University of Central Florida living in Tampa with her husband. Kandi works full time as a social media specialist, but also works part time as a Zumba fitness instructor and blackjack dealer.

Kandi started writing back in the 4th grade after reading the first Harry Potter installment. In 6th grade, she wrote and edited her own newspaper and distributed to her classmates. Eventually, the principal caught on and the newspaper was quickly halted, though Kandi tried fighting for her “freedom of press.” She took particular interest in writing romance after college, as she has always been a die hard hopeless romantic (like most girls brought up on Disney movies).

When Kandi isn’t working or writing, you can find her reading books of all kinds, talking with her extremely vocal cat, and spending time with her friends and family. She enjoys beach days, movie marathons, live music, craft beer and sweet wine – not necessarily in that order.

Author Links


COVER REVEAL: Hold My Breath by Ginger Scott

Is it hot in here??? Check out the cover of HOLD MY BREATH by Ginger Scott!

NA Contemporary Romance-Stand Alone
Scheduled to release: November 18, 2016

More links to come!

Fractions of seconds can do lots of damage. One decision can ruin lives. A blink can be tragic. And loving a Hollister…can hurt like hell.

I would know.

They say the average person can hold their breath under water for two full minutes when pushed to the extremes. Will Hollister has been holding his for years. The oldest of two elite swimming brothers, Will was always a dominant force in the water. But in life, he preferred to let his younger
brother Evan be the one to shine.

Evan got the girl, and Will…he got to bury all of the secrets. A brother’s burden, the weight of it all nearly left him to drown.

The daughter of two Olympians, my path was set the day my fingertips first touched water. My future was as crystal clear as the lane I dominated in the pool—swim hard, win big, love a Hollister.

My life with Evan burned bright. He gave me arms to come home to, and a smile that fooled the world into believing everything was perfect. But it was Will who pushed me. Will…who really knew me.

And when all of the pieces fell, it was Will who started to pick them up.

In the end, the only thing that matters are those few precious seconds—and what we decide to do while we still have them in our grasp.

The song breaks for a guitar solo, and I count the seconds, knowing that she’s going to slip away the moment everyone in here begins to clap. I won’t ask her to dance again. I won’t torture myself or push my luck. But I’ll remember this. As bad of an idea as it is, I’m glad I did it. So many painful memories woven into this place, I needed this one good one. It might just be the best memory I have out of everything in my life. I feel her shift in my arms, and when I pull away slightly, Maddy’s chin pushes into the center of my chest, her eyes blinking slowly while she looks up at me. Two shots and a beer are about to talk to me right now. I smile softly and nod.

“That was a much better dance,” she says.

I chuckle, tilting my head back to laugh before bringing it forward slowly, resting my brow against hers. My eyes look down at the curve of her lips, lower at the line of her jaw, and even lower at the swell of her breast under the soft black cotton of her dress. A heavy breath escapes

“I make you nervous?” she asks.

I don’t answer right away, instead closing my eyes and swallowing again. I don’t even care if she can feel it. I drag my hands up her body to her neck until I’m cradling her head in my palms, my fingertips flirting with her hair along her neck and my thumbs caressing her jawline. 

“That’s what you said…before. You said you didn’t dance well because I make you nervous,” she says, her words coming out slow and sleepy.
My mouth smiles against the top of her head, and I give in, opening it enough to press a kiss against her, hoping only the strangers are our witness.
“Yes, Maddy. That’s right,” I say. “You make me incredibly nervous.”
About the Author:

Ginger Scott is an Amazon-bestselling and Goodreads Choice Award-nominated author of several young and new adult romances, including Waiting on the Sidelines, Going Long, Blindness, How We Deal With Gravity, This Is Falling, You and Everything After, The Girl I Was Before, Wild Reckless, Wicked Restless, In Your Dreams and The Hard Count.

A sucker for a good romance, Ginger’s other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. (She’s also a sucker for a hot quarterback, catcher, pitcher, point guard…the list goes on.) Ginger has been writing and editing for newspapers, magazines and blogs for more than 15 years. She has told the stories of Olympians, politicians, actors, scientists, cowboys, criminals and towns. For more on her and her work, visit her website at

When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).

Social Media Links:
Facebook Page:
Twitter: @TheGingerScott

EXCERPT: Filthy Rich by Raine Miller


MY father always said I would know when the right woman came along. He was such a wise man. When it happened, I didn’t even question it because the process was so effortless. I just fell into her . . . because my heart knew her right away.
Knew she was the one for me.
I’d known her for years actually. She came to Blackstone Island to live with her grandmother after her parents were killed in a car crash. A devastated fifteen-year-old trying to adapt to a new life in a new place, trying to find where she fit in to a world so different from where she’d come—a forty-square-mile resort island off the Massachusetts coast where her grandmother ran the household at Blackwater, the family ancestral home.
Should have known of her, that is.
Our paths didn’t cross that I am aware of, but it’s possible. I rarely visited the island in those days because I was a twenty-three-year-old junior executive fresh out of Harvard Business School, learning everything I could about the family business. I traveled the world, enjoying the excitement of international boardroom deals by day and socializing at off-hours business affairs by night. I worked hard at both. Affairs, liaisons, one-night stands had all come and gone without a backward glance. Nameless faces and unremarkable encounters filled my nights whenever I wanted them to. The hopping nightlife of the big cities with even bigger players vying for a piece of the pie became my normal. I embraced every aspect that came with the lifestyle. Wealth, sexual favors, a certain celebrity born out of my name, all collected with barely any effort. For the next eight years, I had the world in the palm of my hand as I went about amassing a personal fortune in addition to increasing the family coffers.
Or so I thought.
I didn’t yet know what was missing from my life. Until her. And then, when I realized exactly who she was, and how fate had gotten the last laugh on me, it was already far too late. She’d bewitched me utterly. And furthermore, I knew she had no idea who I was or what ties connected us.
Maybe that’s what made her so intoxicating?
I didn’t know and I didn’t care because it made absolutely no difference to me. I wanted her with a primal desire I could barely understand, yet I embraced that desire wholeheartedly because I was incapable of doing anything else with it. How could I not? She had enchanted me.
However, once my brain managed to catch up, it wasn’t quite so effortless to accept this new and unfamiliar reality of feeling something for a woman beyond the unquestioning curiosity of when and if we might fuck.
I struggled against the idea of her at first for a few reasons. She was too young. My mother would never approve of us together. Others in my world would probably chew her up and spit her out, destroying her sweetness. But I soon found out my heart didn’t give a flying fuck about any of those reasons. The heart wants what it wants, and I’d discovered that for my heart, “want” was all wrapped up in the package that was Brooke Ellen Casterley.
The death of my father from the evils of cancer was an eye-opener for my siblings and me. Money can buy a lot of things, but it can’t stop the grim reaper from calling on you if it’s your time to go. Death was called the great equalizer. And it truly was. Wealth is a trivial thing when it’s only extra fuckin’ zeros on a balance sheet that makes any difference between lives lived. Doesn’t matter if you are rich or poor when you die, because none of it counts at the end. You leave this life the same way you come into it. You go out alone and take nothing. “There has to be more to life than making money, son,” he told me at the end. He took hold of my hand and squeezed as hard as his frail strength could manage so as to make me understand the importance. He had regrets and wanted to share with me what he’d learned to prevent me from making the same mistakes. I understood him clearly.
The most essential value my father tried to teach me along with my brothers and sisters was the idea of family. Family took precedence over money. “Take care of the family first and the wealth will grow, Caleb,” he said.
A strong family moving forward was the only thing that truly meant anything at the end of the day.
The Blackstones had been here on the island since the days when the Mayflower made its treacherous journey to the untamed American shores. As the eldest son it was my duty to make sure the Blackstones would still be here a hundred years from now.
My plan to fulfill my duty included her. It wouldn’t work any other way for me. I knew it the first time I ever felt the heat of her eyes as they burned me from across the room.
I knew it down in my bones.
I was going to marry that lovely, beautiful girl from England, and she would be mine.


Are you ready for Caleb Blackstone?
Filthy Rich by Raine Miller releases on November 15th! #BlackstoneDynasty

Pre-order TODAY!


Billionaire Caleb Blackstone lives in the glamorous world of wealth and success, with every material luxury. But the moment he sees Brooke Casterley, none of that matters. Caleb is filled with a raw, undeniable need that he can’t ignore…for a girl who is so completely different from everything and everyone he’s ever known.

Only Brooke isn’t looking for love. She knows all too well just how much damage the wrong guy can do. Still, what sane, broke British girl can resist the charms of an incredibly sexy, chivalrous billionaire? What starts as flirtation quickly turns into all-consuming passion. Nothing could have prepared her for the searing heat of Caleb’s touch—or just how much she craves him.

Their whirlwind romance is the stuff of high-society fantasy—but for every moment of pleasure, there is a cost. Past mistakes and tragedy shadow them both…and falling for him might be the kind of trouble she can’t afford.


About the Author:


Raine Miller has been reading romance novels since she picked up that first Barbara Cartland book at the tender age of thirteen. And it's a safe bet she'll never stop, because now she writes them too! Granted Raine's stories are edgy enough to turn Ms. Cartland in her grave, but to her way of thinking, a hot, sexy hero never goes out of fashion. A former teacher, she's now writing sexy romance stories full time. She has a handsome prince of a husband, two brilliant sons, and two bouncy Italian Greyhounds to pull her back into the real world if the writing takes her too far away. Her sons know she likes to write stories, but gratefully have never asked to read any, thank God! Raine loves to hear from readers and to chat about the characters in her books. You can contact her at or visit to sign up for updates and her newsletter with links to upcoming books. Join us on Facebook at the Raine Miller Romance Readers group here: