She had to admit, there was something about the man that was different. Almost like he was from another world, shamelessly defying all the rules. She, for example, found his attitude repugnant and chauvinistic, yet he'd still managed to get her to gawk. And that body? Sinfully sexy in a way that spoke to some hidden quiet female animal inside her.
────── ♔ ──────
Immortal Matchmakers, Inc. by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
Standalone - Immortal Matchmakers, Inc. #1
Release - August 21, 2015
Genre - Paranormal Romantic Comedy
Primarily Dual POV - 3rd person
Heat Level - I'm not sure how to rate this. Lots of sex talk, but no sex until the end. A descriptive 3 out of 5
Format/Source - ebook purchase from Amazon
Length - 307 pages
Publisher - Indie
Release - August 21, 2015
Genre - Paranormal Romantic Comedy
Primarily Dual POV - 3rd person
Heat Level - I'm not sure how to rate this. Lots of sex talk, but no sex until the end. A descriptive 3 out of 5
Format/Source - ebook purchase from Amazon
Length - 307 pages
Publisher - Indie
Seven days to go from lethal immortal assassin to Prince Charming? Not likely.
Demigod Andrus Gray may look like every woman’s dream, but when it comes to charm, he sees no point pretending: He has none and makes no apologies for it. Behaving nicely hasn’t made him the deadly assassin he is today. But is that really the reason he’s still single?
The Goddess Cimil—owner of Immortal Matchmakers, Inc.—thinks yes. So when she foresees a mate in Andrus’s near future, she’s determined to make the match happen. That means hiring aspiring actress Sadie Townsend to help the barbarian “act” a little more civilized.
But are seven days really enough? And why does the idea of seeing Sadie everyday excite him more than meeting his mate?
My Two Cents
4 "Utterly ridiculous" stars
If you're looking for a good time, this book is definitely the way to go.
A lethal immortal assassin, Andrus realizes he's become obsolete. After being fired from being the manny-slash-bodyguard of the females he loves, he's left a bit lost. Until opportunity/destiny/fate steps in to sort him out. Enter Cimil and her ridiculousness and a ton of laughs are sure to follow.
Normally, I'd read a book that had a bunch of elements that rub me the wrong way and I have nothing kind to say, but somehow, that's not the case this time. I should be widely irritated. These characters were over-the-top, irrational, nonsensical and idiotic, and yet I had a lot of fun reading about them. Go freaking figure!
Honestly, Sadie drove me a bit nuts, but then again, everyone but Andrus drove me nuts, so I guess it's okay.
I really enjoyed Andrus. I wanted to know even more about him than what was revealed in this story. I got bits of his history and I wonder if there's another book out there that reveals more. Maybe I need to find the story of Helena and Niccolo to figure things out.
With a hilarious HFN ending, this story was wacky, funny, overdramatic, and a real good time. I was thoroughly entertained!
Excerpt
Find Chapter One here
About the Author
Mimi Jean Pamfiloff is a New York Times bestselling author who’s sold over one million books around the world. Although she obtained her MBA and worked for more than fifteen years in the corporate world, she believes that it’s never too late to come out of the romance closet and follow your dreams.Mimi lives with her Latin lover hubby, two pirates-in-training (their boys), and their three spunky dragons (really, just very tiny dogs with big attitudes) Snowy, Mini, and Mack, in the vampire-unfriendly state of Arizona.
She hopes to make you laugh when you need it most and continues to pray daily that leather pants will make a big comeback for men.
Visit http://www.mimijean.net/ for more information
"You got scared," he charged, the words he'd wanted to throw at her for too long firing out. "I got too close, didn't I? And you had to fcking run."
Monica didn't flinch. Her eyes didn't waver. She just stared back at him. Cold. Like ice.
But he knew how she burned.
Monica didn't flinch. Her eyes didn't waver. She just stared back at him. Cold. Like ice.
But he knew how she burned.
────── ♔ ──────
Deadly Fear by Cynthia Eden
Standalone - Deadly #1
Release - July 17, 2010
Genre - Romantic Thriller
Primarily Dual POV - 3rd person
Heat Level - 4 out of 5 / a few scenes
Format/Source - ebook purchase from Amazon
Length - 403 pages
Publisher - Forever
Release - July 17, 2010
Genre - Romantic Thriller
Primarily Dual POV - 3rd person
Heat Level - 4 out of 5 / a few scenes
Format/Source - ebook purchase from Amazon
Length - 403 pages
Publisher - Forever
TWO BRILLIANT AGENTS
FBI Special Agent Monica Davenport has made a career out of profiling serial killers. But getting inside the twisted minds of the cruel and the sadistic has taken its toll: She's walled herself off from the world. Yet Monica can't ignore fellow agent Luke Dante, the only man who ever broke through her defenses.
ONE DREAM TEAM
Luke has the unique ability to put victims at ease...professionally, he and Monica made a perfect team. Now they're reunited to catch a murderer who uses his victims' deepest, darkest fears for sport - but their investigative skills aren't enough. Luke and Monica will have to face the secrets from their past, the ones that terrify them the most, if they are to have a future together.
BUT CAN THEY CATCH A KILLER WHOSE WEAPON IS...
DEADLY FEAR
My Two Cents
4.25 "Let the games begin" stars
I'm going to try to keep this short and sweet because this book is best enjoyed when going in blind.
Monica is hard to love, but you have to love her. She gets in the killer's head, she gets the job done, and she handles herself like a pro. Except when it came to Luke. With him, she seemed to lose all control. And I happened to love the dynamic between these two. Luke was the go-to protector kind of guy. Alpha without being over the top. And Monica was the kind of woman who could take care of herself. Seriously.
So when a serial killer they're hunting seems to always be one step ahead, who better to have on the case then the best of the best? And trust me, Luke and Monica were incredible together, in and out of bed!
I really enjoyed how the author let us into the killer's head. It added a touch more terror than I would have gotten from the protagonists alone. There is so much involved in this story and I loved getting the chance to figure out all of the little bits.
I'm looking forward to continuing the series!
About the Author
Award-winning author Cynthia Eden writes sexy tales of contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and paranormal romance. She is a New York Times, USA Today, Digital Book World, and IndieReader best-seller. Since she began writing full-time in 2005, Cynthia has written over one hundred novels and novellas.
Cynthia lives along the Alabama Gulf Coast. She loves romance novels, horror movies, and chocolate. Her favorite hobbies including hiking in the mountains (searching for waterfalls) and spelunking.
Visit http://www.cynthiaeden.com/ for more information!
Part of what pushed her every day in this job was her need to answer that impossible-to-fathom question. Who would do that, and more importantly, why would anybody cause such pain and destruction?
────── ♔ ──────
You Can Run by Rebecca Zanetti
Standalone - Laurel Snow #1
Release - January 25, 2022
Genre - Thriller
Dual POV - 3rd person
Heat Level - 3 out of 5 / it surprised and delighted me that the author included this
Format/Source - eARC provided by the publisher
Length - 400 pages
Publisher - Zebra Books
Release - January 25, 2022
Genre - Thriller
Dual POV - 3rd person
Heat Level - 3 out of 5 / it surprised and delighted me that the author included this
Format/Source - eARC provided by the publisher
Length - 400 pages
Publisher - Zebra Books
Laurel Snow wouldn’t call hunting a serial killer a vacation, but with a pile of dead bodies unearthed near her Genesis Valley, WA, hometown, she’ll take what she can get. Yet something about this case stirs her in unexpected ways. Like the startling connection she feels to Dr. Abigail Caine, a fiercely intelligent witness with a disturbing knack for making Laurel feel like she has something on her. Then there’s Laurel’s attraction to Huck Rivers, the fish and wildlife officer guiding her to the crime scene—and into the wilderness…
A former soldier and a trained sniper, Huck’s thirst for blood is rivaled only by his fierce pursuit of Laurel. He’s been burned by love, wounded by the government, and betrayed before, and to say he has trust issues is the ultimate understatement. Plus, he might be closer to this killer than anybody knows…
Once in the heart of darkness with Huck, Laurel must negotiate her distracting desire for him, her complex rapport with Abigail—and her mission to find a serial killer among a growing list of suspects and a danger that’s far too close to home. So close in fact, Laurel fears she will never find her way back to the woman she once was…
My Two Cents
4.25 "I'm really excited about this series" stars
Laurel has just finished a case when she gets the call — a serial killer is hunting in her hometown and her uncle is a suspect. So of course she hurries home to find out what's going on and possibly solve the case. With little resources, she relies heavily on Huck and his 'team' and some new friends. And through their investigation, one name keeps popping up... Dr. Abigail Caine. Is she friend? Is she foe? And is she their best lead to catch the killer?
I really enjoyed the way this story twisted and turned. It was thrilling and scary and horrifying, but there were also elements of friendship, camaradie, humor, and warmth. I loved seeing Laurel's connection with her family. Her mom gave me such joy. And don't even get me started on what was happening between Laurel and Huck. Gimme more of that please!
The killer gave me chills, not gonna lie and I can always count on Zanetti to keep me guessing. I can't wait to see what happens next in this series!
About the Author
Rebecca Zanetti is the author of over forty romantic suspense, dark paranormals, and contemporary romances, and her books have appeared multiple times on the New York Times, USA Today, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and iBooks bestseller lists. She lives in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest with her own Alpha hero, two kids, a couple of dogs, a crazy cat…and a huge extended family. She believes strongly in luck, karma, and working her butt off…and she thinks one of the best things about being an author, unlike the lawyer she used to be, is that she can let the crazy out. Upcoming series are: The Blood Brothers, The Realm Enforcers and The Scorpius Syndrome.
Visit https://rebeccazanetti.com/ for more information!
This time he’s playing for keeps.
The Mastermind, a standalone novella set in the Rivers Wilde World from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Dylan Allen and 1,001 Dark Nights is now available!
The Mastermind, a standalone novella set in the Rivers Wilde World from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Dylan Allen and 1,001 Dark Nights is now available!
He lives under a golden spotlight.I’m shackled to a past that must stay hidden.
Omar Solomon is the king of the comeback.
Ten years ago his career as a star athlete ended in injury and scandal.
He may have traded in his cleats for Gucci loafers, but he’s been as victorious in the boardroom as he was on the pitch.
He returns to London, wealthy, influential, and powerful beyond measure.
And he spends every weekend in the pub where I work.
A law student with a night job and a dark past,
I’m hardly the type of woman a man like him would notice.
Or so I thought.
When he offers me a no-strings-attached affair,
I forget all the reasons I should say no.
He’s straight out of my dreams—
with a body and a mouth made for sinning.
Our passion turns my gray existence into a vibrant, colorful life.
But it has an expiration date.
When his time in London is over, we will be, too.
And it will be for the best.
Because he can never find out who I really am.
But my Mastermind has set his sights on a new goal: me.
And this time he’s playing for keeps.
**Every 1,001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.**
Grab your copy today!
>
Exclusively on Amazon
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3qnzXH1
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TheMastermindDA
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3qnzXH1
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TheMastermindDA
Check out my review:
Excerpt
He cuts through the crowd of people in glamorous garb, crystal cut tumblers or fragile flutes in their wildly gesticulating hands. Yet they seem to move just as he wants them to so that he doesn’t need to turn sideways to accommodate his broad shoulders or taper his remarkably long strides.
Long strides that are bringing him straight toward me.
I barely have time to spin around before he’s right behind me.
“Scotch on the rocks,” he tells the bartender when he slides onto the empty barstool next to me. I disguise my gasp as a cough, place a hand on the bar to steady myself, and stare straight ahead.
The young man nods and grabs a glass. “We’ve got Macallan 18 for the masses, but I’ve got a bottle of Craigelachhie that might be more to your taste.”
“I don’t really care, whichever,” he responds in a voice that’s not rude but doesn’t match the adoration in the server’s. Undeterred, the young man leans forward across the bar and lowers his voice to a loud whisper. “I know you’ve been gone a while, but I’m still a huge fan, Mastermind. Can I snap a selfie?”
To my surprise, Omar doesn’t rebuff the bartender. “Only if you promise you won’t post it for a bit. No one knows I’m in London yet, and I’d like to keep it that way for just a few more weeks.”
I watched an interview from very early on in his career when he was asked about his dislike of public availabilities.
He explained that he understood it was part of the job. So he did it. “I play for the love of the game, and if I had my way, I wouldn’t do any interviews at all. I don’t even know why you want to interview me. I say everything I need to out on that pitch. I get it. I had sports heroes, too. But when they fall off the pedestals you put them on, you swoop in and eat them alive.”
That interview would prove prescient when he left Chelsea years later. The press tore him to shreds for sitting out an entire season, leaving as soon as he became a free agent and basically abandoning London, his fans, and his team.
He still doesn’t talk to the press regularly, but he doesn’t leave their accusations unanswered. He became his own press secretary and posted videos on social media pushing back on false headlines. And when they lost interest, he started sharing his private pictures. And sued newspapers that used his images without his permission.
I watch the exchange between him and the bartender out of the corner of my eye and am giddy that the wickedly sweet dimple is as deep as I’d imagined. And God, I want to lick it. One day, my pretty.
This has to be a sign. He’s so far out of my league, I shouldn’t be able to see him. And at the pub, I wouldn’t dare approach him.
But here I am, close enough to see and touch. And I look good tonight. I’m glad I took special care to send my most fashionable friend off.
The bustier I invested in makes my otherwise unimpressively small breasts look their very best in the very low neckline of my scarlet red minidress. It’s hugging every inch of a body that even CrossFit and a vegan diet couldn’t kill the curves on.
The lighting in this ballroom sets off the healthy glow of my bare legs, shoulders, décolletage, and back that is courtesy of my homemade sugar scrub. It leaves me smelling like a tropical garden at midnight.
Liquid courage and my heels give me height and confidence that override my nerves, and I shoot my shot.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask loudly so there’s no way he won’t hear me.
Those wolf eyes slant down to look at me, unblinking, the smile he’d given the bartender long gone. There’s no flicker of recognition, but there’s no mistaking the interest as he stares at me. He’s never done more than look past me at the pub, so I don’t know why I’m disappointed that he doesn’t recognize me.
“Excuse me? I didn’t hear you,” he says when he finally speaks. His voice. It’s deep, smooth—no gravel but a lot of bass. And is there anything sexier than an American accent? I smile as widely as I can manage, the punters at the Effra call it my traffic stopping smile. Then I break my golden rule and repeat myself. “Would you like to dance?”
He doesn’t return my smile, and when he turns to look at the dance floor, that scowl reappears. “I don’t dance,” he comments without looking back at me.
I follow his gaze. “Childhood trauma on the dance floor?” I ask with a teasing grin.
His lips tug up a little, but he doesn’t smile. “No. General observation. People look ridiculous when they dance.”
I can’t deny that. But I shake my head in disagreement. “They’re having fun, not putting on a show.”
He shrugs. “That’s not my idea of fun. Like I said, I don’t dance.” He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out his phone, and glances at it. He gives me a quick, stiff smile. “I’m sorry, but I have to take this call.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all and doesn’t wait for me to respond before he walks off.
“Ouch,” the bartender drawls, and I want to glare at him and tell him I didn’t ask for his feedback. But he’s so right I can’t be mad.
“I know,” I groan.
“For what it’s worth, if I wasn’t working I wouldn’t have said no.” He grins, and I wish I was attracted to him instead of Omar.
I smile gratefully and take the refill he hands me. But a few sips of it while swaying by myself to a song I’ve never heard before only makes me feel worse.
I put my glass on the tray of a passing server and head to the coat check to collect my things.
Long strides that are bringing him straight toward me.
I barely have time to spin around before he’s right behind me.
“Scotch on the rocks,” he tells the bartender when he slides onto the empty barstool next to me. I disguise my gasp as a cough, place a hand on the bar to steady myself, and stare straight ahead.
The young man nods and grabs a glass. “We’ve got Macallan 18 for the masses, but I’ve got a bottle of Craigelachhie that might be more to your taste.”
“I don’t really care, whichever,” he responds in a voice that’s not rude but doesn’t match the adoration in the server’s. Undeterred, the young man leans forward across the bar and lowers his voice to a loud whisper. “I know you’ve been gone a while, but I’m still a huge fan, Mastermind. Can I snap a selfie?”
To my surprise, Omar doesn’t rebuff the bartender. “Only if you promise you won’t post it for a bit. No one knows I’m in London yet, and I’d like to keep it that way for just a few more weeks.”
I watched an interview from very early on in his career when he was asked about his dislike of public availabilities.
He explained that he understood it was part of the job. So he did it. “I play for the love of the game, and if I had my way, I wouldn’t do any interviews at all. I don’t even know why you want to interview me. I say everything I need to out on that pitch. I get it. I had sports heroes, too. But when they fall off the pedestals you put them on, you swoop in and eat them alive.”
That interview would prove prescient when he left Chelsea years later. The press tore him to shreds for sitting out an entire season, leaving as soon as he became a free agent and basically abandoning London, his fans, and his team.
He still doesn’t talk to the press regularly, but he doesn’t leave their accusations unanswered. He became his own press secretary and posted videos on social media pushing back on false headlines. And when they lost interest, he started sharing his private pictures. And sued newspapers that used his images without his permission.
I watch the exchange between him and the bartender out of the corner of my eye and am giddy that the wickedly sweet dimple is as deep as I’d imagined. And God, I want to lick it. One day, my pretty.
This has to be a sign. He’s so far out of my league, I shouldn’t be able to see him. And at the pub, I wouldn’t dare approach him.
But here I am, close enough to see and touch. And I look good tonight. I’m glad I took special care to send my most fashionable friend off.
The bustier I invested in makes my otherwise unimpressively small breasts look their very best in the very low neckline of my scarlet red minidress. It’s hugging every inch of a body that even CrossFit and a vegan diet couldn’t kill the curves on.
The lighting in this ballroom sets off the healthy glow of my bare legs, shoulders, décolletage, and back that is courtesy of my homemade sugar scrub. It leaves me smelling like a tropical garden at midnight.
Liquid courage and my heels give me height and confidence that override my nerves, and I shoot my shot.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask loudly so there’s no way he won’t hear me.
Those wolf eyes slant down to look at me, unblinking, the smile he’d given the bartender long gone. There’s no flicker of recognition, but there’s no mistaking the interest as he stares at me. He’s never done more than look past me at the pub, so I don’t know why I’m disappointed that he doesn’t recognize me.
“Excuse me? I didn’t hear you,” he says when he finally speaks. His voice. It’s deep, smooth—no gravel but a lot of bass. And is there anything sexier than an American accent? I smile as widely as I can manage, the punters at the Effra call it my traffic stopping smile. Then I break my golden rule and repeat myself. “Would you like to dance?”
He doesn’t return my smile, and when he turns to look at the dance floor, that scowl reappears. “I don’t dance,” he comments without looking back at me.
I follow his gaze. “Childhood trauma on the dance floor?” I ask with a teasing grin.
His lips tug up a little, but he doesn’t smile. “No. General observation. People look ridiculous when they dance.”
I can’t deny that. But I shake my head in disagreement. “They’re having fun, not putting on a show.”
He shrugs. “That’s not my idea of fun. Like I said, I don’t dance.” He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out his phone, and glances at it. He gives me a quick, stiff smile. “I’m sorry, but I have to take this call.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all and doesn’t wait for me to respond before he walks off.
“Ouch,” the bartender drawls, and I want to glare at him and tell him I didn’t ask for his feedback. But he’s so right I can’t be mad.
“I know,” I groan.
“For what it’s worth, if I wasn’t working I wouldn’t have said no.” He grins, and I wish I was attracted to him instead of Omar.
I smile gratefully and take the refill he hands me. But a few sips of it while swaying by myself to a song I’ve never heard before only makes me feel worse.
I put my glass on the tray of a passing server and head to the coat check to collect my things.
About the Author
Dylan Allen is a Texas girl with a serious case of wanderlust.
A self-proclaimed happily ever junkie, she loves creating stories where her characters chase their own happy endings.
When she isn’t writing or reading, eating or cooking, she and her family are planning their next adventure.
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