#Book Blitz #How To Cowboy (Creedence Horse Rescue 3) by Jennie Marts @Xpresso Book Tours28/12/2021
How to Cowboy
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: Cade flinched at the sound of her bedroom door slamming. He leaned his shoulder against the side of the house and let out a sigh. “I don’t get it. What did I say?” Nora put a hand on his arm. “Nothing. She’s a teenager, so her moods are going to be all over the place.” “But I thought things were going so well. She was even laughing at lunch.” “Which might be part of the problem. Remember, she just lost her mom and has been uprooted to this new place. She might feel guilty for having fun or for enjoying this farm—like if she starts to like you and Bryn too much, that it will be a betrayal to her mom.” “You might be right.” He offered her a smile. “What’s that advice gonna cost me?” She grinned up at him. “One baked ziti dinner.” “Done. I’ll even throw in a slice of pie.” He tried to laugh, but the anguish of the situation was getting to him, and he dropped his chin to his chest. “Ya know, I consider myself a pretty tough guy, but this parenting stuff is rough.” Nora took a step toward him. “I have to warn you that I’m a hugger by nature, and it’s killing me not to be able to offer you a hug. Like I’m totally comin’ in hot right now, so if you don’t want to be smothered in a hug, you need to stop me now.” The idea of wrapping his arms around Nora had emotions burning his throat. Which was weird since his feelings toward women weren’t generally led by his heart. But something about this woman, with her sunny attitude and her giving nature was getting to him. He opened his arms, and she stepped into them and wrapped herself around him. He let out his breath as she sunk into him, and he bent his head and buried his face in her hair. “You feel good,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. “I mean this feels good.” “So do you,” she murmured into his chest. She pulled back, but he wasn’t ready to let her go and kept his arms circled around her waist. She looked up at from under long eyelashes, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. There was something here. He knew it, and he was sure she did too. The electricity between them was almost visible as if it shimmered in the air. They’d been teasing and flirting and touching the last few days, but this felt different. This was more than playful flirtation. He dropped his gaze to her mouth and wanted to groan. Her lips were plump and parted, as if just begging to be kissed. He leaned down and softly grazed her lips with his—not quite a kiss but enough to feel the soft catch of her breath and the delicious enticement of her mouth. “What’s this going to cost me?” he whispered, but he already knew the answer. It was going to cost him everything. 
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Imperfect
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Smashwords -- EXCERPT: Sam stood just inside the door to Dimitri’s office, leaving it ajar so she could see though the gap. She peered down the hallway so she could warn Alex if their unauthorised presence were pending discovery. Unable to relax, she repeatedly lamented her decision to accompany him. All that stopped her from abandoning her post and returning to the party was her fear she’d be caught on the way, thus making it more likely Alex would also be busted. She’d uselessly checked the clock on her phone twice already. It made no difference, as Alex hadn’t specified a time limit. He wasn’t going to suddenly give up just because their breaking and entering had totalled ten whole minutes. But it gave her something to do, and she sorely needed a distraction to take the edge off her panic. She periodically turned to watch Alex, hoping he would either find something soon or give up. He was going through Dimitri’s desk, skimming papers, and meticulously putting them back in the same order. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had shown up. She’d already voiced her opinion it was unlikely anything so important would be written down on paper, and Alex had admitted she was probably right. Short of hacking his desktop, this was almost certainly a futile exercise. He’d confided that he was holding out hope because Dimitri was somewhat ‘old school’. There was potentially an interesting hardcopy stashed somewhere. Finishing with the drawers, Alex started on the single tray of documents on top of the desk. Dimitri’s workspace was unencumbered by the clutter littering Alex’s. Being well past retirement age, Sam suspected he didn’t have as much to do with the day to day running of his company as Alex did. I wonder how much work it would take to make Alex’s desk look like that, she thought. Probably more than she’d care to contemplate. Even if she managed it, the lack of visible tasks would only serve to make him anxious anyway. He was too used to having three people’s work to do. Her head whipped back to the door when she heard a bell ring in the distance. ‘Someone’s getting out of the lift,’ she whispered urgently. Alex looked up, startled. He was only about halfway through the tray, and she saw his eyes dart back to the pile, eager to keep looking. He spoke distractedly, more engrossed in his task than their conversation. ‘I’ll just finish looking at this and we’ll …’ A sick pallor washed over his face as he looked up at Sam again, who was frozen in shock. They had both realised their predicament at the same time. Her self-appointed position as ‘lookout’ was completely useless. The only way out was the lift or the stairs beside the lift. If someone was coming this way, they were going to be caught red-handed. Sam couldn’t believe they had both been that stupid. Alex’s eagerness combined with her discomfort had blinded them to the obvious. They’d trapped themselves. Their only hope was that whoever it was didn’t plan on coming in this direction. Watching the hall nervously, she saw shadows coming from around the distant corner, and her heart sank as she realised the voices were getting closer. There was no doubt about it, they were coming this way. Swiftly closing the door, she confirmed this fact to Alex. He uselessly put the papers back into the tray. No one would ever know he’d been through them if they could just somehow not be caught. Their mere presence made his intentions obvious though. Even without the physical evidence of disorder, what other reason could they have for being here? Sam answered her own question as she watched Alex stride around the desk looking grim. He appeared to be mentally preparing himself to face the music, but maybe they didn’t have to. It’s crazy, she thought. Too crazy, but I can’t think of anything else. It was a risk on a lot of levels. They’d still be ‘busted’ in a way, and she was sure Alex wasn’t going to like it, but it was all she could come up with on short notice. ‘Take off your jacket and undo your tie,’ she whispered. Alex’s look of bleak determination turned to confusion. The request certainly didn’t fit the situation, but she didn’t have time to ease him into it gently. ‘If we can’t get out before they come in, we need a different reason to be here. Take off your jacket, and undo your tie and some buttons,’ she whispered again, more urgently this time, beginning to untie her skirt. 
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Cruel Princes
-- EXCERPT: “I don’t care if you’re a Wellington.” Luca shot up from his chair, the metal legs scraping across the tiled floor. “That name means absolutely nothing to me. In this town, Salvatore is the only name that matters.” He pointed at the space in front of him on the floor. “Get over here.” I shook my head. “Dream on.” Luca rounded the table, his nostrils flared. I slid off my chair, but I wasn’t fast enough. He had my long blonde curls fisted in his palm, yanking me up from the chair. “Wanna try that again, Wellington whore?” I elbowed him in the stomach, then stomped on his foot. “I’m not a whore.” Despite my best efforts, his grip on my hair didn’t loosen. He palmed the back of my head until my knees hit the cold, tiled floor. “Kiss my boots like a good little slave.” I looked up at the handsome prince and shook my head. “No. I did nothing wrong.” “You exist,” he shot back with venom in his tone. “That’s enough.” “Why do you hate me so much?” “Ask your grandfather.” He smirked. “See if he’ll tell you the truth about why you’re really here.”
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Guardians of the Mask
-- EXCERPT: The sun did not stay for long. A full moon greeted the village early and the gloom of the day sent most people to their beds without supper. Sam had been one of them. Rafe chose to linger for a while, walking on the rooftop of the church. It was a pleasant view from the top, where he could see the gargoyle they had toppled still implanted in the bed of grass beneath. He towered over the treetops and the hills that surrounded the village. Beyond the woodland ranged the fallow deer that grazed the palace fields. The palace never looked more beautiful than it did in the dark. The lights never went out and the spectacular array of gold and white from the turrets sparkled like the stars in the sky. It made the sudden interrupting sound of the horn all the more haunting. Eerie and unexpected, it sent a chill through the spines of all those that heard it, its low groan a warning that danger was coming. The call of it jumpstarted a fear that was resting inside of Rafe. A call he had been expecting and dreading. Lingering in his heart, the sound of it sent his emotions into overdrive. Climbing down from the church rooftop, he tore through the forest as fast as his legs would carry him. “Rafe!” someone yelled. Rafe spun around to see Miller, Edward and Theo running from the direction of the mansion. Miller had replaced his top hat with an uncommonly large helmet. Rafe caught up to them, desperate for an explanation. Somehow he doubted whether the Brutes had returned. “They be comin’ boy! Get ya sword and ya mask. The village be gatherin’ their best to meet ye!” Miller spat. “Meet me? For what? Who’s coming?” Rafe demanded, knowing full well who it was without needing to ask. “Who d’ya think? I’d say ye have ‘bout ten minutes b’fore the Prince be findin’ ya. He wants revenge fer wha’ ye did, though this time he be nay dumb enough to fight on his own! I says there be two dozen knights marchin’ ‘ere. Even if they do b’lieve in the legends o’ Cherubim’s Mask, they be sworn to obey th’ Prince. Th’ villagers b’lieve in ye, Rafe. Some of em are willin’ t’ fight fer ye.” Rafe looked towards the forest, trying to imagine them. “The Prince,” Rafe whispered as the truth of it sank in. “Get the mask, lad!” Miller yelled. 
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by: #Book Blitz #The Extra Myles (A Southern Hearts Club Novella) by Melanie Mutton @Xpresso Book Tours24/12/2021
The Extra Myles
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Phantom
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: A Lexus pulled into her driveway and I saw the bitch get out of the car. Two boys slid out then a slim form with subtle curves. Charisma. She lifted her face to the sun and my heart stuttered in my chest. Christ! I swallowed my food and nearly choked on the large bite. Shade had mentioned she’d been with Heather for a decade, which made her around twenty-seven now. Roughly half my age, but fuck if she wasn’t stunning. She reached into the car and helped out a little girl I knew had to be her daughter, Nova. And that’s the moment I knew I’d do whatever it took to keep those four safe. Charisma, Nova, and the two boys would never be hurt again. The way she cradled her daughter against her side, the protective stance she took between Heather and those boys, told me one thing — the girl wasn’t hurting anyone. Unless it was Heather. She had murder in her eyes when she stared at the woman. Crazy bitch only smirked back at her. I texted Shade. Change of plans. I’m bringing them all home with me. Those boys reminded me of Samurai when he’d been a teen. Small and wiry. And they were both at least half-Asian. It seemed Heather had a type. I watched them go into the house with the She-Devil and shut the door. After I finished my food, I pulled out of the parking lot and moved over to her home, stopping my Jeep right behind her fancy car. Reaching into the backseat, I picked up my cut, as well as the brass knuckles I’d hidden underneath it. I slid the weapon into my pocket and got out of the vehicle. Pulling on my cut, I shut the door, locked the car, and went up to ring the bell. Charisma opened the door, her eyes going wide when she saw me. She skimmed over my cut, her gaze locking on the patches denoting my club, name, and rank. She finished her perusal before lifting her gaze to mine again. I caught movement in my peripheral. Judging the size and shape, it was her daughter. I pulled my keys from my pocket and tipped my head toward the driveway. “Take your daughter and get in the Jeep. Lock the doors and wait for me.” Her eyebrows went up. She stared, not moving and not speaking. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her eat and I growled at what I saw. Someone had damaged her with what looked like acid. I moved slow, not wanting to startle her, and checked the other side. Son of a bitch. Whoever had hurt her, had harmed both ears. Which meant… I mouthed the words slowly. “Can you hear me?” Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “What else did that bitch do to you?” I asked, mouthing the words slowly again. Her cheeks flushed and she dropped her gaze. Shame. Whatever had been done to her, she was ashamed to tell me. I had a feeling I understood why she was still here with Heather. The woman used the boys against her, and probably used her against them. If she’d touched Nova, I’d make her suffer longer. I tipped her chin up. “Take my keys. Get your daughter and wait in the Jeep. Lock the doors. Do you understand?” She nodded and reached behind her. I saw Nova’s small fingers wrap around hers and Charisma took my keys. She hesitated, her gaze searching mine. “I’ll get the boys out too.” Her posture relaxed and she hurried to the Jeep with Nova in tow. Nothing in the reports Shade had found from social services mentioned Charisma being unable to hear. It had to have happened either right before she aged out, or after. For whatever reason, he couldn’t find any updates from the social workers the months leading up to her turning eighteen. Her exit had been little more than a few notes including how wonderful Heather had been to let her stay. I didn’t like being blindsided, but at least she would be safe now. All of them would be. 
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There’s A Dead Girl In My Yard
-- EXCERPT: Just after I moved into the guesthouse, they buried a dead girl in my yard. That’s when my life turned upside down and inside out for the second time. The first time was when the doctors rearranged my colon. I was thrilled to move into the Topanga Canyon guesthouse, a boho-chic area north of Los Angeles. I knew about Topanga from growing up in the nearby San Fernando Valley. Now, as a struggling, mostly unemployed actress, I was living in a shitty, Hollywood neighborhood. Although it was a cute, little bungalow, the environment was killing me—dirty, filthy, hot, too much traffic, zero fresh air, noisy and people living on the edge. Hollywood was no longer glamorous. And parking was a son of a bitch. Also, at age forty-six, I was done stepping over homeless people. Sorry-not-sorry, and I deserved different and better. Even though many times, I had been close to homeless myself. The universe spoke when I met Lily Jin at a Hollywood acting workshop. She was an exotic-looking and a mixed something. A twenty-two-year-old gal, and a lite-Buddhist, like me. I usually do just enough chanting to keep the demons and gremlins away for the day. Lily was wearing torn jeans over her long, model-like legs and a midriff exposing a flat, firm tummy. There was not an ounce of fat anywhere. Oh, to be twenty again and be able to eat, drink, smoke and snort anything. That was several decades behind me. My five-six, lanky frame was getting flabby. Yes, even skinny people can get flabby. I was now in yucky perimenopause, with the last of my overcooked eggs dropping into withering fallopian tubes and heading down through my dried-up hoo-ha. Luckily, at first glance, you can’t tell this is happening unless you’re airport security staff. My dirty blonde shoulder length hair only needed a bit of henna to hide the grey and my brown eyes were still bright and youthful. This helped my agent place me in the thirty-five-to-forty-five roles, despite being in my mid-forties. To date, no surgery, minimal fillers and injectables. However, as I headed towards the half-century mark, I would revisit. In the meantime, I strove to sharpen my acting skills, and let gravity have its way with me. While in the workshop, Lily and I tried following the acting exercise. As we were pretending to be wounded sheep during an alien invasion, Lily whispered to me, asking if I knew of anyone who wanted to rent her guesthouse. After the workshop, we went to the El Compadre on Sunset to discuss the details. We were served frozen skinny margs, then toasted each other and became besties in an instant. When Lily told me that the guesthouse was in Topanga Canyon, I shouted over the mariachi band, “I’ll take it, I’ll take it, I’ll take it!” Even sight unseen and not knowing the price, she had me at “Topanga Canyon.” I had heard about Topanga. It was crawling with the famous and the has-beens who never were. The town was known for its eclectic artists and colorful history, including one of the Manson family murders. During the Hollywood golden age, it was the weekend getaway hotspot for the now-dead stars you can see on the Turner Classic Movie channel. It had changed, but still had some leftover glamour and pricey homes. I was already fantasizing about living among the stars, wearing designer sunglasses and sipping champagne. Before Lily would show me the property, we had to chant together while we were still drinking at El Compadre. The place was crowded, and the mariachi band was still in high gear. I knew I looked skeptical about chanting. “Come on, we can do it. Tune the Mexicans out,” Lily said as she closed her eyes and chanted. The waiter came by and made a comment. But I only caught, “Locas.” I kept one eye open and one closed while I chanted with Lily. It felt like a minute, and then she paused. We both instinctually did a pinkie swear. As we exhaled, we vowed to make this living situation work. I was cleared to visit the digs. But the rent Lily was going to charge was under market. So, was there a catch: leaking roof, Peeping Toms, bad plumbing, crawling with critters? 
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A Christmas Love Song
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Mackenzie Stone stormed into her editor’s office at The Sunrise Press. “Mr. Hughes, you do realize I have a degree in journalism and political science.” He let out a harsh breath. On several occasions, he’d asked her not to raise her voice, especially in front of the rest of the staff. Not that he’d ever fire her. She was hands down his best reporter. There were exactly two things she hated: being told what to do and getting assigned fluff pieces. “I’ve said it a million times.” He looked up from the plant he was watering. She admired his green thumb since she could barely keep her Chia pet alive. “The political news comes straight from The Associated Press. Our focus is on community events and human-interest stories,” he said. “And you think what’s going on in the rest of the world isn’t of human interest?” She slapped her hand on the desk for effect. He jumped. Too gentle to be in the cutthroat business of big league journalism in her opinion. Though The Sunrise Press was hardly big league. How he lasted over forty years at the paper was a miracle. She took in a deep breath. Her father always said her temper would lead to trouble. There was also the whole red-headed stereotype. More than once she’d been called hot-headed and told it had something to do with her flaming red hair. This narrow-minded assumption usually irritated her even more. “All I’m asking for is a serious story. I need something with grit.” Mr. Hughes set down the watering can and scratched his head, pushing his gray hair so it stood up in all directions. She stopped herself from smoothing the wayward strands and, while she was at it, straightening the sagging shoulders of his cardigan sweater. He was like the unkempt, sweet old grandfather she wished for as a kid. He finally said, “Take it easy, Lois Lane. You’ll get your chance at the Pulitzer someday.” She brushed off the Lois Lane comment. Profiling Superman would be a lot more interesting than the story he had assigned her. “The whole world’s going to pot, and you want me to profile some washed-up pop star named Jake Wilder?” “Everybody loved him. You know that song,” he said. “‘We looked out at the city lights that night’,” he sang. “‘The connection we both felt, it seemed so right’.” Not bad. She was getting too distracted and needed to drive the point home that nobody would care about this story. “Yeah, well I had to Google him, and so will the mere handful of people who may want to read about him.” “Believe it or not, young lady, pop music didn’t begin with Lady Gaga, or whoever it is you’re listening to these days.” “But there are plenty of washed-up stars to profile. Why him?” “I think the term you’re looking for is retro.” She imagined that’s how Mr. Hughes referred to himself as well. “If you Googled him, then you should know the answer,” he said. “He’s a local boy. Born and raised in Pasadena. Probably grew up right down the street from you.” Her family knew everybody in their private, very exclusive neighborhood. She would’ve heard if they had a celebrity, even a former one, in their midst. “He hasn’t even cinched the deal.” She’d been informed earlier about the details of the contest. Jake Wilder was only one of several artists competing for the shot. “His Christmas song could be a disaster and the story a huge waste of our time.” “Let me worry about that,” Mr. Hughes said. “This is so lame.” She slumped into the chair across from him. For five years she’d been compiling a portfolio of important stories that might land her a job at one of the major newspapers. This Jake Wilder nonsense wouldn’t make the cut. “I got a call from Jake’s manager today. He said we’d have exclusive access to the whole process—from Jake accepting the challenge, to writing the song, to waiting for the call,” he said, punctuating every stage with an animated hand gesture. He was excited about the story, and she knew she’d lost the battle. “I don’t even like Christmas.” She hoped he wouldn’t remember her desk was covered in Christmas decorations. He leaned his head back and laughed. “Everybody around here knows the truth. You’re crazy about Christmas.” Mackenzie had to admit. There was a story. She only had to dig it up. 
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Return All
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: Derek moved toward her, getting bigger by the second. “Mara? Mara! It’s me!” His eyes were wild, his face—his face looked different. His moustache was gone. Clean-shaven, he was more like the boy from school than ever, jogging toward her in a black hoodie as though this was Albury in 2011. Mara lowered hands she hadn’t known she’d brought to her chest. “Hi.” She said it so quietly he couldn’t have heard her, but his face lit up. Naked happiness so bright it was terrifying. She wanted to burrow into the ground like a scared rabbit. Chase turned. “What the hell are you doing here?” Derek didn’t even glance at him. His unworldly black eyes were locked on hers. Mara’s cunt contracted. He was going to pick her up. He was going to carry her away like a marauding conqueror. Then he didn’t. He pulled up, his body jolting. “Mara. I can’t believe it’s you.” She stared up at him. Even in her fuchsia Attico pumps, she barely came to his shoulders. He’d grown since he was a teenager. Up close, his face was different too. There were lines around his eyes that weren’t visible in photos or on TV. Neither was the black stubble under his skin. The word rose unbidden, Daddy, and euphoria spread through Mara’s chest like honey. “Hello? Asshole? Can you hear me?” Chase demanded. Derek ignored him. His gaze dragged over her face, studying her as she studied him. She touched a hand to her lips. Had he noticed her injection? Her eyelashes? Her nose? The fact her ears no longer stuck out through her hair? Then he shook his head. “You’re fucking stunning. You look so… I don’t know how to say it.” Expensive. She looked expensive. Money had flowed into her life, glossing her rough parts, and buffing the bright places to a near-impossible shine. She looked like a rich girl. Mara stared at her toes. For years she’d dreamed of this moment, dreamed of him saying these things, but now he was here, and she wanted to hide. “Mara… where have you been, baby?” It was such a huge question, tied off with such a ridiculous pet name, Mara didn’t know how to answer. “Around. I guess.” Derek’s face sagged. “But—” Chase stepped between them. “Maybe I should have made this clearer at our meeting, stay the fuck away from us. Now leave or I’ll call the police.” “One minute, mate.” Derek sidestepped Chase. “Your hair. When did you grow out your hair?” Mara almost laughed. “When I was twenty. Derek, what are you doing here? Is this about the house?” “The house? The fucking house?” He took a step toward her, and Chase moved across, blocking him. “Talk with your words, Hardiman.” Derek scowled but took a step backward. “I’ve been looking for you for years. I couldn’t find you anywhere.” Mara felt a small streak of pride. She’d paid handsomely to keep her name out of Google search terms. It was nice to know it had worked. “I… got off social media.” “Right.” Derek shoved his hands into his pockets. “Fuck. Well, I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry, for everything. I’m sorry we lost touch and…” His words washed over Mara like dirty waves. So sorry. Lost touch. Baby. They meant nothing. They were just sounds crammed together. A woman in a gray coat ducked past them and she realised they were blocking the path. She turned her face away. Chase glanced from her to Derek. “Okay, this has been sufficiently weird, but we need to get to work. Goodbye, Mr Hardiman. Don’t come here again.” Chase slid his arm through hers and steered her around Derek and back toward HFA. “Mara!” Derek’s voice stirred waters deep inside her. Places she’d allowed to crumble in the darkness of her twenties. She turned and found him staring desperately after her. “He’s gonna follow us,” Chase muttered. “Keep walking. We’ll go upstairs—” “Mara!” Derek’s voice was clear, a king calling across his hall. “Mara, we’re not done.” She stopped as though he’d commanded it and Derek’s legs ate up the ground between them. “You. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” She flushed, aware of Chase sputtering at her back. “Derek, I don’t know what to do.” “So let me decide.” Anger sizzled through her like hot oil. “Things aren’t the way they used to be.” “Okay. I get that. You want me on my knees?” “What?” she and Chase said together. To her astonishment, Derek dropped like a stone onto the dirty footpath, cutting his height in half. “For the love of Christ,” Chase groaned but Mara could only stare. Derek had always been unapologetic in his affection, but this was insane. He was a famous footballer and anyone could see him. How could he possibly be this desperate to speak to her? “Derek…” “Give me your number.” He raised his tattooed palms as though in prayer. “Let me give you mine. I need to see you again.” But you’re seeing me right now… Chase touched her shoulder. “I’ll give you some privacy. But I’m right here.” “Okay,” Mara whispered. Derek watched Chase go, his gaze flicking back to hers as soon as he gauged Chase was far enough away. “Baby,” his voice was gravel. “Baby, I want to kiss you. I am barely holding back right now.” Mara knew that. She felt his energy vibrating out at her like orange heat. He wanted to snatch her up, crush her, take her down. Her body responded like warm paper desperate to curl into flame. He smirked, so handsome, it almost stopped her heart. “It’s been too long, Little Miss.” She stepped back. Little Miss. She called Pan that. But he had called her that. Not all the time. In bed. Pan. Pan was chewing away at Chase’s jumper upstairs. She needed to go to her. She needed to be with Pan. She took another step back. “I don’t know why you came, but I have to go.” Derek stayed on his knees. “Give me your number. Or take mine. We’re not done, baby.”
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Side Effects
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My thoughts:
This was my first book by LJ Greene and it was such a lovely surprise! Side Effects is Book 4 in her Ripple Effects series and if you look at the other covers, you'll see straightaway that it's all about contemporary romance. I absolutely adored this 'fantasy/sci-fi/ techno nerds can be heroes' cover- absolutely stunning and very appropriate once you start reading the book and realise what kind of company Ally and Marcus,the protagonists of Side Effects, work for. The book had everything I love in contemporary romance- my favourite enemies-to-lovers trope, the protagonist I can relate to, secrets and intrigue, great pace, and great chemistry between the main characters! The book is written from a single POV- Ally's- and I thought that it gave the book this additional touch of realism and tension as in real life we rely on our instinct, observations, feelings to try to get a read on what the person we're attracted to is thinking. Highly recommended to anyone who loves slow-burn, workplace romance with a bit of suspense. I'm off to get my hands on LJ Greene's previous books! Thank you to Giselle from Xpresso Book Tours, the author and the publisher for the review copy, provided in exchange for an honest opinion. |
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