Take a look at our top picks for August. If any of them look good, click on the book cover and it'll take you to Amazon for more information.
This Love and Not About Love by Hilaria Alexander are both so satisfying. Each book tackles a couple who are trying to figure some things out and we get to follow along in their journey to figure out who they are and who they are to each other. Emotional, funny, and really good reads.
The First Taste is our second novel by Jessica Hawkins and it was not what I expected at all. A single father falling for a woman who seems like she's a badass bitch?! It totally works and has me looking for what Hawkins is putting out next.
Professed is absolutely amazing. Nicola Rendell gave us smart, sexy characters. The pages in this book smoldered and when I finished it I felt like I was smarter for having read it. What more can a reader ask for? Nothing....except for the next book Confessed, which is out soon and also fantastic.
Bad Judgment by Meghan March is exactly what New Adult Romance is all about. Young, up and coming law students who have a love-hate-lusty relationship, building sexual tension, amazing chemsitry, strong male and female characters and a solid HEA. We loved this stand alone.
Author Anonymous by E.K. Blair was fucking intense. I've never detested a person or her actions as much as I detested Tori. Mad props to E.K. Blair for writing this book in a way that had me all sorts of twisted up and pissed; it's a testament to her writing that I stuck with it to the end, despite my despising every action that was taking place. I finished the book hoping that Tori got her shit together and figured somethings out. I guess we'll never know if that happened but we can hope, right?
We had a wide variety of reads this month and if the beginning of September is any indication, we're going to have a tough time winnowing down our list of favorites when it's time to pick for our next monthly favorites. Until then, happy reading.
Exclusive Excerpt:
I’m in a ditch with the front end of my truck wrapped around a pine tree when I see her in my rearview mirror. Construction lights on the highway light her up from behind, like some rock star. The curve of her calves is perfect, pretty little ankles and strappy sandals. I’m such a goddamned sucker for sandals.
Her dress is made of something thin. The wind kicks up, lifting her skirt and showing me her bare thighs. She tries to catch it with her hand, but she can’t stop the breeze, and she gives me the full Marilyn Monroe.
This is not what I need right now.
I force the door open with my shoulder and slide out. My neck hurts like a motherfucker, and the engine is pouring smoke. This was not the plan. I head up the dirt embankment. I can’t take my eyes off of her. The construction lights do me a favor and magnify the line of her breasts on the ground in shadow. I rub my stubble and then crack my neck.
Marilyn. She had nothing on this one. Christ.
The dress, it’s this peach color. Those shoulders are smooth and soft. That sexy blonde hair comes down in waves just past her nipples.
She’s driving a white 2016 BMW X5. Top-of-the-line engine, pain-in-the-ass security system. You can’t steal that one unless you’ve got the key. Believe me. I know.
I was driving a perfectly good Dodge 3500 Cummins turbo diesel Hemi V8. I hotwired it not an hour ago from the back lot of a Walmart fifty miles away, outside Knoxville. I was doing just fine until she came along.
Not what I need. At fucking all.
I walk up the embankment. The front end of the pickup is fucked, and the thing has started honking all by itself. The BMW, on the other hand, is just a little banged up on the bumper. Unbelievable. German engineering and further proof of the point that life’s a total bitch. That’s why you’ve got to steal what you want.
Now I’m close to her. About ten feet away.
A little bow accentuates her waist. One of her straps is a little bit twisted. Pouty lips. Are those freckles?
Motherfuck it.
“You stopped too fast!” she says, marching right up to me like I don’t outweigh her by a hundred and seventy pounds and I don’t tower over her by at least a foot. Totally fucking fearless. “Haven’t you ever heard of pulsing your brake lights?” She points at me. “Sir?”
Sexy and angry?
For. Fuck’s. Sake.
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